Arden of Feversham


Preface


	Project Gutenberg's Arden of Feversham, by Anonymous and Thomas Kyd

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	Arden of Feversham


Dramatis personæ


	THOMAS ARDEN, Gentleman, of Feversham
	FRANKLIN, his Friend
	MOSBIE
	CLARKE, a Painter
	ADAM FOWLE, Landlord of the Flower-de-Luce
	BRADSHAW, a Goldsmith
	MICHAEL, Arden's Servant
	GREENE
	RICHARD REEDE, a Sailor
	BLACK WILL } Murderers
	SHAKEBAG   }
	A PRENTICE
	A FERRYMAN
	LORD CHEINY and his Men
	MAYOR OF FEVERSHAM and Watch

	ALICE, Arden's Wife
	SUSAN, Mosbie's Sister


	Arden of Feversham


ACT I


SCENE I	A room in Arden's house


	[Enter Arden and Franklin]

Franklin	Arden, cheer up thy spirits and droop no more!
	My gracious Lord, the Duke of Somerset,
	Hath freely given to thee and to thy heirs,
	By letters patents from his Majesty,
	All the lands of the Abbey of Feversham.
	Here are the deeds, [He hands them]
	Sealed and subscribed with his name and the king's:
	Read them and leave this melancholy mood.

Arden	Franklin, thy love prolongs my weary life;
	And but for thee how odious were this life,
	That shows me nothing but torments my soul,
	And those foul objects that offend mine eyes!
	Which makes me wish that for this veil of heaven
	The earth hung over my head and covered me.
	Love-letters pass 'twixt Mosbie and my wife,
	And they have privy meetings in the town:
	Nay, on his finger did I spy the ring
	Which at our marriage-day the priest put on.
	Can any grief be half so great as this?

Franklin	Comfort thyself, sweet friend; it is not strange
	That women will be false and wavering.

Arden	Ay, but to dote on such a one as he
	Is monstrous, Franklin and intolerable.

Franklin	Why, what is he?

Arden	A botcher and no better at the first;
	Who, by base brokage getting some small stock,
	Crept into service of a nobleman,
	And by his servile flattery and fawning
	Is now become the steward of his house,
	And bravely jets it in his silken gown.

Franklin	No nobleman will countenance such a peasant.

Arden	Yes, the Lord Clifford, he that loves not me.
	But through his favour let him not grow proud;
	For were he by the Lord Protector backed,
	He should not make me to be pointed at.
	I am by birth a gentleman of blood,
	And that injurious ribald, that attempts
	To violate my dear wife's chastity
	(For dear I hold her love, as dear as heaven)
	Shall on the bed which he thinks to defile
	See his dissevered joints and sinews torn,
	Whilst on the planchers pants his weary body,
	Smeared in the channels of his lustful blood.

Franklin	Be patient, gentle friend and learn of me
	To ease thy grief and save her chastity:
	Intreat her fair; sweet words are fittest engines
	To race the flint walls of a woman's breast.
	In any case be not too jealous,
	Nor make no question of her love to thee;
	But, as securely, presently take horse,
	And lie with me at London all this term;
	For women, when they may, will not,
	But, being kept back, straight grow outrageous.

Arden	Though this abhors from reason, yet I'll try it,
	And call her forth and presently take leave.
	How! Alice!

	[Enter Alice]

Alice	Husband, what mean you to get up so early?
	Summer-nights are short and yet you rise ere day.
	Had I been wake, you had not risen so soon.

Arden	Sweet love, thou knowest that we two, Ovid-like,
	Have often chid the morning when it 'gan to peep,
	And often wished that dark night's purblind steeds
	Would pull her by the purple mantle back,
	And cast her in the ocean to her love.
	But this night, sweet Alice, thou hast killed my heart:
	I heard thee call on Mosbie in thy sleep.

Alice	'Tis like I was asleep when I named him,
	For being awake he comes not in my thoughts.

Arden	Ay, but you started up and suddenly,
	Instead of him, caught me about the neck.

Alice	Instead of him? why, who was there but you?
	And where but one is, how can I mistake?

Franklin	Arden, leave to urge her over-far.

Arden	Nay, love, there is no credit in a dream;
	Let it suffice I know thou lovest me well.

Alice	Now I remember whereupon it came:
	Had we no talk of Mosbie yesternight?

Franklin	Mistress Alice, I heard you name him once or twice.

Alice	And thereof came it and therefore blame not me.

Arden	I know it did and therefore let it pass.
	I must to London, sweet Alice, presently.

Alice	But tell me, do you mean to stay there long?

Arden	No longer there till my affairs be done.

Franklin	He will not stay above a month at most.

Alice	A month? ay me! Sweet Arden, come again
	Within a day or two, or else I die.

Arden	I cannot long be from thee, gentle Alice.
	Whilst Michael fetch our horses from the field,
	Franklin and I will down unto the quay;
	For I have certain goods there to unload.
	Meanwhile prepare our breakfast, gentle Alice;
	For yet ere noon we'll take horse and away.

	[Exeunt Arden and Franklin]

Alice	Ere noon he means to take horse and away!
	Sweet news is this. O that some airy spirit
	Would in the shape and likeness of a horse
	Gallop with Arden 'cross the Ocean,
	And throw him from his back into the waves!
	Sweet Mosbie is the man that hath my heart:
	And he usurps it, having nought but this,
	That I am tied to him by marriage.
	Love is a God and marriage is but words;
	And therefore Mosbie's title is the best.
	Tush! whether it be or no, he shall be mine,
	In spite of him, of Hymen and of rites.

	[Enter Adam of the Flower-de-luce]

	And here comes Adam of the Flower-de-luce;
	I hope he brings me tidings of my love.
	-- How now, Adam, what is the news with you?
	Be not afraid; my husband is now from home.

Adam	He whom you wot of, Mosbie, Mistress Alice,
	Is come to town and sends you word by me
	In any case you may not visit him.

Alice	Not visit him?

Adam	No, nor take no knowledge of his being here.

Alice	But tell me, is he angry or displeased?

Adam	It should seem so, for he is wondrous sad.

Alice	Were he as mad as raving Hercules,
	I'll see him, I; and were thy house of force,
	These hands of mine should race it to the ground,
	Unless that thou wouldst bring me to my love.

Adam	Nay, and you be so impatient, I'll be gone.

Alice	Stay, Adam, stay; thou wert wont to be my friend.
	Ask Mosbie how I have incurred his wrath;
	Bear him from me these pair of silver dice,
	With which we played for kisses many a time,
	And when I lost, I won and so did he; --
	Such winning and such losing Jove send me!
	And bid him, if his love do not decline,
	To come this morning but along my door,
	And as a stranger but salute me there:
	This may he do without suspect or fear.

Adam	I'll tell him what you say and so farewell.

	[Exit Adam]

Alice	Do, and one day I'll make amends for all. --
	I know he loves me well, but dares not come,
	Because my husband is so jealous,
	And these my narrow-prying neighbours blab,
	Hinder our meetings when we would confer.
	But, if I live, that block shall be removed,
	And, Mosbie, thou that comes to me by stealth,
	Shalt neither fear the biting speech of men,
	Nor Arden's looks; as surely shall he die
	As I abhor him and love only thee.

	[Enter Michael]

	How now, Michael, whither are you going?

Michael	To fetch my master's nag.
	I hope you'll think on me.

Alice	Ay; but, Michael, see you keep your oath,
	And be as secret as you are resolute.

Michael	I'll see he shall not live above a week.

Alice	On that condition, Michael, here's my hand:
	None shall have Mosbie's sister but thyself.

Michael	I understand the painter here hard by
	Hath made report that he and Sue is sure.

Alice	There's no such matter, Michael; believe it not.

Michael	But he hath sent a dagger sticking in a heart,
	With a verse or two stolen from a painted cloth,
	The which I hear the wench keeps in her chest.
	Well, let her keep it! I shall find a fellow
	That can both write and read and make rhyme too.
	And if I do -- well, I say no more:
	I'll send from London such a taunting letter
	As she shall eat the heart he sent with salt
	And fling the dagger at the painter's head.

Alice	What needs all this? I say that Susan's thine.

Michael	Why, then I say that I will kill my master,
	Or anything that you will have me do.

Alice	But, Michael, see you do it cunningly.

Michael	Why, say I should be took, I'll ne'er confess
	That you know anything; and Susan, being a maid,
	May beg me from the gallows of the sheriff.

Alice	Trust not to that, Michael.

Michael	You cannot tell me, I have seen it, I.
	But, mistress, tell her, whether I live or die,
	I'll make her more worth than twenty painters can;
	For I will rid mine elder brother away,
	And then the farm of Bolton is mine own.
	Who would not venture upon house and land,
	When he may have it for a right down blow?

	[Enter Mosbie]

Alice	Yonder comes Mosbie. Michael, get thee gone,
	And let not him nor any know thy drifts.

	[Exit Michael]

	Mosbie, my love!

Mosbie	Away, I say and talk not to me now.

Alice	A word or two, sweet heart and then I will.
	'Tis yet but early days, thou needst not fear.

Mosbie	Where is your husband?

Alice	'Tis now high water and he is at the quay.

Mosbie	There let him be; henceforward know me not.

Alice	Is this the end of all thy solemn oaths?
	Is this the fruit thy reconcilement buds?
	Have I for this given thee so many favours,
	Incurred my husband's hate, and, out alas!
	Made shipwreck of mine honour for thy sake?
	And dost thou say 'henceforward know me not'?
	Remember, when I lock'd thee in my closet,
	What were thy words and mine; did we not both
	Decree to murder Arden in the night?
	The heavens can witness and the world can tell,
	Before I saw that falsehood look of thine,
	'Fore I was tangled with thy 'ticing speech,
	Arden to me was dearer than my soul, --
	And shall be still: base peasant, get thee gone,
	And boast not of thy conquest over me,
	Gotten by witchcraft and mere sorcery!
	For what hast thou to countenance my love,
	Being descended of a noble house,
	And matched already with a gentleman
	Whose servant thou may'st be! -- and so farewell.

Mosbie	Ungentle and unkind Alice, now I see
	That which I ever feared and find too true:
	A woman's love is as the lightning-flame,
	Which even in bursting forth consumes itself.
	To try thy constancy have I been strange;
	Would I had never tried, but lived in hope!

Alice	What need'st thou try me whom thou ne'er found false?

Mosbie	Yet pardon me, for love is jealous.

Alice	So lists the sailor to the mermaid's song,
	So looks the traveller to the basilisk:
	I am content for to be reconciled,
	And that, I know, will be mine overthrow.

Mosbie	Thine overthrow? first let the world dissolve.

Alice	Nay, Mosbie, let me still enjoy thy love,
	And happen what will, I am resolute.
	My saving husband hoards up bags of gold
	To make our children rich and now is he
	Gone to unload the goods that shall be thine,
	And he and Franklin will to London straight.

Mosbie	To London, Alice? if thou'lt be ruled by me,
	We'll make him sure enough for coming there.

Alice	Ah, would we could!

Mosbie	I happened on a painter yesternight,
	The only cunning man of Christendom;
	For he can temper poison with his oil,
	That whoso looks upon the work he draws
	Shall, with the beams that issue from his sight,
	Suck venom to his breast and slay himself.
	Sweet Alice, he shall draw thy counterfeit,
	That Arden may, by gazing on it, perish.

Alice	Ay, but Mosbie, that is dangerous,
	For thou, or I, or any other else,
	Coming into the chamber where it hangs, may die.

Mosbie	Ay, but we'll have it covered with a cloth
	And hung up in the study for himself.

Alice	It may not be, for when the picture's drawn,
	Arden, I know, will come and show it me.

Mosbie	Fear not; we'll have that shall serve the turn.
	This is the painter's house; I'll call him forth.

Alice	But Mosbie, I'll have no such picture, I.

Mosbie	I pray thee leave it to my discretion.
	How! Clarke!

	[Enter Clarke]

	Oh, you are an honest man of your word! you served me well.

Clarke	Why, sir, I'll do it for you at any time,
	Provided, as you have given your word,
	I may have Susan Mosbie to my wife.
	For, as sharp-witted poets, whose sweet verse
	Make heavenly gods break off their nectar draughts
	And lay their ears down to the lowly earth,
	Use humble promise to their sacred Muse,
	So we that are the poets' favourites
	Must have a love: ay, Love is the painter's muse,
	That makes him frame a speaking countenance,
	A weeping eye that witnesses heart's grief.
	Then tell me, Master Mosbie, shall I have her?

Alice	'Tis pity but he should; he'll use her well.

Mosbie	Clarke, here's my hand: my sister shall be thine.

Clarke	Then, brother, to requite this courtesy,
	You shall command my life, my skill and all.

Alice	Ah, that thou couldst be secret.

Mosbie	Fear him not; leave; I have talked sufficient

Clarke	You know not me that ask such questions.
	Let it suffice I know you love him well,
	And fain would have your husband made away:
	Wherein, trust me, you show a noble mind,
	That rather than you'll live with him you hate,
	You'll venture life and die with him you love.
	The like will I do for my Susan's sake.

Alice	Yet nothing could inforce me to the deed
	But Mosbie's love. Might I without control
	Enjoy thee still, then Arden should not die:
	But seeing I cannot, therefore let him die.

Mosbie	Enough, sweet Alice; thy kind words makes me melt.
	Your trick of poisoned pictures we dislike;
	Some other poison would do better far.

Alice	Ay, such as might be put into his broth,
	And yet in taste not to be found at all.

Clarke	I know your mind and here I have it for you.
	Put but a dram of this into his drink,
	Or any kind of broth that he shall eat,
	And he shall die within an hour after.

Alice	As I am a gentlewoman, Clarke, next day
	Thou and Susan shall be married.

Mosbie	And I'll make her dowry more than I'll talk of, Clarke.

Clarke	Yonder's your husband. Mosbie, I'll be gone.

	[Enter Arden and Franklin]

Alice	In good time see where my husband comes.
	Master Mosbie, ask him the question yourself.

	[Exit Clarke]

Mosbie	Master Arden, being at London yesternight,
	The Abbey lands, whereof you are now possessed,
	Were offered me on some occasion
	By Greene, one of Sir Antony Ager's men:
	I pray you, sir, tell me, are not the lands yours?
	Hath any other interest herein?

Arden	Mosbie, that question we'll decide anon.
	Alice, make ready my breakfast, I must hence.

	[Exit Alice]

	As for the lands, Mosbie, they are mine
	By letters patents from his Majesty.
	But I must have a mandate for my wife;
	They say you seek to rob me of her love:
	Villain, what makes thou in her company?
	She's no companion for so base a groom.

Mosbie	Arden, I thought not on her, I came to thee;
	But rather than I pocket up this wrong --

Franklin	What will you do, sir?

Mosbie	Revenge it on the proudest of you both.

	[Then Arden draws forth Mosbie's sword]

Arden	So, sirrah; you may not wear a sword,
	The statute makes against artificers;
	I warrant that I do. Now use your bodkin,
	Your Spanish needle and your pressing iron,
	For this shall go with me; and mark my words,
	You goodman botcher, 'tis to you I speak:
	The next time that I take thee near my house,
	Instead of legs I'll make thee crawl on stumps.

Mosbie	Ah, Master Arden, you have injured me:
	I do appeal to God and to the world.

Franklin	Why, canst thou deny thou wert a botcher once?

Mosbie	Measure me what I am, not what I was.

Arden	Why, what art thou now but a velvet drudge,
	A cheating steward and base-minded peasant?

Mosbie	Arden, now thou hast belched and vomited
	The rancorous venom of thy mis-swoll'n heart,
	Hear me but speak: as I intend to live
	With God and his elected saints in heaven,
	I never meant more to solicit her;
	And that she knows and all the world shall see.
	I loved her once; -- sweet Arden, pardon me,
	I could not choose, her beauty fired my heart!
	But time hath quenched these over-raging coals;
	And, Arden, though I now frequent thy house,
	'Tis for my sister's sake, her waiting-maid,
	And not for hers. Mayest thou enjoy her long:
	Hell-fire and wrathful vengeance light on me,
	If I dishonour her or injure thee.

Arden	Mosbie, with these thy protestations
	The deadly hatred of my heart's appeased,
	And thou and I'll be friends, if this prove true.
	As for the base terms I gave thee late,
	Forget them, Mosbie: I had cause to speak,
	When all the knights and gentlemen of Kent
	Make common table-talk of her and thee.

Mosbie	Who lives that is not touched with slanderous tongues?

Franklin	Then, Mosbie, to eschew the speech of men,
	Upon whose general bruit all honour hangs,
	Forbear his house.

Arden	Forbear it! nay, rather frequent it more:
	The world shall see that I distrust her not.
	To warn him on the sudden from my house
	Were to confirm the rumour that is grown.

Mosbie	By my faith, sir, you say true,
	And therefore will I sojourn here a while,
	Until our enemies have talked their fill;
	And then, I hope, they'll cease and at last confess
	How causeless they have injured her and me.

Arden	And I will lie at London all this term
	To let them see how light I weigh their words.

	[Enter Alice]

Alice	Husband, sit down; your breakfast will be cold.

Arden	Come, Master Mosbie, will you sit with us?

Mosbie	I cannot eat, but I'll sit for company.

Arden	Sirrah Michael, see our horse be ready.

Alice	Husband, why pause ye? why eat you not?

Arden	I am not well; there's something in this broth
	That is not wholesome: didst thou make it, Alice?

Alice	I did and that's the cause it likes not you.

	[Then she throws down the broth on the ground]

	There's nothing that I do can please your taste;
	You were best to say I would have poisoned you.
	I cannot speak or cast aside my eye,
	But he imagines I have stepped awry.
	Here's he that you cast in my teeth so oft:
	Now will I be convinced or purge myself.
	I charge thee speak to this mistrustful man,
	Thou that wouldst see me hang, thou, Mosbie, thou:
	What favour hast thou had more than a kiss
	At coming or departing from the town?

Mosbie	You wrong yourself and me to cast these doubts:
	Your loving husband is not jealous.

Arden	Why, gentle Mistress Alice, cannot I be ill
	But you'll accuse yourself?
	Franklin, thou hast a box of mithridate;
	I'll take a little to prevent the worst.

Franklin	Do so and let us presently take horse;
	My life for yours, ye shall do well enough.

Alice	Give me a spoon, I'll eat of it myself;
	Would it were full of poison to the brim,
	Then should my cares and troubles have an end.
	Was ever silly woman so tormented?

Arden	Be patient, sweet love; I mistrust not thee.

Alice	God will revenge it, Arden, if thou dost;
	For never woman loved her husband better
	Than I do thee.

Arden	I know it, sweet Alice; cease to complain,
	Lest that in tears I answer thee again.

Franklin	Come, leave this dallying and let us away.

Alice	Forbear to wound me with that bitter word;
	Arden shall go to London in my arms.

Arden	Loth am I to depart, yet I must go.

Alice	Wilt thou to London, then and leave me here?
	Ah, if thou love me, gentle Arden, stay.
	Yet, if thy business be of great import
	Go, if thou wilt, I'll bear it as I may;
	But write from London to me every week,
	Nay, every day and stay no longer there
	Than thou must needs, lest that I die for sorrow.

Arden	I'll write unto thee every other tide,
	And so farewell, sweet Alice, till we meet next.

Alice	Farewell, husband, seeing you'll have it so;
	And, Master Franklin, seeing you take him hence,
	In hope you'll hasten him home, I'll give you this.

	[And then she kisseth him]

Franklin	And if he stay, the fault shall not be mine.
	Mosbie, farewell and see you keep your oath.

Mosbie	I hope he is not jealous of me now.

Arden	No, Mosbie, no; hereafter think of me
	As of your dearest friend and so farewell.

	[Exeunt Arden, Franklin and Michael]

Alice	I am glad he is gone; he was about to stay,
	But did you mark me then how I brake off?

Mosbie	Ay, Alice and it was cunningly performed.
	But what a villain is that painter Clarke!

Alice	Was it not a goodly poison that he gave?
	Why, he's as well now as he was before.
	It should have been some fine confection
	That might have given the broth some dainty taste:
	This powder was too gross and populous.

Mosbie	But had he eaten but three spoonfuls more,
	Then had he died and our love continued.

Alice	Why, so it shall, Mosbie, albeit he live.

Mosbie	It is unpossible, for I have sworn
	Never hereafter to solicit thee,
	Or, whilst he lives, once more importune thee.

Alice	Thou shalt not need, I will importune thee.
	What? shall an oath make thee forsake my love?
	As if I have not sworn as much myself
	And given my hand unto him in the church!
	Tush, Mosbie; oaths are words and words is wind,
	And wind is mutable: then, I conclude,
	'Tis childishness to stand upon an oath.

Mosbie	Well proved, Mistress Alice; yet by your leave
	I'll keep mine unbroken whilst he lives.

Alice	Ay, do and spare not, his time is but short;
	For if thou beest as resolute as I,
	We'll have him murdered as he walks the streets.
	In London many alehouse ruffians keep,
	Which, as I hear, will murder men for gold.
	They shall be soundly fee'd to pay him home.

	[Enter Greene]

Mosbie	Alice, what's he that comes yonder? knowest thou him?

Alice	Mosbie, be gone: I hope 'tis one that comes
	To put in practice our intended drifts.

	[Exit Mosbie]

Greene	Mistress Arden, you are well met.
	I am sorry that your husband is from home,
	Whenas my purposed journey was to him:
	Yet all my labour is not spent in vain,
	For I suppose that you can full discourse
	And flat resolve me of the thing I seek.

Alice	What is it, Master Greene? If that I may
	Or can with safety, I will answer you.

Greene	I heard your husband hath the grant of late,
	Confirmed by letters patents from the king,
	Of all the lands of the Abbey of Feversham,
	Generally intitled, so that all former grants
	Are cut off; whereof I myself had one;
	But now my interest by that is void.
	This is all, Mistress Arden; is it true or no?

Alice	True, Master Greene; the lands are his in state,
	And whatsoever leases were before
	Are void for term of Master Arden's life;
	He hath the grant under the Chancery seal.

Greene	Pardon me, Mistress Arden, I must speak,
	For I am touched. Your husband doth me wrong
	To wring me from the little land I have.
	My living is my life and only that
	Resteth remainder of my portion.
	Desire of wealth is endless in his mind,
	And he is greedy-gaping still for gain;
	Nor cares he though young gentlemen do beg,
	So he may scrape and hoard up in his pouch.
	But, seeing he hath ta'en my lands, I'll value life
	As careless as he is careful for to get:
	And tell him this from me, I'll be revenged,
	And so as he shall wish the Abbey lands
	Had rested still within their former state.

Alice	Alas, poor gentleman, I pity you,
	And woe is me that any man should want!
	God knows 'tis not my fault; but wonder not
	Though he be hard to others, when to me, --
	Ah, Master Greene, God knows how I am used.

Greene	Why, Mistress Arden, can the crabbed churl
	Use you unkindly? respects he not your birth,
	Your honourable friends, nor what you brought?
	Why, all Kent knows your parentage and what you are.

Alice	Ah, Master Greene, be it spoken in secret here,
	I never live good day with him alone:
	When he's at home, then have I froward looks,
	Hard words and blows to mend the match withal;
	And though I might content as good a man,
	Yet doth he keep in every corner trulls;
	And when he's weary with his trugs at home,
	Then rides he straight to London; there, forsooth,
	He revels it among such filthy ones
	As counsels him to make away his wife.
	Thus live I daily in continual fear,
	In sorrow; so despairing of redress
	As every day I wish with hearty prayer
	That he or I were taken forth the world.

Greene	Now trust me, Mistress Alice, it grieveth me
	So fair a creature should be so abused.
	Why, who would have thought the civil sir so sullen?
	He looks so smoothly. Now, fie upon him, churl!
	And if he live a day, he lives too long.
	But frolic, woman! I shall be the man
	Shall set you free from all this discontent;
	And if the churl deny my interest
	And will not yield my lease into my hand,
	I'll pay him home, whatever hap to me.

Alice	But speak you as you think?

Greene	Ay, God's my witness, I mean plain dealing,
	For I had rather die than lose my land.

Alice	Then, Master Greene, be counsellèd by me:
	Indanger not yourself for such a churl,
	But hire some cutter for to cut him short,
	And here's ten pound to wager them withal;
	When he is dead, you shall have twenty more,
	And the lands whereof my husband is possess'd
	Shall be intitled as they were before.

Greene	Will you keep promise with me?

Alice	Or count me false and perjured whilst I live.

Greene	Then here's my hand, I'll have him so dispatched.
	I'll up to London straight, I'll thither post,
	And never rest till I have compassed it.
	Till then farewell.

Alice	Good fortune follow all your forward thoughts.

	[Exit Greene]

	And whosoever doth attempt the deed,
	A happy hand I wish and so farewell. --
	All this goes well: Mosbie, I long for thee
	To let thee know all that I have contrived.

	[Enter Mosbie and Clarke]

Mosbie	How, now, Alice, what's the news?

Alice	Such as will content thee well, sweetheart.

Mosbie	Well, let them pass a while and tell me, Alice,
	How have you dealt and tempered with my sister?
	What, will she have my neighbour Clarke, or no?

Alice	What, Master Mosbie! let him woo himself!
	Think you that maids look not for fair words?
	Go to her, Clarke; she's all alone within;
	Michael my man is clean out of her books.

Clarke	I thank you, Mistress Arden, I will in;
	And if fair Susan and I can make a gree,
	You shall command me to the uttermost,
	As far as either goods or life may stretch.

	[Exit Clarke]

Mosbie	Now, Alice, let's hear thy news.

Alice	They be so good that I must laugh for joy,
	Before I can begin to tell my tale.

Mosbie	Let's hear them, that I may laugh for company.

Alice	This morning, Master Greene, Dick Greene I mean,
	From whom my husband had the Abbey land,
	Came hither, railing, for to know the truth
	Whether my husband had the lands by grant.
	I told him all, whereat he stormed amain
	And swore he would cry quittance with the churl,
	And, if he did deny his interest,
	Stab him, whatsoever did befall himself.
	Whenas I saw his choler thus to rise,
	I whetted on the gentleman with words;
	And, to conclude, Mosbie, at last we grew
	To composition for my husband's death.
	I gave him ten pound for to hire knaves,
	By some device to make away the churl;
	When he is dead, he should have twenty more
	And repossess his former lands again.
	On this we 'greed and he is ridden straight
	To London, for to bring his death about.

Mosbie	But call you this good news?

Alice	Ay, sweetheart, be they not?

Mosbie	'Twere cheerful news to hear the churl were dead;
	But trust me, Alice, I take it passing ill
	You would be so forgetful of our state
	To make recount of it to every groom.
	What! to acquaint each stranger with our drifts,
	Chiefly in case of murder, why, 'tis the way
	To make it open unto Arden's self
	And bring thyself and me to ruin both.
	Forewarned, forearmed; who threats his enemy,
	Lends him a sword to guard himself withal.

Alice	I did it for the best.

Mosbie	Well, seeing 'tis done, cheerly let it pass.
	You know this Greene; is he not religious?
	A man, I guess, of great devotion?

Alice	He is.

Mosbie	Then, sweet Alice, let it pass: I have a drift
	Will quiet all, whatever is amiss.

	[Enter Clarke and Susan]

Alice	How now, Clarke? have you found me false?
	Did I not plead the matter hard for you?

Clarke	You did.

Mosbie	And what? wilt be a match?

Clarke	A match, i' faith, sir: ay, the day is mine.
	The painter lays his colours to the life,
	His pencil draws no shadows in his love.
	Susan is mine.

Alice	You make her blush.

Mosbie	What, sister, is it Clarke must be the man?

Susan	It resteth in your grant; some words are past,
	And haply we be grown unto a match,
	If you be willing that it shall be so.

Mosbie	Ah, Master Clarke, it resteth at my grant:
	You see my sister's yet at my dispose,
	But, so you'll grant me one thing I shall ask,
	I am content my sister shall be yours.

Clarke	What is it, Master Mosbie?

Mosbie	I do remember once in secret talk
	You told me how you could compound by art
	A crucifix impoisoned,
	That whoso look upon it should wax blind
	And with the scent be stifled, that ere long
	He should die poisoned that did view it well.
	I would have you make me such a crucifix.
	And then I'll grant my sister shall be yours.

Clarke	Though I am loth, because it toucheth life,
	Yet, rather or I'll leave sweet Susan's love,
	I'll do it and with all the haste I may.
	But for whom is it?

Alice	Leave that to us. Why, Clarke, is it possible
	That you should paint and draw it out yourself,
	The colours being baleful and impoisoned,
	And no ways prejudice yourself withal?

Mosbie	Well questioned, Alice; Clarke, how answer you that?

Clarke	Very easily: I'll tell you straight
	How I do work of these impoisoned drugs.
	I fasten on my spectacles so close
	As nothing can any way offend my sight;
	Then, as I put a leaf within my nose,
	So put I rhubarb to avoid the smell,
	And softly as another work I paint.

Mosbie	'Tis very well; but against when shall I have it?

Clarke	Within this ten days.

Mosbie				'Twill serve the turn.
	Now, Alice, let's in and see what cheer you keep.
	I hope, now Master Arden is from home,
	You'll give me leave to play your husband's part.

Alice	Mosbie, you know, who's master of my heart,
	He well may be the master of the house.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT II


SCENE I	Country between Feversham and London


	[Enter Greene and Bradshaw]

Bradshaw	See you them that comes yonder, Master Greene?

Greene	Ay, very well: do you know them?

	[Enter Black Will and Shakebag]

Bradshaw	The one I know not, but he seems a knave
	Chiefly for bearing the other company;
	For such a slave, so vile a rogue as he,
	Lives not again upon the earth.
	Black Will is his name. I tell you, Master Greene,
	At Boulogne he and I were fellow-soldiers,
	Where he played such pranks
	As all the camp feared him for his villainy
	I warrant you he bears so bad a mind
	That for a crown he'll murder any man.

Greene	The fitter is he for my purpose, marry!

Will	How now, fellow Bradshaw? Whither away so early?

Bradshaw	O Will, times are changed: no fellows now,
	Though we were once together in the field;
	Yet thy friend to do thee any good I can.

Will	Why, Bradshaw, was not thou and I fellow-soldiers
	at Boulogne, where I was a corporal, and
	thou but a base mercenary groom? No fellows
	now! because you are a goldsmith and have a little
	plate in your shop! You were glad to call me
	'fellow Will,' and with a curtsey to the earth, 'One
	snatch, good corporal,' when I stole the half ox
	from John the victualer and domineer'd with it
	amongst good fellows in one night.

Bradshaw	Ay, Will, those days are past with me.

Will	Ay, but they be not past with me, for I keep that
	same honourable mind still. Good neighbour Bradshaw,
	you are too proud to be my fellow; but were
	it not that I see more company coming down the
	hill, I would be fellows with you once more, and
	share crowns with you too. But let that pass, and
	tell me whither you go.

Bradshaw	To London, Will, about a piece of service,
	Wherein haply thou mayest pleasure me.

Will	What is it?

Bradshaw	Of late Lord Cheiny lost some plate,
	Which one did bring and sold it at my shop,
	Saying he served Sir Antony Cooke.
	A search was made, the plate was found with me,
	And I am bound to answer at the 'size.
	Now, Lord Cheiny solemnly vows, if law
	Will serve him, he'll hang me for his plate.
	Now I am going to London upon hope
	To find the fellow. Now, Will, I know
	Thou art acquainted with such companions.

Will	What manner of man was he?

Bradshaw	A lean-faced writhen knave,
	Hawk-nosed and very hollow-eyed,
	With mighty furrows in his stormy brows;
	Long hair down his shoulders curled;
	His chin was bare, but on his upper lip
	A mutchado, which he wound about his ear.

Will	What apparel had he?

Bradshaw	A watchet satin doublet all-to torn,
	The inner side did bear the greater show;
	A pair of thread-bare velvet hose, seam rent,
	A worsted stocking rent above the shoe,
	A livery cloak, but all the lace was off;
	'Twas bad, but yet it served to hide the plate.

Will	Sirrah Shakebag, canst thou remember since we
	trolled the bowl at Sittingburgh, where I broke the
	tapster's head of the Lion with a cudgel-stick?

Shakebag	Ay, very well, Will.

Will	Why, it was with the money that the plate was
	sold for. Sirrah Bradshaw, what wilt thou give him
	that can tell thee who sold thy plate?

Bradshaw	Who, I pray thee, good Will?

Will	Why, 'twas one Jack Fitten. He's now in Newgate
	for stealing a horse and shall be arraigned the next 'size.

Bradshaw	Why, then let Lord Cheiny seek Jack Fitten forth,
	For I'll back and tell him who robbed him of his plate.
	This cheers my heart; Master Greene, I'll leave you,
	For I must to the Isle of Sheppy with speed.

Greene	Before you go, let me intreat you
	To carry this letter to Mistress Arden of Feversham
	And humbly recommend me to herself.

Bradshaw	That will I, Master Greene and so farewell.
	Here, Will, there's a crown for thy good news.

	[Exit Bradshaw]

Will	Farewell, Bradshaw; I'll drink no water for thy
	sake whilst this lasts. -- Now, gentleman, shall we
	have your company to London?

Greene	Nay, stay, sirs:
	A little more I needs must use your help,
	And in a matter of great consequence,
	Wherein if you'll be secret and profound,
	I'll give you twenty angels for your pains.

Will	How? twenty angels? give my fellow George
	Shakebag and me twenty angels? And if thou'lt
	have thy own father slain, that thou may'st inherit
	his land, we'll kill him.

Shakebag	Ay, thy mother, thy sister, thy brother,
	or all thy kin.

Greene	Well, this it is: Arden of Feversham
	Hath highly wronged me about the Abbey land,
	That no revenge but death will serve the turn.
	Will you two kill him? here's the angels down,
	And I will lay the platform of his death.

Will	Plat me no platforms; give me the money, and
	I'll stab him as he stands pissing against a wall, but
	I'll kill him.

Shakebag	Where is he?

Greene	He is now at London, in Aldersgate Street.

Shakebag	He's dead as if he had been condemned by
	an Act of Parliament, if once Black Will and I
	swear his death.

Greene	Here is ten pound and when he is dead,
	Ye shall have twenty more.

Will	My fingers itches to be at the peasant. Ah, that
	I might be set a work thus through the year, and
	that murder would grow to an occupation, that a
	man might follow without danger of law: -- zounds, I
	warrant I should be warden of the company! Come,
	let us be going and we'll bait at Rochester, where
	I'll give thee a gallon of sack to handsel the match
	withal.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT II


SCENE II	London. A street near St. Paul's


	[Enter Michael]

Michael	I have gotten such a letter as will touch the
	painter: And thus it is:

	[Enter Arden and Franklin and hears Michael read this letter]

	'My duty remembered, Mistress Susan, hoping in God
	you be in good health, as I Michael was at the
	making hereof. This is to certify you that as the
	turtle true, when she hath lost her mate, sitteth
	alone, so I, mourning for your absence, do walk
	up and down Paul's till one day I fell asleep and
	lost my master's pantofles. Ah, Mistress Susan,
	abolish that paltry painter, cut him off by the
	shins with a frowning look of your crabbed countenance,
	and think upon Michael, who, drunk with
	the dregs of your favour, will cleave as fast to your
	love as a plaster of pitch to a galled horse-back.
	Thus hoping you will let my passions penetrate, or
	rather impetrate mercy of your meek hands, I end.

	  'Yours, Michael, or else not Michael.'

Arden	Why, you paltry knave,
	Stand you here loitering, knowing my affairs,
	What haste my business craves to send to Kent?

Franklin	Faith, friend Michael, this is very ill,
	Knowing your master hath no more but you,
	And do ye slack his business for your own?

Arden	Where is the letter, sirrah? let me see it.

	[Then he gives him the letter]

	See, Master Franklin, here's proper stuff:
	Susan my maid, the painter and my man,
	A crew of harlots, all in love, forsooth;
	Sirrah, let me hear no more of this,
	Nor for thy life once write to her a word.

	[Enter Greene, Will and Shakebag]

	Wilt thou be married to so base a trull?
	'Tis Mosbie's sister: come I once at home,
	I'll rouse her from remaining in my house.
	Now, Master Franklin, let us go walk in Paul's;
	Come but a turn or two and then away.

	[Exeunt]

Greene	The first is Arden and that's his man,
	The other is Franklin, Arden's dearest friend.

Will	Zounds, I'll kill them all three.

Greene	Nay, sirs, touch not his man in any case;
	But stand close and take you fittest standing,
	And at his coming forth speed him:
	To the Nag's Head, there is this coward's haunt.
	But now I'll leave you till the deed be done.

	[Exit Greene]

Shakebag	If he be not paid his own, ne'er trust Shakebag.

Will	Sirrah Shakebag, at his coming forth I'll run him
	through and then to the Blackfriars and there
	take water and away.

Shakebag	Why, that's the best; but see thou miss him not.

Will	How can I miss him, when I think on the forty
	angels I must have more?

	[Enter Prentice]

Prentice	'Tis very late; I were best shut up my stall,
	for here will be old filching, when the press comes
	forth of Paul's.

	[Then lets he down his window and it breaks Black Will's head]

Will	Zounds, draw, Shakebag, I am almost killed.

Prentice	We'll tame you, I warrant.

Will	Zounds, I am tame enough already.

	[Enter Arden, Franklin and Michael]

Arden	What troublesome fray or mutiny is this?

Franklin	'Tis nothing but some brabling paltry fray,
	Devised to pick men's pockets in the throng.

Arden	Is't nothing else? come, Franklin, let's away.

	[Exeunt]

Will	What 'mends shall I have for my broken head?

Prentice	Marry, this 'mends, that if you get you not
	away all the sooner, you shall be well beaten and
	sent to the Counter.

	[Exit Prentice]

Will	Well, I'll be gone, but look to your signs, for I'll
	pull them down all. Shakebag, my broken head
	grieves me not so much as by this means Arden
	hath escaped.

	[Enter Greene]

	I had a glimpse of him and his companion.

Greene	Why, sirs, Arden's as well as I; I met him and
	Franklin going merrily to the ordinary. What, dare
	you not do it?

Will	Yes, sir, we dare do it; but, were my consent to
	give again, we would not do it under ten pound
	more. I value every drop of my blood at a French
	crown. I have had ten pound to steal a dog and we
	have no more here to kill a man; but that a bargain
	is a bargain and so forth, you should do it yourself.

Greene	I pray thee, how came thy head broke?

Will	Why, thou seest it is broke, dost thou not?

Shakebag	Standing against a stall, watching Arden's
	coming, a boy let down his shop-window and broke
	his head; whereupon arose a brawl and in the
	tumult Arden escaped us and passed by unthought
	on. But forbearance is no acquittance; another
	time we'll do it, I warrant thee.

Greene	I pray thee, Will, make clean thy bloody brow,
	And let us bethink us on some other place
	Where Arden may be met with handsomely.
	Remember how devoutly thou hast sworn
	To kill the villain; think upon thine oath.

Will	Tush, I have broken five hundred oaths!
	But wouldst thou charm me to effect this deed,
	Tell me of gold, my resolution's fee;
	Say thou seest Mosbie kneeling at my knees,
	Offering me service for my high attempt,
	And sweet Alice Arden, with a lap of crowns,
	Comes with a lowly curtsey to the earth,
	Saying 'Take this but for thy quarterage,
	Such yearly tribute will I answer thee.'
	Why, this would steel soft-mettled cowardice,
	With which Black Will was never tainted yet.
	I tell thee, Greene, the forlorn traveller,
	Whose lips are glued with summer's parching heat,
	Ne'er longed so much to see a running brook
	As I to finish Arden's tragedy.
	Seest thou this gore that cleaveth to my face?
	From hence ne'er will I wash this bloody stain,
	Till Arden's heart be panting in my hand.

Greene	Why, that's well said; but what saith Shakebag?

Shakebag	I cannot paint my valour out with words:
	But, give me place and opportunity,
	Such mercy as the starven lioness,
	When she is dry sucked of her eager young,
	Shows to the prey that next encounters her,
	On Arden so much pity would I take.

Greene	So should it fare with men of firm resolve.
	And now, sirs, seeing that this accident
	Of meeting him in Paul's hath no success,
	Let us bethink us of some other place
	Whose earth may swallow up this Arden's blood.

	[Enter Michael]

	See, yonder comes his man: and wot you what?
	The foolish knave's in love with Mosbie's sister,
	And for her sake, whose love he cannot get
	Unless Mosbie solicit his suit,
	The villain hath sworn the slaughter of his master.
	We'll question him, for he may stead us much, --
	How now, Michael, whither are you going?

Michael	My master hath new supped,
	And I am going to prepare his chamber.

Greene	Where supped Master Arden?

Michael	At the Nag's Head, at the eighteen pence
	ordinary. How now, Master Shakebag? what,
	Black Will! God's dear lady, how chance your
	face is so bloody?

Will	Go to, sirrah, there is a chance in it; this sauciness
	in you will make you be knocked.

Michael	Nay, an you be offended, I'll be gone.

Greene	Stay, Michael, you may not escape us so.
	Michael, I know you love your master well.

Michael	Why, so I do; but wherefore urge you that?

Greene	Because I think you love your mistress better.

Michael	So think not I; but say, i' faith, what, if I should?

Shakebag	Come to the purpose, Michael; we hear
	You have a pretty love in Feversham.

Michael	Why, have I two or three, what's that to thee!

Will	You deal too mildly with the peasant. Thus it is:
	'Tis known to us that you love Mosbie's sister;
	We know besides that you have ta'en your oath
	To further Mosbie to your mistress' bed,
	And kill your master for his sister's sake.
	Now, sir, a poorer coward than yourself
	Was never fostered in the coast of Kent:
	How comes it then that such a knave as you
	Dare swear a matter of such consequence?

Greene	Ah, Will --

Will	Tush, give me leave, there's no more but this:
	Sith thou hast sworn, we dare discover all;
	And hadst thou or should'st thou utter it,
	We have devised a complat under hand,
	Whatever shall betide to any of us,
	To send thee roundly to the devil of hell.
	And therefore thus: I am the very man,
	Marked in my birth-hour by the destinies,
	To give an end to Arden's life on earth;
	Thou but a member but to whet the knife
	Whose edge must search the closet of his breast:
	Thy office is but to appoint the place,
	And train thy master to his tragedy;
	Mine to perform it when occasion serves.
	Then be not nice, but here devise with us
	How and what way we may conclude his death.

Shakebag	So shalt thou purchase Mosbie for thy friend,
	And by his friendship gain his sister's love.

Greene	So shall thy mistress be thy favourer,
	And thou disburdened of the oath thou made.

Michael	Well, gentlemen, I cannot but confess,
	Sith you have urged me so apparently,
	That I have vowed my master Arden's death;
	And he whose kindly love and liberal hand
	Doth challenge nought but good deserts of me,
	I will deliver over to your hands.
	This night come to his house at Aldersgate:
	The doors I'll leave unlock'd against you come.
	No sooner shall ye enter through the latch,
	Over the threshold to the inner court,
	But on your left hand shall you see the stairs
	That leads directly to my master's chamber:
	There take him and dispose him as ye please.
	Now it were good we parted company;
	What I have promised, I will perform.

Will	Should you deceive us, 'twould go wrong with you.

Michael	I will accomplish all I have revealed.

Will	Come, let's go drink: choler makes me as dry as a dog.

	[Exeunt Will, Greene and Shakebag. Manet Michael]

Michael	Thus feeds the lamb securely on the down,
	Whilst through the thicket of an arbour brake
	The hunger-bitten wolf o'erpries his haunt
	And takes advantage for to eat him up.
	Ah, harmless Arden, how hast thou misdone,
	That thus thy gentle life is levelled at?
	The many good turns that thou hast done to me.
	Now must I quittance with betraying thee.
	I that should take the weapon in my hand
	And buckler thee from ill-intending foes,
	Do lead thee with a wicked fraudful smile,
	As unsuspected, to the slaughter-house.
	So have I sworn to Mosbie and my mistress,
	So have I promised to the slaughtermen;
	And should I not deal currently with them,
	Their lawless rage would take revenge on me.
	Tush, I will spurn at mercy for this once:
	Let pity lodge where feeble women lie,
	I am resolved and Arden needs must die.

	[Exit Michael]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT III


SCENE I	A room in Franklin's house, at Aldersgate


	[Enter Arden and Franklin]

Arden	No, Franklin, no: if fear or stormy threats,
	If love of me or care of womanhood,
	If fear of God or common speech of men,
	Who mangle credit with their wounding words,
	And couch dishonour as dishonour buds,
	Might join repentance in her wanton thoughts,
	No question then but she would turn the leaf
	And sorrow for her dissolution;
	But she is rooted in her wickedness,
	Perverse and stubborn, not to be reclaimed;
	Good counsel is to her as rain to weeds,
	And reprehension makes her vice to grow
	As Hydra's head that plenished by decay.
	Her faults, methink, are painted in my face,
	For every searching eye to overread;
	And Mosbie's name, a scandal unto mine,
	Is deeply trenchèd in my blushing brow.
	Ah, Franklin, Franklin, when I think on this,
	My heart's grief rends my other powers
	Worse than the conflict at the hour of death.

Franklin	Gentle Arden, leave this sad lament:
	She will amend and so your griefs will cease;
	Or else she'll die and so your sorrows end.
	If neither of these two do haply fall,
	Yet let your comfort be that others bear
	Your woes, twice doubled all, with patience.

Arden	My house is irksome; there I cannot rest.

Franklin	Then stay with me in London; go not home.

Arden	Then that base Mosbie doth usurp my room
	And makes his triumph of my being thence.
	At home or not at home, where'er I be,
	Here, here it lies, ah Franklin, here it lies
	That will not out till wretched Arden dies.

	[Enter Michael]

Franklin	Forget your griefs a while; here comes your man.

Arden	What a-clock is't, sirrah?

Michael	Almost ten.

Arden	See, see, how runs away the weary time!
	Come, Master Franklin, shall we go to bed?

	[Exeunt Arden and Michael. Manet Franklin]

Franklin	I pray you, go before: I'll follow you.
	-- Ah, what a hell is fretful jealousy!
	What pity-moving words, what deep-fetched sighs,
	What grievous groans and overlading woes
	Accompanies this gentle gentleman!
	Now will he shake his care-oppressèd head,
	Then fix his sad eyes on the sullen earth,
	Ashamed to gaze upon the open world;
	Now will he cast his eyes up towards the heavens,
	Looking that ways for redress of wrong:
	Sometimes he seeketh to beguile his grief
	And tells a story with his careful tongue;
	Then comes his wife's dishonour in his thoughts
	And in the middle cutteth off his tale,
	Pouring fresh sorrow on his weary limbs.
	So woe-begone, so inly charged with woe,
	Was never any lived and bare it so.

	[Enter Michael]

Michael	My master would desire you come to bed.

Franklin	Is he himself already in his bed?

	[Exit Franklin. Manet Michael]

Michael	He is and fain would have the light away.
	-- Conflicting thoughts, encampèd in my breast,
	Awake me with the echo of their strokes,
	And I, a judge to censure either side,
	Can give to neither wishèd victory.
	My master's kindness pleads to me for life
	With just demand and I must grant it him:
	My mistress she hath forced me with an oath,
	For Susan's sake, the which I may not break,
	For that is nearer than a master's love:
	That grim-faced fellow, pitiless Black Will,
	And Shakebag, stern in bloody stratagem,
	-- Two rougher ruffians never lived in Kent, --
	Have sworn my death, if I infringe my vow,
	A dreadful thing to be considered of.
	Methinks I see them with their bolstered hair
	Staring and grinning in thy gentle face,
	And in their ruthless hands their daggers drawn,
	Insulting o'er thee with a peck of oaths,
	Whilst thou submissive, pleading for relief,
	Art mangled by their ireful instruments.
	Methinks I hear them ask where Michael is,
	And pitiless Black Will cries: 'Stab the slave!
	The peasant will detect the tragedy!'
	The wrinkles in his foul death-threat'ning face
	Gapes open wide, like graves to swallow men.
	My death to him is but a merriment,
	And he will murder me to make him sport.
	He comes, he comes! ah. Master Franklin, help!
	Call on the neighbours, or we are but dead!

	[Enter Franklin and Arden]

Franklin	What dismal outcry calls me from my rest?

Arden	What hath occasioned such a fearful cry?
	Speak, Michael: hath any injured thee?

Michael	Nothing, sir; but as I fell asleep,
	Upon the threshold leaning to the stairs,
	I had a fearful dream that troubled me,
	And in my slumber thought I was beset
	With murderer thieves that came to rifle me.
	My trembling joints witness my inward fear:
	I crave your pardons for disturbing you.

Arden	So great a cry for nothing I ne'er heard.
	What? are the doors fast locked and all things safe?

Michael	I cannot tell; I think I locked the doors.

Arden	I like not this, but I'll go see myself. --
	Ne'er trust me but the doors were all unlocked:
	This negligence not half contenteth me.
	Get you to bed and if you love my favour,
	Let me have no more such pranks as these.
	Come, Master Franklin, let us go to bed.

Franklin	Ay, by my faith; the air is very cold.
	Michael, farewell; I pray thee dream no more.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT III


SCENE II	Outside Franklin's house


	[Enter Will, Greene and Shakebag]

Shakebag	Black night hath hid the pleasures of the day,
	And sheeting darkness overhangs the earth,
	And with the black fold of her cloudy robe
	Obscures us from the eyesight of the world,
	In which sweet silence such as we triumph.
	The lazy minutes linger on their time,
	As loth to give due audit to the hour,
	Till in the watch our purpose be complete
	And Arden sent to everlasting night.
	Greene, get you gone and linger here about,
	And at some hour hence come to us again,
	Where we will give you instance of his death.

Greene	Speed to my wish, whose will so e'er says no;
	And so I'll leave you for an hour or two.

	[Exit Greene]

Will	I tell thee, Shakebag, would this thing were done:
	I am so heavy that I can scarce go;
	This drowsiness in me bodes little good.

Shakebag	How now, Will? become a precisian?
	Nay, then let's go sleep, when bugs and fears
	Shall kill our courages with their fancy's work.

Will	Why, Shakebag, thou mistakes me much,
	And wrongs me too in telling me of fear.
	Were't not a serious thing we go about,
	It should be slipt till I had fought with thee,
	To let thee know I am no coward, I.
	I tell thee, Shakebag, thou abusest me.

Shakebag	Why, thy speech bewrayed an inly kind of fear,
	And savoured of a weak relenting spirit.
	Go forward now in that we have begun,
	And afterwards attempt me when thou darest.

Will	And if I do not, heaven cut me off!
	But let that pass and show me to this house,
	Where thou shalt see I'll do as much as Shakebag.

Shakebag	This is the door; but soft, methinks 'tis shut.
	The villain Michael hath deceived us.

Will	Soft, let me see, Shakebag; 'tis shut indeed.
	Knock with thy sword, perhaps the slave will hear.

Shakebag	It will not be; the white-livered peasant
	Is gone to bed and laughs us both to scorn.

Will	And he shall buy his merriment as dear
	As ever coistril bought so little sport:
	Ne'er let this sword assist me when I need,
	But rust and canker after I have sworn,
	If I, the next time that I meet the hind,
	Lop not away his leg, his arm, or both.

Shakebag	And let me never draw a sword again,
	Nor prosper in the twilight, cockshut light,
	When I would fleece the wealthy passenger,
	But lie and languish in a loathsome den,
	Hated and spit at by the goers-by,
	And in that death may die unpitied,
	If I, the next time that I meet the slave,
	Cut not the nose from off the coward's face
	And trample on it for this villainy.

Will	Come, let's go seek out Greene; I know he'll swear.

Shakebag	He were a villain, an he would not swear.
	'Twould make a peasant swear among his boys,
	That ne'er durst say before but 'yea' and 'no,'
	To be thus flouted of a coistril.

Will	Shakebag, let's seek out Greene and in the morning
	At the alehouse butting Arden's house
	Watch the out-coming of that prick-eared cur,
	And then let me alone to handle him.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT III


SCENE III	A room in Franklin's house as before


	[Enter Arden, Franklin and Michael]

Arden	Sirrah, get you back to Billingsgate
	And learn what time the tide will serve our turn;
	Come to us in Paul's. First go make the bed,
	And afterwards go hearken for the flood.

	[Exit Michael]

	Come, Master Franklin, you shall go with me.
	This night I dreamt that, being in a park,
	A toil was pitched to overthrow the deer,
	And I upon a little rising hill
	Stood whistly watching for the herd's approach.
	Even there, methoughts, a gentle slumber took me,
	And summoned all my parts to sweet repose;
	But in the pleasure of this golden rest
	An ill-thewed foster had removed the toil,
	And rounded me with that beguiling home
	Which late, methought, was pitched to cast the deer.
	With that he blew an evil-sounding horn,
	And at the noise another herdman came,
	With falchion drawn and bent it at my breast,
	Crying aloud, 'Thou art the game we seek!'
	With this I woke and trembled every joint,
	Like one obscured in a little bush,
	That sees a lion foraging about,
	And, when the dreadful forest-king is gone,
	He pries about with timorous suspect
	Throughout the thorny casements of the brake,
	And will not think his person dangerless,
	But quakes and shivers, though the cause be gone:
	So, trust me, Franklin, when I did awake,
	I stood in doubt whether I waked or no:
	Such great impression took this fond surprise.
	God grant this vision bedeem me any good.

Franklin	This fantasy doth rise from Michael's fear,
	Who being awaked with the noise he made,
	His troubled senses yet could take no rest;
	And this, I warrant you, procured your dream.

Arden	It may be so, God frame it to the best:
	But oftentimes my dreams presage too true.

Franklin	To such as note their nightly fantasies,
	Some one in twenty may incur belief;
	But use it not, 'tis but a mockery.

Arden	Come, Master Franklin; we'll now walk in Paul's
	And dine together at the ordinary,
	And by my man's direction draw to the quay,
	And with the tide go down to Feversham.
	Say, Master Franklin, shall it not be so?

Franklin	At your good pleasure, sir; I'll bear you company.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT III


SCENE IV	Aldersgate


	[Enter Michael at one door and Greene, Will and Shakebag at another door]

Will	Draw, Shakebag, for here's that villain Michael.

Greene	First, Will, let's hear what he can say.

Will	Speak, milksop slave and never after speak.

Michael	For God's sake, sirs, let me excuse myself:
	For here I swear, by heaven and earth and all,
	I did perform the utmost of my task,
	And left the doors unbolted and unlocked.
	But see the chance: Franklin and my master
	Were very late conferring in the porch,
	And Franklin left his napkin where he sat
	With certain gold knit in it, as he said.
	Being in bed, he did bethink himself,
	And coming down he found the doors unshut:
	He locked the gates and brought away the keys,
	For which offence my master rated me.
	But now I am going to see what flood it is,
	For with the tide my master will away;
	Where you may front him well on Rainham Down,
	A place well-fitting such a stratagem.

Will	Your excuse hath somewhat mollified my choler.
	Why now, Greene, 'tis better now nor e'er it was.

Greene	But, Michael, is this true?

Michael	As true as I report it to be true.

Shakebag	Then, Michael, this shall be your penance,
	To feast us all at the Salutation,
	Where we will plat our purpose thoroughly.

Greene	And, Michael, you shall bear no news of this tide,
	Because they two may be in Rainham Down
	Before your master.

Michael	Why, I'll agree to anything you'll have me,
	So you will except of my company.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT III


SCENE V	Arden's house at Feversham


	[Enter Mosbie]

Mosbie	Disturbèd thoughts drives me from company
	And dries my marrow with their watchfulness;
	Continual trouble of my moody brain
	Feebles my body by excess of drink,
	And nips me as the bitter north-east wind
	Doth check the tender blossoms in the spring.
	Well fares the man, howe'er his cates do taste,
	That tables not with foul suspicion;
	And he but pines amongst his delicates,
	Whose troubled mind is stuffed with discontent.
	My golden time was when I had no gold;
	Though then I wanted, yet I slept secure;
	My daily toil begat me night's repose,
	My night's repose made daylight fresh to me.
	But since I climbed the top-bough of the tree
	And sought to build my nest among the clouds,
	Each gentle stirry gale doth shake my bed,
	And makes me dread my downfall to the earth.
	But whither doth contemplation carry me?
	The way I seek to find, where pleasure dwells,
	Is hedged behind me that I cannot back,
	But needs must on, although to danger's gate.
	Then, Arden, perish thou by that decree;
	For Greene doth ear the land and weed thee up
	To make my harvest nothing but pure corn.
	And for his pains I'll hive him up a while,
	And after smother him to have his wax:
	Such bees as Greene must never live to sting.
	Then is there Michael and the painter too,
	Chief actors to Arden's overthrow;
	Who when they shall see me sit in Arden's seat,
	They will insult upon me for my meed,
	Or fright me by detecting of his end.
	I'll none of that, for I can cast a bone
	To make these curs pluck out each other's throat,
	And then am I sole ruler of mine own.
	Yet Mistress Arden lives; but she's myself,
	And holy Church rites makes us two but one.
	But what for that? I may not trust you, Alice:
	You have supplanted Arden for my sake,
	And will extirpen me to plant another.
	'Tis fearful sleeping in a serpent's bed,
	And I will cleanly rid my hands of her.

	[Enter Alice]

	But here she comes and I must flatter her.
	-- How now, Alice? what, sad and passionate?
	Make me partaker of thy pensiveness:
	Fire divided burns with lesser force.

Alice	But I will dam that fire in my breast
	Till by the force thereof my part consume.
	Ah, Mosbie!

Mosbie	Such deep pathaires, like to a cannon's burst
	Discharged against a ruinated wall,
	Breaks my relenting heart in thousand pieces.
	Ungentle Alice, thy sorrow is my sore;
	Thou know'st it well and 'tis thy policy
	To forge distressful looks to wound a breast
	Where lies a heart that dies when thou art sad.
	It is not love that loves to anger love.

Alice	It is not love that loves to murder love.

Mosbie	How mean you that?

Alice	Thou knowest how dearly Arden loved me.

Mosbie	And then?

Alice	And then -- conceal the rest, for 'tis too bad,
	Lest that my words be carried with the wind,
	And published in the world to both our shames.
	I pray thee, Mosbie, let our springtime wither;
	Our harvest else will yield but loathsome weeds.
	Forget, I pray thee, what hath passed betwixt us,
	For how I blush and tremble at the thoughts!

Mosbie	What? are you changed?

Alice	Ay, to my former happy life again,
	From title of an odious strumpet's name
	To honest Arden's wife, not Arden's honest wife.
	Ha, Mosbie! 'tis thou has rifled me of that
	And made me slanderous to all my kin;
	Even in my forehead is thy name ingraven,
	A mean artificer, that low-born name.
	I was bewitched: woe worth the hapless hour
	And all the causes that enchanted me!

Mosbie	Nay, if you ban, let me breathe curses forth,
	And if you stand so nicely at your fame,
	Let me repent the credit I have lost.
	I have neglected matters of import
	That would have stated me above thy state,
	Forslowed advantages and spurned at time:
	Ay, Fortune's right hand Mosbie hath forsook
	To take a wanton giglot by the left.
	I left the marriage of an honest maid,
	Whose dowry would have weighed down all thy wealth,
	Whose beauty and demeanour far exceeded thee:
	This certain good I lost for changing bad,
	And wrapt my credit in thy company.
	I was bewitched, -- that is no theme of thine,
	And thou unhallowed has enchanted me.
	But I will break thy spells and exorcisms,
	And put another sight upon these eyes
	That showed my heart a raven for a dove.
	Thou art not fair, I viewed thee not till now;
	Thou art not kind, till now I knew thee not;
	And now the rain hath beaten off thy gilt,
	Thy worthless copper shows thee counterfeit.
	It grieves me not to see how foul thou art,
	But mads me that ever I thought thee fair.
	Go, get thee gone, a copesmate for thy hinds;
	I am too good to be thy favourite.

Alice	Ay, now I see and too soon find it true,
	Which often hath been told me by my friends,
	That Mosbie loves me not but for my wealth,
	Which too incredulous I ne'er believed.
	Nay, hear me speak, Mosbie, a word or two;
	I'll bite my tongue if it speak bitterly.
	Look on me, Mosbie, or I'll kill myself:
	Nothing shall hide me from thy stormy look.
	If thou cry war, there is no peace for me;
	I will do penance for offending thee,
	And burn this prayer-book, where I here use
	The holy word that had converted me.
	See, Mosbie, I will tear away the leaves,
	And all the leaves and in this golden cover
	Shall thy sweet phrases and thy letters dwell;
	And thereon will I chiefly meditate,
	And hold no other sect but such devotion.
	Wilt thou not look? is all thy love o'erwhelmed?
	Wilt thou not hear? what malice stops thine ears?
	Why speaks thou not? what silence ties thy tongue?
	Thou hast been sighted as the eagle is,
	And heard as quickly as the fearful hare,
	And spoke as smoothly as an orator,
	When I have bid thee hear or see or speak,
	And art thou sensible in none of these?
	Weigh all thy good turns with this little fault,
	And I deserve not Mosbie's muddy looks.
	A fence of trouble is not thickened still:
	Be clear again, I'll ne'er more trouble thee.

Mosbie	O no, I am a base artificer:
	My wings are feathered for a lowly flight.
	Mosbie? fie! no, not for a thousand pound.
	Make love to you? why, 'tis unpardonable;
	We beggars must not breathe where gentles are.

Alice	Sweet Mosbie is as gentle as a king,
	And I too blind to judge him otherwise.
	Flowers do sometimes spring in fallow lands,
	Weeds in gardens, roses grow on thorns;
	So, whatsoe'er my Mosbie's father was,
	Himself is valued gentle by his worth.

Mosbie	Ah, how you women can insinuate,
	And clear a trespass with your sweet-set tongue!
	I will forget this quarrel, gentle Alice,
	Provided I'll be tempted so no more.

	[Enter Bradshaw]

Alice	Then with thy lips seal up this new-made match.

Mosbie	Soft, Alice, here comes somebody.

Alice	How now, Bradshaw, what's the news with you?

Bradshaw	I have little news, but here's a letter
	That Master Greene importuned me to give you.

Alice	Go in, Bradshaw; call for a cup of beer;
	'Tis almost supper-time, thou shalt stay with us.

	[Exit Bradshaw]

	[Then she reads the letter]

	'We have missed of our purpose at London, but shall
	perform it by the way. We thank our neighbour
	Bradshaw. -- Yours, Richard Greene.'
	How likes my love the tenor of this letter?

Mosbie	Well, were his date completed and expired.

Alice	Ah, would it were! Then comes my happy hour:
	Till then my bliss is mixed with bitter gall.
	Come, let us in to shun suspicion.

Mosbie	Ay, to the gates of death to follow thee.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT III


SCENE VI	Country near Rochester


	[Enter Greene, Will and Shakebag]

Shakebag	Come, Will, see thy tools be in a readiness!
	Is not thy powder dank, or will thy flint strike fire?

Will	Then ask me if my nose be on my face,
	Or whether my tongue be frozen in my mouth.
	Zounds, here's a coil!
	You were best swear me on the interrogatories
	How many pistols I have took in hand,
	Or whether I love the smell of gunpowder,
	Or dare abide the noise the dag will make,
	Or will not wink at flashing of the fire.
	I pray thee, Shakebag, let this answer thee,
	That I have took more purses in this down
	Than e'er thou handledst pistols in thy life.

Shakebag	Ay, haply thou has picked more in a throng:
	But, should I brag what booties I have took,
	I think the overplus that's more than thine
	Would mount to a greater sum of money
	Then either thou or all thy kin are worth.
	Zounds, I hate them as I hate a toad
	That carry a muscado in their tongue,
	And scarce a hurting weapon in their hand.

Will	O Greene, intolerable!
	It is not for mine honour to bear this.
	Why, Shakebag, I did serve the king at Boulogne,
	And thou canst brag of nothing that thou hast done.

Shakebag	Why, so can Jack of Feversham,
	That sounded for a fillip on the nose,
	When he that gave it him holloed in his ear,
	And he supposed a cannon-bullet hit him.

	[Then they fight]

Greene	I pray you, sirs, list to Æsop's talk:
	Whilst two stout dogs were striving for a bone,
	There comes a cur and stole it from them both;
	So, while you stand striving on these terms of manhood,
	Arden escapes us and deceives us all.

Shakebag	Why, he begun.

Will				And thou shalt find I'll end;
	I do but slip it until better time:
	But, if I do forget --

	[Then he kneels down and holds up his hands to heaven]

Greene	Well, take your fittest standings and once more
	Lime well your twigs to catch this wary bird.
	I'll leave you and at your dag's discharge
	Make towards, like the longing water-dog
	That coucheth till the fowling-piece be off,
	Then seizeth on the prey with eager mood.
	Ah, might I see him stretching forth his limbs,
	As I have seen them beat their wings ere now!

Shakebag	Why, that thou shalt see, if he come this way.

Greene	Yes, that he doth, Shakebag, I warrant thee:
	But brawl not when I am gone in any case.
	But, sirs, be sure to speed him when he comes,
	And in that hope I'll leave you for an hour.

	[Exit Greene]

	[Enter Arden, Franklin and Michael]

Michael	'Twere best that I went back to Rochester:
	The horse halts downright; it were not good
	He travelled in such pain to Feversham;
	Removing of a shoe may haply help it.

Arden	Well, get you back to Rochester; but, sirrah, see
	Ye o'ertake us ere we come to Rainham Down,
	For 't will be very late ere we get home.

Michael	Ay, God he knows and so doth Will and Shakebag,
	That thou shalt never go further than that down;
	And therefore have I pricked the horse on purpose,
	Because I would not view the massacre.

	[Exit Michael]

Arden	Come, Master Franklin, onwards with your tale.

Franklin	I do assure you, sir, you task me much:
	A heavy blood is gathered at my heart,
	And on the sudden is my wind so short
	As hindereth the passage of my speech;
	So fierce a qualm yet ne'er assailed me.

Arden	Come, Master Franklin, let us go on softly:
	The annoyance of the dust or else some meat
	You ate at dinner cannot brook with you.
	I have been often so and soon amended.

Franklin	Do you remember where my tale did leave?

Arden	Ay, where the gentleman did check his wife.

Franklin	She being reprehended for the fact,
	Witness produced that took her with the deed,
	Her glove brought in which there she left behind,
	And many other assured arguments,
	Her husband asked her whether it were not so.

Arden	Her answer then? I wonder how she looked,
	Having forsworn it with such vehement oaths,
	And at the instant so approved upon her.

Franklin	First did she cast her eyes down to the earth,
	Watching the drops that fell amain from thence;
	Then softly draws she forth her handkercher,
	And modestly she wipes her tear-stained face;
	Them hemmed she out, to clear her voice should seem,
	And with a majesty addressed herself
	To encounter all their accusations. --
	Pardon me, Master Arden, I can no more;
	This fighting at my heart makes short my wind.

Arden	Come, we are almost now at Rainham Down:
	Your pretty tale beguiles the weary way;
	I would you were in state to tell it out.

Shakebag	Stand close, Will, I hear them coming.

	[Enter Lord Cheiny with his men]

Will	Stand to it, Shakebag and be resolute.

Lord Cheiny	Is it so near night as it seems,
	Or will this black-faced evening have a shower?
	-- What, Master Arden? you are well met,
	I have longed this fortnight's day to speak with you:
	You are a stranger, man, in the Isle of Sheppy.

Arden	Your honour's always! bound to do you service.

Lord Cheiny	Come you from London and ne'er a man with you?

Arden	My man's coming after, but here's
	My honest friend that came along with me.

Lord Cheiny	My Lord Protector's man I take you to be.

Franklin	Ay, my good lord and highly bound to you.

Lord Cheiny	You and your friend come home and sup with me.

Arden	I beseech your honour pardon me;
	I have made a promise to a gentleman,
	My honest friend, to meet him at my house;
	The occasion is great, or else would I wait on you.

Lord Cheiny	Will you come to-morrow and dine with me,
	And bring your honest friend along with you?
	I have divers matters to talk with you about.

Arden	To-morrow we'll wait upon your honour.

Lord Cheiny	One of you stay my horse at the top of the hill.
	-- What! Black Will? for whose purse wait you?
	Thou wilt be hanged in Kent, when all is done.

Will	Not hanged, God save your honour;
	I am your bedesman, bound to pray for you.

Lord Cheiny	I think thou ne'er said'st prayer in all thy life. --
	One of you give him a crown: --
	And, sirrah, leave this kind of life;
	If thou beest tainted for a penny-matter,
	And come in question, surely thou wilt truss.
	-- Come, Master Arden, let us be going;
	Your way and mine lies four miles together.

	[Exeunt Manent Black Will and Shakebag]

Will	The devil break all your necks at four miles' end!
	Zounds, I could kill myself for very anger!
	His lordship chops me in,
	Even when my dag was levelled at his heart.
	I would his crown were molten down his throat.

Shakebag	Arden, thou hast wondrous holy luck.
	Did ever man escape as thou hast done?
	Well, I'll discharge my pistol at the sky,
	For by this bullet Arden might not die.

	[Enter Greene]

Greene	What, is he down? is he dispatched?

Shakebag	Ay, in health towards Feversham, to shame us all.

Greene	The devil he is! why, sirs, how escaped he?

Shakebag	When we were ready to shoot,
	Comes my Lord Cheiny to prevent his death.

Greene	The Lord of Heaven hath preserved him.

Will	Preserved a fig! The Lord Cheiny hath preserved him,
	And bids him to a feast to his house at Shorlow.
	But by the way once more I'll meet with him,
	And, if all the Cheinies in the world say no,
	I'll have a bullet in his breast to-morrow.
	Therefore come, Greene and let us to Feversham.

Greene	Ay, and excuse ourselves to Mistress Arden:
	O, how she'll chafe when she hears of this!

Shakebag	Why, I'll warrant you she'll think we dare
	not do it.

Will	Why, then let us go and tell her all the matter,
	And plat the news to cut him off to-morrow.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT IV


SCENE I	Arden's house at Feversham


	[Enter Arden and his wife, Franklin and Michael]

Arden	See how the hours, the gardant of heaven's gate,
	Have by their toil removed the darksome clouds,
	That Sol may well discern the trampled path
	Wherein he wont to guide his golden car;
	The season fits; come, Franklin, let's away.

Alice	I thought you did pretend some special hunt,
	That made you thus cut short the time of rest.

Arden	It was no chase that made me rise so early,
	But, as I told thee yesternight, to go
	To the Isle of Sheppy, there to dine with my Lord Cheiny;
	For so his honour late commanded me.

Alice	Ay, such kind husbands seldom want excuses;
	Home is a wild cat to a wandering wit.
	The time hath been, -- would God it were not past, --
	That honour's title nor a lord's command
	Could once have drawn you from these arms of mine.
	But my deserts or your desires decay,
	Or both; yet if true love may seem desert,
	I merit still to have thy company.

Franklin	Why, I pray you, sir, let her go along with us;
	I am sure his honour will welcome her
	And us the more for bringing her along.

Arden	Content; sirrah, saddle your mistress' nag.

Alice	No, begged favour merits little thanks;
	If I should go, our house would run away,
	Or else be stolen; therefore I'll stay behind.

Arden	Nay, see how mistaking you are! I pray thee, go.

Alice	No, no, not now.

Arden	Then let me leave thee satisfied in this,
	That time nor place nor persons alter me,
	But that I hold thee dearer than my life.

Alice	That will be seen by your quick return.

Arden	And that shall be ere night and if I live.
	Farewell, sweet Alice, we mind to sup with thee.

	[Exit Alice]

Franklin	Come, Michael, are our horses ready?

Michael	Ay, your horse are ready, but I am not ready,
	for I have lost my purse, with six and thirty
	shillings in it, with taking up of my master's nag.

Franklin	Why, I pray you, let us go before,
	Whilst he stays behind to seek his purse.

Arden	Go to, sirrah, see you follow us to the Isle of Sheppy
	To my Lord Cheiny's, where we mean to dine.

	[Exeunt Arden and Franklin. Manet Michael]

Michael	So, fair weather after you, for before you lies
	Black Will and Shakebag in the broom close, too
	close for you: they'll be your ferrymen to long
	home.

	[Enter the Painter]

	But who is this? the painter, my corrival, that
	would needs win Mistress Susan.

Clarke	How now, Michael? how doth my mistress and all at home?

Michael	Who? Susan Mosbie? she is your mistress, too?

Clarke	Ay, how doth she and all the rest?

Michael	All's well but Susan; she is sick.

Clarke	Sick? Of what disease?

Michael	Of a great fever.

Clarke	A fear of what?

Michael	A great fever.

Clarke	A fever? God forbid!

Michael	Yes, faith and of a lordaine, too, as big as yourself.

Clarke	O, Michael, the spleen prickles you. Go to,
	you carry an eye over Mistress Susan.

Michael	I' faith, to keep her from the painter.

Clarke	Why more from a painter than from a serving
	creature like yourself?

	Michael. Because you painters make but a painting
	table of a pretty wench and spoil her beauty with
	blotting.

Clarke	What mean you by that?

Michael	Why, that you painters paint lambs in the lining
	of wenches' petticoats and we serving-men put
	horns to them to make them become sheep.

Clarke	Such another word will cost you a cuff or a
	knock.

Michael	What, with a dagger made of a pencil? Faith,
	'tis too weak and therefore thou too weak to win
	Susan.

Clarke	Would Susan's love lay upon this stroke.

	[Then he breaks Michael's head]

	[Enter Mosbie, Greene and Alice]

Alice	I'll lay my life, this is for Susan's love.
	Stayed you behind your master to this end?
	Have you no other time to brable in
	But now when serious matters are in hand? --
	Say, Clarke, hast thou done the thing thou promised?

Clarke	Ay, here it is; the very touch is death.

Alice	Then this, I hope, if all the rest do fail,
	Will catch Master Arden,
	And make him wise in death that lived a fool.
	Why should he thrust his sickle in our corn,
	Or what hath he to do with thee, my love,
	Or govern me that am to rule myself?
	Forsooth, for credit sake, I must leave thee!
	Nay, he must leave to live that we may love,
	May live, may love; for what is life but love?
	And love shall last as long as life remains,
	And life shall end before my love depart.

Mosbie	Why, what is love without true constancy?
	Like to a pillar built of many stones,
	Yet neither with good mortar well compact
	Nor with cement to fasten it in the joints,
	But that it shakes with every blast of wind,
	And, being touched, straight falls unto the earth,
	And buries all his haughty pride in dust.
	No, let our love be rocks of adamant,
	Which time nor place nor tempest can asunder.

Greene	Mosbie, leave protestations now,
	And let us bethink us what we have to do.
	Black Will and Shakebag I have placed i' the broom,
	Close watching Arden's coming; let's to them
	And see what they have done.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT IV


SCENE II	The Kentish coast opposite the Isle of Sheppy


	[Enter Arden and Franklin]

Arden	Oh, ferryman, where art thou?

	[Enter the Ferryman]

Ferryman	Here, here, go before to the boat and I will
	follow you.

Arden	We have great haste; I pray thee, come away.

Ferryman	Fie, what a mist is here!

Arden	This mist, my friend, is mystical,
	Like to a good companion's smoky brain,
	That was half drowned with new ale overnight.

Ferryman	'Twere pity but his skull were opened to
	make more chimney room.

Franklin	Friend, what's thy opinion of this mist?

Ferryman	I think 'tis like to a curst wife in a little
	house, that never leaves her husband till she have
	driven him out at doors with a wet pair of eyes;
	then looks he as if his house were a-fire, or some of
	his friends dead.

Arden	Speaks thou this of thine own experience?

Ferryman	Perhaps, ay; perhaps, no: For my wife is
	as other women are, that is to say, governed by the
	moon.

Franklin	By the moon? how, I pray thee?

Ferryman	Nay, thereby lies a bargain and you shall
	not have it fresh and fasting.

Arden	Yes, I pray thee, good ferryman.

Ferryman	Then for this once; let it be midsummer
	moon, but yet my wife has another moon.

Franklin	Another moon?

Ferryman	Ay and it hath influences and eclipses.

Arden	Why, then, by this reckoning you sometimes
	play the man in the moon?

Ferryman	Ay, but you had not best to meddle with
	that moon, lest I scratch you by the face with my
	bramble-bush.

Arden	I am almost stifled with this fog; come, let's
	away.

Franklin	And, sirrah, as we go, let us have some more
	of your bold yeomanry.

Ferryman	Nay, by my troth, sir, but flat knavery.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT IV


SCENE III	Another place on the coast


	[Enter Will at one door and Shakebag at another]

Shakebag	Oh, Will, where art thou?

Will	Here, Shakebag, almost in hell's mouth, where I
	cannot see my way for smoke.

Shakebag	I pray thee speak still that we may meet by
	the sound, for I shall fall into some ditch or other,
	unless my feet see better than my eyes.

Will	Didst thou ever see better weather to run away
	with another man's wife, or play with a wench at
	pot-finger?

Shakebag	No; this were a fine world for chandlers, if
	this weather would last; for then a man should
	never dine nor sup without candle-light. But,
	sirrah Will, what horses are those that passed?

Will	Why, didst thou hear any?

Shakebag	Ay, that I did.

Will	My life for thine, 'twas Arden and his companion,
	and then all our labour's lost.

Shakebag	Nay, say not so, for if it be they, they may
	haply lose their way as we have done and then we
	may chance meet with them.

Will	Come, let us go on like a couple of blind pilgrims.

	[Then Shakebag falls into a ditch]

Shakebag	Help, Will, help, I am almost drowned.

	[Enter the Ferryman]

Ferryman	Who's that that calls for help?

Will	'Twas none here, 'twas thou thyself.

Ferryman	I came to help him that called for help.
	Why, how now? who is this that's in the ditch?
	You are well enough served to go without a guide
	such weather as this.

Will	Sirrah, what companies hath passed your ferry
	this morning?

Ferryman	None but a couple of gentlemen, that went
	to dine at my Lord Cheiny's.

Will	Shakebag, did not I tell thee as much?

	Ferryman. Why, sir, will you have any letters carried
	to them?

Will	No, sir; get you gone.

Ferryman	Did you ever see such a mist as this?

Will	No, nor such a fool as will rather be hought than
	get his way.

Ferryman	Why, sir, this is no Hough-Monday; you
	are deceived. -- What's his name, I pray you, sir?

Shakebag	His name is Black Will.

Ferryman	I hope to see him one day hanged upon a
	hill. [Exit Ferryman]

Shakebag	See how the sun hath cleared the foggy mist,
	Now we have missed the mark of our intent.

	[Enter Greene, Mosbie and Alice]

Mosbie	Black Will and Shakebag, what make you here?
	What, is the deed done? is Arden dead?

Will	What could a blinded man perform in arms?
	Saw you not how till now the sky was dark,
	That neither horse nor man could be discerned?
	Yet did we hear their horses as they passed.

Greene	Have they escaped you, then and passed the ferry?

Shakebag	Ay, for a while; but here we two will stay,
	And at their coming back meet with them once more.
	Zounds, I was ne'er so toiled in all my life
	In following so slight a task as this.

Mosbie	How cam'st thou so berayed?

Will	With making false footing in the dark;
	He needs would follow them without a guide.

Alice	Here's to pay for a fire and good cheer:
	Get you to Feversham to the Flower-de-luce,
	And rest yourselves until some other time.

Greene	Let me alone; it most concerns my state.

Will	Ay, Mistress Arden, this will serve the turn,
	In case we fall into a second fog.

	[Exeunt Greene, Will and Shakebag]

Mosbie	These knaves will never do it, let us give it over.

Alice	First tell me how you like my new device:
	Soon, when my husband is returning back,
	You and I both marching arm in arm,
	Like loving friends, we'll meet him on the way,
	And boldly beard and brave him to his teeth.
	When words grow hot and blows begin to rise,
	I'll call those cutters forth your tenement,
	Who, in a manner to take up the fray,
	Shall wound my husband Hornsby to the death.

Mosbie	A fine device! why, this deserves a kiss.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT IV


SCENE IV	The open country


	[Enter Dick Reede and a Sailor]

Sailor	Faith, Dick Reede, it is to little end:
	His conscience is too liberal and he too niggardly
	To part from any thing may do thee good.

Reede	He is coming from Shorlow as I understand;
	Here I'll intercept him, for at his house
	He never will vouchsafe to speak with me.
	If prayers and fair entreaties will not serve,
	Or make no battery in his flinty breast,

	[Enter Franklin, Arden and Michael]

	I'll curse the carle and see what that will do.
	See where he comes to further my intent! --
	Master Arden, I am now bound to the sea;
	My coming to you was about the plat
	Of ground which wrongfully you detain from me.
	Although the rent of it be very small,
	Yet it will help my wife and children,
	Which here I leave in Feversham, God knows,
	Needy and bare: for Christ's sake, let them have it!

Arden	Franklin, hearest thou this fellow speak?
	That which he craves I dearly bought of him,
	Although the rent of it was ever mine. --
	Sirrah, you that ask these questions,
	If with thy clamorous impeaching tongue
	Thou rail on me, as I have heard thou dost,
	I'll lay thee up so close a twelve-month's day,
	As thou shalt neither see the sun nor moon.
	Look to it, for, as surely as I live,
	I'll banish pity if thou use me thus.

Reede	What, wilt thou do me wrong and threat me too,
	Nay, then, I'll tempt thee, Arden, do thy worst.
	God, I beseech thee, show some miracle
	On thee or thine, in plaguing thee for this.
	That plot of ground which thou detains from me,
	I speak it in an agony of spirit,
	Be ruinous and fatal unto thee!
	Either there be butchered by thy dearest friends,
	Or else be brought for men to wonder at,
	Or thou or thine miscarry in that place,
	Or there run mad and end thy cursèd days!

Franklin	Fie, bitter knave, bridle thine envious tongue;
	For curses are like arrows shot upright,
	Which falling down light on the shooter's head.

Reede	Light where they will! Were I upon the sea,
	As oft I have in many a bitter storm,
	And saw a dreadful southern flaw at hand,
	The pilot quaking at the doubtful storm,
	And all the sailors praying on their knees,
	Even in that fearful time would I fall down,
	And ask of God, whate'er betide of me,
	Vengeance on Arden or some misevent
	To show the world what wrong the carle hath done.
	This charge I'll leave with my distressful wife,
	My children shall be taught such prayers as these;
	And thus I go, but leave my curse with thee.

	[Exeunt Reede and Sailor]

Arden	It is the railingest knave in Christendom,
	And oftentimes the villain will be mad;
	It greatly matters not what he says,
	But I assure you I ne'er did him wrong.

Franklin	I think so, Master Arden.

Arden	Now that our horses are gone home before,
	My wife may haply meet me on the way.
	For God knows she is grown passing kind of late,
	And greatly changed from
	The old humour of her wonted frowardness,
	And seeks by fair means to redeem old faults.

Franklin	Happy the change that alters for the best!
	But see in any case you make no speech
	Of the cheer we had at my Lord Cheiny's,
	Although most bounteous and liberal,
	For that will make her think herself more wronged,
	In that we did not carry her along;
	For sure she grieved that she was left behind.

Arden	Come, Franklin, let us strain to mend our pace,
	And take her unawares playing the cook;

	[Enter Alice and Mosbie]

	For I believe she'll strive to mend our cheer.

Franklin	Why, there's no better creatures in the world,
	Than women are when they are in good humours.

Arden	Who is that? Mosbie? what, so familiar?
	Injurious strumpet and thou ribald knave,
	Untwine those arms.

Alice	Ay, with a sugared kiss let them untwine.

Arden	Ah, Mosbie! perjured beast! bear this and all!

Mosbie	And yet no horned beast; the horns are thine.

Franklin	O monstrous! Nay, then it is time to draw.

Alice	Help, help! they murder my husband.

	[Enter Will and Shakebag]

Shakebag	Zounds, who injures Master Mosbie? Help, Will! I am hurt.

Mosbie	I may thank you, Mistress Arden, for this wound.

	[Exeunt Mosbie, Will and Shakebag]

Alice	Ah, Arden, what folly blinded thee?
	Ah, jealous harebrained man, what hast thou done!
	When we, to welcome thee with intended sport,
	Came lovingly to meet thee on thy way,
	Thou drew'st thy sword, enraged with jealousy,
	And hurt thy friend whose thoughts were free from harm:
	All for a worthless kiss and joining arms,
	Both done but merrily to try thy patience.
	And me unhappy that devised the jest,
	Which, though begun in sport, yet ends in blood!

Franklin	Marry, God defend me from such a jest!

Alice	Could'st thou not see us friendly smile on thee,
	When we joined arms and when I kissed his cheek?
	Hast thou not lately found me over-kind?
	Did'st thou not hear me cry 'they murder thee'?
	Called I not help to set my husband free?
	No, ears and all were witched; ah me accursed
	To link in liking with a frantic man!
	Henceforth I'll be thy slave, no more thy wife,
	For with that name I never shall content thee.
	If I be merry, thou straightways thinks me light;
	If sad, thou sayest the sullens trouble me;
	If well attired, thou thinks I will be gadding;
	If homely, I seem sluttish in thine eye:
	Thus am I still and shall be while I die.
	Poor wench abused by thy misgovernment!

Arden	But is it for truth that neither thou nor he
	Intendedst malice in your misdemeanour?

Alice	The heavens can witness of our harmless thoughts

Arden	Then pardon me, sweet Alice and forgive this fault!
	Forget but this and never see the like.
	Impose me penance and I will perform it,
	For in thy discontent I find a death, --
	A death tormenting more than death itself.

Alice	Nay, had'st thou loved me as thou dost pretend,
	Thou wouldst have marked the speeches of thy friend,
	Who going wounded from the place, he said
	His skin was pierced only through my device;
	And if sad sorrow taint thee for this fault,
	Thou would'st have followed him and seen him dressed,
	And cried him mercy whom thou hast misdone:
	Ne'er shall my heart be eased till this be done.

Arden	Content thee, sweet Alice, thou shalt have thy will,
	Whate'er it be. For that I injured thee,
	And wronged my friend, shame scourgeth my offence;
	Come thou thyself and go along with me,
	And be a mediator 'twixt us two.

Franklin	Why, Master Arden! know you what you do?
	Will you follow him that hath dishonoured you?

Alice	Why, canst thou prove I have been disloyal?

Franklin	Why, Mosbie taunted your husband with the horn.

Alice	Ay, after he had reviled him
	By the injurious name of perjured beast:
	He knew no wrong could spite a jealous man
	More than the hateful naming of the horn.

Franklin	Suppose 'tis true; yet is it dangerous
	To follow him whom he hath lately hurt.

Alice	A fault confessed is more than half amends;
	But men of such ill spirit as yourself
	Work crosses and debates 'twixt man and wife.

Arden	I pray thee, gentle Franklin, hold thy peace:
	I know my wife counsels me for the best.
	I'll seek out Mosbie where his wound is dressed,
	And salve this hapless quarrel if I may.

	[Exeunt Arden and Alice]

Franklin	He whom the devil drives must go perforce.
	Poor gentleman, how soon he is bewitched!
	And yet, because his wife is the instrument,
	His friends must not be lavish in their speech.

	[Exit Franklin]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT V


SCENE I	A street in Feversham


	[Enter Will, Shakebag and Greene]

Will	Sirrah Greene, when was I so long in killing a man?

Greene	I think we shall never do it; let us give it over.

Shakebag	Nay, Zounds! we'll kill him, though we be
	hanged at his door for our labour.

Will	Thou knowest, Greene, that I have lived in London
	this twelve years, where I have made some go
	upon wooden legs for taking the wall on me; divers
	with silver noses for saying 'There goes Black Will!'
	I have cracked as many blades as thou hast nuts.

Greene	O monstrous lie!

Will	Faith, in a manner I have. The bawdy-houses
	have paid me tribute; there durst not a whore set
	up, unless she have agreed with me first for opening
	her shop-windows. For a cross word of a tapster
	I have pierced one barrel after another with my
	dagger and held him by the ears till all his beer
	hath run out. In Thames Street a brewer's cart
	was like to have run over me: I made no more ado,
	but went to the clerk and cut all the notches of his
	tallies and beat them about his head. I and my
	company have taken the constable from his watch,
	and carried him about the fields on a coltstaff. I
	have broken a sergeant's head with his own mace,
	and bailed whom I list with my sword and buckler.
	All the tenpenny-alehouses-men would stand every
	morning with a quart-pot in their hand, saying,
	'Will it please your worship drink?' He that had
	not done so, had been sure to have had his sign
	pulled down and his lattice borne away the next
	night. To conclude, what have I not done? yet
	cannot do this; doubtless, he is preserved by
	miracle.

	[Enter Alice and Michael]

Greene	Hence, Will! here comes Mistress Arden.

Alice	Ah, gentle Michael, art thou sure they're friends?

Michael	Why, I saw them when they both shook hands.
	When Mosbie bled, he even wept for sorrow,
	And railed on Franklin that was cause of all.
	No sooner came the surgeon in at doors,
	But my master took to his purse and gave him money,
	And, to conclude, sent me to bring you word
	That Mosbie, Franklin, Bradshaw, Adam Fowle,
	With divers of his neighbours and his friends,
	Will come and sup with you at our house this night.

Alice	Ah, gentle Michael, run thou back again,
	And, when my husband walks into the fair,
	Bid Mosbie steal from him and come to me;
	And this night shall thou and Susan be made sure.

Michael	I'll go tell him.

Alice	And as thou goest, tell John cook of our guests,
	And bid him lay it on, spare for no cost.

	[Exit Michael]

Will	Nay, and there be such cheer, we will bid ourselves. --
	Mistress Arden, Dick Greene and I do mean to sup with you.

Alice	And welcome shall you be. Ah, gentlemen,
	How missed you of your purpose yesternight?

Greene	'Twas 'long of Shakebag, that unlucky villain.

Shakebag	Thou dost me wrong; I did as much as any.

Will	Nay then, Mistress Arden, I'll tell you how it was:
	When he should have locked with both his hilts,
	He in a bravery flourished o'er his head;
	With that comes Franklin at him lustily,
	And hurts the slave; with that he slinks away.

	Now his way had been to have come hand and feet,
	one and two round, at his costard; he like a fool
	bears his sword-point half a yard out of danger.
	I lie here for my life; if the devil come and he
	have no more strength than I have fence, he shall
	never beat me from this ward, I'll stand to it; a
	buckler in a skilful hand is as good as a castle;
	nay, 'tis better than a sconce, for I have tried it.
	Mosbie, perceiving this, began to faint:
	With that comes Arden with his arming sword,
	And thrust him through the shoulder in a trice.

Alice	Ay, but I wonder why you both stood still.

Will	Faith, I was so amazed, I could not strike.

Alice	Ah, sirs, had he yesternight been slain,
	For every drop of his detested blood
	I would have crammed in angels in thy fist,
	And kissed thee, too, and hugged thee in my arms.

Will	Patient yourself, we cannot help it now.
	Greene and we two will dog him through the fair,
	And stab him in the crowd and steal away.

	[Enter Mosbie]

Alice	It is unpossible; but here comes he
	That will, I hope, invent some surer means.
	Sweet Mosbie, hide thy arm, it kills my heart.

Mosbie	Ay, Mistress Arden, this is your favour.

Alice	Ah, say not so; for when I saw thee hurt,
	I could have took the weapon thou let'st fall,
	And run at Arden; for I have sworn
	That these mine eyes, offended with his sight,
	Shall never close till Arden's be shut up.
	This night I rose and walked about the chamber,
	And twice or thrice I thought to have murdered him.

Mosbie	What, in the night? then had we been undone.

Alice	Why, how long shall he live?

Mosbie	Faith, Alice, no longer than this night. --
	Black Will and Shakebag, will you two perform
	The complot that I have laid?

Will	Ay, or else think me a villain.

Greene	And rather than you shall want, I'll help myself.

Mosbie	You, Master Greene, shall single Franklin forth,
	And hold him with a long tale of strange news,
	That he may not come home till supper-time.
	I'll fetch Master Arden home and we like friends
	Will play a game or two at tables here.

Alice	But what of all this? how shall he be slain?

Mosbie	Why, Black Will and Shakebag locked within the counting-house
	Shall at a certain watchword given rush forth.

Will	What shall the watchword be?

Mosbie	'Now I take you'; that shall be the word:
	But come not forth before in any case.

Will	I warrant you. But who shall lock me in?

Alice	That will I do; thou'st keep the key thyself.

Mosbie	Come, Master Greene, go you along with me.
	See all things ready, Alice, against we come.

Alice	Take no care for that; send you him home.

	[Exeunt Mosbie and Greene]

	And if he e'er go forth again, blame me.
	Come, Black Will, that in mine eyes art fair;
	Next unto Mosbie do I honour thee;
	Instead of fair words and large promises
	My hands shall play you golden harmony:
	How like you this? say, will you do it, sirs?

Will	Ay, and that bravely, too. Mark my device:
	Place Mosbie, being a stranger, in a chair,
	And let your husband sit upon a stool,
	That I may come behind him cunningly,
	And with a towel pull him to the ground,
	Then stab him till his flesh be as a sieve;
	That done, bear him behind the Abbey,
	That those that find him murdered may suppose
	Some slave or other killed him for his gold.

Alice	A fine device! you shall have twenty pound,
	And, when he is dead, you shall have forty more,
	And, lest you might be suspected staying here,
	Michael shall saddle you two lusty geldings;
	Ride whither you will, to Scotland, or to Wales,
	I'll see you shall not lack, where'er you be.

Will	Such words would make one kill a thousand men!
	Give me the key: which is the counting-house?

Alice	Here would I stay and still encourage you;
	But that I know how resolute you are.

Shakebag	Tush, you are too faint-hearted; we must do it.

Alice	But Mosbie will be there, whose very looks
	Will add unwonted courage to my thought,
	And make me the first that shall adventure on him.

Will	Tush, get you gone; 'tis we must do the deed.
	When this door opens next, look for his death.

	[Exeunt Will and Shakebag]

Alice	Ah, would he now were here that it might open!
	I shall no more be closed in Arden's arms,
	That like the snakes of black Tisiphone
	Sting me with their embracings! Mosbie's arms
	Shall compass me, and, were I made a star,
	I would have none other spheres but those.
	There is no nectar but in Mosbie's lips!
	Had chaste Diana kissed him, she like me
	Would grow love-sick and from her watery bower
	Fling down Endymion and snatch him up:
	Then blame not me that slay a silly man
	Not half so lovely as Endymion.

	[Enter Michael]

Michael	Mistress, my master is coming hard by.

Alice	Who comes with him?

Michael	Nobody but Mosbie.

Alice	That's well, Michael. Fetch in the tables, and
	when thou hast done, stand before the counting-house door.

Michael	Why so?

Alice	Black Will is locked within to do the deed.

Michael	What? shall he die to-night?

Alice	Ay, Michael.

Michael	But shall not Susan know it?

Alice	Yes, for she'll be as secret as ourselves.

Michael	That's brave. I'll go fetch the tables.

	Alice. But, Michael, hark to me a word or two:
	When my husband is come in, lock the street-door;
	He shall be murdered, or the guests come in.

	[Exit Michael]

	[Enter Arden and Mosbie]

	Husband, what mean you to bring Mosbie home?
	Although I wished you to be reconciled,
	'Twas more for fear of you than love of him.
	Black Will and Greene are his companions,
	And they are cutters and may cut you short:
	Therefore I thought it good to make you friends.
	But wherefore do you bring him hither now?
	You have given me my supper with his sight.

Mosbie	Master Arden, methinks your wife would have me gone.

Arden	No, good Master Mosbie; women will be prating.
	Alice, bid him welcome; he and I are friends.

Alice	You may enforce me to it, if you will;
	But I had rather die than bid him welcome.
	His company hath purchased me ill friends,
	And therefore will I ne'er frequent it more.

Mosbie	-- Oh, how cunningly she can dissemble!

Arden	Now he is here, you will not serve me so.

Alice	I pray you be not angry or displeased;
	I'll bid him welcome, seeing you'll have it so.
	You are welcome, Master Mosbie; will you sit down?

Mosbie	I know I am welcome to your loving husband;
	But for yourself, you speak not from your heart.

Alice	And if I do not, sir, think I have cause.

Mosbie	Pardon me, Master Arden; I'll away.

Arden	No, good Master Mosbie.

Alice	We shall have guests enough, though you go hence.

Mosbie	I pray you, Master Arden, let me go.

Arden	I pray thee, Mosbie, let her prate her fill.

Alice	The doors are open, sir, you may be gone.

Michael	-- Nay, that's a lie, for I have locked the doors.

Arden	Sirrah, fetch me a cup of wine, I'll make them friends.
	And, gentle Mistress Alice, seeing you are so stout,
	You shall begin! frown not, I'll have it so.

Alice	I pray you meddle with that you have to do.

Arden	Why, Alice! how can I do too much for him
	Whose life I have endangered without cause?

Alice	'Tis true; and, seeing 'twas partly through my means,
	I am content to drink to him for this once.
	Here, Master Mosbie! and I pray you, henceforth
	Be you as strange to me as I to you.
	Your company hath purchased me ill friends,
	And I for you, God knows, have undeserved
	Been ill spoken of in every place;
	Therefore henceforth frequent my house no more.

Mosbie	I'll see your husband in despite of you.
	Yet, Arden, I protest to thee by heaven,
	Thou ne'er shalt see me more after this night,
	I'll go to Rome rather than be forsworn.

Arden	Tush, I'll have no such vows made in my house.

Alice	Yes, I pray you, husband, let him swear;
	And, on that condition, Mosbie, pledge me here.

Mosbie	Ay, as willingly as I mean to live.

Arden	Come, Alice, is our supper ready yet?

Alice	It will by then you have played a game at tables.

Arden	Come, Master Mosbie, what shall we play for?

Mosbie	Three games for a French crown, sir, and please you.

Arden	Content.

	[Then they play at the tables. Enter Will and Shakebag]

Will	-- Can he not take him yet? what a spite is that?

Alice	-- Not yet, Will; take heed he see thee not.

Will	-- I fear he will spy me as I am coming.

Michael	-- To prevent that, creep betwixt my legs.

Mosbie	One ace, or else I lose the game.

Arden	Marry, sir, there's two for failing.

Mosbie	Ah, Master Arden, 'now I can take you.'

	[Then Will pulls him down with a towel]

Arden	Mosbie! Michael! Alice! what will you do?

Will	Nothing but take you up, sir, nothing else.

Mosbie	There's for the pressing iron you told me of. [Stabs him]

Shakebag	And there's for the ten pound in my sleeve. [Stabs him]

Alice	What! groans thou? nay, then give me the weapon!
	Take this for hindering Mosbie's love and mine. [She stabs him]

Michael	O, mistress!

Will	Ah, that villain will betray us all.

Mosbie	Tush, fear him not; he will be secret.

Michael	Why, dost thou think I will betray myself?

Shakebag	In Southwark dwells a bonny northern lass,
	The widow Chambly; I'll to her house now,
	And if she will not give me harborough,
	I'll make booty of the quean even to her smock.

Will	Shift for yourselves; we two will leave you now.

Alice	First lay the body in the counting-house.

	[Then they lay the body in the Counting-house]

Will	We have our gold; Mistress Alice, adieu;
	Mosbie, farewell and Michael, farewell too.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter Susan]

Susan	Mistress, the guests are at the doors.
	Hearken, they knock: what, shall I let them in?

Alice	Mosbie, go thou and bear them company. [Exit Mosbie]
	And, Susan, fetch water and wash away this blood.

Susan	The blood cleaveth to the ground and will not out.

Alice	But with my nails I'll scrape away the blood; --
	The more I strive, the more the blood appears!

Susan	What's the reason, Mistress, can you tell?

Alice	Because I blush not at my husband's death.

	[Enter Mosbie]

Mosbie	How now? what's the matter? is all well?

Alice	Ay, well, if Arden were alive again.
	In vain we strive, for here his blood remains.

Mosbie	Why, strew rushes on it, can you not?
	This wench doth nothing: fall unto the work.

Alice	'Twas thou that made me murder him.

Mosbie	What of that?

Alice	Nay, nothing, Mosbie, so it be not known.

Mosbie	Keep thou it close and 'tis unpossible.

Alice	Ah, but I cannot! was he not slain by me?
	My husband's death torments me at the heart.

Mosbie	It shall not long torment thee, gentle Alice;
	I am thy husband, think no more of him.

	[Enter Adam Fowle and Bradshaw]

Bradshaw	How now, Mistress Arden? what ail you weep?

Mosbie	Because her husband is abroad so late.
	A couple of ruffians threatened him yesternight,
	And she, poor soul, is afraid he should be hurt.

Adam	Is't nothing else? tush, he'll be here anon.

	[Enter Greene]

Greene	Now, Mistress Arden, lack you any guests?

Alice	Ah, Master Greene, did you see my husband lately?

Greene	I saw him walking behind the Abbey even now.

	[Enter Franklin]

Alice	I do not like this being out so late. --
	Master Franklin, where did you leave my husband?

Franklin	Believe me I saw him not since morning.
	Fear you not, he'll come anon; meantime
	You may do well to bid his guests sit down.

Alice	Ay, so they shall; Master Bradshaw, sit you there;
	I pray you, be content, I'll have my will.
	Master Mosbie, sit you in my husband's seat.

Michael	-- Susan, shall thou and I wait on them?
	Or, an thou sayest the word, let us sit down too.

Susan	-- Peace, we have other matters now in hand.
	I fear me, Michael, all will be bewrayed.

Michael	-- Tush, so it be known that I shall marry thee
	in the morning, I care not though I be hanged ere
	night. But to prevent the worst, I'll buy some ratsbane.

Susan	-- Why, Michael, wilt thou poison thyself?

Michael	-- No, but my mistress, for I fear she'll tell.

Susan	-- Tush, Michael; fear not her, she's wise enough.

Mosbie	Sirrah Michael, give's a cup of beer. --
	Mistress Arden, here's to your husband.

Alice	My husband!

Franklin	What ails you, woman, to cry so suddenly?

Alice	Ah, neighbours, a sudden qualm came o'er my heart;
	My husband being forth torments my mind.
	I know something's amiss, he is not well;
	Or else I should have heard of him ere now.

Mosbie	-- She will undo us through her foolishness.

Greene	Fear not, Mistress Arden, he's well enough.

Alice	Tell not me; I know he is not well:
	He was not wont for to stay thus late.
	Good Master Franklin, go and seek him forth,
	And if you find him, send him home to me,
	And tell him what a fear he hath put me in.

Franklin	-- I like not this; I pray God all be well.
	I'll seek him out and find him if I can.

	[Exeunt Franklin, Mosbie and Greene]

Alice	-- Michael, how shall I do to rid the rest away?

Michael	-- Leave that to my charge, let me alone.
	'Tis very late, Master Bradshaw,
	And there are many false knaves abroad,
	And you have many narrow lanes to pass.

Bradshaw	Faith, friend Michael and thou sayest true.
	Therefore I pray thee light's forth and lend's a link.

	[Exeunt Bradshaw, Adam and Michael]

Alice	Michael, bring them to the doors, but do not stay;
	You know I do not love to be alone.
	-- Go, Susan and bid thy brother come:
	But wherefore should he come? Here is nought but fear;
	Stay, Susan, stay and help to counsel me.

Susan	Alas. I counsel! fear frights away my wits.

	[Then they open the counting-house door and look upon Arden]

Alice	See, Susan, where thy quondam master lies,
	Sweet Arden, smeared in blood and filthy gore.

Susan	My brother, you and I shall rue this deed.

Alice	Come, Susan, help to lift his body forth,
	And let our salt tears be his obsequies.

	[Enter Mosbie and Greene]

Mosbie	How now, Alice, whither will you bear him?

Alice	Sweet Mosbie, art thou come? Then weep that will:
	I have my wish in that I joy thy sight.

Greene	Well, it behoves us to be circumspect.

Mosbie	Ay, for Franklin thinks that we have murdered him.

Alice	Ay, but he cannot prove it for his life.
	We'll spend this night in dalliance and in sport.

	[Enter Michael]

Michael	O mistress, the Mayor and all the watch
	Are coming towards our house with glaives and bills.

Alice	Make the door fast; let them not come in.

Mosbie	Tell me, sweet Alice, how shall I escape?

Alice	Out at the back-door, over the pile of wood,
	And for one night lie at the Flower-de-luce.

Mosbie	That is the next way to betray myself.

Greene	Alas, Mistress Arden, the watch will take me hers,
	And cause suspicion, where else would be none.

Alice	Why, take that way that Master Mosbie doth;
	But first convey the body to the fields.

	[Then they bear the body into the fields]

Mosbie	Until to-morrow, sweet Alice, now farewell:
	And see you confess nothing in any case.

Greene	Be resolute, Mistress Alice, betray us not,
	But cleave to us as we will stick to you.

	[Exeunt Mosbie and Greene]

Alice	Now, let the judge and juries do their worst:
	My house is clear and now I fear them not.

Susan	As we went, it snowed all the way,
	Which makes me fear our footsteps will be spied.

Alice	Peace, fool, the snow will cover them again.

Susan	But it had done before we came back again.

Alice	Hark, hark, they knock! go, Michael, let them in.

	[Enter the Mayor and the Watch]

	How now, Master Mayor, have you brought my husband home?

Mayor	I saw him come into your house an hour ago.

Alice	You are deceived; it was a Londoner.

Mayor	Mistress Arden, know you not one that is called Black Will?

Alice	I know none such: what mean these questions?

Mayor	I have the Council's warrant to apprehend him.

Alice	-- I am glad it is no worse.
	Why, Master Mayor, think you I harbour any such?

Mayor	We are informed that here he is;
	And therefore pardon us, for we must search.

Alice	Ay, search and spare you not, through every room:
	Were my husband at home, you would not offer this.

	[Enter Franklin]

	Master Franklin, what mean you come so sad?

Franklin	Arden, thy husband and my friend, is slain.

Alice	Ah, by whom? Master Franklin, can you tell?

Franklin	I know not; but behind the Abbey
	There he lies murdered in most piteous case.

Mayor	But, Master Franklin, are you sure 'tis he?

Franklin	I am too sure; would God I were deceived.

Alice	Find out the murderers, let them be known.

Franklin	Ay, so they shall: come you along with us.

Alice	Wherefore?

Franklin	Know you this hand-towel and this knife?

Susan	-- Ah, Michael, through this thy negligence
	Thou hast betrayed and undone us all.

Michael	-- I was so afraid I knew not what I did:
	I thought I had thrown them both into the well.

Alice	It is the pig's blood we had to supper.
	But wherefore stay you? find out the murderers.

Mayor	I fear me you'll prove one of them yourself.

Alice	I one of them? what mean such questions?

Franklin	I fear me he was murdered in this house
	And carried to the fields; for from that place
	Backwards and forwards may you see
	The print of many feet within the snow.
	And look about this chamber where we are,
	And you shall find part of his guiltless blood;
	For in his slipshoe did I find some rushes,
	Which argueth he was murdered in this room.

Mayor	Look in the place where he was wont to sit.
	See, see! his blood! it is too manifest.

Alice	It is a cup of wine that Michael shed.

Michael	Ay, truly.

Franklin	It is his blood, which, strumpet, thou hast shed.
	But if I live, thou and thy 'complices
	Which have conspired and wrought his death shall rue it.

Alice	Ah, Master Franklin, God and heaven can tell
	I loved him more than all the world beside.
	But bring me to him, let me see his body.

Franklin	Bring that villain and Mosbie's sister too;
	And one of you go to the Flower-de-luce,
	And seek for Mosbie and apprehend him too.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT V


SCENE II	An obscure street in London


	[Enter Shakebag solus]

Shakebag	The widow Chambly in her husband's days I kept;
	And now he's dead, she is grown so stout
	She will not know her old companions.
	I came thither, thinking to have had harbour
	As I was wont,
	And she was ready to thrust me out at doors;
	But whether she would or no, I got me up,
	And as she followed me, I spurned her down the stairs,
	And broke her neck and cut her tapster's throat,
	And now I am going to fling them in the Thames.
	I have the gold; what care I though it be known!
	I'll cross the water and take sanctuary.

	[Exit]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT V


SCENE III	Arden's house at Feversham


	[Enter the Mayor, Mosbie, Alice, Franklin, Michael and Susan]

Mayor	See, Mistress Arden, where your husband lies;
	Confess this foul fault and be penitent.

Alice	Arden, sweet husband, what shall I say?
	The more I sound his name, the more he bleeds;
	This blood condemns me and in gushing forth
	Speaks as it falls and asks me why I did it.
	Forgive me, Arden: I repent me now,
	And, would my death save thine, thou should'st not die.
	Rise up, sweet Arden and enjoy thy love,
	And frown not on me when we meet in heaven:
	In heaven I'll love thee, though on earth I did not.

Mayor	Say, Mosbie, what made thee murder him?

Franklin	Study not for an answer; look not down:
	His purse and girdle found at thy bed's head
	Witness sufficiently thou didst the deed;
	It bootless is to swear thou didst it not.

Mosbie	I hired Black Will and Shakebag, ruffians both,
	And they and I have done this murderous deed.
	But wherefore stay we? Come and bear me hence.

Franklin	Those ruffians shall not escape; I will up to London,
	And get the Council's warrant to apprehend them.

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT V


SCENE IV	The Kentish coast


	[Enter Will]

Will	Shakebag, I hear, hath taken sanctuary,
	But I am so pursued with hues and cries
	For petty robberies that I have done,
	That I can come unto no sanctuary.
	Therefore must I in some oyster-boat
	At last be fain to go on board some hoy,
	And so to Flushing. There is no staying here.
	At Sittingburgh the watch was like to take me,
	And had not I with my buckler covered my head,
	And run full blank at all adventures,
	I am sure I had ne'er gone further than that place;
	For the constable had twenty warrants to apprehend me,
	Besides that, I robbed him and his man once at Gadshill.
	Farewell, England; I'll to Flushing now.

	[Exit Will]


	Arden of Feversham


ACT V


SCENE V	Justice-room at Feversham


	[Enter the Mayor, Mosbie, Alice, Michael, Susan	and Bradshaw]

Mayor	Come, make haste and bring away the prisoners.

Bradshaw	Mistress Arden, you are now going to God,
	And I am by the law condemned to die
	About a letter I brought from Master Greene.
	I pray you, Mistress Arden, speak the truth:
	Was I ever privy to your intent or no.

Alice	What should I say? You brought me such a letter,
	But I dare swear thou knewest not the contents.
	Leave now to trouble me with worldly things,
	And let me meditate upon my saviour Christ,
	Whose blood must save me for the blood I shed.

Mosbie	How long shall I live in this hell of grief?
	Convey me from the presence of that strumpet.

Alice	Ah, but for thee I had never been a strumpet.
	What cannot oaths and protestations do,
	When men have opportunity to woo?
	I was too young to sound thy villainies,
	But now I find it and repent too late.

Susan	Ah, gentle brother, wherefore should I die?
	I knew not of it till the deed was done.

Mosbie	For thee I mourn more than for myself;
	But let it suffice, I cannot save thee now.

Michael	And if your brother and my mistress
	Had not promised me you in marriage,
	I had ne'er given consent to this foul deed.

Mayor	Leave to accuse each other now,
	And listen to the sentence I shall give.
	Bear Mosbie and his sister to London straight,
	Where they in Smithfield must be executed;
	Bear Mistress Arden unto Canterbury,
	Where her sentence is she must be burnt;
	Michael and Bradshaw in Feversham must suffer death.

Alice	Let my death make amends for all my sins.

Mosbie	Fie upon women! this shall be my song;
	But bear me hence, for I have lived too long.

Susan	Seeing no hope on earth, in heaven is my hope.

Michael	Faith, I care not, seeing I die with Susan.

Bradshaw	My blood be on his head that gave the sentence.

Mayor	To speedy execution with them all!

	[Exeunt]


	Arden of Feversham


Epilogue


	[Enter Franklin]


Franklin	Thus have you seen the truth of Arden's death.
	As for the ruffians, Shakebag and Black Will,
	The one took sanctuary, and, being sent for out,
	Was murdered in Southwark as he passed
	To Greenwich, where the Lord Protector lay.
	Black Will was burned in Flushing on a stage;
	Greene was hanged at Osbridge in Kent;
	The painter fled and how he died we know not.
	But this above the rest is to be noted:
	Arden lay murdered in that plot of ground
	Which he by force and violence held from Reede;
	And in the grass his body's print was seen
	Two years and more after the deed was done.
	Gentlemen, we hope you'll pardon this naked tragedy,
	Wherein no filèd points are foisted in
	To make it gracious to the ear or eye;
	For simple truth is gracious enough,
	And needs no other points of glosing stuff.

	[Exit]


	Doctor Faustus


Preface


	Project Gutenberg's
	The Tragicall History of Doctor Faustus
	by Christoper Marlowe

	This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
	almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
	re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
	with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

	This version derived from  http://www.gutenberg.org/files/779/779.txt

	from the quarto of 1604	


	Doctor Faustus


Dramatis personæ


	The Pope
	Cardinal of Lorrain
	The Emperor of Germany
	Duke of Vanholt
	Faustus
	Valdes,    ] friends to Faustus
	Cornelius, ]
	Wagner, servant to Faustus
	Clown
	Robin
	Ralph
	Vintner
	Horse-courser
	A Knight
	An Old Man
	Scholars, Friars, and Attendants

	Duchess of Vanholt

	Lucifer
	Belzebub
	Mephistophilis
	Good angel
	Evil angel
	The Seven Deadly Sins
	Devils
	Spirits in the shapes of Alexander the Great,
		of his Paramour and of Helen

	Chorus.


	Doctor Faustus


ACT I


PROLOGUE	


	[Enter Chorus]

Chorus	Not marching now in fields of Thrasymene,
	Where Mars did mate the Carthaginians;
	Nor sporting in the dalliance of love,
	In courts of kings where state is overturn'd;
	Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds,
	Intends our Muse to vaunt her heavenly verse:
	Only this, gentlemen, — we must perform
	The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad:
	To patient judgments we appeal our plaud,
	And speak for Faustus in his infancy.
	Now is he born, his parents base of stock,
	In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes:
	Of riper years, to Wertenberg he went,
	Whereas his kinsmen chiefly brought him up.
	So soon he profits in divinity,
	The fruitful plot of scholarism grac'd,
	That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name,
	Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes
	In heavenly matters of theology;
	Till swoln with cunning, of a self-conceit,
	His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
	And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
	For, falling to a devilish exercise,
	And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,
	He surfeits upon cursed necromancy;
	Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,
	Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss:
	And this the man that in his study sits.

	[Exit]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT I


SCENE I	Fautus' study


	[Faustus discovered in his study]

Faustus	Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin
	To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess:
	Having commenc'd, be a divine in shew,
	Yet level at the end of every art,
	And live and die in Aristotle's works.
	Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me!
	Bene disserere est finis logices.
	Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end?
	Affords this art no greater miracle?
	Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that end:
	A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit:
	Bid Economy farewell, and Galen come,
	Seeing, <i>Ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus:</i>
	Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,
	And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure:
	<i>Summum bonum medicinae sanitas,</i>
	The end of physic is our body's health.
	Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
	Is not thy common talk found aphorisms?
	Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
	Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,
	And thousand desperate maladies been eas'd?
	Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.
	Couldst thou make men to live eternally,
	Or, being dead, raise them to life again,
	Then this profession were to be esteem'd.
	Physic, farewell!  Where is Justinian?

	[reads] <i>Si una eademque res legatur duobus, alter rem,
	alter valorem rei, etcetera.</i>

	A pretty case of paltry legacies!

	[reads] <i>Exhoereditare filium non potest pater, nisi, etcetera.</i>

	Such is the subject of the institute,
	And universal body of the law:
	This study fits a mercenary drudge,
	Who aims at nothing but external trash;
	Too servile and illiberal for me.
	When all is done, divinity is best:
	Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well.

	[reads] <i>Stipendium peccati mors est.</i>
	Ha!
	[reads] <i>Stipendium peccati mors est.</i>

	The reward of sin is death:  that's hard.

	[reads] <i>Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis veritas;</i>

	If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and
	there's no truth in us.  Why, then, belike we must sin, and so
	consequently die:
	Ay, we must die an everlasting death.
	What doctrine call you this, <i>che sera, sera</i>,
	What will be, shall be?  Divinity, adieu!
	These metaphysics of magicians,
	And necromantic books are heavenly;
	Lines, circles, scenes, letters, and characters;
	Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires.
	O, what a world of profit and delight,
	Of power, of honour, of omnipotence,
	Is promis'd to the studious artizan!
	All things that move between the quiet poles
	Shall be at my command:  Emperors and kings
	Are but obeyed in their several provinces,
	Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds;
	But his dominion that exceeds in this,
	Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man;
	A sound magician is a mighty god:
	Here, Faustus, tire thy brains to gain a deity.

	[Enter Wagner]

	Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends,
	The German Valdes and Cornelius;
	Request them earnestly to visit me.

Wagner	I will, sir.

	[Exit]

Faustus	Their conference will be a greater help to me
	Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast.

	[Enter Good angel and Evil angel]

Good angel	O, Faustus, lay that damned book aside,
	And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul,
	And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head!
	Read, read the Scriptures: &mdash; that is blasphemy.

Evil angel	Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art
	Wherein all Nature's treasure is contain'd:
	Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,
	Lord and commander of these elements.

	[Exeunt angels]

Faustus	How am I glutted with conceit of this!
	Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please,
	Resolve me of all ambiguities,
	Perform what desperate enterprise I will?
	I'll have them fly to India for gold,
	Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,
	And search all corners of the new-found world
	For pleasant fruits and princely delicates;
	I'll have them read me strange philosophy,
	And tell the secrets of all foreign kings;
	I'll have them wall all Germany with brass,
	And make swift Rhine circle fair Wertenberg;
	I'll have them fill the public schools with silk,
	Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad;
	I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring,
	And chase the Prince of Parma from our land,
	And reign sole king of all the provinces;
	Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war,
	Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp's bridge,
	I'll make my servile spirits to invent.

	[Enter Valdes and Cornelius]

	Come, German Valdes, and Cornelius,
	And make me blest with your sage conference.
	Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius,
	Know that your words have won me at the last
	To practice magic and concealed arts:
	Yet not your words only, but mine own fantasy,
	That will receive no object; for my head
	But ruminates on necromantic skill.
	Philosophy is odious and obscure;
	Both law and physic are for petty wits;
	Divinity is basest of the three,
	Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile:
	'Tis magic, magic, that hath ravish'd me.
	Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt;
	And I, that have with concise syllogisms
	Gravell'd the pastors of the German church,
	And made the flowering pride of Wertenberg
	Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits
	On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell,
	Will be as cunning as Agrippa was,
	Whose shadow made all Europe honour him.

Valdes	Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our experience,
	Shall make all nations to canonize us.
	As Indian Moors obey their Spanish lords,
	So shall the spirits of every element
	Be always serviceable to us three;
	Like lions shall they guard us when we please;
	Like Almain rutters with their horsemen's staves,
	Or Lapland giants, trotting by our sides;
	Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids,
	Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows
	Than have the white breasts of the queen of love:
	From Venice shall they drag huge argosies,
	And from America the golden fleece
	That yearly stuffs old Philip's treasury;
	If learned Faustus will be resolute.

Faustus	Valdes, as resolute am I in this
	As thou to live:  therefore object it not.

Cornelius	The miracles that magic will perform
	Will make thee vow to study nothing else.
	He that is grounded in astrology,
	Enrich'd with tongues, well seen in minerals,
	Hath all the principles magic doth require:
	Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowm'd,
	And more frequented for this mystery
	Than heretofore the Delphian oracle.
	The spirits tell me they can dry the sea,
	And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks,
	Ay, all the wealth that our forefathers hid
	Within the massy entrails of the earth:
	Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want?

Faustus	Nothing, Cornelius.  O, this cheers my soul!
	Come, shew me some demonstrations magical,
	That I may conjure in some lusty grove,
	And have these joys in full possession.

Valdes	Then haste thee to some solitary grove,
	And bear wise Bacon's and Albertus' works,
	The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament;
	And whatsoever else is requisite
	We will inform thee ere our conference cease.

Cornelius	Valdes, first let him know the words of art;
	And then, all other ceremonies learn'd,
	Faustus may try his cunning by himself.

Valdes	First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments,
	And then wilt thou be perfecter than I.

Faustus	Then come and dine with me, and, after meat,
	We'll canvass every quiddity thereof;
	For, ere I sleep, I'll try what I can do:
	This night I'll conjure, though I die therefore.

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT I


SCENE II	Unspecified location


	[Enter two Scholars]

First scholar	I wonder what's become of Faustus, that was wont
	to make our schools ring with sic probo.

Second scholar	That shall we know, for see, here comes his boy.

	[Enter Wagner]

First scholar	How now, sirrah! where's thy master?

Wagner	God in heaven knows.

Second scholar	Why, dost not thou know?

Wagner	Yes, I know; but that follows not.

First scholar	Go to, sirrah! leave your jesting, and tell us
	where he is.

Wagner	That follows not necessary by force of argument, that you,
	being licentiates, should stand upon: therefore acknowledge
	your error, and be attentive.

Second scholar	Why, didst thou not say thou knewest?

Wagner	Have you any witness on't?

First scholar	Yes, sirrah, I heard you.

Wagner	Ask my fellow if I be a thief.

Second scholar	Well, you will not tell us?

Wagner	Yes, sir, I will tell you:  yet, if you were not dunces,
	you would never ask me such a question; for is not he corpus
	naturale? and is not that mobile? then wherefore should you
	ask me such a question?  But that I am by nature phlegmatic,
	slow to wrath, and prone to lechery (to love, I would say),
	it were not for you to come within forty foot of the place
	of execution, although I do not doubt to see you both hanged
	the next sessions.  Thus having triumphed over you, I will set
	my countenance like a precisian, and begin to speak thus: &mdash;
	Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner,
	with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak,
	would inform your worships:  and so, the Lord bless you,
	preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren!

	[Exit]

First scholar	Nay, then, I fear he is fallen into that damned art
	for which they two are infamous through the world.

Second scholar	Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should
	I grieve for him. But, come, let us go and inform the Rector,
	and see if he by his grave counsel can reclaim him.

First scholar	O, but I fear me nothing can reclaim him!

Second scholar	Yet let us try what we can do.

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT I


SCENE III	Faustus' study


	[Thunder. Enter Faustus to conjure]

Faustus	Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth,
	Longing to view Orion's drizzling look,
	Leaps from th' antartic world unto the sky,
	And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath,
	Faustus, begin thine incantations,
	And try if devils will obey thy hest,
	Seeing thou hast pray'd and sacrific'd to them.
	Within this circle is Jehovah's name,
	Forward and backward anagrammatiz'd,
	Th' abbreviated names of holy saints,
	Figures of every adjunct to the heavens,
	And characters of signs and erring stars,
	By which the spirits are enforc'd to rise:
	Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute,
	And try the uttermost magic can perform. &mdash;
	<i>Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii!  Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe!
	Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete!  Orientis princeps
	Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus
	vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris:
	per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo,
	signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc
	surgat nobis dicatus Mephistophilis!</i>

	[Enter Mephistophilis]

	I charge thee to return, and change thy shape;
	Thou art too ugly to attend on me:
	Go, and return an old Franciscan friar;
	That holy shape becomes a devil best.

	[Exit Mephistophilis]

	I see there's virtue in my heavenly words:
	Who would not be proficient in this art?
	How pliant is this Mephistophilis,
	Full of obedience and humility!
	Such is the force of magic and my spells:
	No, Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat,
	That canst command great Mephistophilis:
	Quin regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine.

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis like a Franciscan friar]

Mephistophilis	Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do?

Faustus	I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live,
	To do whatever Faustus shall command,
	Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere,
	Or the ocean to overwhelm the world.

Mephistophilis	I am a servant to great Lucifer,
	And may not follow thee without his leave:
	No more than he commands must we perform.

Faustus	Did not he charge thee to appear to me?

Mephistophilis	No, I came hither of mine own accord.

Faustus	Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? speak.

Mephistophilis	That was the cause, but yet per accidens;
	For, when we hear one rack the name of God,
	Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ,
	We fly, in hope to get his glorious soul;
	Nor will we come, unless he use such means
	Whereby he is in danger to be damn'd.
	Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring
	Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity,
	And pray devoutly to the prince of hell.

Faustus	So Faustus hath
	Already done; and holds this principle,
	There is no chief but only Belzebub;
	To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself.
	This word "damnation" terrifies not him,
	For he confounds hell in Elysium:
	His ghost be with the old philosophers!
	But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls,
	Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord?

Mephistophilis	Arch-regent and commander of all spirits.

Faustus	Was not that Lucifer an angel once?

Mephistophilis	Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov'd of God.

Faustus	How comes it, then, that he is prince of devils?

Mephistophilis	O, by aspiring pride and insolence;
	For which God threw him from the face of heaven.

Faustus	And what are you that live with Lucifer?

Mephistophilis	Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer,
	Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer,
	And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer.

Faustus	Where are you damn'd?

Mephistophilis	In hell.

Faustus	How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell?

Mephistophilis	Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it:
	Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God,
	And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
	Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,
	In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?
	O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands,
	Which strike a terror to my fainting soul!

Faustus	What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate
	For being deprived of the joys of heaven?
	Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude,
	And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess.
	Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer:
	Seeing Faustus hath incurr'd eternal death
	By desperate thoughts against Jove's deity,
	Say, he surrenders up to him his soul,
	So he will spare him four and twenty years,
	Letting him live in all voluptuousness;
	Having thee ever to attend on me,
	To give me whatsoever I shall ask,
	To tell me whatsoever I demand,
	To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends,
	And always be obedient to my will.
	Go and return to mighty Lucifer,
	And meet me in my study at midnight,
	And then resolve me of thy master's mind.

Mephistophilis	I will, Faustus.

	[Exit]

Faustus	Had I as many souls as there be stars,
	I'd give them all for Mephistophilis
	By him I'll be great Emperor of the world,
	And make a bridge thorough the moving air,
	To pass the ocean with a band of men;
	I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore,
	And make that country continent to Spain,
	And both contributory to my crown:
	The Emperor shall not live but by my leave,
	Nor any potentate of Germany.
	Now that I have obtain'd what I desir'd,
	I'll live in speculation of this art,
	Till Mephistophilis return again.

	[Exit]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT I


SCENE IV	The same


	[Enter Wagner and Robin, the clown]

Wagner	Sirrah boy, come hither.

Robin	How, boy! swowns, boy!  I hope you have seen many boys
	with such pickadevaunts as I have:  boy, quotha!

Wagner	Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in?

Robin	Ay, and goings out too; you may see else.

Wagner	Alas, poor slave! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness!
	the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry, that I know
	he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton,
	though it were blood-raw.

Robin	How! my soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though
	'twere blood-raw! not so, good friend:  by'r lady, I had need
	have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear.

Wagner	Well, wilt thou serve me, and I'll make thee go like
	Qui mihi discipulus?

Robin	How, in verse?

Wagner	No, sirrah; in beaten silk and staves-acre.

Robin	How, how, knaves-acre! ay, I thought that was all the land
	his father left him.  Do you hear?  I would be sorry to rob you of
	your living.

Wagner	Sirrah, I say in staves-acre.

Robin	Oho, oho, staves-acre! why, then, belike, if I were your
	man, I should be full of vermin.

Wagner	So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no.  But,
	sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me
	for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into
	familiars, and they shall tear thee in pieces.

Robin	Do you hear, sir? you may save that labour; they are too
	familiar with me already:  swowns, they are as bold with my flesh
	as if they had paid for their meat and drink.

Wagner	Well, do you hear, sirrah? hold, take these guilders.

	[Gives money]

Robin	Gridirons! what be they?

Wagner	Why, French crowns.

Robin	Mass, but for the name of French crowns, a man were as good
	have as many English counters.  And what should I do with these?

Wagner	Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an hour's warning, whensoever
	or wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee.

Robin	No, no; here, take your gridirons again.

Wagner	Truly, I'll none of them.

Robin	Truly, but you shall.

Wagner	Bear witness I gave them him.

Robin	Bear witness I give them you again.

Wagner	Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee
	away. &mdash; Baliol and Belcher!

Robin	Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I'll
	knock them, they were never so knocked since they were devils:
	say I should kill one of them, what would folks say?  "Do ye see
	yonder tall fellow in the round slop? he has killed the devil."
	So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over.

	[Enter two Devils; and Robin runs up and down crying]

Wagner	Baliol and Belcher, &mdash; spirits, away!

	[Exeunt Devils]

Robin	What, are they gone? a vengeance on them! they have vile
	long nails.  There was a he-devil and a she-devil:  I'll tell you
	how you shall know them; all he-devils has horns, and all
	she-devils has clifts and cloven feet.

Wagner	Well, sirrah, follow me.

Robin	But, do you hear? if I should serve you, would you teach
	me to raise up Banios and Belcheos?

Wagner	I will teach thee to turn thyself to any thing, to a dog,
	or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing.

Robin	How! a Christian fellow to a dog, or a cat, a mouse,
	or a rat! no, no, sir; if you turn me into any thing, let it be
	in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be
	here and there and every where:  O, I'll tickle the pretty wenches'
	plackets!  I'll be amongst them, i'faith.

Wagner	Well, sirrah, come.

Robin	But, do you hear, Wagner?

Wagner	How! &mdash; Baliol and Belcher!

Robin	O Lord!  I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep.

Wagner	Villain, call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be
	diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis
	nostris insistere.

	[Exit]

Robin	God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian.  Well, I'll follow
	him; I'll serve him, that's flat.

	[Exit]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT II


SCENE I	Faustus' study


	[Faustus discovered in his study]

Faustus	Now, Faustus, must
	Thou needs be damn'd, and canst thou not be sav'd:
	What boots it, then, to think of God or heaven?
	Away with such vain fancies, and despair;
	Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub:
	Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute:
	Why waver'st thou?  O, something soundeth in mine ears,
	"Abjure this magic, turn to God again!"
	Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again.
	To God? he loves thee not;
	The god thou serv'st is thine own appetite,
	Wherein is fix'd the love of Belzebub:
	To him I'll build an altar and a church,
	And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes.

	[Enter Good angel and Evil angel]

Good angel	Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art.

Faustus	Contrition, prayer, repentance &mdash; what of them?

Good angel	O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven!

Evil angel	Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy,
	That make men foolish that do trust them most.

Good angel	Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things.

Evil angel	No, Faustus; think of honour and of wealth.

	[Exeunt angels]

Faustus	Of wealth!
	Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine.
	When Mephistophilis shall stand by me,
	What god can hurt thee, Faustus? thou art safe
	Cast no more doubts. &mdash; Come, Mephistophilis,
	And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer; &mdash;
	Is't not midnight? &mdash; come, Mephistophilis,
	Veni, veni, Mephistophile!

	[Enter Mephistophilis]

	Now tell me what says Lucifer, thy lord?

Mephistophilis	That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,
	So he will buy my service with his soul.

Faustus	Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee.

Mephistophilis	But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly,
	And write a deed of gift with thine own blood;
	For that security craves great Lucifer.
	If thou deny it, I will back to hell.

Faustus	Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul
	do thy lord?

Mephistophilis	Enlarge his kingdom.

Faustus	Is that the reason why he tempts us thus?

Mephistophilis	Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.

Faustus	Why, have you any pain that torture others!

Mephistophilis	As great as have the human souls of men.
	But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul?
	And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee,
	And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask.

Faustus	Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee.

Mephistophilis	Then, Faustus, stab thine arm courageously,
	And bind thy soul, that at some certain day
	Great Lucifer may claim it as his own;
	And then be thou as great as Lucifer.

Faustus	[Stabbing his arm] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee,
	I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood
	Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's,
	Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!
	View here the blood that trickles from mine arm,
	And let it be propitious for my wish.

Mephistophilis	But, Faustus, thou must
	Write it in manner of a deed of gift.

Faustus	Ay, so I will. [Writes]  But, Mephistophilis,
	My blood congeals, and I can write no more.

Mephistophilis	I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight.

	[Exit]

Faustus	What might the staying of my blood portend?
	Is it unwilling I should write this bill?
	Why streams it not, that I may write afresh?
	<i>Faustus gives to thee his soul</i>:  ah, there it stay'd!
	Why shouldst thou not? is not thy soul shine own?
	Then write again, <i>Faustus gives to thee his soul</i>.

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis with a chafer of coals]

Mephistophilis	Here's fire; come, Faustus, set it on.

Faustus	So, now the blood begins to clear again;
	Now will I make an end immediately.

	[Writes]

Mephistophilis	O, what will not I do to obtain his soul?

	[Aside]

Faustus	Consummatum est; this bill is ended,
	And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer.
	But what is this inscription on mine arm?
	Homo, fuge:  whither should I fly?
	If unto God, he'll throw me down to hell.
	My senses are deceiv'd; here's nothing writ: &mdash;
	I see it plain; here in this place is writ,
	Homo, fuge:  yet shall not Faustus fly.

Mephistophilis	I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind.

	[Aside, and then exit]

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis with Devils, who give crowns and
	rich apparel to Faustus, dance, and then depart]

Faustus	Speak, Mephistophilis, what means this show?

Mephistophilis	Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal,
	And to shew thee what magic can perform.

Faustus	But may I raise up spirits when I please?

Mephistophilis	Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these.

Faustus	Then there's enough for a thousand souls.
	Here, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll,
	A deed of gift of body and of soul:
	But yet conditionally that thou perform
	All articles prescrib'd between us both.

Mephistophilis	Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer
	To effect all promises between us made!

Faustus	Then hear me read them.
	[Reads] 'Mephistophilis, on these conditions following:
	'First. That Faustus may be a Spirit in form and substance.
	'Secondly. That Mephistophilis shall be his servant,
	and be by him commanded.
	'Thirdly. That Mephistophilis shall do for him and
	bring him whatsoever he requireth.
	'Fourthly. That he shall be in his house chamber invisible.
	'Lastly. He shall appear to the said John Faustus, at all times,
	in what shape and form soever he please.
	'I, John Faustus, of Wertenberg, Doctor, by these presents,
	do give both body and soul to Lucifer, Prince of the East,
	and his minister, Mephistophilis;
	and furthermore grant unto them, that four and twenty years
	being expired, and these articles above written being inviolate,
	full power to fetch or carry the said John Faustus, body and soul,
	flesh and blood, into their habitation wheresoever.
	'By me, John Faustus.

Mephistophilis	Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed?

Faustus	Ay, take it, and the devil give thee good on't!

Mephistophilis	Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt.

Faustus	First will I question with thee about hell.
	Tell me, where is the place that men call hell?

Mephistophilis	Under the heavens.

Faustus	Ay, but whereabout?

Mephistophilis	Within the bowels of these elements,
	Where we are tortur'd and remain for ever:
	Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd
	In one self place; for where we are is hell,
	And where hell is, there must we ever be:
	And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves,
	And every creature shall be purified,
	All places shall be hell that are not heaven.

Faustus	Come, I think hell's a fable.

Mephistophilis	Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind.

Faustus	Why, think'st thou, then, that Faustus shall be damn'd?

Mephistophilis	Ay, of necessity, for here's the scroll
	Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer.

Faustus	Ay, and body too:  but what of that?
	Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine
	That, after this life, there is any pain?
	Tush, these are trifles and mere old wives' tales.

Mephistophilis	But, Faustus, I am an instance to prove the contrary,
	For I am damn'd, and am now in hell.

Faustus	How! now in hell!
	Nay, an this be hell, I'll willingly be damn'd here:
	What! walking, disputing, &c.
	But, leaving off this, let me have a wife,
	The fairest maid in Germany;
	For I am wanton and lascivious,
	And cannot live without a wife.

Mephistophilis	How! a wife!
	I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife.

Faustus	Nay, sweet Mephistophilis, fetch me one, for I will have
	one.

Mephistophilis	Well, thou wilt have one?  Sit there till I come:  I'll
	fetch thee a wife in the devil's name.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis with a DEVIL drest like a WOMAN, with fire-works]

Mephistophilis	Tell me, Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife?

Faustus	A plague on her for a hot whore!

Mephistophilis	Tut, Faustus,
	Marriage is but a ceremonial toy;
	If thou lovest me, think no more of it.
	I'll cull thee out the fairest courtezans,
	And bring them every morning to thy bed:
	She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have,
	Be she as chaste as was Penelope,
	As wise as Saba, or as beautiful
	As was bright Lucifer before his fall.
	Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly:

	[Gives book]

	The iterating of these lines brings gold;
	The framing of this circle on the ground
	Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder, and lightning;
	Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself,
	And men in armour shall appear to thee,
	Ready to execute what thou desir'st.

Faustus	Thanks, Mephistophilis:  yet fain would I have a book
	wherein I might behold all spells and incantations, that I
	might raise up spirits when I please.

Mephistophilis	Here they are in this book. [Turns to them]

Faustus	Now would I have a book where I might see all characters
	and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and
	dispositions.

Mephistophilis	Here they are too. [Turns to them]

Faustus	Nay, let me have one book more, &mdash; and then I have done, &mdash;
	wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees, that grow upon
	the earth.

Mephistophilis	Here they be.

Faustus	O, thou art deceived.

Mephistophilis	Tut, I warrant thee. [Turns to them]

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT II


SCENE II	Unspecified location


	[Enter Robin the Ostler, with a book in his hand]

Robin	O, this is admirable! here I ha' stolen one of Doctor
	Faustus' conjuring-books, and, i'faith, I mean to search some
	circles for my own use.  Now will I make all the maidens in our
	parish dance at my pleasure, stark naked, before me; and so
	by that means I shall see more than e'er I felt or saw yet.

	[Enter Ralph, calling Robin]

Ralph	Robin, prithee, come away; there's a gentleman tarries
	to have his horse, and he would have his things rubbed and made
	clean:  he keeps such a chafing with my mistress about it; and
	she has sent me to look thee out; prithee, come away.

Robin	Keep out, keep out, or else you are blown up, you are
	dismembered, Ralph:  keep out, for I am about a roaring piece
	of work.

Ralph	Come, what doest thou with that same book? thou canst
	not read?

Robin	Yes, my master and mistress shall find that I can read,
	he for his forehead, she for her private study; she's born to
	bear with me, or else my art fails.

Ralph	Why, Robin, what book is that?

Robin	What book! why, the most intolerable book for conjuring
	that e'er was invented by any brimstone devil.

Ralph	Canst thou conjure with it?

Robin	I can do all these things easily with it; first, I can
	make thee drunk with ippocras at any tabern in Europe
	for nothing; that's one of my conjuring works.

Ralph	Our Master Parson says that's nothing.

Robin	True, Ralph:  and more, Ralph, if thou hast any mind to
	Nan Spit, our kitchen-maid, then turn her and wind her to thy own
	use, as often as thou wilt, and at midnight.

Ralph	O, brave, Robin! shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own
	use?  On that condition I'll feed thy devil with horse-bread as
	long as he lives, of free cost.

Robin	No more, sweet Ralph:  let's go and make clean our boots,
	which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the
	devil's name.

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT II


SCENE III	Faustus' study


	[Enter Faustus in his study and Mephastophilis]

Faustus	When I behold the heavens, then I repent,
	And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis,
	Because thou hast depriv'd me of those joys.

Mephistophilis	Why, Faustus,
	Thinkest thou heaven is such a glorious thing?
	I tell thee, 'tis not half so fair as thou,
	Or any man that breathes on earth.

Faustus	How prov'st thou that?

Mephistophilis	'Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent.

Faustus	If it were made for man, 'twas made for me:
	I will renounce this magic and repent.

	[Enter Good angel and Evil angel]

Good angel	Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee.

Evil angel	Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee.

Faustus	Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit?
	Be I a devil, yet God may pity me;
	Ay, God will pity me, if I repent.

Evil angel	Ay, but Faustus never shall repent.

	[Exeunt angels]

Faustus	My heart's so harden'd, I cannot repent:
	Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven,
	But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears,
	"Faustus, thou art damn'd!" then swords, and knives,
	Poison, guns, halters, and envenom'd steel
	Are laid before me to despatch myself;
	And long ere this I should have slain myself,
	Had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair.
	Have not I made blind Homer sing to me
	Of Alexander's love and Oenon's death?
	And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes
	With ravishing sound of his melodious harp,
	Made music with my Mephistophilis?
	Why should I die, then, or basely despair?
	I am resolv'd; Faustus shall ne'er repent. &mdash;
	Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again,
	And argue of divine astrology.
	Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon
	Are all celestial bodies but one globe,
	As is the substance of this centric earth?

Mephistophilis	As are the elements, such are the spheres,
	Mutually folded in each other's orb,
	And, Faustus,
	All jointly move upon one axletree,
	Whose terminine is term'd the world's wide pole;
	Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter
	Feign'd, but are erring stars.

Faustus	But, tell me, have they all one motion, both
	<i>situ et tempore</i>?

Mephistophilis	All jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours
	upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motion upon
	the poles of the zodiac.

Faustus	Tush,
	These slender trifles Wagner can decide:
	Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill?
	Who knows not the double motion of the planets?
	The first is finish'd in a natural day;
	The second thus; as Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve;
	Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the Moon in
	twenty-eight days.  Tush, these are freshmen's suppositions.
	But, tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia?

Mephistophilis	Ay.

Faustus	How many heavens or spheres are there?

Mephistophilis	Nine; the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal
	heaven.

Faustus	Well, resolve me in this question; why have we not
	conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time,
	but in some years we have more, in some less?

Mephistophilis	<i>Per inoequalem motum respectu totius</i>.

Faustus	Well, I am answered.  Tell me who made the world?

Mephistophilis	I will not.

Faustus	Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me.

Mephistophilis	Move me not, for I will not tell thee.

Faustus	Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any thing?

Mephistophilis	Ay, that is not against our kingdom; but this is.  Think
	thou on hell, Faustus, for thou art damned.

Faustus	Think, Faustus, upon God that made the world.

Mephistophilis	Remember this.

	[Exit]

Faustus	Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell!
	'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed Faustus' soul.
	Is't not too late?

	[Re-enter Good angel and Evil angel]

Evil angel	Too late.

Good angel	Never too late, if Faustus can repent.

Evil angel	If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces.

Good angel	Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin.

	[Exeunt angels]

Faustus	Ah, Christ, my Saviour,
	Seek to save distressed Faustus' soul!

	[Enter Lucifer, Belzebub, and Mephistophilis]

Lucifer	Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just:
	There's none but I have interest in the same.

Faustus	O, who art thou that look'st so terrible?

Lucifer	I am Lucifer,
	And this is my companion-prince in hell.

Faustus	O, Faustus, they are come to fetch away thy soul!

Lucifer	We come to tell thee thou dost injure us;
	Thou talk'st of Christ, contrary to thy promise:
	Thou shouldst not think of God:  think of the devil,
	And of his dam too.

Faustus	Nor will I henceforth:  pardon me in this,
	And Faustus vows never to look to heaven,
	Never to name God, or to pray to him,
	To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers,
	And make my spirits pull his churches down.

Lucifer	Do so, and we will highly gratify thee.  Faustus, we are
	come from hell to shew thee some pastime:  sit down, and thou
	shalt see all the Seven Deadly Sins appear in their proper shapes.

Faustus	That sight will be as pleasing unto me,
	As Paradise was to Adam, the first day
	Of his creation.

Lucifer	Talk not of Paradise nor creation; but mark this show:
	talk of the devil, and nothing else. &mdash; Come away!

	[Enter the seven deadly sins]

	Now, Faustus, examine them of their several names and dispositions.

Faustus	What art thou, the first?

Pride	I am Pride.  I disdain to have any parents.  I am like to
	Ovid's flea; I can creep into every corner of a wench; sometimes,
	like a perriwig, I sit upon her brow; or, like a fan of feathers,
	I kiss her lips; indeed, I do &mdash; what do I not?  But, fie, what a
	scent is here!  I'll not speak another word, except the ground
	were perfumed, and covered with cloth of arras.

Faustus	What art thou, the second?

Covetousness	I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl, in an
	old leathern bag:  and, might I have my wish, I would desire that
	this house and all the people in it were turned to gold, that I
	might lock you up in my good chest:  O, my sweet gold!

Faustus	What art thou, the third?

Wrath	I am Wrath.  I had neither father nor mother:  I leapt out
	of a lion's mouth when I was scarce half-an-hour old; and ever
	since I have run up and down the world with this case
	of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal.
	I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of you shall be
	my father.

Faustus	What art thou, the fourth?

Envy	I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife.
	I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt.  I am lean
	with seeing others eat.  O, that there would come a famine through
	all the world, that all might die, and I live alone! then thou
	shouldst see how fat I would be.  But must thou sit, and I stand?
	come down, with a vengeance!

Faustus	Away, envious rascal! &mdash; What art thou, the fifth?

Gluttony	Who I, sir?  I am Gluttony.  My parents are all dead,
	and the devil a penny they have left me, but a bare pension, and
	that is thirty meals a-day and ten bevers, &mdash; a small trifle
	to suffice nature.  O, I come of a royal parentage! my grandfather
	was a Gammon of Bacon, my grandmother a Hogshead of Claret-wine;
	my godfathers were these, Peter Pickle-herring and Martin
	Martlemas-beef; O, but my godmother, she was a jolly gentlewoman,
	and well-beloved in every good town and city; her name was Mistress
	Margery March-beer.  Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny;
	wilt thou bid me to supper?

Faustus	No, I'll see thee hanged:  thou wilt eat up all my victuals.

Gluttony	Then the devil choke thee!

Faustus	Choke thyself, glutton! &mdash; What art thou, the sixth?

Sloth	I am Sloth.  I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have
	lain ever since; and you have done me great injury to bring me
	from thence:  let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and
	Lechery.  I'll not speak another word for a king's ransom.

Faustus	What are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last?

Lechery	Who I, sir?  I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton
	better than an ell of fried stock-fish; and the first letter
	of my name begins with L.

Faustus	Away, to hell, to hell!

	[Exeunt the Sins]

Lucifer	Now, Faustus, how dost thou like this?

Faustus	O, this feeds my soul!

Lucifer	Tut, Faustus, in hell is all manner of delight.

Faustus	O, might I see hell, and return again,
	How happy were I then!

Lucifer	Thou shalt; I will send for thee at midnight.
	In meantime take this book; peruse it throughly,
	And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt.

Faustus	Great thanks, mighty Lucifer!
	This will I keep as chary as my life.

Lucifer	Farewell, Faustus, and think on the devil.

Faustus	Farewell, great Lucifer.

	[Exeunt Lucifer and Belzebub]

	Come, Mephistophilis

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT III


PROLOGUE	


	[Enter Wagner solus]

Wagner	Learned Faustus,
	To know the secrets of astronomy
	Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament,
	Did mount himself to scale Olympus' top,
	Being seated in a chariot burning bright,
	Drawn by the strength of yoked dragons' necks,
	He views the clouds, the planets, and the stars,
	The tropic zones, and quarters of the sky,
	From the bright circle of the horned moon
	Even to the height of Primum Mobile;
	And, whirling round with this circumference,
	Within the concave compass of the pole,
	From east to west his dragons swiftly glide,
	And in eight days did bring him home again.
	Not long he stay'd within his quiet house,
	To rest his bones after his weary toil;
	But new exploits do hale him out again:
	And, mounted then upon a dragon's back,
	That with his wings did part the subtle air,
	He now is gone to prove cosmography,
	And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome,
	To see the Pope and manner of his court,
	And take some part of holy Peter's feast,
	That to this day is highly solemniz'd.

	[Exit]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT III


SCENE I	Faustus' study


	[Enter Faustus and Mephistophilis]

Faustus	Having now, my good Mephistophilis,
	Pass'd with delight the stately town of Trier,
	Environ'd round with airy mountain-tops,
	With walls of flint, and deep-entrenched lakes,
	Not to be won by any conquering prince;
	From Paris next, coasting the realm of France,
	We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine,
	Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines;
	Then up to Naples, rich Campania,
	Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye,
	The streets straight forth, and pav'd with finest brick,
	Quarter the town in four equivalents:
	There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb,
	The way he cut, an English mile in length,
	Thorough a rock of stone, in one night's space;
	From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest,
	In one of which a sumptuous temple stands,
	That threats the stars with her aspiring top.
	Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time:
	But tell me now what resting-place is this?
	Hast thou, as erst I did command,
	Conducted me within the walls of Rome?

Mephistophilis	Faustus, I have; and, because we will not be unprovided,
	I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for our use.

Faustus	I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome.

Mephistophilis	
	Tut, 'tis no matter; man; we'll be bold with his good cheer.
	And now, my Faustus, that thou mayst perceive
	What Rome containeth to delight thee with,
	Know that this city stands upon seven hills
	That underprop the groundwork of the same:
	Just through the midst runs flowing Tiber's stream
	With winding banks that cut it in two parts;
	Over the which four stately bridges lean,
	That make safe passage to each part of Rome:
	Upon the bridge call'd Ponte Angelo
	Erected is a castle passing strong,
	Within whose walls such store of ordnance are,
	And double cannons fram'd of carved brass,
	As match the days within one complete year;
	Besides the gates, and high pyramides,
	Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa.

Faustus	Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule,
	Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake
	Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear
	That I do long to see the monuments
	And situation of bright-splendent Rome:
	Come, therefore, let's away.

Mephistophilis	Nay, Faustus, stay:  I know you'd fain see the Pope,
	And take some part of holy Peter's feast,
	Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars,
	Whose <i>summum bonum</i> is in belly-cheer.

Faustus	Well, I'm content to compass then some sport,
	And by their folly make us merriment.
	Then charm me, that I
	May be invisible, to do what I please,
	Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome.

	[Mephistophilis charms him]

Mephistophilis	So, Faustus; now
	Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discern'd.

	[Sound a Sonnet. Enter the Pope and the Cardinal of Lorrain to the banquet, with FRIARS attending]

Pope	My Lord of Lorrain, will't please you draw near?

Faustus	Fall to, and the devil choke you, an you spare!

Pope	How now! who's that which spake? &mdash; Friars, look about.

First friar	Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness.

Pope	My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the Bishop
	of Milan.

Faustus	I thank you, sir.

	[Snatches the dish]

Pope	How now! who's that which snatched the meat from me? will
	no man look? &mdash; My lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal
	of Florence.

Faustus	You say true; I'll ha't.

	[Snatches the dish]

Pope	What, again! &mdash; My lord, I'll drink to your grace.

Faustus	I'll pledge your grace.

	[Snatches the cup]

Cardinal of Lorrain	My lord, it may be some ghost, newly crept out of
	Purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness.

Pope	It may be so. &mdash; Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury
	of this ghost. &mdash; Once again, my lord, fall to.

	[The Pope crosses himself]

Faustus	What, are you crossing of yourself?
	Well, use that trick no more, I would advise you.

	[The Pope crosses himself again]

	Well, there's the second time.  Aware the third;
	I give you fair warning.

	[The Pope crosses himself again, and Faustus hits him a box of the ear; and they all run away]

	Come on, Mephistophilis; what shall we do?

Mephistophilis	Nay, I know not:  we shall be cursed with bell, book,
	and candle.

Faustus	How! bell, book, and candle, &mdash; candle, book, and bell, &mdash;
	Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell!
	Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, and an ass bray,
	Because it is Saint Peter's holiday.

	[Re-enter all the FRIARS to sing the Dirge]

First friar	
	Come, brethren, let's about our business with good devotion.

	[They sing]

	Cursed be he that stole his Highness' meat from the table.
	<i>Maledicat Dominus.</i>
	Cursed be he that struck his Holiness a blow on the face.
	<i>Maledicat Dominus.</i>
	Cursed be he that struck Friar Sandelo a blow on the pate.
	<i>Maledicat Dominus.</i>
	Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge.
	<i>Maledicat Dominus.</i>
	Cursed be he that took away his Holiness' wine.
	<i>Maledicat Dominus.
	Et omnes Sancti!  Amen!</i>

	[Mephistophilis and Faustus beat the friars, and fling fireworks among them; and so exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT III


SCENE II	Unspecified location


	[Enter Robin with a conjuring book and Ralph with a silver goblet]

Robin	Come, Ralph:  did not I tell thee, we were for ever made
	by this Doctor Faustus' book? <i>ecce, signum</i>! here's a simple
	purchase for horse-keepers:  our horses shall eat no hay as
	long as this lasts.

Ralph	But, Robin, here comes the Vintner.

Robin	Hush!  I'll gull him supernaturally.

	[Enter Vintner]

	Drawer, I hope all is paid; God be with you! &mdash; Come, Ralph.

Vintner	Soft, sir; a word with you.  I must yet have a goblet paid
	from you, ere you go.

Robin	I a goblet, Ralph, I a goblet! &mdash; I scorn you; and you are
	but a, &c.  I a goblet! search me.

Vintner	I mean so, sir, with your favour. [Searches Robin]

Robin	How say you now?

Vintner	I must say somewhat to your fellow. &mdash; You, sir!

Ralph	Me, sir! me, sir! search your fill.  [Vintner searches him]
	Now, sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter
	of truth.

Vintner	Well, one of you hath this goblet about you.

Robin	You lie, drawer, 'tis afore me [Aside]. &mdash; Sirrah you, I'll
	teach you to impeach honest men; &mdash; stand by; &mdash; I'll scour you for
	a goblet; &mdash; stand aside you had best, I charge you in the name of
	Belzebub. &mdash; Look to the goblet, Ralph [Aside to Ralph].

Vintner	What mean you, sirrah?

Robin	I'll tell you what I mean.  [Reads from a book] <i>Sanctobulorum
	Periphrasticon</i> &mdash; nay, I'll tickle you, Vintner. &mdash; Look to the goblet,
	Ralph [Aside to Ralph]. &mdash; [Reads] <i>Polypragmos Belseborams framanto
	pacostiphos tostu</i>, Mephistophilis, &c.

	[Enter Mephistophilis, sets squibs at their backs, and then exit.  They run about]

	[Next three speeches omitted from Oxford edition]

Vintner	<i>O, nomine Domini</i>! what meanest thou, Robin? thou hast no
	goblet.

Ralph	<i>Peccatum peccatorum</i>! &mdash; Here's thy goblet, good Vintner.

	[Gives the goblet to Vintner, who exits]

Robin	<i>Misericordia pro nobis!</i> what shall I do?  Good devil, forgive
	me now, and I'll never rob thy library more.

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis]

	[Oxford edition resumes here]

Mephistophilis	Monarch of Hell, under whose black survey
	Great potentates do kneel with awful fear,
	Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie,
	How am I vexed with these villains' charms?
	From Constantinople am I hither come,
	Only for pleasure of these damned slaves.

Robin	How, from Constantinople! you have had a great journey:
	will you take sixpence in your purse to pay for your supper, and
	be gone?

Mephistophilis	Well, villains, for your presumption, I transform thee
	into an ape, and thee into a dog; and so be gone!

	[Exit]

Robin	How, into an ape! that's brave:  I'll have fine sport with
	the boys; I'll get nuts and apples enow.

Ralph	And I must be a dog.

Robin	I'faith, thy head will never be out of the pottage-pot.

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT IV


PROLOGUE


	[Enter Chorus]

Chorus	When Faustus had with pleasure ta'en the view
	Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings,
	He stay'd his course, and so returned home;
	Where such as bear his absence but with grief,
	I mean his friends and near'st companions,
	Did gratulate his safety with kind words,
	And in their conference of what befell,
	Touching his journey through the world and air,
	They put forth questions of astrology,
	Which Faustus answer'd with such learned skill
	As they admir'd and wonder'd at his wit.
	Now is his fame spread forth in every land:
	Amongst the rest the Emperor is one,
	Carolus the Fifth, at whose palace now
	Faustus is feasted 'mongst his noblemen.
	What there he did, in trial of his art,
	I leave untold; your eyes shall see't perform'd.

	[Exit]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT IV


SCENE I	Unspecified location


	[Enter Emperor, Faustus, and a Knight, with Attendants]

Emperor	Master Doctor Faustus, I have heard strange report
	of thy knowledge in the black art, how that none in my empire
	nor in the whole world can compare with thee for the rare effects
	of magic:  they say thou hast a familiar spirit, by whom thou canst
	accomplish what thou list.  This, therefore, is my request, that
	thou let me see some proof of thy skill, that mine eyes may be
	witnesses to confirm what mine ears have heard reported:  and here
	I swear to thee, by the honour of mine imperial crown, that,
	whatever thou doest, thou shalt be no ways prejudiced or endamaged.

Knight	[Aside] I'faith, he looks much like a conjurer.

Faustus	My gracious sovereign, though I must confess myself far
	inferior to the report men have published, and nothing answerable
	to the honour of your imperial majesty, yet, for that love and duty
	binds me thereunto, I am content to do whatsoever your majesty
	shall command me.

Emperor	Then, Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say.
	As I was sometime solitary set
	Within my closet, sundry thoughts arose
	About the honour of mine ancestors,
	How they had won by prowess such exploits,
	Got such riches, subdu'd so many kingdoms,
	As we that do succeed, or they that shall
	Hereafter possess our throne, shall
	(I fear me) ne'er attain to that degree
	Of high renown and great authority:
	Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great,
	Chief spectacle of the world's pre-eminence,
	The bright shining of whose glorious acts
	Lightens the world with his reflecting beams,
	As when I hear but motion made of him,
	It grieves my soul I never saw the man:
	If, therefore, thou, by cunning of thine art,
	Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below,
	Where lies entomb'd this famous conqueror,
	And bring with him his beauteous paramour,
	Both in their right shapes, gesture, and attire
	They us'd to wear during their time of life,
	Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire,
	And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live.

Faustus	My gracious lord, I am ready to accomplish your request,
	so far forth as by art and power of my spirit I am able to perform.

Knight	[Aside] I'faith, that's just nothing at all.

Faustus	But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability
	to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those
	two deceased princes, which long since are consumed to dust.

Knight	[Aside] Ay, marry, Master Doctor, now there's a sign of grace in
	you, when you will confess the truth.

Faustus	But such spirits as can lively resemble Alexander and
	his paramour shall appear before your grace, in that manner that
	they both lived in, in their most flourishing estate; which
	I doubt not shall sufficiently content your imperial majesty.

Emperor	Go to, Master Doctor; let me see them presently.

Knight	Do you hear, Master Doctor? you bring Alexander and his
	paramour before the Emperor!

Faustus	How then, sir?

Knight	I'faith, that's as true as Diana turned me to a stag.

Faustus	No, sir; but, when Actaeon died, he left the horns for
	you. &mdash; Mephistophilis, be gone.

	[Exit Mephistophilis]

Knight	Nay, an you go to conjuring, I'll be gone.

	[Exit]

Faustus	[Aside] I'll meet with you anon for interrupting me so.
	 [To Emperor] Here they are, my gracious lord.

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis with Spirits in the shapes of Alexander and his paramour]

Emperor	Master Doctor, I heard this lady, while she lived, had a
	wart or mole in her neck:  how shall I know whether it be so or no?

Faustus	Your highness may boldly go and see.

Emperor	Sure, these are no spirits, but the true substantial
	bodies of those two deceased princes.

	[Exeunt Spirits]

Faustus	Wilt please your highness now to send for the knight
	that was so pleasant with me here of late?

Emperor	One of you call him forth.

	[Exit Attendant]

	[Re-enter the Knight with a pair of horns on his head]

	How now, sir knight! why, I had thought thou hadst been a bachelor,
	but now I see thou hast a wife, that not only gives thee horns,
	but makes thee wear them.  Feel on thy head.

Knight	Thou damned wretch and execrable dog,
	Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock,
	How dar'st thou thus abuse a gentleman?
	Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done!

Faustus	O, not so fast, sir! there's no haste:  but, good, are
	you remembered how you crossed me in my conference with the
	Emperor?  I think I have met with you for it.

Emperor	Good Master Doctor, at my entreaty release him:  he hath
	done penance sufficient.

Faustus	My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered
	me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath
	Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight; which being all
	I desire, I am content to release him of his horns: &mdash; and,
	sir knight, hereafter speak well of scholars. &mdash; Mephistophilis,
	transform him straight.  [Mephistophilis removes the horns]
	 &mdash; Now, my good lord, having done my duty, I humbly take my leave.

Emperor	Farewell, Master Doctor:  yet, ere you go,
	Expect from me a bounteous reward.

	[Exeunt Emperor, Knight, and Attendants]

Faustus	Now, Mephistophilis, the restless course
	That time doth run with calm and silent foot,
	Shortening my days and thread of vital life,
	Calls for the payment of my latest years:
	Therefore, sweet Mephistophilis, let us
	Make haste to Wertenberg.

Mephistophilis	What, will you go on horse-back or on foot?

Faustus	Nay, till I'm past this fair and pleasant green,
	I'll walk on foot.

	[Enter a Horse-courser]

Horse-courser	I have been all this day seeking one Master Fustian:
	mass, see where he is! &mdash; God save you, Master Doctor!

Faustus	What, Horse-courser! you are well met.

Horse-courser	Do you hear, sir?  I have brought you forty dollars
	for your horse.

Faustus	I cannot sell him so:  if thou likest him for fifty, take
	him.

Horse-courser	Alas, sir, I have no more! &mdash; I pray you, speak for
	me.

Mephistophilis	I pray you, let him have him:  he is an honest fellow,
	and he has a great charge, neither wife nor child.

Faustus	Well, come, give me your money: [Horse-courser gives
	Faustus the money] my boy will deliver him to you.  But I must
	tell you one thing before you have him; ride him not into the
	water, at any hand.

Horse-courser	Why, sir, will he not drink of all waters?

Faustus	O, yes, he will drink of all waters; but ride him not
	into the water:  ride him over hedge or ditch, or where thou wilt,
	but not into the water.

Horse-courser	Well, sir.
	[Aside] Now am I made man for ever:  I'll not
	leave my horse for forty:  if he had but the quality of
	hey-ding-ding, hey-ding-ding, I'd make a brave living on him:
	he has a buttock as slick as an eel.
	[To Faustus] Well, God b'wi'ye, sir: your boy will deliver him me:
	but, hark you, sir; if my horse be sick or ill at ease,
	if I bring his water to you, you'll tell me what it is?

Faustus	Away, you villain! what, dost think I am a horse-doctor?

	[Exit Horse-courser]

	What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemn'd to die?
	Thy fatal time doth draw to final end;
	Despair doth drive distrust into my thoughts:
	Confound these passions with a quiet sleep:
	Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the Cross;
	Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit.

	[Sleeps in his chair]

	[Re-enter Horse-courser, all wet, crying]

Horse-courser	Alas, alas!  Doctor Fustian, quotha? Mass, Doctor
	Lopus was never such a doctor:  has given me a purgation, has
	purged me of forty dollars; I shall never see them more.  But yet,
	like an ass as I was, I would not be ruled by him, for he bade me
	I should ride him into no water:  now I, thinking my horse had had
	some rare quality that he would not have had me know of, I,
	like a venturous youth, rid him into the deep pond at the town's
	end.  I was no sooner in the middle of the pond, but my horse
	vanished away, and I sat upon a bottle of hay, never so near
	drowning in my life.  But I'll seek out my doctor, and have my
	forty dollars again, or I'll make it the dearest horse! &mdash; O,
	yonder is his snipper-snapper. &mdash; Do you hear? you, hey-pass,
	where's your master?

Mephistophilis	Why, sir, what would you? you cannot speak with him.

Horse-courser	But I will speak with him.

Mephistophilis	Why, he's fast asleep:  come some other time.

Horse-courser	I'll speak with him now, or I'll break his
	glass-windows about his ears.

Mephistophilis	I tell thee, he has not slept this eight nights.

Horse-courser	An he have not slept this eight weeks, I'll
	speak with him.

Mephistophilis	See, where he is, fast asleep.

Horse-courser	Ay, this is he. &mdash; God save you, Master Doctor,
	Master Doctor, Master Doctor Fustian! forty dollars, forty dollars
	for a bottle of hay!

Mephistophilis	Why, thou seest he hears thee not.

Horse-courser	So-ho, ho! so-ho, ho!  [Hollows in his ear]  No,
	will you not wake?  I'll make you wake ere I go.  [Pulls Faustus
	by the leg, and pulls it away]  Alas, I am undone! what shall
	I do?

Faustus	O, my leg, my leg! &mdash; Help, Mephistophilis! call the
	officers. &mdash; My leg, my leg!

Mephistophilis	Come, villain, to the constable.

Horse-courser	O Lord, sir, let me go, and I'll give you forty
	dollars more!

Mephistophilis	Where be they?

Horse-courser	I have none about me:  come to my ostry,
	and I'll give them you.

Mephistophilis	Be gone quickly.

	[Horse-courser runs away]

Faustus	What, is he gone? farewell he!  Faustus has his leg again,
	and the Horse-courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour:
	well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more.

	[Enter Wagner]

	How now, Wagner! what's the news with thee?

Wagner	Sir, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your
	company.

Faustus	The Duke of Vanholt! an honourable gentleman, to whom
	I must be no niggard of my cunning. &mdash; Come, Mephistophilis,
	let's away to him.

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT IV


SCENE II	Unspecified location


	[Enter the Duke of Vanholt, the Duchess, and Faustus]

Duke	Believe me, Master Doctor, this merriment hath much pleased
	me.

Faustus	My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well.
	 &mdash; But it may be, madam, you take no delight in this. I have heard
	that great-bellied women do long for some dainties or other: what
	is it, madam? tell me, and you shall have it.

Duchess	Thanks, good Master Doctor: and, for I see your courteous
	intent to pleasure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart
	desires; and, were it now summer, as it is January and the dead
	time of the winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish
	of ripe grapes.

Faustus	Alas, madam, that's nothing! &mdash; Mephistophilis, be gone.

	[Exit Mephistophilis]

	Were it a greater thing than this, so it
	would content you, you should have it.

	[Re-enter Mephistophilis with grapes]

	Here they be, madam:  wilt please you taste on them?

Duke	Believe me, Master Doctor, this makes me wonder above the
	rest, that being in the dead time of winter and in the month of
	January, how you should come by these grapes.

Faustus	If it like your grace, the year is divided into two
	circles over the whole world, that, when it is here winter with
	us, in the contrary circle it is summer with them, as in India,
	Saba, and farther countries in the east; and by means of a
	swift spirit that I have, I had them brought hither, as you see.
	 &mdash; How do you like them, madam? be they good?

Duchess	Believe me, Master Doctor, they be the best grapes that
	e'er I tasted in my life before.

Faustus	I am glad they content you so, madam.

Duke	Come, madam, let us in, where you must well reward this
	learned man for the great kindness he hath shewed to you.

Duchess	And so I will, my lord; and, whilst I live, rest
	beholding for this courtesy.

Faustus	I humbly thank your grace.

Duke	Come, Master Doctor, follow us, and receive your reward.

	[Exeunt]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT V


SCENE I	Unspecified location


	[Enter Wagner]

Wagner	I think my master means to die shortly,
	For he hath given to me all his goods:
	And yet, methinks, if that death were near,
	He would not banquet, and carouse, and swill
	Amongst the students, as even now he doth,
	Who are at supper with such belly-cheer
	As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life.
	See, where they come! belike the feast is ended.

	[Exit]

	[Enter Faustus with two or three Scholars, and Mephistophilis]

First scholar	Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about
	fair ladies, which was the beautifulest in all the world, we have
	determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest
	lady that ever lived:  therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us
	that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom
	all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much
	beholding unto you.

Faustus	Gentlemen,
	For that I know your friendship is unfeign'd,
	And Faustus' custom is not to deny
	The just requests of those that wish him well,
	You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece,
	No otherways for pomp and majesty
	Than when Sir Paris cross'd the seas with her,
	And brought the spoils to rich Dardania.
	Be silent, then, for danger is in words.

	[Music sounds, and Helen passeth over the stage]

Second scholar	Too simple is my wit to tell her praise,
	Whom all the world admires for majesty.

Third scholar	No marvel though the angry Greeks pursu'd
	With ten years' war the rape of such a queen,
	Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare.

First scholar	Since we have seen the pride of Nature's works,
	And only paragon of excellence,
	Let us depart; and for this glorious deed
	Happy and blest be Faustus evermore!

Faustus	Gentlemen, farewell:  the same I wish to you.

	[Exeunt Scholars]

	[Enter an Old man]

Old man	Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail
	To guide thy steps unto the way of life,
	By which sweet path thou mayst attain the goal
	That shall conduct thee to celestial rest!
	Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears,
	Tears falling from repentant heaviness
	Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness,
	The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul
	With such flagitious crimes of heinous sin
	As no commiseration may expel,
	But mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet,
	Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt.

Faustus	Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done?
	Damn'd art thou, Faustus, damn'd; despair and die!
	Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice
	Says, "Faustus, come; thine hour is almost come;"
	And Faustus now will come to do thee right.

	[Mephistophilis gives him a dagger]

Old man	Ah, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps!
	I see an angel hovers o'er thy head,
	And, with a vial full of precious grace,
	Offers to pour the same into thy soul:
	Then call for mercy, and avoid despair.

Faustus	Ah, my sweet friend, I feel
	Thy words to comfort my distressed soul!
	Leave me a while to ponder on my sins.

Old man	I go, sweet Faustus; but with heavy cheer,
	Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul.

	[Exit]

Faustus	Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now?
	I do repent; and yet I do despair:
	Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast:
	What shall I do to shun the snares of death?

Mephistophilis	Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul
	For disobedience to my sovereign lord:
	Revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy flesh.

Faustus	Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord
	To pardon my unjust presumption,
	And with my blood again I will confirm
	My former vow I made to Lucifer.

Mephistophilis	Do it, then, quickly, with unfeigned heart,
	Lest greater danger do attend thy drift.

Faustus	Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age,
	That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer,
	With greatest torments that our hell affords.

Mephistophilis	His faith is great; I cannot touch his soul;
	But what I may afflict his body with
	I will attempt, which is but little worth.

Faustus	One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee,
	To glut the longing of my heart's desire, &mdash;
	That I might have unto my paramour
	That heavenly Helen which I saw of late,
	Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean
	Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,
	And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer.

Mephistophilis	Faustus, this, or what else thou shalt desire,
	Shall be perform'd in twinkling of an eye.

	[Re-enter Helen]

Faustus	Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
	And burnt the topless towers of Ilium &mdash;
	Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. [Kisses her]
	Her lips suck forth my soul:  see, where it flies! &mdash;
	Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
	Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
	And all is dross that is not Helena.
	I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
	Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sack'd;
	And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
	And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;
	Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
	And then return to Helen for a kiss.
	O, thou art fairer than the evening air
	Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
	Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
	When he appear'd to hapless Semele;
	More lovely than the monarch of the sky
	In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms;
	And none but thou shalt be my paramour!

	[Exeunt]
	[Enter the Old man]

Old man	Accursed Faustus, miserable man,
	That from thy soul exclud'st the grace of heaven,
	And fly'st the throne of his tribunal-seat!

	[Enter Devils]

	Satan begins to sift me with his pride:
	As in this furnace God shall try my faith,
	My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee.
	Ambitious fiends, see how the heavens smile
	At your repulse, and laugh your state to scorn!
	Hence, hell! for hence I fly unto my God.

	[Exeunt, &mdash; on one side, Devils, on the other, Old man]


	Doctor Faustus


ACT V


SCENE II	Unspecified location


	[Enter Faustus, with Scholars]

Faustus	Ah, gentlemen!

First scholar	What ails Faustus?

Faustus	Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee,
	then had I lived still! but now I die eternally.  Look, comes
	he not? comes he not?

Second scholar	What means Faustus?

Third scholar	Belike he is grown into some sickness by being
	over-solitary.

First scholar	If it be so, we'll have physicians to cure him.
	 &mdash; 'Tis but a surfeit; never fear, man.

Faustus	A surfeit of deadly sin, that hath damned both body
	and soul.

Second scholar	Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven; remember God's
	mercies are infinite.

Faustus	But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned:  the serpent
	that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus.  Ah, gentlemen,
	hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches!  Though
	my heart pants and quivers to remember that I have been a student
	here these thirty years, O, would I had never seen Wertenberg,
	never read book! and what wonders I have done, all Germany can
	witness, yea, all the world; for which Faustus hath lost both
	Germany and the world, yea, heaven itself, heaven, the seat of
	God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy; and must
	remain in hell for ever, hell, ah, hell, for ever!  Sweet friends,
	what shall become of Faustus, being in hell for ever?

Third scholar	Yet, Faustus, call on God.

Faustus	On God, whom Faustus hath abjured! on God, whom Faustus
	hath blasphemed!  Ah, my God, I would weep! but the devil draws in
	my tears.  Gush forth blood, instead of tears! yea, life and soul!
	O, he stays my tongue!  I would lift up my hands; but see, they
	hold them, they hold them!

All	Who, Faustus?

Faustus	Lucifer and Mephistophilis  Ah, gentlemen, I gave them
	my soul for my cunning!

All	God forbid!

Faustus	God forbade it, indeed; but Faustus hath done it:  for
	vain pleasure of twenty-four years hath Faustus lost eternal joy
	and felicity.  I writ them a bill with mine own blood:  the date
	is expired; the time will come, and he will fetch me.

First scholar	Why did not Faustus tell us of this before,
	that divines might have prayed for thee?

Faustus	Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil
	threatened to tear me in pieces, if I named God, to fetch both
	body and soul, if I once gave ear to divinity:  and now 'tis too
	late.  Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me.

Second scholar	O, what shall we do to save Faustus?

Faustus	Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart.

Third scholar	God will strengthen me; I will stay with Faustus.

First scholar	Tempt not God, sweet friend; but let us into the
	next room, and there pray for him.

Faustus	Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever
	ye hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.

Second scholar	Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have
	mercy upon thee.

Faustus	Gentlemen, farewell:  if I live till morning, I'll visit
	you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell.

All	Faustus, farewell.

	[Exeunt Scholars. &mdash; The clock strikes eleven]

Faustus	Ah, Faustus,
	Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
	And then thou must be damn'd perpetually!
	Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,
	That time may cease, and midnight never come;
	Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make
	Perpetual day; or let this hour be but
	A year, a month, a week, a natural day,
	That Faustus may repent and save his soul!
	<i>O lente, lente currite, noctis equi</i>!
	The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,
	The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd.
	O, I'll leap up to my God! &mdash; Who pulls me down? &mdash;
	See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!
	One drop would save my soul, half a drop:  ah, my Christ! &mdash;
	Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ!
	Yet will I call on him:  O, spare me, Lucifer! &mdash;
	Where is it now? 'tis gone:  and see, where God
	Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows!
	Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,
	And hide me from the heavy wrath of God!
	No, no!
	Then will I headlong run into the earth:
	Earth, gape!  O, no, it will not harbour me!
	You stars that reign'd at my nativity,
	Whose influence hath allotted death and hell,
	Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist.
	Into the entrails of yon labouring clouds,
	That, when you vomit forth into the air,
	My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths,
	So that my soul may but ascend to heaven!

	[The clock strikes the half-hour]

	Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon
	O God,
	If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul,
	Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me,
	Impose some end to my incessant pain;
	Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,
	A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd!
	O, no end is limited to damned souls!
	Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
	Or why is this immortal that thou hast?
	Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true,
	This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd
	Unto some brutish beast! all beasts are happy,
	For, when they die,
	Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements;
	But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.
	Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!
	No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer
	That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.

	[The clock strikes twelve]

	O, it strikes, it strikes!  Now, body, turn to air,
	Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell!

	[Thunder and lightning]

	O soul, be chang'd into little water-drops,
	And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!

	[Enter Devils]

	My God, my god, look not so fierce on me!
	Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while!
	Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer!
	I'll burn my books! &mdash; Ah, Mephistophilis!

	[Exeunt Devils with Faustus]


	Doctor Faustus


Epilogue


	[Enter Chorus]

Chorus	Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
	And burned is Apollo's laurel-bough,
	That sometime grew within this learned man.
	Faustus is gone:  regard his hellish fall,
	Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise,
	Only to wonder at unlawful things,
	Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits
	To practice more than heavenly power permits.

	[Exit]

	[Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus]


	The Witch of Edmonton


Dramatis person&aelig;


	Sir Arthur Clarington.
	Old Thorney, a Gentleman.
	Carter, a rich Yeoman.
	Warbeck, Suitors to Carter's daughters.
	Somerton,
	Frank, Thorney's Son.
	Old Banks, a Countryman.
	Cuddy Banks, his Son.
	Ratcliffe, Countryman
	Hamluc, Countryman
	Morris-dancers.
	Sawgut, an old Fiddler.
	A Dog, a Familiar.
	A Spirit.
	Countrymen, Justice, Constable, Officers, Serving-men and Maids.

	Mother Sawyer, the Witch.
	Ann, Ratcliffe's Wife.
	Susan, Carter's Daughter.
	Katherine, Carter's Daughter
	Winnifred, Sir Arthur's Maid.

	Scene--The town and neighbourhood of Edmonton; in the end of the last act, London.


	Frontispiece:

	The whole argument is this distich.

	Forc&egrave;d marriage, murder; murder, blood requires;
	Reproach, revenge; revenge, hell&rsquo;s help desires.


	The Witch of Edmonton


PROLOGUE


	[Enter Prologue]

Prologue	The town of Edmonton hath lent the stage
	A Devil and a witch, both in an age.
	To make comparisons, it were uncivil,
	Between so even a pair, a witch and devil.
	But as the year doth with his plenty bring
	As well a latter as a former spring,
	So has this witch enjoy&rsquo;d the first and reason,
	Presumes she may partake the other season.
	In acts deserving name, the proverb says,
	Once good, and ever; why not so in plays?
	Why not in this?  Since, gentlemen, we flatter
	No expectations; here is mirth and matter.


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT I


SCENE I	The neighbourhood of Edmonton. A Room in the House of Sir Arthur Clarington


	[Enter Frank Thorney and Winnifred, who is with child]

Frank	Come, wench; why, here's a business soon dispatched:
	Thy heart I know is now at ease; thou need'st not
	Fear what the tattling gossips in their cups
	Can speak against thy fame; thy child shall know
	Whom to call dad now.

Winnifred	You have here discharged
	The true part of an honest man; I cannot
	Request a fuller satisfaction
	Than you have freely granted: yet methinks
	'Tis an hard case, being lawful man and wife,
	We should not live together.

Frank	Had I failed
	In promise of my truth to thee, we must
	Have then been ever sundered; now the longest
	Of our forbearing either's company
	Is only but to gain a little time
	For our continuing thrift; that so hereafter
	The heir that shall be born may not have cause
	To curse his hour of birth, which made him feel
	The misery of beggary and want,--
	Two devils that are occasions to enforce
	A shameful end. My plots aim but to keep
	My father's love.

Winnifred	And that will be as difficult
	To be preserved, when he shall understand
	How you are married, as it will be now,
	Should you confess it to him.

Frank	Fathers are
	Won by degrees, not bluntly, as our masters
	Or wrong&egrave;d friends are; and besides I'll use
	Such dutiful and ready means, that ere
	He can have notice of what's past, th' inheritance
	To which I am born heir shall be assured;
	That done, why, let him know it: if he like it not,
	Yet he shall have no power in him left
	To cross the thriving of it.

Winnifred	You who had
	The conquest of my maiden-love may easily
	Conquer the fears of my distrust. And whither
	Must I be hurried?

Frank	Prithee do not use
	A word so much unsuitable to the constant
	Affections of thy husband: thou shalt live
	Near Waltham Abbey with thy uncle Selman;
	I have acquainted him with all at large:
	He'll use thee kindly; thou shalt want no pleasures,
	Nor any other fit supplies whatever
	Thou canst in heart desire.

Winnifred	All these are nothing
	Without your company.

Frank	Which thou shalt have
	Once every month at least.

Winnifred	Once every month!
	Is this to have an husband?

Frank	Perhaps oftener;
	That's as occasion serves.

Winnifred	Ay, ay; in case
	No other beauty tempt your eye, whom you
	Like better, I may chance to be remembered,
	And see you now and then. Faith, I did hope
	You'd not have used me so: 'tis but my fortune.
	And yet, if not for my sake, have some pity
	Upon the child I go with, that's your own:
	And 'less you'll be a cruel-hearted father,
	You cannot but remember that.
	Heaven knows how--

Frank	To quit which fear at once,
	As by the ceremony late performed
	I plighted thee a faith as free from challenge
	As any double thought; once more, in hearing
	Of Heaven and thee, I vow that never henceforth
	Disgrace, reproof, lawless affections, threats,
	Or what can be suggested 'gainst our marriage,
	Shall cause me falsify that bridal oath
	That binds me thine. And, Winnifred, whenever
	The wanton heat of youth, by subtle
	baits
	Of beauty, or what woman's art can practise,
	Draw me from only loving thee, let Heaven
	Inflict upon my life some fearful ruin!
	I hope thou dost believe me.

Winnifred	Swear no more;
	I am confirmed, and will resolve to do
	What you think most behoveful for us.

Frank	Thus, then;
	Make thyself ready; at the furthest house
	Upon the green without the town, your uncle
	Expects you. For a little time, farewell!

Winnifred	Sweet,
	We shall meet again as soon as thou canst possibly?

Frank	We shall. One kiss--away!

	[Exit Winnifred]

	[Enter Sir Arthur Clarington]

Sir Arthur	Frank Thorney!

Frank	Here, sir.

Sir Arthur	Alone? then must I tell thee in plain terms
	Thou hast wronged
	thy master's house basely and lewdly.

Frank	Your house, sir?

Sir Arthur	Yes, sir: if the nimble devil
	That wantoned in your blood rebelled against
	All rules of honest duty, you might, sir,
	Have found out some more fitting place than here
	To have built a stews in. All the country whispers
	How shamefully thou hast undone a maid,
	Approved for modest life, for civil carriage,
	Till thy prevailing perjuries enticed her
	To forfeit shame. Will you be honest yet,
	Make her amends and marry her?

Frank	So, sir,
	I might bring both myself and her to beggary;
	And that would be a shame worse than the other.

Sir Arthur	You should have thought on this before, and then
	Your reason would have overswayed the passion
	Of your unruly lust. But that you may
	Be left without excuse, to salve the infamy
	Of my disgrac&egrave;d house, and 'cause you are
	A gentleman, and both of you my servants,
	I'll make the maid a portion.

Frank	So you promised me
	Before, in case I married her. I know
	Sir Arthur Clarington deserves the credit
	Report hath lent him, and presume you are
	A debtor to your promise: but upon
	What certainty shall I resolve? Excuse me
	For being somewhat rude.

Sir Arthur	It is but reason.
	Well, Frank, what think'st thou of two hundred pounds
	And a continual friend?

Frank	Though my poor fortunes
	Might happhy prefer me to a choice
	Of a far greater portion, yet, to right
	A wrong&egrave;d maid and to preserve your favour,
	I am content to accept your proffer.

Sir Arthur	Art thou?

Frank	Sir, we shall every day have need to employ
	The use of what you please to give.

Sir Arthur	Thou shall have 't.

Frank	Then I claim
	Your promise.--We are man and wife.

Sir Arthur	Already?

Frank	And more than so, sir, I have promised her
	Free entertainment in her uncle's house
	Near Waltham Abbey, where she may securely
	Sojourn, till time and my endeavours work
	My father's love and liking.

Sir Arthur	Honest Frank!

Frank	I hope, sir, you will think I cannot keep her
	Without a daily charge.

Sir Arthur	As for the money,
	'Tis all thine own! and though I cannot make thee
	A present payment, yet thou shalt be sure
	I will not fail thee.

Frank	But our occasions--

Sir Arthur	Nay, nay,
	Talk not of your occasions; trust my bounty;
	It shall not sleep.--Hast married her, i'faith, Frank?
	'Tis well, 'tis passing well!--then, Winnifred,
	Once more thou art an honest woman. Frank,
	Thou hast a jewel; love her; she'll deserve it.
	And when to Waltham?

Frank	She is making ready;
	Her uncle stays for her.

Sir Arthur	Most provident speed.
	Frank, I will be thy friend, and such a friend!--
	Thou'lt bring her thither?

Frank	Sir, I cannot; newly
	My father sent me word I should come to him.

Sir Arthur	Marry, and do; I know thou hast a wit
	To handle him.

Frank	I have a suit t'ye.

Sir Arthur	What is't?
	Anything, Frank; command it.

Frank	That you'll please
	By letters to assure my father that
	I am not married.

Sir Arthur	How!

Frank	Some one or other
	Hath certainly informed him that I purposed
	To marry Winnifred; on which he threatened
	To disinherit me:--to prevent it,
	Lowly I crave your letters, which he seeing
	Will credit; and I hope, ere I return,
	On such conditions as I'll frame, his lands
	Shall be assured.

Sir Arthur	But what is there to quit
	My knowledge of the marriage?

Frank	Why, you were not
	A witness to it.

Sir Arthur	I conceive; and then--
	His land confirmed, thou wilt acquaint him throughly
	With all that's past.

Frank	I mean no less.

Sir Arthur	Provided
	I never was made privy to't.

Frank	Alas, sir,
	Am I a talker?

Sir Arthur	Draw thyself the letter,
	I'll put my hand to't. I commend thy policy;
	Thou'rt witty, witty, Frank; nay, nay, 'tis fit:
	Dispatch it.

Frank	I shall write effectually. [Exit]

Sir Arthur	Go thy way, cuckoo;--have I caught the young man?
	One trouble, then, is freed. He that will feast
	At other's cost must be a bold-faced guest.

	[Re-enter Winnifred in a riding-suit]

	Win, I have heard the news; all now is safe;
	The worst is past: thy lip, wench [Kisses her]: I must bid
	Farewell, for fashion's sake; but I will visit thee
	Suddenly, girl. This was cleanly carried;
	Ha! was't not, Win?

Winnifred	Then were my happiness,
	That I in heart repent I did not bring him
	The dower of a virginity. Sir, forgive me;
	I have been much to blame: had not my lewdness
	Given way to your immoderate waste of virtue,
	You had not with such eagerness pursued
	The error of your goodness.

Sir Arthur	Dear, dear Win,
	I hug this art of thine; it shows how cleanly
	Thou canst beguile, in case occasion serve
	To practise; it becomes thee: now we share
	Free scope enough, without control or fear,
	To interchange our pleasures; we will surfeit
	In our embraces, wench. Come, tell me, when
	Wilt thou appoint a meeting?

Winnifred	What to do?

Sir Arthur	Good, good, to con the lesson of our loves,
	Our secret game.

Winnifred	O, blush to speak it further!
	As you're a noble gentleman, forget
	A sin so monstrous: 'tis not gently done
	To open a cured wound: I know you speak
	For trial; 'troth, you need not.

Sir Arthur	I for trial?
	Not I, by this good sunshine!

Winnifred	Can you name
	That syllable of good, and yet not tremble
	To think to what a foul and black intent
	You use it for an oath? Let me resolve you:
	If you appear in any visitation
	That brings not with it pity for the wrongs
	Done to abus&egrave;d Thorney, my kind husband,--
	If you infect mine ear with any breath
	That is not thoroughly perfumed with sighs
	For former deeds of lust,--may I be cursed
	Even in my prayers, when I vouchsafe
	To see or hear you! I will change my life
	From a loose whore to a repentant wife.

Sir Arthur	Wilt thou turn monster now? art not ashamed
	After so many months to be honest at last?
	Away, away! fie on't!

Winnifred	My resolution
	Is built upon a rock. This very day
	Young Thorney vowed, with oaths not to be doubted,
	That never any change of love should cancel
	The bonds in which we are to either bound
	Of lasting truth: and shall I, then, for my part
	Unfile the sacred oath set on record
	In Heaven's book? Sir Arthur, do not study
	To add to your lascivious lust the sin
	Of sacrilege; for if you but endeavour
	By any unchaste word to tempt my constancy
	You strive as much as in you lies to ruin
	A temple hallowed to the purity
	Of holy marriage. I have said enough;
	You may believe me.

Sir Arthur	Get you to your nunnery;
	There freeze in your cold cloister: this is fine!

Winnifred	Good angels guide me! Sir, you'll give me leave
	To weep and pray for your conversion?

Sir Arthur	Yes:
	Away to Waltham! Pox on your honesty!
	Had you no other trick to fool me? well,
	You may want money yet.

Winnifred	None that I'll send for
	To you, for hire of a damnation.
	When I am gone, think on my just complaint:
	I was your devil; O, be you my saint! [Exit]

Sir Arthur	Go, go thy ways; as changeable a baggage
	As ever cozened knight: I'm glad I'm rid of her.
	Honest! marry, hang her! Thorney is my debtor;
	I thought to have paid him too; but fools have fortune.

	[Exit]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT I


SCENE II	Edmonton. A Room in Carter's house


	[Enter Old Thorney and Carter]

Old Thorney	%%You offer, Master Carter, like a gentleman; I cannot find fault
	with it, 'tis so fair.

Carter	%%No gentleman I, Master Thorney; spare the Mastership, call me by
	my name, John Carter. Master is a title my father, nor his before him, were
	acqainted with; honest Hertfordshire yeomen; such an one am I; my word and my
	deed shall be proved one at all times. I mean to give you no security for the
	marriage money.

Old Thorney	%%How! no security? although it need not so long as you live,
	yet who is he has surety of his life one hour? Men, the proverb says, are
	mortal; else, for my part, I distrust you not, were the sum double.

Carter	%%Double, treble, more or less, I tell you, Master Thorney, I'll
	give no security. Bonds and bills are but terriers to catch fools, and keep lazy
	knaves busy; my security shall be present payment. And we here about Edmonton
	hold present payment as sure as an alderman's bond in London, Master Thorney.

Old Thorney	I cry you mercy, sir; I understood you not.

Carter	%%I like young Frank well, so does my Susan too; the girl has a
	fancy to him, which makes me ready in my purse. There be other suitors within,
	that make much noise to little purpose. If Frank love Sue, Sue shall have none
	but Frank. 'Tis a mannerly girl, Master Thorney, though but a homely man's
	daughter; there have worse faces looked out of black bags, man.

Old Thorney	%%You speak your mind freely and honestly. I marvel my son comes
	not; I am sure he will be here some time to-day.

Carter	%%To-day or to-morrow, when he comes he shall be welcome to bread,
	beer, and beef, yeoman's fare; we have no kickshaws: full dishes, whole
	bellyfuls. Should I diet three days at one of the slender city-suppers, you
	might send me to Barber-Surgeons' hall the fourth day, to hang up for an
	anatomy.--Here come they that--

	[Enter Warbeck with Susan, Somerton with Katherine]

	%%How now, girls! every day play-day with you? Valentine's day too, all by
	couples? Thus will young folks do when we are laid in our graves, Master
	Thorney; here's all the care they take. And how do you find the wenches,
	gentlemen? have they any mind to a loose gown and a strait shoe? Win 'em and
	wear 'em; they shall choose for themselves by my consent.

Warbeck	You speak like a kind father.--Sue, thou hear'st
	The liberty that's granted thee; what say'st thou?
	Wilt thou be mine?

Susan	Your what, sir? I dare swear
	Never your wife.

Warbeck	Canst thou be so unkind,
	Considering how dearly I affect thee,
	Nay, dote on thy perfections?

Susan	You are studied,
	Too scholar-like, in words I understand not.
	I am too coarse for such a gallant's love
	As you are.

Warbeck	By the honour of gentility,--

Susan	Good sir, no swearing; yea and nay with us
	Prevail above all oaths
	you can invent.

Warbeck	By this white hand of thine,--

Susan	Take a false oath!
	Fie, fie! flatter the wise; fools not regard it,
	And one of these am I.

Warbeck	Dost thou despise me?

Carter	%%Let 'em talk on, Master Thorney; I know Sue's mind. The fly may
	buzz about the candle, he shall but singe his wings when all's done; Frank,
	Frank is he has her heart.

Somerton	But shall I live in hope, Kate?

Katherine	Better so
	Than be a desperate man.

Somerton	Perhaps thou think'st it is thy portion
	I level at: wert thou as poor in fortunes
	As thou art rich in goodness, I would rather
	Be suitor for the dower of thy virtues
	Than twice thy father's whole estate; and, prithee,
	Be thou resolved so.

Katherine	Master Somerton,
	It is an easy labour to deceive
	A maid that will believe men's subtle promises,
	Yet I conceive of you as worthily
	As I presume you to deserve.

Somerton	Which is,
	As worthily in loving thee sincerely
	As thou art worthy to be so beloved.

Katherine	I shall find time to try you.

Somerton	Do, Kate, do;
	And when I fail, may all my joys forsake me!

Carter	%%Warbeck and Sue are at it still. I laugh to myself, Master
	Thorney, to see how earnestly he beats the bush, while the bird is flown into
	another's bosom. A very unthrift, Master Thorney; one of the country
	roaringlads: we have such as well as the city, and as arrant rake-hells as they
	are, though not so nimble at their prizes of wit. Sue knows the rascal to an
	hair's-breadth, and will fit him accordingly.

Old Thorney	What is the other gentleman?

Carter	%%One Somerton; the honester man of the two by five pound in every
	stone-weight. A civil fellow; he has a fine convenient estate of land in West
	Ham, by Essex: Master Ranges, that dwells by Enfield, sent him hither. He likes
	Kate well; I may tell you I think she likes him as well: if they agree, I'll not
	hinder the match for my part. But that Warbeck is such another--I use him
	kindly for Master Somerton's sake; for he came hither first as a companion of
	his: honest men, Master Thorney, may fall into knaves' company now and then.

Warbeck	Three hundred a-year jointure, Sue.

Susan	Where lies it?
	By sea or by land? I think by sea.

Warbeck	Do I look like a captain?

Susan	Not a whit, sir.
	Should all that use the seas be reckoned captains,
	There's not a ship should have a scullion in her
	To keep her clean.

Warbeck	Do you scorn me, Mistress Susan?
	Am I a subject to be jeered at?

Susan	Neither
	Am I a property for you to use
	As stale to your fond wanton loose discourse:
	Pray, sir, be civil.

Warbeck	Wilt be angry, wasp?

Carter	God-a-mercy, Sue! she'll firk him, on my life, if he fumble with her.

	[Enter Frank]

	%%Master Francis Thorney, you are welcome indeed; your father expected your
	coming. How does the right worshipful knight, Sir Arthur Clarington, your
	master?

Frank	In health this morning.--Sir, my duty.

Old Thorney	Now
	You come as I could wish.

Warbeck	[Aside] Frank Thorney, ha!

Susan	You must excuse me.

Frank	Virtuous Mistress Susan,
	Kind Mistress Katherine. [Kisses them]-- Gentlemen, to both
	Good time o' th' day.

Somerton	The like to you.

Warbeck	'Tis he.
	A word, friend. [Aside to Som] On my life, this is the man Stands fair in
	crossing Susan's love to me.

Somerton	[Aside to War] I think no less; be wise, and take no notice
	on't;
	He that can win her best deserves her.

Warbeck	[Aside to Som] Marry
	A serving-man? mew!

Somerton	[Aside to War] Prithee, friend, no more.

Carter	%%Gentlemen all, there's within a slight dinner ready, if you please
	to taste of it; Master Thorney, Master Francis, Master Somerton.--Why,
	girls! what huswives! will you spend all your forenoon in tittle-tattles? away!
	it's well, i'faith.--Will you go in, gentlemen?

Old Thorney	We'll follow presently; my son and I
	Have a few words of business.

Carter	At your pleasure.

	[Exeunt all but Old Thorney and Frank]

Old Thorney	I think you guess the reason, Frank, for which
	I sent for you.

Frank	Yes, sir.

Old Thorney	I need not tell you
	With what a labyrinth of dangers daily
	The best part of my whole estate's encumbered;
	Nor have I any clue to wind it out
	But what occasion proffers me; wherein
	If you should falter, I shall have the shame,
	And you the loss. On these two points rely
	Our happiness or ruin. If you marry
	With wealthy Carter's daughter, there's a portion
	Will free my land; all which I will instate,
	Upon the marriage, to you: otherwise
	I must be of necessity enforced
	To make a present sale of all; and yet,
	For aught I know, live in as poor distress,
	Or worse, than now I do. You hear the sum?
	I told you thus before; have you considered on't?

Frank	I have, sir; and however I could wish
	To enjoy the benefit of single freedom,--
	For that I find no disposition in me
	To undergo the burthen of that care
	That marriage brings with it,--yet, to secure
	And settle the continuance of your credit,
	I humbly yield to be directed by you
	In all commands.

Old Thorney	You have already used
	Such thriving protestations to the maid
	That she is wholly yours; and--speak the truth--
	You love her, do you not?

Frank	'Twere pity, sir,
	I should deceive her.

Old Thorney	Better you'd been unborn.
	But is your love so steady that you mean,
	Nay, more, desire, to make her your wife?

Frank	Else, sir,
	It were a wrong not to be righted.

Old Thorney	True,
	It were: and you will marry her?

Frank	Heaven prosper it,
	I do intend it.

Old Thorney	O, thou art a villain!
	A devil like a man! Wherein have I
	Offended all the powers so much, to be
	Father to such a graceless, godless son?

Frank	To me, sir, this! O, my cleft heart!

Old Thorney	To thee,
	Son of my curse. Speak truth and blush, thou monster!
	Hast thou not married Winnifred, a maid
	Was fellow-servant with thee?

Frank	[Aside] Some swift spirit
	Has blown this news abroad; I must outface it.

Old Thorney	D' you study for excuse? why, all the country
	Is full on't.

Frank	With your licence, 'tis not charitable,
	I'm sure it is not fatherly, so much
	To be o'erswayed with credulous conceit
	Of mere impossibilities; but fathers
	Are privileged to think and talk at pleasure.

Old Thorney	Why, canst thou yet deny thou hast no wife?

Frank	What do you take me for? an atheist?
	One that nor hopes the blessedness of life
	Hereafter, neither fears the vengeance due
	To such as make the marriage-bed an inn,
	Which travellers, day and night,
	After a toilsome lodging, leave at pleasure?
	Am I become so insensible of losing
	The glory of creation's work, my soul?
	O, I have lived too long!

Old Thorney	Thou hast, dissembler.
	Dar'st thou pers&eacute;ver yet, and pull down wrath
	As hot as flames of hell to strike thee quick
	Into the grave of horror? I believe thee not;
	Get from my sight!

Frank	Sir, though mine innocence
	Needs not a stronger witness than the clearness
	Of an unperished conscience, yet for that
	I was informed how mainly you had been
	Possessed of this untruth,--to quit
	all scruple,
	Please you peruse this letter; 'tis to you.

Old Thorney	From whom?

Frank	Sir Arthur Clarington, my master.

Old Thorney	Well, sir. [Reads]

Frank	[Aside] On every side I am distracted:
	Am waded deeper into mischief
	Than virtue can avoid; but on I must:
	Fate leads me; I will follow.--There you read
	What may confirm you.

Old Thorney	Yes, and wonder at it.
	Forgive me, Frank; credulity abused me.
	My tears express my joy; and I am sorry
	I injured innocence.

Frank	Alas! I knew
	Your rage and grief proceeded from your love
	To me; so I conceived it.

Old Thorney	My good son,
	I'll bear with many faults in thee hereafter;
	Bear thou with mine.

Frank	The peace is soon concluded.

	[Re-enter Carter and Susan]

Carter	Why, Master Thorney, d'ye mean to talk out your dinner? the
	company attends your coming. What must it be, Master Frank?
	or son Frank? I am plain Dunstable.

Old Thorney	Son, brother, if your daughter like to have it so.

Frank	I dare be confident she is not altered
	From what I left her at our parting last:--
	Are you, fair maid?

Susan	You took too sure possession
	Of an engag&egrave;d heart.

Frank	Which now I challenge.

Carter	%%Marry, and much good may it do thee, son. Take her to thee; get me
	a brace of boys at a burthen, Frank; the nursing shall not stand thee in a
	pennyworth of milk; reach her home and spare not: when's the day?

Old Thorney	%%To-morrow, if you please. To use ceremony
	Of charge and custom were to little purpose;
	Their loves are married fast enough already.

Carter	%%A good motion. We'll e'en have an household dinner, and let the
	fiddlers go scrape: let the bride and bridegroom dance at night together; no
	matter for the guests:--to-morrow, Sue, to-morrow.--Shall's to dinner
	now?

Old Thorney	We are on all sides pleased, I hope.

Susan	Pray Heaven I may deserve the blessing sent me:
	Now my heart is settled.

Frank	So is mine.

Carter	%%Your marriage-money shall be received before your wedding-shoes
	can be pulled on. Blessing on you both!

Frank	[Aside] No man can hide his shame from Heaven that views him;
	In vain he flees whose destiny pursues him. [Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT II


SCENE I	The Fields near Edmonton.


	[Enter Mother Sawyer gathering sticks]

Mother Sawyer	And why on me? why should the envious world
	Throw all their scandalous malice upon me?
	'Cause I am poor, deformed, and ignorant,
	And like a bow buckled and bent together
	By some more strong in mischiefs than myself,
	Must I for that be made a common sink
	For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues
	To fall and run into? Some call me witch,
	And being ignorant of myself, they go
	About to teach me how to be one; urging
	That my bad tongue--by their bad usage made so --
	Forspeaks their cattle, doth bewitch their corn,
	Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse.
	This they enforce upon me, and in part
	Make me to credit it; and here comes one
	Of my chief adversaries.

	[Enter Old Banks]

Old Banks	Out, out upon thee, witch!

Mother Sawyer	Dost call me witch?

Old Banks	I do, witch, I do; and worse I would, knew I a name more
	hateful. What makest thou upon my ground?

Mother Sawyer	Gather a few rotten sticks to warm me.

Old Banks	Down with them when I bid thee quickly;
	I'll make thy bones rattle in thy skin else.

Mother Sawyer	%%You won't, churl, cut-throat, miser!--there they be:
	[Throws them down] would they stuck cross thy throat, thy bowels, thy maw,
	thy midriff!

Old Banks	Sayest thou me so, hag? Out of my ground! [Beats her]

Mother Sawyer	%%Dost strike me, slave, curmudgeon! Now, thy bones ache, thy
	joints cramp, and convulsions stretch and crack thy sinews!

Old Banks	Cursing, thou hag! take that and that.

	[Beats her and exit]

Mother Sawyer	Strike, do!--and withered may that hand and arm
	Whose blows have lamed me drop from the rotten trunk.
	Abuse me! beat me! call me hag and witch!
	What is the name, where and by what art learned,
	What spells, what charms, or invocations,
	May the thing called Familiar be purchased?

	[Enter Cuddy Banks and several other Dancers]

Cuddy Banks	%%A new head for the tabor, and silver tipping for the pipe;
	remember that: and forget not five leash of new bells.

First Dancer	%%Double bells;-- Crooked Lane --ye shall have 'em
	straight in Crooked Lane:-- double bells all, if it be possible.

Cuddy Banks	Double bells? double coxcombs! trebles, buy me trebles, all
	trebles; for our purpose is to be in the altitudes.

Second Dancer	All trebles? not a mean?

Cuddy Banks	Not one. The morris is so cast, we'll have neither mean nor base
	in our company, fellow Rowland.

Third Dancer	What! nor a counter?

Cuddy Banks	%%By no means, no hunting counter; leave that to Enfield Chase men:
	all trebles, all in the altitudes. Now for the disposing of parts in the morris,
	little or no labour will serve.

Second Dancer	%%If you that be minded to follow your leader know me--an
	ancient honour belonging to our house--for a fore-horse i' th' team and
	fore-gallant in a morris, my father's stable is not unfurnished.

Third Dancer	So much for the fore-horse; but how for a good hobby-horse?

Cuddy Banks	%%For a hobby-horse? let me see an almanac. Midsummer-moon, let me
	see ye. "When the moon's in the full, then's wit in the wane." No more. Use your
	best skill; your morris will suffer an eclipse.

First Dancer	An eclipse?

Cuddy Banks	A strange one.

Second Dancer	Strange?

Cuddy Banks	%%Yes, and most sudden. Remember the fore-gallant, and forget the
	hobby-horse! The whole body of your morris will be darkened.--There be of
	us--but 'tis no matter:--forget the hobby-horse!

First Dancer	%%Cuddy Banks!--have you forgot since he paced it from
	Enfield Chase to Edmonton?--Cuddy, honest Cuddy, cast thy stuff.

Cuddy Banks	%%Suffer may ye all! it shall be known, I can take mine ease as well
	as another man. Seek your hobby-horse where you can get him.

First Dancer	Cuddy, honest Cuddy, we confess, and are sorry for our neglect,

Second Dancer	The old horse shall have a new bridle.

Third Dancer	The caparisons new painted.

Fourth Dancer	The tail repaired.

First Dancer	The snaffle and the bosses new saffroned o'er. Kind,--

Second Dancer	Honest,--

Third Dancer	Loving, ingenious,--

Fourth Dancer	Affable Cuddy.

Cuddy Banks	%%To show I am not flint, but affable, as you say, very well
	stuffed, a kind of warm dough or puff-paste, I relent, I connive, most affable
	Jack. Let the hobby-horse provide a strong back, he shall not want a belly when
	I am in him--but [Seeing Sawyer]--'uds me,
	Mother Sawyer!

First Dancer	The old Witch of Edmonton!--if our mirth be not
	crossed--

Second Dancer	Bless us, Cuddy, and let her curse her t'other eye
	out.--What dost now?

Cuddy Banks	%%"Ungirt, unblest," says the proverb; but my girdle shall serve for
	a riding knot; and a fig for all the witches in Christendom!--What wouldst
	thou?

First Dancer	The devil cannot abide to be crossed.

Second Dancer	And scorns to come at any man's whistle.

Third Dancer	Away--

Fourth Dancer	With the witch!

All	Away with the Witch of Edmonton!

	[Exeunt in strange postures]

Mother Sawyer	Still vexed! still tortured! that curmudgeon Banks
	Is ground of all my scandal; I am shunned
	And hated like a sickness; made a scorn
	To all degrees and sexes. I have heard old beldams
	Talk of familiars in the shape of mice,
	Rats, ferrets, weasels, and I wot not what,
	That have appeared, and sucked, some say, their blood;
	But by what means they came acquainted with them
	I am now ignorant. Would some power, good or bad,
	Instruct me which way I might be revenged
	Upon this churl, I'd go out of myself,
	And give this fury leave to dwell within
	This ruined cottage ready to fall with age,
	Abjure all goodness, be at hate with prayer,
	And study curses, imprecations,
	Blasphemous speeches, oaths, detested oaths,
	Or anything that's ill: so I might work
	Revenge upon this miser, this black cur,
	That barks and bites, and sucks the very blood
	Of me and of my credit. 'Tis all one
	To be a witch as to be counted one:
	Vengeance, shame, ruin light upon that canker!

	[Enter a Black Dog]

Dog	Ho! have I found thee cursing? now thou art
	Mine own.

Mother Sawyer	Thine! what art thou?

Dog	He thou hast so often
	Importuned to appear to thee, the devil.

Mother Sawyer	Bless me! the devil?

Dog	Come, do not fear; I love thee much too well
	To hurt or fright thee; if I seem terrible,
	It is to such as hate me. I have found
	Thy love unfeigned; have seen and pitied
	Thy open wrongs; and come, out of my love,
	To give thee just revenge against thy foes.

Mother Sawyer	May I believe thee?

Dog	To confirm't, command me
	Do any mischief unto man or beast,
	And I'll effect it, on condition
	That, uncompelled, thou make a deed of gift
	Of soul and body to me.

Mother Sawyer	Out, alas!
	My soul and body?

Dog	And that instantly,
	And seal it with thy blood: if thou deniest,
	I'll tear thy body in a thousand pieces.

Mother Sawyer	I know not where to seek relief: but shall I,
	After such covenants sealed, see full revenge
	On all that wrong me?

Dog	Ha, ha! silly woman!
	The devil is no liar to such as he loves:
	Didst ever know or hear the devil a liar
	To such as he affects?

Mother Sawyer	Then I am thine; at least so much of me
	As I can call mine own--

Dog	Equivocations?
	Art mine or no? speak, or I'll tear--

Mother Sawyer	All thine.

Dog	Seal't with thy blood.

	[She pricks her arm, which he sucks. Thunder and lightning]

	See! now I dare call thee mine!
	For proof, command me; instantly I'll run
	To any mischief; goodness can I none.

Mother Sawyer	And I desire as little. There's an old churl,
	One Banks--

Dog	That wronged thee, lamed thee, called thee witch.

Mother Sawyer	The same; first upon him I'd be revenged.

Dog	Thou shalt; do but name how.

Mother Sawyer	Go, touch his life.

Dog	I cannot.

Mother Sawyer	Hast thou not vowed? Go, kill the slave!

Dog	I wonnot.

Mother Sawyer	I'll cancel, then, my gift.

Dog	Ha, ha!

Mother Sawyer	Dost laugh!
	Why wilt not kill him?

Dog	Fool, because I cannot.
	Though we have power, know it is circumscribed
	And tied in limits: though he be curst to thee,
	Yet of himself he's loving to the world,
	And charitable to the poor: now men that,
	As he, love goodness, though in smallest measure,
	Live without compass of our reach. His cattle
	And corn I'll kill and mildew; but his life--
	Until I take him, as I late found thee,
	Cursing and swearing--I've no power to touch.

Mother Sawyer	Work on his corn and cattle, then.

Dog	I shall.
	The Witch of Edmonton shall see his fall;
	If she at least put credit in my power,
	And in mine only; make orisons to me,
	And none but me.

Mother Sawyer	Say how and in what manner.

Dog	I'll tell thee: when thou wishest ill,
	Corn, man, or beast wouldst spoil or kill,
	Turn thy back against the sun,
	And mumble this short orison:
	"If thou to death or shame pursue 'em,
	Sanctibicetur nomen tuum."

Mother Sawyer	"If thou to death or shame pursue 'em,
	Sanctibicetur nomen tuum."

Dog	Perfect: farewell. Our first-made promises
	We'll put in execution against Banks. [Exit]

Mother Sawyer	Contaminetur nomen tuum	I'm an expert scholar;
	Speak Latin, or I know not well what language,
	As well as the best of 'em--but who comes here?

	[Re-enter Cuddy Banks]

	The son of my worst foe.
	To death pursue 'em,
	Et sanctibicetur nomen tuum.

Cuddy Banks	What's that she mumbles? the devil's paternoster? would it were
	else!--Mother Sawyer, good-morrow.

Mother Sawyer	Ill-morrow to thee, and all the world that flout
	A poor old woman,
	To death pursue 'em,
	And sanctibicetur nomen tuum.

Cuddy Banks	Nay, good Gammer Sawyer, whate'er it pleases my father to call you,
	I know you are--

Mother Sawyer	A witch.

Cuddy Banks	A witch? would you were else i'faith!

Mother Sawyer	Your father knows I am by this.

Cuddy Banks	I would he did.

Mother Sawyer	And so in time may you.

Cuddy Banks	%%I would I might else! But, witch or no witch, you are a motherly
	woman; and though my father be a kind of God-bless-us, as they say, I have an
	earnest suit to you; and if you'll be so kind to ka me one good turn, I'll be so
	courteous as to kob you another.

Mother Sawyer	What's that? to spurn, beat me, and call me witch,
	As your kind father doth?

Cuddy Banks	%%My father! I am ashamed to own him. If he has hurt the head of thy
	credit, there's money to buy thee a plaster [Gives her money]; and a small
	courtesy I would require at thy hands.

Mother Sawyer	You seem a good young man, and--[Aside] I must dissemble,
	The better to accomplish my revenge.--
	But--for this silver, what wouldst have me do?
	Bewitch thee?

Cuddy Banks	%%No, by no means; I am bewitched already: I would have thee so good
	as to unwitch me, or witch another with me for company.

Mother Sawyer	I understand thee not; be plain, my son.

Cuddy Banks	As a pike-staff, mother. You know Kate Carter?

Mother Sawyer	The wealthy yeoman's daughter? what of her?

Cuddy Banks	That same party has bewitched me.

Mother Sawyer	Bewitched thee?

Cuddy Banks	%%Bewitched me, <em>hisce auribus</em> I saw a little devil fly out of
	her eye like a burbolt, which sticks at this hour up to the feathers in my
	heart. Now, my request is, to send one of thy what-d'ye-call-'ems either to
	pluck that out, or stick another as fast in hers: do, and here's my hand, I am
	thine for three lives.

Mother Sawyer	[Aside] We shall have sport.--Thou art in love with
	her?

Cuddy Banks	Up to the very hilts, mother.

Mother Sawyer	And thou wouldst have me make her love thee too?

Cuddy Banks	%%[Aside] I think she'll prove a witch in earnest.--Yes, I
	could find in my heart to strike her three quarters deep in love with me too.

Mother Sawyer	But dost thou think that I can do't, and I alone?

Cuddy Banks	Truly, Mother Witch, I do verily believe so; and, when I see it
	done, I shall be half persuaded so too.

Mother Sawyer	It is enough: what art can do be sure of.
	Turn to the west, and whatsoe'er thou hear'st
	Or seest, stand silent, and be not afraid.

	[She stamps on the ground; the Dog appears, and fawns, and leaps upon her]

Cuddy Banks	%%Afraid, Mother Witch!--"turn my face to the west!" I said I
	should always have a back-friend of her; and now it's out. An her little devil
	should be hungry, come sneaking behind me, like a cowardly catchpole, and clap
	his talons on my haunches--'Tis woundy cold, sure--I dudder and shake
	like an aspen-leaf every joint of me.

Mother Sawyer	To scandal and disgrace pursue 'em,
	Et sanctibicetur nomen tuum. [Exit Dog]
	How now, my son, how is't?

Cuddy Banks	Scarce in a clean life, Mother Witch.--But did your goblin and
	you spout Latin together?

Mother Sawyer	A kind of charm I work by; didst thou hear me?

Cuddy Banks	%%I heard I know not the devil what mumble in a scurvy base tone,
	like a drum that had taken cold in the head the last muster. Very comfortable
	words; what were they? and who taught them you?

Mother Sawyer	A great learned man.

Cuddy Banks	Learned man! learned devil it was as soon!
	But what? what comfortable news about the party?

Mother Sawyer	%%Who? Kate Carter? I'll tell thee. Thou knowest the stile at the
	west end of thy father's peasfield: be there to-morrow night after sunset; and
	the first live thing thou seest be sure to follow, and that shall bring thee to
	thy love.

Cuddy Banks	%%In the peas-field? has she a mind to codlings already? The first
	living thing I meet, you say, shall bring me to her?

Mother Sawyer	%%To a sight of her, I mean. She will seem wantonly coy, and flee
	thee; but follow her close and boldly: do but embrace her in thy arms once, and
	she is thine own.

Cuddy Banks	%%"At the stile at the west end of my father's peasland, the first
	live thing I see, follow and embrace her, and she shall be thine." Nay, an I
	come to embracing once, she shall be mine; I'll go near to make at eaglet else.
	[Exit]

Mother Sawyer	%%A ball well bandied! now the set's half won; The father's wrong
	I'll wreak upon the son. [Exit]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT II


SCENE II	Carter's house.


	[Enter Carter, Warbeck, and Somerton]

Carter	How now, gentlemen! cloudy? I know, Master Warbeck, you are in a
	fog about my daughter's marriage.

Warbeck	And can you blame me, sir?

Carter	Nor you me justly. Wedding and hanging are tied up both in a
	proverb; and destiny is the juggler that unties the knot. My hope is, you are
	reserved to a richer fortune than my poor daughter.

Warbeck	However, your promise--

Carter	Is a kind of debt, I confess it.

Warbeck	Which honest men should pay.

Carter	Yet some gentlemen break in that point now and then, by your leave, sir.

Somerton	%%I confess thou hast had a little wrong in the wench; but patience
	is the only salve to cure it. Since Thorney has won the wench, he has most
	reason to wear her.

Warbeck	Love in this kind admits no reason to wear her.

Carter	Then Love's a fool, and what wise man will take exception?

Somerton	%%Come, frolic, Ned: were every man master of his own fortune, Fate
	might pick straws, and Destiny go a-wool-gathering.

Warbeck	%%You hold yours in a string, though: 'tis well; but if there be any
	equity, look thou to meet the like usage ere long.

Somerton	%%In my love to her sister Katherine? Indeed, they are a pair of
	arrows drawn out of one quiver, and should fly at an even length; if she do run
	after her sister,--

Warbeck	Look for the same mercy at my hands as I have received at thine.

Somerton	She'll keep a surer compass; I have too strong a confidence to
	mistrust her.

Warbeck	And that confidence is a wind that has blown many a married man
	ashore at Cuckold's Haven, I can tell you; I wish yours more prosperous though.

Carter	Whate'er your wish, I'll master my promise to him.

Warbeck	Yes, as you did to me.

Carter	No more of that, if you love me: but for the more assurance, the
	next offered occasion shall consummate the marriage; and that once sealed--

Somerton	Leave the manage of the rest to my care. But see, the bridegroom
	and bride come; the new pair of Sheffield knives, fitted both to one sheath.

Warbeck	The sheath might have been better fitted, it somebody had their due; but--

Carter	No harsh language, if thou lovest me. Frank Thorney has done--

Warbeck	No more than I, or thou, or any man, things so standing, would have attempted.

	[Enter Frank Thorney and Susan]

Somerton	Good-morrow, Master Bridegroom.

Warbeck	Come, give thee joy: mayst thou live long and happy
	In thy fair choice!

Frank	I thank ye, gentlemen; kind Master Warbeck,
	I find you loving.

Warbeck	Thorney, that creature,--much good do thee with her!--
	Virtue and beauty hold fair mixture in her;
	She's rich, no doubt, in both: yet were she fairer,
	Thou art right worthy of her. Love her, Thorney;
	'Tis nobleness in thee, in her but duty.
	The match is fair and equal; the success
	I leave to censure. Farewell, Mistress Bride!
	Till now elected, thy old scorn deride. [Exit]

Somerton	Good Master Thorney--

Carter	Nay, you shall not part till you see the barrels run a-tilt,
	gentlemen. [Exit with Somerton]

Susan	Why change you your face, sweetheart?

Frank	Who, I? for nothing.

Susan	Dear, say not so; a spirit of your constancy
	Cannot endure this change for nothing.
	I have observed strange variations in you.

Frank	In me?

Susan	In you, sir.
	Awake, you seem to dream, and in your sleep
	You utter sudden and distracted accents,
	Like one at enmity with peace. Dear loving husband,
	If I
	May dare to challenge any interest in you,
	Give me the reason fully; you may trust
	My breast as safely as your own.

Frank	With what?
	You half amaze me; prithee--

Susan	Come, you shall not,
	Indeed you shall not, shut me from partaking
	The least dislike that grieves you; I'm all yours.

Frank	And I all thine.

Susan	You are not, if you keep
	The least grief from me: but I find the cause;
	It grew from me.

Frank	From you?

Susan	From some distaste.
	In me or my behaviour: you're not kind
	In the concealment. 'Las, sir, I am young,
	Silly and plain; more, strange to those contents
	A wife should offer: say but in what I fail,
	I'll study satisfaction.

Frank	Come; in nothing.

Susan	I know I do; knew I as well in what,
	You should not long be sullen. Prithee, love,
	If I have been immodest or too bold,
	Speak't in a frown; if peevishly too nice,
	Show't in a smile: thy liking is the glass
	By which I'll habit my behaviour.

Frank	Wherefore dost weep now?

Susan	You, sweet, have the power
	To make me passionate as an April-day;
	Now smile, then weep; now pale, then crimson red:
	You are the powerful moon of my blood's sea,
	To make it ebb or flow into my face,
	As your looks change.

Frank	Change thy conceit, I prithee;
	Thou art all perfection: Diana herself
	Swells in thy thoughts and moderates thy beauty.
	Within thy left eye amorous Cupid sits,
	Feathering love-shafts, whose golden heads he dipped
	In thy chaste breast; in the other lies
	Blushing Adonis scarfed in modesties;
	And still as wanton Cupid blows love-fires,
	Adonis quenches out unchaste desires;
	And from these two I briefly do imply
	A perfect emblem of thy modesty.
	Then, prithee, dear, maintain no more dispute,
	For when thou speak'st, it's fit all tongues be mute.

Susan	Come, come, these golden strings of flattery
	Shall not tie up my speech, sir; I must know
	The ground of your disturbance.

Frank	Then look here;
	For here, here is the fen in which this hydra
	Of discontent grows rank.

Susan	Heaven shield it! where?

Frank	In mine own bosom, here the cause has root;
	The poisoned leeches twist about my heart,
	And will, I hope, confound me.

Susan	You speak riddles.

Frank	Take't plainly, then: 'twas told me by a woman
	Known and approved in palmistry,
	I should have two wives.

Susan	Two wives? sir, I take it
	Exceeding likely; but let not conceit hurt you:
	You're afraid to bury me?

Frank	No, no, my Winnifred.

Susan	How say you? Winnifred! you forget me.

Frank	No, I forget myself!--Susan.

Susan	In what?

Frank	Talking of wives, I pretend Winnifred,
	A maid that at my mother's waited on me
	Before thyself.

Susan	I hope, sir, she may live
	To take my place: but why should all this move you?

Frank	The poor girl!--[Aside] she has't before thee,
	And that's the fiend torments me.

Susan	Yet why should this
	Raise mutiny within you? such presages
	Prove often false: or say it should be true?

Frank	That I should have another wife?

Susan	Yes, many;
	If they be good, the better.

Frank	Never any
	Equal to thee in goodness.

Susan	Sir, I could wish I were much better for you;
	Yet if I knew your fate
	Ordained you for another, I could wish--
	So well I love you and your hopeful pleasure--
	Me in my grave, and my poor virtues added
	To my successor.

Frank	Prithee, prithee, talk not
	Of deaths or graves; thou art so rare a goodness
	As Death would rather put itself to death
	Than murder thee: but we, as all things else,
	Are mutable and changing.

Susan	Yet you still move
	In your first sphere of discontent. Sweet, chase
	Those clouds of sorrow, and shine clearly on me.

Frank	At my return I will.

Susan	Return! ah me!
	Will you, then, leave me?

Frank	For a time I must:
	But how? As birds their young, or loving bees
	Their hives, to fetch home richer dainties.

Susan	Leave me!
	Now has my fear met its effect. You shall not;
	Cost it my life, you shall not.

Frank	Why? your reason?

Susan	Like to the lapwing have you all this while
	With your false love deluded me, pretending
	Counterfeit senses for your discontent;
	And now at last it is by chance stole from you.

Frank	What? what by chance?

Susan	Your pre-appointed meeting
	Of single combat with young Warbeck.

Frank	Ha!

Susan	Even so: dissemble not; 'tis too apparent:
	Then in his look I read it:--deny it not,
	I see't apparent; cost it my undoing,
	And unto that my life, I will not leave you.

Frank	Not until when?

Susan	Till he and you be friends.
	Was this your cunning?--and then flam me off
	With an old witch, two wives, and Winnifred!
	You're not so kind, indeed, as I imagined.

Frank	[Aside] And you are more fond by far than I expected.--
	It is a virtue that attends thy kind--
	But of our business within:--and by this kiss,
	I'll anger thee no more; 'troth, chuck, I will not.

Susan	You shall have no just cause.

Frank	Dear Sue, I shall not.

	[Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT III


SCENE I	The Village Green


	[Enter Cuddy Banks with the Morris-dancers]

First Dancer	%%Nay, Cuddy, prithee do not leave us now; if we part all this night,
	we shall not meet before day.

Second Dancer	I prithee, Banks, let's keep together now.

Cuddy Banks	%%If you were wise, a word would serve; but as you are, I must be
	forced to tell you again, I have a little private business, an hour's work; it
	may prove but an half hour's, as luck may serve; and then I take horse, and
	along with you. Have we e'er a witch in the morris?

First Dancer	No, no; no woman's part but Maid Marian and the Hobby-horse.

Cuddy Banks	I'll have a witch; I love a witch.

First Dancer	%%'Faith, witches themselves are so common now-a-days, that the
	counterfeit will not be regarded. They say we have three or four in Edmonton
	besides Mother Sawyer.

Second Dancer	I would she would dance her part with us.

Third Dancer	So would not I; for if she comes, the devil and all comes along
	with her.

Cuddy Banks	Well, I'll have a witch; I have loved a witch ever since I played
	at cherry-pit. Leave me, and get my horse dressed; give him oats: but water him
	not till I come. Whither do we foot it first?

Second Dancer	To Sir Arthur Clarington's first; then whither thou wilt.

Cuddy Banks	Well, I am content; but we must up to Carter's, the rich yeoman; I
	must be seen on hobby-horse there.

First Dancer	O, I smell him now!--I'll lay my ears Banks is in love, and
	that's the reason he would walk melancholy by himself.

Cuddy Banks	Ha! who was that said I was in love?

First Dancer	Not I.

Second Dancer	Nor I.

Cuddy Banks	%%Go to, no more of that: when I understand what you speak,
	I know what you say; believe that.

First Dancer	%%Well, 'twas I, I'll not deny it; I meant no hurt in't. I have
	seen you walk up to Carter's of Chessum: Banks, were not you there last Shrovetide?

Cuddy Banks	Yes, I was ten days together there the last Shrovetide.

Second Dancer	How could that be, when there are but seven days in the week?

Cuddy Banks	%%Prithee peace! I reckon <em>stila nova</em> as a traveller; thou
	understandest as a fresh-water farmer, that never sawest a week beyond sea. Ask
	any soldier that ever received his pay but in the Low Countries, and he'll tell
	thee there are eight days in the week there hard by. How dost thou think they
	rise in High Germany, Italy, and those remoter places?

Third Dancer	Ay, but simply there are but seven days in the week yet.

Cuddy Banks	%%No, simply as thou understandest. Prithee look but in the lover's
	almanac: when he has been but three days absent, "O," says he, "I have not seen
	my love these seven years:" there's a long cut! When he comes to her again and
	embraces her, "O," says he, "now me-thinks I am in Heaven;" and that's a pretty
	step! He that can get up to Heaven in ten days need not repent his journey; you
	may ride a hundred days in a caroche, and be further off than when you set
	forth. But, I pray you, good morris-mates, now leave me. I will be with you by
	midnight.

First Dancer	Well, since he will be alone, we'll back again and trouble him no more.

All the Dancers	But remember, Banks.

Cuddy Banks	%%The hobby-horse shall be remembered. But hark you; get Poldavis,
	the barber's boy, for the witch, because he can show his art better than another.

	[Exeunt all but Cuddy]

	%%Well, now to my walk. I am near the place where I should meet--I know not
	what: say I meet a thief? I must follow him, if to the gallows; say I meet a
	horse, or hare, or hound? still I must follow: some slow-paced beast, I hope;
	yet love is full of lightness in the heaviest lovers. Ha! my guide is come.

	[Enter the Dog]

	%%A water-dog! I am thy first man, sculler; I go with thee; ply no other but
	myself. Away with the boat! land me but at Katherine's Dock, my sweet
	Katherine's Dock, and I'll be a fare to thee. That way? nay, which way thou
	wilt; thou knowest the way better than I:--fine gentle cur it is, and well
	brought up, I warrant him. We go a-ducking, spaniel; thou shalt fetch me the
	ducks, pretty kind rascal.

	[Enter a Spirit vizarded. He throws off his mask, &c., and appears in the
	shape of Katherine]

Spirit	Thus throw I off mine own essential horror,
	And take the shape of a sweet lovely maid
	Whom this fool dotes on: we can meet his folly,
	But from his virtues must be runaways.
	We'll sport with him; but when we reckoning call,
	We know where to receive; the witch pays for all.

	[The Dog barks]

Cuddy Banks	%%Ay? is that the watchword? She's come. [Sees the Spirit] Well,
	if ever we be married, it shall be at Barking Church, in memory of thee: now
	come behind, kind cur.

	And have I met thee, sweet Kate?
	I will teach thee to walk so late.

	%%O, see, we meet in metre. [The Spirit retires as he advances] What!
	dost thou trip from me? O, that I were upon my hobby-horse, I would mount after
	thee so nimble!

	"Stay, nymph, stay, nymph," singed Apollo.
	"Tarry and kiss me, sweet nymph, stay;
	Tarry and kiss me, sweet:
	We will to Chessum Street",
	And then to the house stands in the highway.

	Nay, by your leave, I must embrace you.

	[Exit, following the Spirit]

	[Within] O, help, help! I am drowned, I am drowned!

	[Re-enter Cuddy wet]

Dog	Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Cuddy Banks	%%This was an ill night to go a-wooing in; I find it now in Pond's
	almanac: thinking to land at Katherine's Dock, I was almost at Gravesend. I'll
	never go to a wench in the dog-days again; yet 'tis cool enough.--Had you
	never a paw in this dog-trick? a mange take that black hide of yours! I'll throw
	you in at Limehouse in some tanner's pit or other.

Dog	Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Cuddy Banks	How now! who's that laughs at me? Hist to him! [The Dog barks]
	--Peace, peace! thou didst but thy kind neither; 'twas my own fault.

Dog	Take heed how thou trustest the devil another time.

Cuddy Banks	How now! who's that speaks? I hope you have not your reading tongue about you?

Dog	Yes, I can speak.

Cuddy Banks	%%The devil you can! you have read &AElig;sop's fables, then; I have
	played one of your parts then,--the dog that catched at the shadow in the
	water. Pray you, let me catechise you a little; what might one call your name, dog?

Dog	My dame calls me Tom.

Cuddy Banks	%%'Tis well, and she may call me Ass; so there's an whole one
	betwixt us, Tom-Ass: she said I should follow you, indeed. Well, Tom, give me
	thy fist, we are friends; you shall be mine ingle: I love you; but I pray you
	let's have no more of these ducking devices.

Dog	Not, if you love me. Dogs love where they are beloved; cherish me,
	and I'll do anything for thee.

Cuddy Banks	Well, you shall have jowls and livers; I have butchers to my
	friends that shall bestow 'em: and I will keep crusts and bones for you, if
	you'll be a kind dog, Tom.

Dog	Any thing; I'll help thee to thy love.

Cuddy Banks	Wilt thou? that promise shall cost me a brown loaf, though I steal
	it out of my father's cupboard: you'll eat stolen goods, Tom, will you not?

Dog	O, best of all; the sweetest bits those.

Cuddy Banks	You shall not starve, Ningle Tom, believe that: if you love fish,
	I'll help you to maids and soles; I'm acquainted with a fishmonger.

Dog	Maids and soles? O, sweet bits! banqueting stuff those.

Cuddy Banks	%%One thing I would request you, ningle, as you have played the
	knavish cur with me a little, that you would mingle amongst our morris-dancers
	in the morning. You can dance?

Dog	%%Yes, yes, any thing; I'll be there, but unseen to any but thyself.
	Get thee gone before; fear not my presence. I have work to-night; I serve more
	masters, more dames than one.

Cuddy Banks	He can serve Mammon and the devil too.

Dog	It shall concern thee and thy love's purchase.
	There is a gallant rival loves the maid,
	And likely is to have her. Mark what a mischief,
	Before the morris ends, shall light on him!

Cuddy Banks	%%O, sweet ningle, thy neuf once again; friends must part for a
	time. Farewell, with this remembrance; shalt have bread too when we meet again.
	If ever there were an honest devil, 'twill be the Devil of Edmonton, I see.
	Farewell, Tom; I prithee dog me as soon as thou canst [Exit]

Dog	I'll not miss thee, and be merry with thee.
	Those that are joys denied must take delight
	In sins and mischiefs; 'tis the devil's right. [Exit]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT III


SCENE II	The neighbourhood of Edmonton


	[Enter Frank Thorney and Winnifred in boy's clothes]

Frank	Prithee no more! those tears give nourishment
	To weeds and briers in me, which shortly will
	O'ergrow and top my head; my shame will sit
	And cover all that can be seen of me.

Winnifred	I have not shown this cheek in company;
	Pardon me now: thus singled with yourself,
	It calls a thousand sorrows round about,
	Some going before, and some on either side,
	But infinite behind; all chained together:
	Your second adulterous marriage leads;
	That is the sad eclipse, th' effects must follow,
	As plagues of shame, spite, scorn, and obloquy.

Frank	Why, hast thou not left one hour's patience
	To add to all the rest? one hour bears us
	Beyond the reach of all these enemies:
	Are we not now set forward in the flight,
	Provided with the dowry of my sin
	To keep us in some other nation?
	While we together are, we are at home
	In any place.

Winnifred	'Tis foul ill-gotten coin,
	Far worse than usury or extortion.

Frank	Let
	My father, then, make the restitution,
	Who forced me to take the bribe: it is his gift
	And patrimony to me; so I receive it.
	He would not bless, nor look a father on me,
	Until I satisfied his angry will:
	When I was sold, I sold myself again--
	Some knaves have done't in lands, and I in body--
	For money, and I have the hire. But, sweet, no more,
	'Tis hazard of discovery, our discourse;
	And then prevention takes off all our hopes:
	For only but to take her leave of me
	My wife is coming.

Winnifred	Who coming? your wife!

Frank	No, no; thou art here: the woman--I knew
	Not how to call her now; but after this day
	She shall be quite forgot and have no name
	In my remembrance. See, see! she's come.

	[Enter Susan]

	Go lead
	The horses to th' hill's top; there I'll meet thee.

Susan	Nay, with your favour let him stay a little;
	I would part with him too, because he is
	Your sole companion; and I'll begin with him,
	Reserving you the last.

Frank	Ay, with all my heart.

Susan	You may hear, if't please you, sir.

Frank	No, 'tis not fit:
	Some rudiments, I conceive, they must be,
	To overlook my slippery footings: and so--

Susan	No, indeed, sir.

Frank	Tush, I know it must be so,
	And it is necessary: on! but be brief. [Walks forward]

Winnifred	What charge soe'er you lay upon me, mistress, I shall support it
	faithfully--being honest--To my best strength.

Susan	Believe't shall be no other.
	I know you were commended to my husband
	By a noble knight.

Winnifred	O, gods! O, mine eyes!

Susan	How now! what ail'st thou, lad?

Winnifred	Something hit mine eye,--it makes it water still,--
	Even as you said "commended to my husband."--
	Some dor I think it was.--I was, forsooth,
	Commended to him by Sir Arthur Clarington.

Susan	Whose servant once my Thorney was himself.
	That title, methinks, should make you almost fellows;
	Or at the least much more than a servant;
	And I am sure he will respect you so.
	Your love to him, then, needs no spur from me,
	And what for my sake you will ever do,
	'Tis fit it should be bought with something more
	Than fair entreats; look! here's a jewel for thee,
	A pretty wanton label for thine ear;
	And I would have it hang there, still to whisper
	These words to thee, "Thou hast my jewel with thee."
	It is but earnest of a larger bounty,
	When thou return'st with praises of thy service,
	Which I am confident thou wilt deserve.
	Why, thou art many now besides thyself:
	Thou mayst be servant, friend, and wife to him;
	A good wife is them all. A friend can play
	The wife and servant's part, and shift enough;
	No less the servant can the friend and wife:
	'Tis all but sweet society, good counsel,
	Interchanged loves, yes, and counsel-keeping.

Frank	Not done yet?

Susan	Even now, sir.

Winnifred	%%Mistress, believe my vow; your severe eye, Were't present to
	command, your bounteous hand, Were it then by to buy or bribe my service, Shall
	not make me more dear or near unto him Than I shall voluntary. I'll be all your
	charge, Servant, friend, wife to him.

Susan	Wilt thou?
	Now blessings go with thee for't! courtesies
	Shall meet thee coming home.

Winnifred	Pray you say plainly,
	Mistress, are you jealous of him? if you be,
	I'll look to him that way too.

Susan	Say'st thou so?
	I would thou hadst a woman's bosom now;
	We have weak thoughts within us. Alas,
	There's nothing so strong in us as suspicion;
	But I dare not, nay, I will not think
	So hardly of my Thorney.

Winnifred	Believe it, mistress,
	I'll be no pander to him; and if I find
	Any loose lubric scapes in him, I'll watch him,
	And at my return protest I'll show you all:
	He shall hardly offend without my knowledge.

Susan	Thine own diligence is that I press,
	And not the curious eye over his faults.
	Farewell: if I should never see thee more,
	Take it for ever.

Frank	%%Prithee take that along with thee, [Handing his sword to Winnifred]
	and haste thee
	To the hill's top; I'll be there instantly.

Susan	No haste, I prithee; slowly as thou canst--

	[Exit Winnifred]

	Pray let him obey me now; 'tis happily
	His last service to me: my power is e'en
	A-going out of sight.

Frank	Why would you delay?
	We have no other business now but to part.

Susan	And will not that, sweetheart, ask a long time?
	Methinks it is the hardest piece of work
	That e'er I took in hand.

Frank	Fie, fie! why, look,
	I'll make it plain and easy to you--farewell!

	[Kisses her]

Susan	Ah, 'las, I'm not half perfect in it yet;
	I must have it read o'er an hundred times:
	Pray you take some pains; I confess my dulness.

Frank	[Aside] What a thorn this rose grows on! Parting were sweet;
	But what a trouble 'twill be to obtain it!--
	Come, again and again, farewell !--[Kisses her] Yet wilt return?
	All questions of my journey, my stay, employment,
	And revisitation, fully I have answered all;
	There's nothing now behind but--nothing.

Susan	And
	That <em>nothing</em> is more hard than anything,
	Than all the everything. This request--

Frank	What is't?

Susan	%%That I may bring you through one pasture more Up to yon knot of
	trees; amongst those shadows I'll vanish from you, they shall teach me how.

Frank	Why, 'tis granted; come, walk, then.

Susan	Nay, not too fast:
	They say slow things have best perfection;
	The gentle shower wets to fertility,
	The churlish storm may mischief with his bounty;
	The baser beasts take strength even from the womb,
	But the lord lion's whelp is feeble long. [Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT III


SCENE III	A Field with a clump of trees


	[Enter the Dog]

Dog	Now for an early mischief and a sudden!
	The mind's about it now; one touch from me
	Soon sets the body forward.

	[Enter Frank and Susan]

Frank	Your request
	Is out; yet will you leave me?

Susan	What? so churlishly?
	You'll make me stay for ever,
	Rather than part with such a sound from you.

Frank	Why, you almost anger me. Pray you be gone.
	You have no company, and 'tis very early;
	Some hurt may betide you homewards.

Susan	Tush! I fear none;
	To leave you is the greatest hurt I can suffer:
	Besides, I expect your father and mine own
	To meet me back, or overtake me with you;
	They began to stir when I came after you
	I know they'll not be long.

Frank	So! I shall have more trouble,--[The Dog rubs against him]
	--thank you for that:
	[Aside] Then I'll ease all at once. It is done now;
	What I ne'er thought on.--You shall not go back.

Susan	Why, shall I go along with thee? sweet music!

Frank	No, to a better place.

Susan	Any place I;
	I'm there at home where thou pleasest to have me.

Frank	At home? I'll leave you in your last lodging;
	I must kill you.

Susan	O, fine! you'd fright me from you.

Frank	You see I had no purpose; I'm unarmed;
	'Tis this minute's decree, and it must be:
	Look, this will serve your turn. [Draws a knife]

Susan	I'll not turn from it,
	If you be earnest, sir; yet you may tell me
	Wherefore you'll kill me.

Frank	Because you are a whore.

Susan	There's one deep wound already; a whore!
	'Twas every further from me than the thought
	Of this black hour; a whore?

Frank	Yes, I'll prove it,
	And you shall confess it. You are my whore.
	No wife of mine; the word admits no second.
	I was before wedded to another; have her still.
	I do not lay the sin unto your charge,
	'Tis all mine own: your marriage was my theft,
	For I espoused your dowry, and I have it.
	I did not purpose to have added murder;
	The devil did not prompt me till this minute:
	You might have safe returned; now you cannot.
	You have dogged your own death. [Stabs her]

Susan	And I deserve it:
	I'm glad my fate was so intelligent:
	'Twas some good spirit's motion. Die? O, 'twas time!
	How many years might I have slept in sin,
	The sin of my most hatred, too, adultery!

Frank	Nay, sure, 'twas likely that the most was past;
	For I meant never to return to you
	After this parting.

Susan	Why, then, I thank you more;
	You have done lovingly, leaving yourself,
	That you would thus bestow me on another.
	Thou art my husband, Death, and I embrace thee
	With all the love I have. Forget the stain
	Of my unwitting sin; and then I come
	A crystal virgin to thee: my soul's purity
	Shall with bold wings ascend the doors of Mercy;
	For Innocence is ever her companion.

Frank	Not yet mortal? I would not linger you,
	Or leave you a tongue to blab. [Stabs her again]

Susan	Now Heaven reward you ne'er the worse for me!
	I did not think that Death had been so sweet,
	Nor I so apt to love him. I could ne'er die better,
	Had I stayed forty years for preparation;
	For I'm in charity with all the world.
	Let me for once be thine example, Heaven;
	Do to this man as I him free forgive,
	And may he better die and better live. [Dies]

Frank	'Tis done; and I am in! Once past our height,
	We scorn the deep'st abyss. This follows now,
	To heal her wounds by dressing of the weapon.
	Arms, thighs, hands, any place; we must not fail

	[Wounds himself]

	Light scratches, giving such deep ones: the best I can
	To bind myself to this tree. Now's the storm,
	Which if blown o'er, many fair days may follow.

	[Binds himself to a tree; the Dog ties him behind and exits]

	So, so, I'm fast; I did not think I could
	Have done so well behind me. How prosperous
	And effectual mischief sometimes is!--[Aloud] Help! help!
	Murder, murder, murder!

	[Enter Carter and Old Thorney]

Carter	Ha! whom tolls the bell for?

Frank	O, O!

Old Thorney	Ah me!
	The cause appears too soon; my child, my son!

Carter	Susan, girl, child! not speak to thy father? ha!

Frank	O, lend me some assistance to o'ertake
	This hapless woman.

Old Thorney	Let's o'ertake the murderers.
	Speak whilst thou canst, anon may be too late;
	I fear thou hast death's mark upon thee too.

Frank	I know them both; yet such an oath is passed
	As pulls damnation
	up if it be broke.
	I dare not name 'em: think what forced men do.

Old Thorney	Keep oath with murderers! that were a conscience
	To hold the devil in.

Frank	Nay, sir, I can describe 'em,
	Shall show them as familiar as their names:
	The taller of the two at this time wears
	His satin doublet white, but crimson-lined,
	Hose of black satin, cloak of scarlet--

Old Thorney	Warbeck,
	Warbeck, Warbeck!-- do you list to this, sir?

Carter	Yes, yes, I listen you; here's nothing to be heard.

Frank	Th' other's cloak branched velvet, black, velvet-lined his suit.

Old Thorney	I have 'em already; Somerton, Somerton!
	Binal revenge all this. Come, sir, the first work
	Is to pursue the murderers, when we have
	Removed these mangled bodies hence.

Carter	Sir, take that carcass there, and give me this.
	I will not own her now; she's none of mine.
	Bob me off with a dumb-show! no, I'll have life.
	This is my son too, and while there's life in him,
	'Tis half mine; take you half that silence for't.--
	When I speak I look to be spoken to:
	Forgetful slut!

Old Thorney	Alas, what grief may do now!
	Look, sir, I'll take this load of sorrow with me.

Carter	Ay, do, and I'll have this.

	[Exit Old Thorney with Susan in his arms]

	How do you, sir?

Frank	O, very ill, sir.

Carter	Yes,
	I think so; but 'tis well you can speak yet:
	There's no music but in sound; sound it must be.
	I have not wept these twenty years before,
	And that I guess was ere that girl was born;
	Yet now methinks, if I but knew the way,
	My heart's so full, I could weep night and day.

	[Exit with Frank]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT III


SCENE IV	Before Sir Arthur Clarington's house


	[Enter Sir Arthur Clarington, Warbeck, and Somerton]

Sir Arthur	Come, gentlemen, we must all help to grace
	The nimble-footed youth of Edmonton,
	That are so kind to call us up to-day
	With an high morris.

Warbeck	%%I could wish it for the best, it were the worst now. Absurdity's
	in my opinion ever the best dancer in a morris.

Somerton	I could rather sleep than see 'em.

Sir Arthur	Not well, sir?

Somerton	'Faith, not ever thus leaden: yet I know no cause for't.

Warbeck	Now am I beyond mine own condition highly disposed to mirth.

Sir Arthur	Well, you may have yet a morris to help both;
	To strike you in a dump, and make him merry.

	[Enter Sawgut with the Morris-dancers, &c.]

Sawgut	%%Come, will you set yourselves in morris-ray? the forebell, second-
	bell, tenor, and great-bell; Maid Marian for the same bell. But where's the
	weathercock now? the Hobby-horse?

First Dancer	Is not Banks come yet? What a spite 'tis!

Sir Arthur	When set you forward, gentlemen?

First Dancer	We stay but for the Hobby-horse, sir; all our footmen are
	ready.

Somerton	'Tis marvel your horse should be behind your foot.

Second Dancer	%%Yes, sir, he goes further about; we can come in at the wicket,
	but the broad gate must be opened for him.

	[Enter Cuddy Banks with the Hobby-horse, followed by the Dog]

Sir Arthur	O, we stayed for you, sir.

Cuddy Banks	Only my horse wanted a shoe, sir; but we shall make you amends ere
	we part.

Sir Arthur	Ay? well said; make 'em drink ere they begin.

	[Enter Servants with beer]

Cuddy Banks	%%A bowl, I prithee, and a little for my horse; he'll mount the
	better. Nay, give me: I must drink to him, he'll not pledge else. [Drinks]
	Here, Hobby [Holds the bowl to the Hobby-horse]--I pray you: no? not
	drink! You see, gentlemen, we can but bring our horse to the water; he may
	choose whether he'll drink or no. [Drinks again]

Somerton	A good moral made plain by history.

First Dancer	Strike up, Father Sawgut, strike up.

Sawgut	E'en when you will, children. [Cuddy mounts the Hobby]
	--Now in the name of--the best foot forward!
	[Endeavours to play, but the fiddle gives no sound]
	--How now! not a word in thy guts? I
	think, children, my instrument has caught cold on the sudden.

Cuddy Banks	[Aside] My ningle's knavery; black Tom's doing.

All the Dancers	Why, what mean you, Father Sawgut?

Cuddy Banks	Why, what would you have him do? you hear his fiddle is
	speechless.

Sawgut	%%I'll lay mine ear to my instrument that my poor fiddle is
	bewitched. I played "The Flowers in May" e'en now, as sweet as a violet; now
	'twill not go against the hair: you see I can make no more music than a beetle
	of a cow-turd.

Cuddy Banks	%%Let me see, Father Sawgut [Takes the fiddle]; say once you had
	a brave hobby-horse that you were beholding to. I'll play and dance
	too.--Ningle, away with it. [Gives it to the Dog, who plays the morris]

All the Dancers	Ay, marry, sir! [They dance]

	[Enter a Constable and Officers]

Constable	Away with jollity! 'tis too sad an hour.--
	Sir Arthur Clarington, your own assistance,
	In the king's name, I charge, for apprehension
	Of these two murderers, Warbeck and Somerton.

Sir Arthur	Ha! flat murderers?

Somerton	Ha, ha, ha! this has awakened my melancholy.

Warbeck	And struck my mirth down flat.--Murderers?

Constable	The accusation's flat against you, gentlemen.--
	Sir, you may be satisfied with this. [Shows his warrant]--
	I hope you'll quietly obey my power;
	'Twill make your cause the fairer.

Somerton|Warbeck	O, with all our hearts, sir.

Cuddy Banks	There's my rival taken up for hangman's meat, Tom told me he was
	about a piece of villany.--Mates and morris-men, you see here's no longer
	piping, no longer dancing; this news of murder has slain the morris. You that go
	the footway, fare ye well; I am for a gallop.--Come, ningle.

	[Canters off with the Hobby-horse and the Dog]

Sawgut	[Strikes his fiddle, which sounds as before] Ay? nay, an my
	fiddle be come to himself again, I care not.
	I think the devil has been abroad amongst us to-day;
	I'll keep thee out of thy fit now, if I can.

	[Exit with the Morris-dancers]

Sir Arthur	These things are full of horror, full of pity.
	But if this time be constant to the proof,
	The guilt of both these gentlemen I dare take
	On mine own danger; yet, howsoever, sir,
	Your power must be obeyed.

Warbeck	O, most willingly, sir.
	'Tis a most sweet affliction; I could not meet
	A joy in the best shape with better will:
	Come, fear not, sir; nor judge nor evidence
	Can bind him o'er who's freed by conscience.

Somerton	Mine stands so upright to the middle zone
	It takes no shadow to't, it goes alone. [Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT IV


SCENE I	Edmonton. The Street


	[Enter Old Banks and several Countrymen]

Old Banks	My horse this morning runs most piteously of the glanders, whose nose
	yesternight was as clean as any man's here now coming from the barber's; and
	this, I'll take my death upon't, is long of this jadish witch Mother Sawyer.

First Countryman	I took my wife and a serving-man in our town of Edmonton
	thrashing in my barn together such corn as country wenches carry to market; and
	examining my polecat why she did so, she swore in her conscience she was
	bewitched: and what witch have we about us but Mother Sawyer?

Second Countryman	Rid the town of her, else all our wives will do nothing else
	but dance about other country maypoles.

Third Countryman	Our cattle fall, our wives fall, our daughters fall, and
	maid-servants fall; and we ourselves shall not be able to stand, if this beast
	be suffered to graze amongst us.

	[Enter Hamluc with thatch and a lighted link]

Hamluc	Burn the witch, the witch, the witch, the witch!

Countrymen	What hast got there?

Hamluc	A handful of thatch plucked off a hovel of hers; and they say,
	when 'tis burning, if she be a witch, she'll come running in.

Old Banks	Fire it, fire it! I'll stand between thee and home for any danger.

	[Hamluc sets fire to the thatch]

	[Enter Mother Sawyer running]

Mother Sawyer	Diseases, plagues, the curse of an old woman
	Follow and fall upon you!

Countrymen	Are you come, you old trot?

Old Banks	You hot whore, must we fetch you with fire in your tail?

First Countryman	This thatch is as good as a jury to prove she is a witch.

Countrymen	Out, witch! beat her, kick her, set fire on her!

Mother Sawyer	Shall I be murdered by a bed of serpents? Help, help!

	[Enter Sir Arthur Clarington and a Justice]

Countrymen	Hang her, beat her, kill her!

Justice	How now! forbear this violence.

Mother Sawyer	A crew of villains, a knot of bloody hangmen,
	Set to torment me, I know not why.

Justice	Alas, neighbour Banks, are you a ringleader in mischief? fie! to
	abuse an aged woman.

Old Banks	Woman? a she hell-cat, a witch! To prove her one, we no
	sooner set fire on the thatch of her house, but in she came running as if the
	devil had sent her in a barrel of gunpowder; which trick as surely proves her a
	witch as the pox in a snuffling nose is a sign a man is a whore-master.

Justice	Come, come: firing her thatch? ridiculous!
	Take heed, sirs, what you do; unless your proofs
	Come better armed, instead of turning her
	Into a witch, you'll prove yourselves stark fools.

Countrymen	Fools?

Justice	Arrant fools.

Old Banks	Pray, Master Justice What-do-you-call-'em, hear me but in one
	thing: this grumbling devil owes me I know no good-will ever since I fell out
	with her.

Mother Sawyer	And break'dst my back with beating me.

Old Banks	I'll break it worse.

Mother Sawyer	Wilt thou?

Justice	You must not threaten her; 'tis against law: Go on.

Old Banks	%%So, sir, ever since, having a dun cow tied up in my back-
	side, let me go thither, or but cast mine eye at her, and if I should be hanged
	I cannot choose, though it be ten times in an hour, but run to the cow, and
	taking up her tail, kiss --saving your worship's reverence--my cow
	behind, that the whole town of Edmonton has been ready to bepiss themselves with
	laughing me to scorn.

Justice	And this is long of her?

Old Banks	Who the devil else? for is any man such an ass to be such a
	baby, if he were not bewitched?

Sir Arthur	Nay, if she be a witch, and the harms she does end in such
	sports, she may scape burning.

Justice	Go, go: pray, vex her not; she is a subject,
	And you must not be judges of the law
	To strike her as you please.

Countrymen	No, no, we'll find cudgel enough to strike her.

Old Banks	Ay; no lips to kiss but my cow's--!

Mother Sawyer	Rots and foul maladies eat up thee and thine!

	[Exeunt Old Banks and Countrymen]

Justice	Here's none now, Mother Sawyer, but this gentleman,
	Myself, and you: let us to some mild questions;
	Have you mild answers; tell us honestly
	And with a free confession--we'll do our best
	To wean you from it--are you a witch, or no?

Mother Sawyer	I am none.

Justice	Be not so furious.

Mother Sawyer	I am none.
	None but base curs so bark at me; I'm none:
	Or would I were! if every poor old woman
	Be trod on thus by slaves, reviled, kicked, beaten,
	As I am daily, she to be revenged
	Had need turn witch.

Sir Arthur	And you to be revenged
	Have sold your soul to th' devil.

Mother Sawyer	Keep thine own from him.

Justice	You are too saucy and too bitter.

Mother Sawyer	Saucy?
	By what commission can he send my soul
	On the devil's errand more than I can his?
	Is he a landlord of my soul, to thrust it,
	When he list, out of door?

Justice	Know whom you speak to.

Mother Sawyer	A man; perhaps no man. Men in gay clothes,
	Whose backs are laden with titles and with honours,
	Are within far more crook&egrave;d than I am,
	And, if I be a witch, more witch-like.

Sir Arthur	You're a base hell-hound.--
	And now, sir, let me tell you, far and near
	She's bruited for a woman that maintains
	A spirit that sucks her.

Mother Sawyer	I defy thee.

Sir Arthur	Go, go:
	I can, if need be, bring an hundred voices,
	E'en here in Edmonton, that shall loud proclaim
	Thee for a secret and pernicious witch.

Mother Sawyer	Ha, ha!

Justice	Do you laugh? why laugh you?

Mother Sawyer	At my name,
	The brave name this knight gives me--witch.

Justice	Is the name of witch so pleasing to thine ear?

Sir Arthur	Pray sir, give way, and let her tongue gallop on.

Mother Sawyer	A witch! who is not?
	Hold not that universal name in scorn, then.
	What are your painted things in princes' courts,
	Upon whose eyelids lust sits, blowing fires
	To burn men's souls in sensual hot desires,
	Upon whose naked paps a lecher's thought
	Acts sin in fouler shapes than can be wrought?

Justice	But those work not as you do.

Mother Sawyer	No, but far worse
	These by enchantments can whole lordships change
	To trunks of rich attire, turn ploughs and teams
	To Flanders mares and coaches, and huge trains
	Of servitors to a French butterfly.
	Have you not city-witches who can turn
	Their husband's wares, whole standing shops of wares,
	To sumptuous tables, gardens of stolen sin;
	In one year wasting what scarce twenty win?
	Are not these witches?

Justice	Yes, yes; but the law
	Casts not an eye on these.

Mother Sawyer	Why, then, on me,
	Or any lean old beldam? Reverence once
	Had wont to wait on age; now an old woman,
	Ill-favoured grown with years, if she be poor,
	Must be called bawd or witch. Such so abused
	Are the coarse witches; t'other are the fine,
	Spun for the devil's own wearing.

Sir Arthur	And so is thine.

Mother Sawyer	She on whose tongue a whirlwind sits to blow
	A man out of himself, from his soft pillow
	To lean his head on rocks and fighting waves,
	Is not that scold a witch? The man of law
	Whose honeyed hopes the credulous client draw--
	As bees by tinkling basins -- to swarm to him
	From his own hive to work the wax in his;
	He is no witch, not he!

Sir Arthur	But these men-witches
	Are not in trading with hell's merchandise,
	Like such as you are, that for a word, a look,
	Denial of a coal of fire, kill men,
	Children, and cattle.

Mother Sawyer	Tell them, sir, that do so:
	Am I accused for such an one?

Sir Arthur	Yes; 'twill be sworn.

Mother Sawyer	Dare any swear I ever tempted maiden
	With golden hooks flung at her chastity
	To come and lose her honour; and being lost,
	To pay not a denier for't? Some slaves have done it.
	Men-witches can, without the fangs of law
	Drawing once one drop of blood, put counterfeit pieces
	Away for true gold.

Sir Arthur	By one thing she speaks
	I know now she's a witch, and dare no longer
	Hold conference with the fury.

Justice	Let's, then, away.--
	Old woman, mend thy life; get home and pray.

	[Exeunt Sir Arthur and Justice]

Mother Sawyer	For his confusion.

	[Enter the Dog]

	My dear Tom-boy, welcome!
	I'm torn in pieces by a pack of curs
	Clapt all upon me, and for want of thee:
	Comfort me; thou shalt have the teat anon.

Dog	Bow, wow! I'll have it now.

Mother Sawyer	I am dried up
	With cursing and with madness, and have yet
	No blood to moisten these sweet lips of thine.
	Stand on thy hind-legs up--kiss me, my Tommy,
	And rub away some wrinkles on my brow
	By making my old ribs to shrug for joy
	Of thy fine tricks. What hast thou done? let's tickle.
	Hast thou struck the horse lame as I bid thee?

Dog	Yes;
	And nipped the sucking child.

Mother Sawyer	Ho, ho, my dainty,
	My little pearl! no lady loves her hound,
	Monkey, or paroquet, as I do thee.

Dog	The maid has been churning butter nine hours; but it shall not
	come.

Mother Sawyer	Let 'em eat cheese and choke.

Dog	I had rare sport
	Among the clowns i' th' morris.

Mother Sawyer	I could dance
	Out of my skin to hear thee. But, my curl-pate,
	That jade, that foul-tongued whore, Nan Ratcliffe,
	Who, for a little soap licked by my sow,
	Struck and almost had lamed it;-- did not I charge thee
	To pinch that queen to th' heart?

Dog	Bow, wow, wow! look here else.

	[Enter Ann Ratcliffe mad]

Ann	See, see, see! the man i' th' moon has built a new windmill; and
	what running there's from all quarters of the city to learn the art of grinding!

Mother Sawyer	Ho, ho, ho! I thank thee, my sweet mongrel.

Ann	Hoyda! a pox of the devil's false hopper! all the golden meal runs
	into the rich knaves' purses, and the poor have nothing but bran. Hey derry
	down! are not you Mother Sawyer?

Mother Sawyer	No, I am a lawyer.

Ann	%%Art thou? I prithee let me scratch thy face; for thy pen has
	flayed-off a great many men's skins. You'll have brave doings in the vacation;
	for knaves and fools are at variance in every village. I'll sue Mother Sawyer,
	and her own sow shall give in evidence against her.

Mother Sawyer	Touch her. [To the	Dog, who rubs against her]

Ann	%%O, my ribs are made of a paned hose, and they break! There's a
	Lancashire hornpipe in my throat; hark, how it tickles it, with doodle, doodle,
	doodle, doodle! Welcome, sergeants! welcome, devil!--hands, hands! hold
	hands, and dance around, around, around.

	[Dancing]

	[Re-enter Old Banks, with Cuddy, Ratcliffe, and Countrymen]

Ratcliffe	She's here; alas, my poor wife is here!

Old Banks	Catch her fast, and have her into some close chamber, do; for
	she's, as many wives are, stark mad.

Cuddy Banks	The witch! Mother Sawyer, the witch, the devil!

Ratcliffe	O, my dear wife! help, sirs!

	[Ann is carried off by Ratcliffe and Countrymen]

Old Banks	You see your work, Mother Bumby.

Mother Sawyer	My work? should she and all you here run mad,
	Is the work mine?

Cuddy Banks	No, on my conscience, she would not hurt a devil of two years old.

	[Re-enter Ratcliffe and Countrymen]

	How now! what's become of her?

Ratcliffe	%%Nothing; she's become nothing but the miserable trunk of a
	wretched woman. We were in her hands as reeds in a mighty tempest: spite of our
	strengths away she brake; and nothing in her mouth being heard but "the devil,
	the witch, the witch, the devil!" she beat out her own brains, and so died.

Cuddy Banks	It's any man's case, be he never so wise, to die when his brains
	go a wool-gathering.

Old Banks	Masters, be ruled by me; let's all to a justice.--Hag,
	thou hast done this, and thou shalt answer it.

Mother Sawyer	Banks, I defy thee.

Old Banks	%%Get a warrant first to examine her, then ship her to Newgate;
	here's enough, if all her other villanies were pardoned, to burn her for a
	witch.--You have a spirit, they say, comes to you in the likeness of a dog;
	we shall see your cur at one time or other: if we do, unless it be the devil
	himself, he shall go howling to the gaol in one chain, and thou in another.

Mother Sawyer	Be hanged thou in a third, and do thy worst!

Cuddy Banks	How, father! you send the poor dumb thing howling to the gaol? he
	that makes him howl makes me roar.

Old Banks	Why, foolish boy, dost thou know him?

Cuddy Banks	No matter if I do or not: he's bailable, I am sure, by
	law;--but if the dog's word will not be taken, mine shall.

Old Banks	Thou bail for a dog!

Cuddy Banks	Yes, or a bitch either, being my friend. I'll lie by the heels
	myself before puppison shall; his dog-days are not come yet, I hope.

Old Banks	What manner of dog is it? didst ever see him?

Cuddy Banks	%%See him? yes, and given him a bone to gnaw twenty times. The dog
	is no court-foisting hound that fills his belly full by base wagging his tail;
	neither is it a citizen's water-spaniel, enticing his master to go a-ducking
	twice or thrice a week, whilst his wife makes ducks and drakes at home: this is
	no Paris-garden bandog neither, that keeps a bow-wow-wowing to have butchers
	bring their curs thither; and when all comes to all, they run away like sheep:
	neither is this the Black Dog of Newgate.

Old Banks	No, Goodman Son-fool, but the dog of hellgate.

Cuddy Banks	I say, Goodman Father-fool, it's a lie.

All	He's bewitched.

Cuddy Banks	%%A gross lie, as big as myself. The devil in St. Dunstan's will as
	soon drink with this poor cur as with any Temple-bar laundress that washes and
	wrings lawyers.

Dog	Bow, wow, wow, wow!

All	O, the dog's here, the dog's here.

Old Banks	It was the voice of a dog.

Cuddy Banks	%%The voice of a dog? if that voice were a dog's, what voice had my
	mother? so am I a dog: bow, wow, wow! It was I that barked so, father, to make
	coxcombs of these clowns.

Old Banks	However, we'll be coxcombed no longer: away, therefore, to
	the justice for a warrant; and then, Gammer Gurton, have at your needle of
	witchcraft!

Mother Sawyer	And prick thine own eyes out. Go, peevish fools!

	[Exeunt Old Banks, Ratcliffe, and Countrymen]

Cuddy Banks	%%Ningle, you had liked to have spoiled all with your bow-ings. I
	was glad to have put 'em off with one of my dog-tricks on a sudden; I am
	bewitched, little Cost-me-nought, to love thee--a pox,--that morris
	makes me spit in thy mouth.--I dare not stay; farewell, ningle; you whoreson
	dog's nose!--Farewell, witch! [Exit]

Dog	Bow, wow, wow, wow.

Mother Sawyer	Mind him not, he is not worth thy worrying;
	Run at a fairer game: that foul-mouthed knight,
	Scurvy Sir Arthur, fly at him, my Tommy,
	And pluck out's throat.

Dog	No, there's a dog already biting,--'s conscience.

Mother Sawyer	That's a sure bloodhound. Come, let's home and play;
	Our black work ended, we'll make holiday. [Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT IV


SCENE II	A Bedroom in Carter's house. A bed thrust forth, with Frank in a slumber.


	[Enter Katherine]

Katherine	Brother, brother! so sound asleep? that's well.

Frank	[Waking] No, not I, sister; he that's wounded here
	As I am--all my other hurts are bitings
	Of a poor flea;--but he that here once bleeds
	Is maimed incurably.

Katherine	My good sweet brother,--
	For now my sister must grow up in you,--
	Though her loss strikes you through, and that I feel
	The blow as deep, I pray thee be not cruel
	To kill me too, by seeing you cast away
	In your own helpless sorrow. Good love, sit up;
	And if you can give physic to yourself,
	I shall be well.

Frank	I'll do my best.

Katherine	I thank you;
	What do you look about for?

Frank	Nothing, nothing;
	But I was thinking, sister,--

Katherine	Dear heart, what?

Frank	Who but a fool would thus be bound to a bed,
	Having this room to walk in?

Katherine	Why do you talk so?
	Would you were fast asleep!

Frank	No, no; I'm not idle.
	But here's my meaning; being robbed as I am,
	Why should my soul, which married was to hers,
	Live in divorce, and not fly after her?
	Why should I not walk hand in hand with Death,
	To find my love out?

Katherine	That were well indeed,
	Your time being come; when Death is sent to call you,
	No doubt you shall meet her.

Frank	Why should not I
	Go without calling?

Katherine	Yes, brother, so you might,
	Were there no place to go when you're gone
	But only this.

Frank	'Troth, sister, thou say'st true;
	For when a man has been an hundred years
	Hard travelling o'er the tottering bridge of age,
	He's not the thousand part upon his way:
	All life is but a wandering to find home;
	When we're gone, we're there. Happy were man,
	Could here his voyage end; he should not, then,
	Answer how well or ill he steered his soul
	By Heaven's or by Hell's compass; how he put in--
	Losing blessed goodness' shore--at such a sin;
	Nor how life's dear provision he has spent,
	Nor how far he in's navigation went
	Beyond commission: this were a fine reign,
	To do ill and not hear of it again;
	Yet then were man more wretched than a beast;
	For, sister, our dead pay is sure the best.

Katherine	'Tis so, the best or worst; and I wish Heaven
	To pay--and so I know it will--that traitor,
	That devil Somerton--who stood in mine eye
	Once as an angel--home to his deservings:
	What villain but himself, once loving me,
	With Warbeck's soul would pawn his own to hell
	To be revenged on my poor sister!

Frank	Slaves!
	A pair of merciless slaves! speak no more of them.

Katherine	I think this talking hurts you.

Frank	Does me no good, I'm sure;
	I pay for't everywhere.

Katherine	I have done, then.
	Eat, if you cannot sleep; you have these two days
	Not tasted any food.--Jane, is it ready?

Frank	What's ready? what's ready?

Katherine	I have made ready a roasted chicken for you:

	[Enter Maid with chicken]

	Sweet, wilt thou eat?

Frank	A pretty stomach on a sudden; yes.--
	There's one in the house can play upon a lute;
	Good girl, let's hear him too.

Katherine	You shall, dear brother. [Exit Maid]
	Would I were a musician, you should hear
	How I would feast your ear! [Lute plays within]
	--stay mend your pillow,
	And raise you higher.

Frank	I am up too high,
	Am I not, sister now?

Katherine	No, no; 'tis well.
	Fall-to, fall-to.--A knife! here's never a knife.
	Brother, I'll look out yours. [Takes up his vest]

	[Enter the Dog, shrugging as it were for joy, and dances]

Frank	Sister, O, sister,
	I'm ill upon a sudden, and can eat nothing.

Katherine	In very deed you shall: the want of food
	Makes you so faint. Ha! [Sees the bloody knife]--here's none in your pocket;
	I'll go fetch a knife. [Exit hastily]

Frank	Will you?--'tis well, all's well.

	[Frank searches first one pocket, then the other, finds the knife, and then
	lies down.--The Dog runs off.--The spirit of Susan comes to the
	bed's side; Frank stares at it, and then turns to the other side, but the
	spirit is there too. Meanwhile enter Winnifred as a page, and stands sadly
	at the bed's foot--Frank affrighted sits up. The spirit vanishes]

Frank	What art thou?

Winnifred	A lost creature.

Frank	So am I too.--Win?
	Ah, my she-page!

Winnifred	For your sake I put on
	A shape that's false; yet do I wear a heart
	True to you as your own.

Frank	Would mine and thine
	Were fellows in one house!--Kneel by me here.
	On this side now! how dar'st thou come to mock me
	On both sides of my bed?

Winnifred	When?

Frank	But just now:
	Outface me, stare upon me with strange postures,
	Turn my soul wild by a face in which were drawn
	A thousand ghosts leapt newly from their graves
	To pluck me into a winding-sheet!

Winnifred	Believe it,
	I came no nearer to you than yon place
	At your bed's feet; and of the house had leave,
	Calling myself your horse-boy, in to come,
	And visit my sick master.

Frank	Then 'twas my fancy;
	Some windmill in my brains for want of sleep.

Winnifred	Would I might never sleep, so you could rest!
	But you have plucked a thunder on your head,
	Whose noise cannot cease suddenly: why should you
	Dance at the wedding of a second wife,
	When scarce the music which you heard at mine
	Had ta'en a farewell of you? O, this was ill!
	And they who thus can give both hands away
	In th' end shall want their best limbs.

Frank	Winnifred,--
	The chamber-door's fast?

Winnifred	Yes.

Frank	Sit thee, then, down;
	And when thou'st heard me speak, melt into tears:
	Yet I, to save those eyes of thine from weeping,
	Being to write a story of us two.
	Instead of ink dipped my sad pen in blood.
	When of thee I took leave, I went abroad
	Only for pillage, as a freebooter,
	What gold soe'er I got to make it thine.
	To please a father I have Heaven displeased;
	Striving to cast two wedding-rings in one,
	Through my bad workmanship I now have none;
	I have lost her and thee.

Winnifred	I know she's dead;
	But you have me still.

Frank	Nay, her this hand
	Murdered; and so I lose thee too.

Winnifred	O me!

Frank	Be quiet; for thou my evidence art,
	Jury, and judge: sit quiet, and I'll tell all.

	[While they are conversing in a low tone, enter at one door Carter and
	Katherine, at the other the Dog, pawing softly at Frank]

Katherine	I have run madding up and down to find you,
	Being laden with the heaviest news that ever
	Poor daughter carried.

Carter	Why? is the boy dead?

Katherine	Dead, sir!
	O, father, we are cozened: you are told
	The murderer sings in prison, and he laughs here.
	This villain killed my sister see else, see,

	[Takes up his vest, and shows the knife to her father, who secures it]

	A bloody knife in's pocket!

Carter	Bless me, patience!

Frank	[Seeing them] The knife, the knife, the knife!

Katherine	What knife? [Exit the	Dog]

Frank	To cut my chicken up, my chicken;
	Be you my carver, father.

Carter	That I will.

Katherine	How the devil steels our brows after doing ill!

Frank	My stomach and my sight are taken from me;
	All is not well within me,

Carter	I believe thee, boy; I that have seen so many moons clap their
	horns on other men's foreheads to strike them sick, yet mine to scape and be
	well; I that never cast away a fee upon urinals, but am as sound as an honest
	man's conscience when he's dying; I should cry out as thou dost, "All is not
	well within me," felt I but the bag of thy imposthumes. Ah, poor villain! ah, my
	wounded rascal! all my grief is, I have now small hope of thee,

Frank	Do the surgeons say my wounds are dangerous then?

Carter	Yes, yes, and there's no way with thee but one.

Frank	Would he were here to open them!

Carter	I'll go to fetch him; I'll make an holiday to see thee as I wish.

Frank	A wondrous kind old man!

Winnifred	[Aside to	Frank] Your sin's the blacker
	So to abuse his goodness.--[Aloud] Master, how do you?

Frank	Pretty well now, boy; I have such odd qualms Come cross my
	stomach.--I'll fall-to; boy, cut me--

Winnifred	[Aside] You have cut me, I'm sure;--A leg or wing, sir?

Frank	No, no, no; a wing--
	[Aside] Would I had wings but to soar up yon tower!
	But here's a clog that hinders me.

	[Re-enter Carter, with Servants bearing the body of Susan in a coffin]

	What's that?

Carter	That! what? O, now I see her; 'tis a young wench, my daughter,
	sirrah, sick to the death; and hearing thee to be an excellent rascal for
	letting blood, she looks out at a casement, and cries, "Help, help! stay that
	man! him I must have or none."

Frank	For pity's sake, remove her: see, she stares
	With one broad open eye still in my face!

Carter	Thou putted'st both hers out, like a villain as thou art; yet,
	see! she is willing to lend thee one again to find out the murderer, and that's
	thyself.

Frank	Old man, thou liest!

Carter	So shalt thou--in the gaol.--
	Run for officers.

Katherine	O, thou merciless slave!She was--though yet above
	ground--in her grave
	To me; but thou hast torn it up again--
	Mine eyes, too much drowned, now must feel more rain.

Carter	Fetch officers.

	[Exit Katherine and Servants with the body of Susan]

Frank	For whom?

Carter	For thee, sirrah, sirrah! Some knives have foolish posies upon
	them, but thine has a villainous one; look! [Showing the bloody knife] O,
	it is enamelled with the heart-blood of thy hated wife, my belov&egrave;d
	daughter! What sayest thou to this evidence? is't not sharp? does't not strike
	home? Thou canst not answer honestly and without a trembling heart to this one
	point, this terrible bloody point.

Winnifred	I beseech you, sir,
	Strike him no more; you see he's dead already.

Carter	O, sir, you held his horses; you are as arrant a rogue as he: up
	go you too.

Frank	As you're a man, throw not upon that woman Your loads of
	tyranny, for she is innocent.

Carter	How! how! a woman! Is't grown to a fashion for women in all
	countries to wear the breeches?

Winnifred	I'm not as my disguise speaks me, sir, his page, But his first,
	only wife, his lawful wife.

Carter	How! how! more fire i' th' bed-straw!

Winnifred	The wrongs which singly fell upon your daughter
	On me are multiplied; she lost a life,
	But I an husband, and myself must lose
	If you call him to a bar for what he has done.

Carter	He has done it, then?

Winnifred	Yes, 'tis confessed to me.

Frank	Dost thou betray me?

Winnifred	O, pardon me, dear heart! I'm mad to lose thee,
	And know not what I speak; but if thou didst,
	I must arraign this father for two sins,
	Adultery and murder.

	[Re-enter Katherine]

Katherine	Sir, they are come.

Carter	Arraign me for what thou wilt, all Middlesex knows me better for
	an honest man than the middle of a market-place knows thee for an honest
	woman.--Rise, sirrah, and don your tacklings; rig yourself for the gallows,
	or I'll carry thee thither on my back: your trull shall to the gaol go with you:
	there be as fine Newgate birds as she that can draw him in: pox on's wounds!

Frank	I have served thee, and my wages now are paid;
	Yet my worse punishment shall, I hope, be stayed.

	[Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT V


SCENE I	The Witch's Cottage


	[Enter Mother Sawyer]

	Mother Sawyer. Still wronged by every slave, and not a dog
	Bark in his dame's defence? I am called witch,
	Yet am myself bewitched from doing harm.
	Have I given up myself to thy black lust
	Thus to be scorned? Not see me in three days!
	I'm lost without my Tomalin; prithee come,
	Revenge to me is sweeter far than life;
	Thou art my raven, on whose coal-black wings
	Revenge comes flying to me. O, my best love!
	I am on fire, even in the midst of ice,
	Raking my blood up, till my shrunk knees feel
	Thy curled head leaning on them: come, then, my darling;
	If in the air thou hover'st, fall upon me
	In some dark cloud; and as I oft have seen
	Dragons and serpents in the elements,
	Appear thou now so to me. Art thou i' th' sea?
	Muster-up all the monsters from the deep,
	And be the ugliest of them: so that my bulch
	Show but his swarth cheek to me, let earth cleave
	And break from hell, I care not! Could I run
	Like a swift powder-mine beneath the world,
	Up would I blow it all, to find out thee,
	Though I lay ruined in it. Not yet come!
	I must, then, fall to my old prayer:
	<em>Sanctibicetur nomen tuum</em>
	Not yet come! the worrying of wolves,
	biting of mad dogs, the manges, and
	the--

	[Enter the Dog which is now white]

Dog	How now! whom art thou cursing?

Mother Sawyer	Thee!
	Ha! no, it is my black cur I am cursing
	For not attending on me.

Dog	I am that cur,

Mother Sawyer	Thou liest: hence! come not nigh me.

Dog	Baw, waw!

Mother Sawyer	Why dost thou thus appear to me in white,
	As if thou wert the
	ghost of my dear love?

Dog	I am dogged, and list not to tell thee; yet,--to torment
	thee,--my whiteness puts thee in mind of thy winding-sheet.

Mother Sawyer	Am I near death?

Dog	Yes, if the dog of hell be near thee; when the devil comes to thee
	as a lamb, have at thy throat!

Mother Sawyer	Off, cur!

Dog	He has the back of a sheep, but the belly of an otter; devours by
	sea and land. "Why am I in white?" didst thou not pray to me?

Mother Sawyer	Yes, thou dissembling hell-hound!
	Why now in white more than at other times?

Dog	Be blasted with the news! whiteness is day's footboy, a forerunner
	to light, which shows thy old rivelled face: villanies are stripped naked; the
	witch must be beaten out of her cockpit.

Mother Sawyer	Must she? she shall not: thou'rt a lying spirit:
	Why to mine eyes art thou a flag of truce?
	I am at peace with none; 'tis the black colour,
	Or none, which I fight under: I do not like
	Thy puritan paleness; glowing furnaces
	Are far more hot than they which flame outright.
	If thou my old dog art, go and bite such
	As I shall set thee on.

Dog	I will not.

Mother Sawyer	I'll sell myself to twenty thousand fiends
	To have thee torn in pieces, then.

Dog	Thou canst not; thou art so ripe to fall into hell, that no more
	of my kennel will so much as bark at him that hangs thee.

Mother Sawyer	I shall run mad.

Dog	Do so, thy time is come to curse, and rave, and die; the glass of
	thy sins is full, and it must run out at gallows.

Mother Sawyer	It cannot, ugly cur; I'll confess nothing;
	And not confessing,
	who dare come and swear
	I have bewitched them? I'll not confess one mouthful.

Dog	Choose, and be hanged or burned.

Mother Sawyer	Spite of the devil and thee,
	I'll muzzle up my tongue from telling tales.

Dog	Spite of thee and the devil, thou'lt be condemned.

Mother Sawyer	Yes! when?

Dog	And ere the executioner catch thee full in's claws, thou'lt
	confess all.

Mother Sawyer	Out, dog!

Dog	Out, witch! thy trial is at hand:
	Our prey being had, the devil does laughing stand.

	[Runs aside]

	[Enter Old Banks, Ratcliffe, and Countrymen]

Old Banks	She's here; attach her.--Witch you must go with us.
	[They seize her]

Mother Sawyer	Whither? to hell?

Old Banks	No, no, no, old crone; your mittimus shall be made thither,
	but your own jailors shall receive you.--Away with her!

Mother Sawyer	My Tommy! my sweet Tom-boy! O, thou dog!
	Dost thou now fly to thy kennel and forsake me?
	Plagues and consumptions-- [She is carried off]

Dog	Ha, ha, ha, ha!
	Let not the world witches or devils condemn;
	They follow us, and then we follow them.

	[Enter Cuddy Banks]

Cuddy Banks	%%I would fain meet with mine ningle once more: he has had a claw
	amongst 'em: my rival that loved my wench is like to be hanged like an innocent.
	A kind cur where he takes, but where he takes not, a dogged rascal; I know the
	villain loves me. [The Dog barks] No! art thou there? [Seeing the
	Dog] that's Tom's voice, but 'tis not he; this is a dog of another hair, this.
	Bark, and not speak to me? not Tom, then; there's as much difference betwixt Tom
	and this as betwixt white and black.

Dog	Hast thou forgot me?

Cuddy Banks	That's Tom again.--Prithee, ningle, speak; is thy name Tom?

Dog	Whilst I served my old Dame Sawyer 'twas; I'm gone from her now.

Cuddy Banks	Gone? Away with the witch, then, too! she'll never thrive if thou
	leavest her; she knows no more how to kill a cow, or a horse, or a sow, without
	thee, than she does to kill a goose.

Dog	No, she has done killing now, but must be killed for what she has
	done; she's shortly to be hanged.

Cuddy Banks	Is she? in my conscience, if she be, 'tis thou hast brought her to
	the gallows, Tom.

Dog	Right; I served her to that purpose; 'twas part of my wages.

Cuddy Banks	This was no honest servant's part, by your leave, Tom. This
	remember, I pray you, between you and I; I entertained you ever as a dog, not as
	a devil.

Dog	True;
	And so I used thee doggedly, not devilishly;
	I have deluded thee for sport to laugh at:
	The wench thou seek'st after thou never spak'st with,
	But a spirit in her form, habit, and likeness.
	Ha, ha!

Cuddy Banks	I do not, then, wonder at the change of your garments, if you can
	enter into shapes of women too.

Dog	Any shape, to blind such silly eyes as thine; but chiefly those
	coarse creatures, dog, or cat, hare, ferret, frog, toad.

Cuddy Banks	Louse or flea?

Dog	Any poor vermin.

Cuddy Banks	It seems you devils have poor thin souls, that you can bestow
	yourselves in such small bodies. But, pray you, Tom, one question at
	parting;--I think I shall never see you more;--where do you borrow those
	bodies that are none of your own?--the garment-shape you may hire at
	broker's.

Dog	Why would'st thou know that, fool? it avails thee not.

Cuddy Banks	Only for my mind's sake, Tom, and to tell some of my friends.

Dog	I'll thus much tell thee: thou never art so distant
	From an evil spirit, but that thy oaths,
	Curses, and blasphemies pull him to thine elbow;
	Thou never tell'st a lie, but that a devil
	Is within hearing it; thy evil purposes
	Are ever haunted; but when they come to act,--
	As thy tongue slandering, bearing false witness,
	Thy hand stabbing, stealing, cozening, cheating,--
	He's then within thee: thou play'st, he bets upon thy part.
	Although thou lose, yet he will gain by thee.

Cuddy Banks	Ay? then he comes in the shape of a rook?

Dog	The old cadaver of some self-strangled wretch
	We sometimes borrow, and appear human;
	The carcass of some disease-slain strumpet
	We varnish fresh, and wear as her first beauty.
	Did'st never hear? if not, it has been done;
	An hot luxurious lecher in his twines,
	When he has thought to clip his dalliance,
	There has provided been for his embrace
	A fine hot flaming devil in her place.

Cuddy Banks	Yes, I am partly a witness to this; but I never could embrace her;
	I thank thee for that, Tom. Well, again I thank thee, Tom, for all this counsel;
	without a fee too! there's few lawyers of thy mind now. Certainly, Tom, I begin
	to pity thee.

Dog	Pity me! for what?

Cuddy Banks	Were it not possible for thee to become an honest dog
	yet?--'Tis a base life that you lead, Tom, to serve witches, to kill
	innocent children, to kill harmless cattle, to stroy corn and fruit, etc.:
	'twere better yet to be a butcher and kill for yourself.

Dog	Why, these are all my delights, my pleasures, fool.

Cuddy Banks	Or, Tom, if you could give your mind to ducking,--I know you
	can swim, fetch, and carry,--some shopkeeper in London would take great
	delight in you, and be a tender master over you: or if you have a mind to the
	game either at bull or bear, I think I could prefer you to Moll Cutpurse.

Dog	Ha, ha! I should kill all the game,--bulls, bears, dogs and
	all; not a cub to be left.

Cuddy Banks	You could do, Tom; but you must play fair; you should be staved-
	off else. Or if your stomach did better like to serve in some nobleman's,
	knight's, or gentleman's kitchen, if you could brook the wheel and turn the
	spit--your labour could not be much--when they have roast meat, that's
	but once or twice in the week at most: here you might lick your own toes very
	well. Or if you could translate yourself into a lady's arming puppy, there you
	might lick sweet lips, and do many pretty offices; but to creep under an old
	witch's coats, and suck like a great puppy! fie upon't!--I have heard
	beastly things of you, Tom.

Dog	Ha, ha!
	The worse thou heard'st of me the better 'tis
	Shall I serve thee, fool, at the selfsame rate?

Cuddy Banks	No, I'll see thee hanged, thou shalt be damned first! I know thy
	qualities too well, I'll give no suck to such whelps; therefore henceforth I
	defy thee. Out, and avaunt!

Dog	Nor will I serve for such a silly soul:
	I am for greatness now, corrupted greatness;
	There I'll shug in, and get a noble countenance;
	Serve some Briarean footcloth-strider,
	That has an hundred hands to catch at bribes,
	But not a finger's nail of charity.
	Such, like the dragon's tail, shall pull down hundreds
	To drop and sink with him: I'll stretch myself.
	And draw this bulk small as a silver wire,
	Enter at the least pore tobacco-fume
	Can make a breach for:--hence, silly fool!
	I scorn to prey on such an atom soul.

Cuddy Banks	Come out, come out, you cur! I will beat thee out of the bounds of
	Edmonton, and to-morrow we go in procession, and after thou shalt never come in
	again: if thou goest to London, I'll make thee go about by Tyburn, stealing in
	by Thieving Lane. If thou canst rub thy shoulder against a lawyer's gown, as
	thou passest by Westminster-hall, do; if not, to the stairs amongst the bandogs,
	take water, and the Devil go with thee!

	[Exit, followed by the Dog barking]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT V


SCENE II	London. The neighbourhood of Tyburn


	[Enter Justice, Sir Arthur, Somerton, Warbeck, Carter, and Katherine]

Justice	%%Sir Arthur, though the bench hath mildly censured your errors,
	yet you have indeed been the instrument that wrought all their misfortunes; I
	would wish you paid down your fine speedily and willingly

Sir Arthur	I'll need no urging to it.

Carter	%%If you should, 'twere a shame to you; for if I should speak my
	conscience, you are worthier to be hanged of the two, all things considered; and
	now make what you can of it: but I am glad these gentlemen are freed.

Warbeck	We knew our innocence.

Somerton	And therefore feared it not.

Katherine	But I am glad that I have you safe.

	[A noise within]

Justice	How now! what noise is that?

Carter	Young Frank is going the wrong way. Alas, poor youth! now I begin
	to pity him.

	[Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


ACT V


SCENE III	London. The neighbourhood of Tyburn


	[Enter Frank Thorney and officers with halberds and exeunt]

	[Enter, as to see the execution, Carter, Old Thorney, Katherine, and Winnifred, weeping]

Old Thorney	Here let our sorrows wait him; to press nearer
	The place of his sad death, some apprehensions
	May tempt our grief too much, at height already.--
	Daughter be comforted.

Winnifred	Comfort and I
	Are far too separated to be joined.
	But in eternity: I share too much
	Of him that's going thither.

Carter	Poor woman, 'twas not thy fault; I grieve to see thee weep for him
	that hath my pity too.

Winnifred	My fault was lust, my punishment was shame.
	Yet I am happy that my soul is free
	Both from consent, foreknowledge, and intent
	Of any murder but of mine own honour,
	Restored again by a fair satisfaction,
	And since not to be wounded.

Old Thorney	Daughter, grieve not
	For that necessity forceth;
	Rather resolve to conquer it with patience.--
	Alas, she faints!

Winnifred	My griefs are strong upon me;
	My weakness scarce can bear them.

	[Within] Away with her! hang her, 'witch!

	[Enter to execution Mother Sawyer; Officers with halberds, followed by
	a crowd of country people]

Carter	%%The witch, that instrument of mischief! Did not she witch the
	devil into my son-in-law, when he killed my poor daughter?--Do you hear,
	Mother Sawyer?

Mother Sawyer	What would you have?
	Cannot a poor old woman have your leave
	To die without vexation?

Carter	%%Did not you bewitch Frank to kill his wife? he could never have
	done't without the devil.

Mother Sawyer	Who doubts it? but is every devil mine?
	Would I had one now whom I might command
	To tear you all in pieces? Tom would have done't
	Before he left me.

Carter	Thou didst bewitch Ann Ratcliffe to kill herself.

Mother Sawyer	Churl, thou liest; I never did her hurt:
	Would you were all as near your ends as I am,
	That gave evidence against me for it!

First Countryman	I'll be sworn, Master Carter, she bewitched Gammer Washbowl's
	sow to cast her pigs a day before she would have farrowed: yet they were sent up
	to London and sold for as good Westminster dog-pigs at Bartholomew fair as ever
	great-bellied ale-wife longed for.

Mother Sawyer	These dogs will mad me: I was well resolved
	To die in my
	repentance. Though 'tis true
	I would live longer if I might, yet since
	I cannot, pray torment me not; my conscience
	Is settled as it shall be: all take heed
	How they believe the devil; at last he'll cheat you.

Carter	Thou'dst best confess all truly.

Mother Sawyer	Yet again?
	Have I scarce breath enough to say my prayers,
	And would you force me to spend that in bawling?
	Bear witness, I repent all former evil;
	There is no damn&egrave;d conjuror like the devil.

All	Away with her, away! [She is led off]

	[Enter Frank to execution, Officers, &c.]

Old Thorney	Here's the sad object which I yet must meet
	With hope of comfort, if a repentant end
	Make him more happy than misfortune would
	Suffer him here to be.

Frank	Good sirs, turn from me:
	You will revive affliction almost killed
	With my continual sorrow.

Old Thorney	O, Frank, Frank!
	Would I had sunk in mine own wants, or died
	But one bare minute ere thy fault was acted!

Frank	To look upon your sorrows executes me
	Before my execution.

Winnifred	Let me pray you, Sir--

Frank	Thou much-wronged woman, I must sigh for thee,
	As he that's only loth to leave the world
	For that he leaves thee in it unprovided,
	Unfriended; and for me to beg a pity
	From any man to thee when I am gone
	Is more than I can hope; nor, to say truth,
	Have I deserved it: but there is a payment
	Belongs to goodness from the great exchequer
	Above; it will not fail thee, Winnifred;
	Be that thy comfort.

Old Thorney	Let it be thine too,
	Untimely-lost young man.

Frank	He is not lost
	Who bears his peace within him: had I spun
	My web of life out at full length, and dreamed
	Away my many years in lusts, in surfeits,
	Murders of reputations, gallant sins
	Commended or approved; then, though I had
	Died easily, as great and rich men do,
	Upon my own bed, not compelled by justice,
	You might have mourn'd for me indeed; my miseries
	Had been as everlasting as remediless:
	But now the law hath not arraigned, condemned
	With greater rigour my unhappy fact
	Than I myself have every little sin
	My memory can reckon from my childhood:
	A court hath been kept here, where I am found
	Guilty; the difference is, my impartial judge
	Is much more gracious than my faults
	Are monstrous to be named; yet they are monstrous.

Old Thorney	Here's comfort in this penitence.

Winnifred	It speaks
	How truly you are reconciled, and quickens
	My dying comfort, that was near expiring
	With my last breath: now this repentance makes thee
	As white as innocence; and my first sin with thee,
	Since which I knew none like it, by my sorrow
	Is clearly cancelled. Might our souls together
	Climb to the height of their eternity,
	And there enjoy what earth denied us, happiness!
	But since I must survive, and be the monument
	Of thy loved memory, I will preserve it
	With a religious care, and pay thy ashes
	A widow's duty, calling that end best
	Which, though it stain the name, makes the soul blest.

Frank	Give me thy hand, poor woman; do not weep.
	Farewell: thou dost forgive me?

Winnifred	'Tis my part
	To use that language.

Frank	O, that my example
	Might teach the world hereafter what a curse
	Hangs on their heads who rather choose to marry
	A goodly portion than a dower of virtues!--
	Are you there, gentlemen? there is not one
	Amongst you whom I have not wronged; [to Carter] you most:
	I robbed you of a daughter; but she is
	In Heaven; and I must suffer for it willingly.

Carter	Ay, ay, she's in Heaven, and I am so glad to see thee so well
	prepared to follow her. I forgive thee with all my heart; if thou hadst not had
	ill counsel, thou wouldst not have done as thou didst; the more shame for them.

Somerton	Spare your excuse to me, I do conceive
	What you would speak; I would you could as easily
	Make satisfaction to the law as to my wrongs.
	I am sorry for you.

Warbeck	And so am I,
	And heartily forgive you.

Katherine	I will pray for you
	For her sake, who I'm sure did love you dearly.

Sir Arthur	Let us part friendly too; I am ashamed
	Of my part in thy wrongs.

Frank	You are all merciful,
	And send me to my grave in peace. Sir Arthur,
	Heaven send you a new heart!--Lastly, to you, sir;
	And though I have deserved not to be called
	Your son, yet give me leave upon my knees
	To beg a blessing. [Kneels]

Old Thorney	Take it; let me wet
	Thy cheeks with the last tears my griefs have left me.
	O, Frank, Frank, Frank!

Frank	Let me beseech you, gentlemen,
	To comfort my old father, keep him with ye;
	Love this distress&egrave;d widow; and as often
	As you remember what a graceless man
	I was, remember likewise that these are
	Both free, both worthy of a better fate
	Than such a son or husband as I have been.
	All help me with your prayers.--On, on; 'tis just
	That law should purge the guilt of blood and lust.

	[Exit, led off by the Officers]

Carter	Go thy ways; I did not think to have shed one tear for thee, but
	thou hast made me water my plants spite of my heart.--Master Thorney, cheer
	up, man; whilst I can stand by you, you shall not want help to keep you from
	falling: we have lost our children, both on's, the wrong way, but we cannot help
	it; better or worse, 'tis now as 'tis.

Old Thorney	I thank you, sir; you are more kind than I Have cause to hope
	or look for.

Carter	Master Somerton, is Kate yours or no?

Somerton	We are agreed.

Katherine	And but my faith is passed, I should fear to be married, husbands
	are so cruelly unkind. Excuse me that I am thus troubled.

Somerton	Thou shalt have no cause.

Justice	Take comfort, Mistress Winnifred: Sir Arthur,
	For his abuse to you and to your husband,
	Is by the bench enjoined to pay you down
	A thousand marks.

Sir Arthur	Which I will soon discharge.

Winnifred	Sir, 'tis too great a sum to be employed
	Upon my funeral.

Carter	%%Come, come; if luck had served, Sir Arthur, and every man had his
	due, somebody might have tottered ere this, without paying fines, like it as you
	list,--Come to me, Winnifred; shalt be welcome.--Make much of her, Kate,
	I charge you: I do not think but she's a good wench, and hath had wrong as well
	as we. So let's every man home to Edmonton with heavy hearts, yet as merry as we
	can, though not as we would.

Justice	%%Join, friends, in sorrow; make of all the best: Harms past may be
	lamented, not redrest. [Exeunt]


	The Witch of Edmonton


EPILOGUE


	[Enter Winnifred]

Winnifred	I am a widow still, and must not sort
	A second choice without a good report;
	Which though some widows find, and few deserve,
	Yet I dare not presume, but will not swerve
	From modest hopes. All noble tongues are free;
	The gentle may speak one kind word for me.


	Double Falsehood


Dramatis person&aelig;

	Julio


	Double Falsehood


Prologue


	[Enter Prologue]

Prologue	As in some Region, where indulgent Skies
	Enrich the Soil, a thousand Plants arise
	Frequent and bold; a thousand Landskips meet
	Our ravisht View, irregularly sweet:
	We gaze, divided, now on These, now Those;
	While All one beauteous Wilderness compose.

	Such Shakespeare&rsquo;s Genius was: &mdash; Let Britons boast
	The glorious Birth, and, eager, strive who most
	Shall celebrate his Verse; for while we raise
	Trophies of Fame to him, ourselves we praise:
	Display the Talents of a British mind,
	Where All is great, free, open, unconfin&rsquo;d.
	Be it our Pride, to reach his daring Flight;
	And relish Beauties, he alone could write.

	Most modern Authors, fearful to aspire,
	With Imitation cramp their genial Fire;
	The well-schemed Plan keep strict before their Eyes,

	Dwell on Proportions, trifling Decencies;
	While noble Nature all neglected lies.
	Nature, that claims Precedency of Place,
	Perfection&rsquo;s Basis, and essential Grace!
	Nature so intimately Shakespeare knew,
	From her first Springs his Sentiments he drew;
	Most greatly wild they flow; and, when most wild, yet true.

	While These, secure in what the Criticks teach,
	Of servile Laws still dread the dangerous Breach;
	His vast, unbounded, Soul disdain&rsquo;d their Rule,
	Above the Precepts of the Pedant School!

	Oh! could the Bard, revisiting our Light,
	Receive these Honours done his Shade To-night,
	How would he bless the Scene this Age displays,
	Transcending his Eliza&rsquo;s golden Days!
	When great Augustus fills the British Throne,
	And his lov&rsquo;d Consort makes the Muse her own.
	How would he joy, to see fair Merit&rsquo;s Claim
	Thus answer&rsquo;d in his own reviving Fame!
	How cry with Pride &mdash; Oblivion I forgive;
	This my last Child to latest Times shall live:
	Lost to the World, well for the Birth it stay&rsquo;d
	To this auspicious &AElig;ra well delay&rsquo;d.


	Double Falsehood


ACT I


SCENE I	The Province of Andalusia in Spain, a Royal Palace


	[Enter Duke Angelo, Roderick, and Courtiers]

Roderick	My gracious Father, this unwonted Strain
	Visits my heart with Sadness.

Duke Angelo	Why, my Son?
	Making my Death familiar to my Tongue
	Digs not my Grave one Jot before the Date.
	I&rsquo;ve worn the Garland of my Honours long,
	And would not leave it wither&rsquo;d to thy Brow,
	But flourishing and green; worthy the Man,
	Who, with my Dukedoms, heirs my better Glories.

Roderick	This Praise, which is my Pride, spreads me with Blushes.

Duke Angelo	Think not, that I can flatter thee, my Roderick;
	Or let the Scale of Love o&rsquo;er-poize my Judgment.
	Like a fair Glass of Retrospection, Thou
	Reflect&rsquo;st the Virtues of my early Youth;
	Making my old Blood mend its Pace with Transport:
	While fond Henriquez, thy irregular Brother,
	Sets the large Credit of his Name at Stake,
	A Truant to my Wishes, and his Birth.
	His Taints of Wildness hurt our nicer Honour,
	And call for swift Reclaim.

Roderick	I trust, my Brother
	Will, by the Vantage of his cooler Wisdom,
	E&rsquo;er-while redeem the hot Escapes of Youth,
	And court Opinion with a golden Conduct.

Duke Angelo	Be Thou a Prophet in that kind Suggestion!
	But I, by Fears weighing his unweigh&rsquo;d Course,
	Interpret for the Future from the Past.
	And strange Misgivings, why he hath of late
	By Importunity, and strain&rsquo;d Petition,
	Wrested our Leave of Absence from the Court,
	Awake Suspicion. Thou art inward with him;
	And, haply, from the bosom&rsquo;d Trust can&rsquo;st shape
	Some formal Cause to qualify my Doubts.

Roderick	Why he hath press&rsquo;d this Absence, Sir, I know not;
	But have his Letters of a modern Date,
	Wherein by Julio, good Camillo&rsquo;s Son,
	(Who, as he says, shall follow hard upon;
	And whom I with the growing Hour expect:)
	He doth sollicit the Return of Gold
	To purchase certain Horse, that like him well.
	This Julio he encounter&rsquo;d first in France,
	And lovingly commends him to my Favour;
	Wishing, I would detain him some few Days,
	To know the Value of his well-placed Trust.

Duke Angelo	O, do it, Roderick; and assay to mould him
	An honest Spy upon thy Brother&rsquo;s Riots.

	Make us acquainted when the Youth arrives;
	We&rsquo;ll see this Julio, and he shall from Us
	Receive the secret Loan his Friend requires.
	Bring him to Court.


	Double Falsehood


ACT I


SCENE II	Prospect of a Village at a Distance


	[Enters Camillo with a Letter]

Camillo	How comes the Duke to take such Notice of my Son, that he must needs have him in Court, and I must send him upon the View of his Letter? &mdash; Horsemanship! What Horsemanship has Julio? I think, he can no more but gallop a Hackney, unless he practised Riding in France. It may be, he did so; for he was there a good Continuance. But I have not heard him speak much of his Horsemanship. That&rsquo;s no Matter: if he be not a good Horseman, all&rsquo;s one in such a Case, he must bear. Princes are absolute; they may do what they will in any Thing, save what they cannot do.

	[Enters Julio]

	O, come on, Sir; read this Paper: no more Ado, but read it: It must not be answer&rsquo;d by my Hand, nor yours, but, in Gross, by your Person; your sole Person. Read aloud.

Julio	&rsquo;Please you, to let me first o&rsquo;erlook it, Sir.

Camillo	I was this other day in a Spleen against your new Suits: I do now think, some Fate was the Taylour that hath fitted them: for, this Hour, they are for the Palace of the Duke Angelo &mdash; Your Father&rsquo;s House is too dusty.

Julio	Hem!&mdash; to Court? Which is the better, to serve a Mistress, or a Duke? I am sued to be his Slave, and I sue to be Leonora&rsquo;s. [ Aside]

Camillo	You shall find your Horsemanship much praised there; Are you so good a Horseman?

Julio	I have been,
	E&rsquo;er now, commended for my Seat, or mock&rsquo;d.

Camillo	Take one Commendation with another, every Third&rsquo;s a Mock.&mdash; Affect not therefore to be praised. Here&rsquo;s a deal of Command and Entreaty mixt; there&rsquo;s no denying; you must go, peremptorily he inforces That.

Julio	What Fortune soever my Going shall encounter, cannot be good Fortune; What I part withal unseasons any other Goodness. [Aside]

Camillo	You must needs go; he rather conjures, than importunes.

Julio	[Aside] No moving of my Love-Suit to him now?&mdash;

Camillo	Great Fortunes have grown out of less Grounds.

Julio	What may her Father think of me, who expects to be sollicited this very Night? [Aside]

Camillo	Those scatter&rsquo;d Pieces of Virtue, which are in him, the Court will solder together, varnish, and rectify.

Julio	He will surely think I deal too slightly, or unmannerly, or foolishly, indeed; nay, dishonestly; to bear him in hand with my Father&rsquo;s Consent, who yet hath not been touch&rsquo;d with so much as a Request to it. [Aside]

Camillo	Well, Sir, have you read it over?

Julio	Yes, Sir.

Camillo	And consider&rsquo;d it?

Julio	As I can.

Camillo	If you are courted by good Fortune, you must go.

Julio	So it please You, Sir.

Camillo	By any Means, and to morrow: Is it not there the Limit of his Request?

Julio	It is, Sir.

Camillo	I must bethink me of some Necessaries, without which you might be unfurnish&rsquo;d: And my Supplies shall at all Convenience follow You. Come to my Closet by and by; I would there speak with You.

	[Exit Camillo. Manet Julio solus]

Julio	I do not see that Fervour in the Maid,
	Which Youth and Love should kindle. She consents,
	As &rsquo;twere to feed without an Appetite;
	Tells me, She is content; and plays the Coy one,
	Like Those that subtly make their Words their Ward,
	Keeping Address at Distance. This Affection
	Is such a feign&rsquo;d One, as will break untouch&rsquo;d;
	Dye frosty, e&rsquo;er it can be thaw&rsquo;d; while mine,
	Like to a Clime beneath Hyperion&rsquo;s Eye,
	Burns with one constant Heat.  I&rsquo;ll  strait go to her;
	Pray her to regard my Honour: but She greets me.&mdash;

	[Enter Leonora, and Maid]

	See, how her Beauty doth inrich the Place!
	O, add the Musick of thy charming Tongue,
	Sweet as the Lark that wakens up the Morn,
	And make me think it Paradise indeed.
	I was about to seek thee, Leonora,
	And chide thy Coldness, Love.

Leonora	What says your Father?

Julio	I have not mov&rsquo;d him yet.

Leonora	Then do not, Julio.

Julio	Not move him? Was it not your own Command,
	That his Consent should ratify our Loves?

Leonora	Perhaps, it was: but now I&rsquo;ve chang&rsquo;d my Mind.
	You purchase at too dear a Rate, that puts You
	To wooe me and your Father too: Besides,
	As He, perchance, may say, you shall not have me;
	You, who are so obedient, must discharge me
	Out of your Fancy: Then, you know, &rsquo;twill prove
	My Shame and Sorrow, meeting such Repulse,
	To wear the Willow in my Prime of Youth.

Julio	Oh! do not rack me with these ill-placed Doubts;
	Nor think, tho&rsquo; Age has in my Father&rsquo;s Breast
	Put out Love&rsquo;s Flame, he therefore has not Eyes,
	Or is in Judgment blind. You wrong your Beauties,
	Venus will frown if you disprize her Gifts,
	That have a Face would make a frozen Hermit
	Leap from his Cell, and burn his Beads to kiss it;
	Eyes, that are nothing but continual Births
	Of new Desires in Those that view their Beams.
	You cannot have a Cause to doubt.

Leonora	Why, Julio?
	When you that dare not chuse without your Father,
	And, where you love, you dare not vouch it; must not,
	Though you have Eyes, see with &rsquo;em; &mdash; can I, think you,
	Somewhat, perhaps, infected with your Suit,
	Sit down content to say, You would, but dare not?

Julio	Urge not Suspicions of what cannot be;
	You deal unkindly; mis-becomingly,
	I&rsquo;m loth to say: For All that waits on you,
	Is graced, and graces. &mdash; No Impediment
	Shall bar my Wishes, but such grave Delays
	As Reason presses Patience with; which blunt not,
	But rather whet our Loves. Be patient, Sweet.

Leonora	Patient! What else? My Flames are in the Flint.
	Haply, to lose a Husband I may weep;
	Never, to get One: When I cry for Bondage,
	Let Freedom quit me.

Julio	From what a Spirit comes This?
	I now perceive too plain, you care not for me.
	Duke, I obey thy Summons, be its Tenour
	Whate&rsquo;er it will: If War, I come thy Souldier:
	Or if to waste my silken Hours at Court,
	The Slave of Fashion, I with willing Soul
	Embrace the lazy Banishment for Life;
	Since Leonora has pronounc&rsquo;d my Doom.

Leonora	What do you mean? Why talk you of the Duke?
	Wherefore of War, or Court, or Banishment?

Julio	How this new Note is grown of me, I know not;
	But the Duke writes for Me. Coming to move
	My Father in our Bus&rsquo;ness, I did find him
	Reading this Letter; whose Contents require
	My instant Service, and Repair to Court.

Leonora	Now I perceive the Birth of these Delays;
	Why Leonora was not worth your Suit.
	Repair to Court? Ay, there you shall, perhaps,
	(Rather, past Doubt;) behold some choicer Beauty,
	Rich in her Charms, train&rsquo;d to the Arts of Soothing,
	Shall prompt you to a Spirit of Hardiness,
	To say, So please you, Father, I have chosen
	This Mistress for my own. &mdash;

Julio	Still you mistake me:
	Ever your Servant I profess my self;
	And will not blot me with a Change, for all
	That Sea and Land inherit.

Leonora	But when go you?

Julio	To morrow, Love; so runs the Duke&rsquo;s Command;
	Stinting our Farewell-kisses, cutting off
	The Forms of Parting, and the Interchange
	Of thousand precious Vows, with Haste too rude.
	Lovers have Things of Moment to debate,
	More than a Prince, or dreaming Statesman, know:
	Such Ceremonies wait on Cupid&rsquo;s Throne.
	Why heav&rsquo;d that Sigh?

Leonora	O Julio, let me whisper
	What, but for Parting, I should blush to tell thee:
	My Heart beats thick with Fears, lest the gay Scene,
	The Splendors of a Court, should from thy Breast
	Banish my Image, kill my Int&rsquo;rest in thee,
	And I be left, the Scoff of Maids, to drop
	A Widow&rsquo;s Tear for thy departed Faith.

Julio	O let Assurance, strong as Words can bind,
	Tell thy pleas&rsquo;d Soul, I will be wond&rsquo;rous faithful;
	True, as the Sun is to his Race of Light,
	As Shade to Darkness, as Desire to Beauty:
	And when I swerve, let Wretchedness o&rsquo;ertake me,
	Great as e&rsquo;er Falshood met, or Change can merit.

Leonora	Enough; I&rsquo;m satisfied: and will remain
	Yours, with a firm and untir&rsquo;d Constancy.
	Make not your Absence long: Old Men are wav&rsquo;ring;
	And sway&rsquo;d by Int&rsquo;rest more than Promise giv&rsquo;n.
	Should some fresh Offer start, when you&rsquo;re away,
	I may be prest to Something, which must put
	My Faith, or my Obedience, to the Rack.

Julio	Fear not, but I with swiftest Wing of Time
	Will labour my Return. And in my Absence,
	My noble Friend, and now our honour&rsquo;d Guest,
	The Lord Henriquez, will in my behalf
	Hang at your Father&rsquo;s Ear, and with kind Hints,
	Pour&rsquo;d from a friendly Tongue, secure my Claim;
	And play the Lover for thy absent Julio.

Leonora	Is there no Instance of a Friend turn&rsquo;d false?
	Take Heed of That: No Love by Proxy, Julio
	My Father&mdash;;

	[Enters Don Bernard]

Don Bernard	What, Julio, in publick? This Wooeing is too urGentleman Is your Father yet moved in the Suit, who must be the prime Unfolder of this Business?

Julio	I have not yet, indeed, at full possess&rsquo;d
	My Father, whom it is my Service follows;
	But only that I have a Wife in Chase.

Don Bernard	Chase! &mdash; Let Chase alone: No Matter for That.&mdash; You may halt after her, whom you profess to pursue, and catch her too; Marry, not unless your Father let you slip. &mdash; Briefly, I desire you, (for she tells me, my Instructions shall be both Eyes and Feet to her;) no farther to insist in your Requiring, &rsquo;till, as I have formerly said, Camillo make known to Me, that his good Liking goes along with Us; which but once breath&rsquo;d, all is done; &rsquo;till when, the Business has no Life, and cannot find a Beginning.

Julio	Sir, I will know his Mind, e&rsquo;er I taste Sleep:
	At Morn, you shall be learn&rsquo;d in his Desire.
	I take my Leave. &mdash; O virtuous Leonora,
	Repose, sweet as thy Beauties, seal thy Eyes;
	Once more, adieu. I have thy Promise, Love;
	Remember, and be faithful. [Ex. Julio]

Don Bernard	%%His Father is as unsettled, as he is wayward, in his Disposition.
	If I thought young Julio&rsquo;s Temper were not mended by the Mettal of his Mother,
	I should be something crazy in giving my Consent to this Match:
	And, to tell you true, if my Eyes might be the Directors to your Mind,
	I could in this Town look upon Twenty Men of more delicate Choice.
	I speak not this altogether to unbend your Affections to him:
	But the Meaning of what I say is, that you set such Price upon yourself to him, as Many,
	and much his Betters, would buy you at; (and reckon those Virtues in you at the rate of their
	Scarcity;) to which if he come not up, you remain for a better Mart.

Leonora	My Obedience, Sir, is chain&rsquo;d to your Advice.

Don Bernard	&rsquo;Tis well said, and wisely. I fear, your Lover is a little Folly-tainted; which, shortly after it proves so, you will repent.

Leonora	Sir, I confess, I approve him of all the Men I know; but that Approbation is nothing, &rsquo;till season&rsquo;d by your Consent.

Don Bernard	We shall hear soon what his Father will do, and so proceed accordingly. I have no great Heart to the Business, neither will I with any Violence oppose it: But leave it to that Power which rules in these Conjunctions, and there&rsquo;s an End. Come; haste We homeward, Girl. [Exeunt]


	Double Falsehood


ACT I


SCENE III	The same


	[Enter Henriquez, and Servants with Lights]

Henriquez	Bear the Lights close: &mdash; Where is the Musick, Sirs?

Servant to Henriquez	Coming, my Lord.

Henriquez	Let &rsquo;em not come too near. This Maid,
	For whom my Sighs ride on the Night&rsquo;s chill Vapour,
	Is born most humbly, tho&rsquo; she be as fair
	As Nature&rsquo;s richest Mould and Skill can make her,
	Mended with strong Imagination.
	But what of That? Th&rsquo; Obscureness of her Birth
	Cannot eclipse the Lustre of her Eyes,
	Which make her all One Light.&mdash; Strike up, my Masters;
	But touch the Strings with a religious Softness;
	Teach Sound to languish thro&rsquo; the Night&rsquo;s dull Ear,
	&rsquo;Till Melancholy start from her lazy Couch,
	And Carelessness grow Convert to Attention.

	[Musick plays]

	She drives me into Wonder, when I sometimes
	Hear her discourse; The Court, whereof Report,
	And Guess alone inform her, she will rave at,
	As if she there sev&rsquo;n Reigns had slander&rsquo;d Time.
	Then, when she reasons on her Country State,
	Health, Virtue, Plainness, and Simplicity,
	On Beauties true in Title, scorning Art,
	Freedom as well to do, as think, what&rsquo;s good;
	My Heart grows sick of Birth and empty Rank,
	And I become a Villager in Wish.
	Play on; &mdash; She sleeps too sound: &mdash; Be still, and vanish:
	A Gleam of Day breaks sudden from her Window:
	O Taper, graced by that midnight Hand!

	[Violante appears above at her Window]

Violante	Who is&rsquo;t, that wooes at this late Hour? What are you?

Henriquez	One, who for your dear Sake &mdash;

Violante	Watches the starless Night!
	My Lord Henriquez, or my Ear deceives me.
	You&rsquo;ve had my Answer, and &rsquo;tis more than strange
	You&rsquo;ll combat these Repulses. Good my Lord,
	Be Friend to your own Health; and give me Leave,
	Securing my poor Fame, nothing to pity
	What Pangs you swear you suffer. &rsquo;Tis impossible
	To plant your choice Affections in my Shade,
	At least, for them to grow there.

Henriquez	Why, Violante?

Violante	Alas! Sir, there are Reasons numberless
	To bar your Aims. Be warn&rsquo;d to Hours more wholesom;
	For, These you watch in vain. I have read Stories,
	(I fear, too true ones;) how young Lords, like you,
	Have thus besung mean Windows, rhymed their Sufferings
	Ev&rsquo;n to th&rsquo;Abuse of Things Divine, set up
	Plain Girls, like me, the Idols of their Worship,
	Then left them to bewail their easie Faith,
	And stand the World&rsquo;s Contempt.

Henriquez	Your Memory,
	Too faithful to the Wrongs of few lost Maids,
	Makes Fear too general.

Violante	Let us be homely,
	And let us too be chast, doing you Lords no Wrong;
	But crediting your Oaths with such a Spirit,
	As you profess them: so no Party trusted
	Shall make a losing Bargain. Home, my Lord,
	What you can say, is most unseasonable; what sing,
	Most absonant and harsh: Nay, your Perfume,
	Which I smell hither, cheers not my Sense
	Like our Field-violet&rsquo;s Breath.

Henriquez	Why this Dismission
	Does more invite my Staying.

Violante	Men of your Temper
	Make ev&rsquo;ry Thing their Bramble. But I wrong

	That which I am preserving, my Maid&rsquo;s Name,
	To hold so long Discourse. Your Virtues guide you
	T&rsquo;effect some nobler Purpose! [Ex. Violante]

Henriquez	Stay, bright Maid!
	Come back, and leave me with a fairer Hope.
	She&rsquo;s gone:&mdash; Who am I, that am thus contemn&rsquo;d?
	The second Son to a Prince? &mdash; Yes; well; What then?
	Why, your great Birth forbids you to descend
	To a low Alliance: &mdash;  Her&rsquo;s is the self-same Stuff,
	Whereof we Dukes are made; but Clay more pure!
	And take away my Title, which is acquir&rsquo;d
	Not by my self, but thrown by Fortune on Me,
	Or by the Merit of some Ancestour
	Of singular Quality, She doth inherit
	Deserts t&rsquo;outweigh me. &mdash; I must stoop to gain her;
	Throw all my gay Comparisons aside,
	And turn my proud Additions out of Service,
	Rather than keep them to become my Masters.
	The Dignities we wear, are Gifts of Pride;
	And laugh&rsquo;d at by the Wise, as meer Outside.

	[Exit]


	Double Falsehood


ACT II


SCENE I	The Prospect of a Village


	[Enter Fabian and Lopez; Henriquez on the Opposite Side]

Lopez	Soft, soft you, Neighbour; who comes here? Pray you, slink aside.

Henriquez	Ha! Is it come to this? Oh the Devil, the Devil, the Devil!

Fabian	Lo you now! for Want of the discreet Ladle of a cool Understanding, will this Fellow&rsquo;s Brains boil over.

Henriquez	To have enjoy&rsquo;d her, I would have given &mdash; What?
	All that at present I could boast my own,
	And the Reversion of the World to boot,
	Had the Inheritance been mine: &mdash; And now,
	(Just Doom of guilty Joys!) I grieve as much
	That I have rifled all the Stores of Beauty,
	Those Charms of Innocence and artless Love,
	As just before I was devour&rsquo;d with Sorrow,
	That she refus&rsquo;d my Vows, and shut the Door
	Upon my ardent Longings.

Lopez	Love! Love! &mdash; Downright Love! I see by the Foolishness of it.

Henriquez	Now then to Recollection &mdash; Was&rsquo;t not so? A Promise first of Marriage &mdash; Not a Promise only, for &rsquo;twas bound with Surety of a thousand Oaths; &mdash; and those not light ones neither. &mdash; Yet I remember too, those Oaths could not prevail; th&rsquo; unpractis&rsquo;d Maid trembled to meet my Love: By Force alone I snatch&rsquo;d th&rsquo; imperfect Joy, which now torments my Memory. Not Love, but brutal Violence prevail&rsquo;d; to which the Time, and Place, and Opportunity, were Accessaries most dishonourable. Shame, Shame upon it!

Fabian	What a Heap of Stuff&rsquo;s this &mdash; I fancy, this Fellow&rsquo;s Head would make a good Pedlar&rsquo;s Pack, Neighbour.

Henriquez	%%Hold, let me be severe to my Self, but not unjust. &mdash;
	Was it a Rape then? No. Her Shrieks, her Exclamations then had drove me from her.
	True, she did not consent; as true, she did resist; but still in Silence all. &mdash;
	&rsquo;Twas but the Coyness of a modest Bride, not the Resentment of a ravisht Maid.
	And is the Man yet born, who would not risque the Guilt, to meet the Joy? &mdash;
	The Guilt! that&rsquo;s true &mdash; but then the Danger; the Tears,
	the Clamours of the ruin&rsquo;d Maid, pursuing me to Court.
	That, that, I fear will (as it already does my Conscience) something shatter my Honour.
	What&rsquo;s to be done? But now I have no Choice. Fair Leonora reigns confest the
	Tyrant Queen of my revolted Heart, and Violante seems a short Usurper there. &mdash;
	Julio&rsquo;s already by my Arts remov&rsquo;d.&mdash; O Friendship, how wilt thou answer That?
	Oh, that a Man could reason down this Feaver of the Blood, or sooth with Words the Tumult
	in his Heart! Then, Julio, I might be, indeed, thy Friend.
	They, they only should condemn me, who born devoid of Passion ne&rsquo;er have prov&rsquo;d
	the fierce Disputes &rsquo;twixt Virtue and Desire. While they, who have, like me,
	The loose Escapes of youthful Nature known,
	Must wink at mine, indulgent to their own.

	[Exit Henriquez]

Lopez	This Man is certainly mad, and may be mischievous. Pr&rsquo;ythee, Neighbour, let&rsquo;s follow him; but at some Distance, for fear of the worst.

	[Exeunt, after Henriquez]


	Double Falsehood


ACT II

SCENE II	An Apartment


	[Enters Violante alone]

Violante	Whom shall I look upon without a Blush?
	There&rsquo;s not a Maid, whose Eye with Virgin Gaze
	Pierces not to my Guilt. What will&rsquo;t avail me,
	To say I was not willing;
	Nothing; but that I publish my Dishonour,
	And wound my Fame anew. &mdash; O Misery,
	To seem to all one&rsquo;s Neighbours rich, yet know
	One&rsquo;s Self necessitous and wretched.

	[Enter Maid, and afterwards Gerald with a Letter]

Maid to Violante	Madam, here&rsquo;s Gerald, Lord Henriquez&rsquo; Servant;
	He brings a Letter to you.

Violante	A Letter to me! How I tremble now!
	Your Lord&rsquo;s for Court, good Gerald, is he not?

Gerald	Not so, Lady.

Violante	O my presaging Heart! When goes he then?

Gerald	His Business now steers him some other Course.

Violante	Whither, I pray you? &mdash; How my Fears torment me!

Gerald	Some two Months Progress.

Violante	Whither, whither, Sir,
	I do beseech you? Good Heav&rsquo;ns, I lose all Patience.
	Did he deliberate this? or was the Business
	But then conceiv&rsquo;d, when it was born?

Gerald	Lady, I know not That; nor is it in the Command I have to wait your Answer. For the perusing the Letter I commend you to your Leisure.

	[Exit Gerald]

Violante	To Hearts like mine Suspence is Misery.
	Wax, render up thy Trust: Be the Contents
	Prosp&rsquo;rous, or fatal, they are all my Due.

	[Reads] <I>Our Prudence should now teach us to forget,
	what our Indiscretion has committed. I
	have already made one Step towards this
	Wisdom, by prevailing on Myself to bid you</I>
	Farewell.

	O, Wretched and betray&rsquo;d! Lost Violante!
	Heart-wounded with a thousand perjur&rsquo;d Vows,
	Poison&rsquo;d with studied Language, and bequeath&rsquo;d
	To Desperation. I am now become
	The Tomb of my own Honour: a dark Mansion,
	For Death alone to dwell in. I invite thee,
	Consuming Desolation, to this Temple,
	Now fit to be thy Spoil: the ruin&rsquo;d Fabrick,
	Which cannot be repair&rsquo;d, at once o&rsquo;er-throw.
	What must I do? &mdash; But That&rsquo;s not worth my Thought:
	I will commend to Hazard all the Time
	That I shall spend hereafter: Farewel, my Father,
	Whom  I&rsquo;ll  no more offend: and Men, adieu,
	Whom  I&rsquo;ll  no more believe: and Maids, adieu,
	Whom  I&rsquo;ll  no longer shame. The Way I go,
	As yet I know not. &mdash; Sorrow be my Guide.

	[Exit Violante]


	Double Falsehood


ACT II


SCENE III	Prospect of a Village, before Don Bernard&rsquo;s House


	[Enters Henriquez]

Henriquez	Where were the Eyes, the Voice, the various Charms,
	Each beauteous Particle, each nameless Grace,
	Parents of glowing Love? All These in Her,
	It seems, were not: but a Disease in Me,
	That fancied Graces in her. &mdash; Who ne&rsquo;er beheld
	More than a Hawthorne, shall have Cause to say
	The Cedar&rsquo;s a tall Tree; and scorn the Shade,
	The lov&rsquo;d Bush once had lent him. Soft! mine Honour
	Begins to sicken in this black Reflection.
	How can it be, that with my Honour safe
	I should pursue Leonora for my Wife?
	That were accumulating Injuries,
	To Violante first, and now to Julio;
	To her a perjur&rsquo;d Wretch, to him perfidious;
	And to myself in strongest Terms accus&rsquo;d
	Of murth&rsquo;ring Honour wilfully, without which
	My Dog&rsquo;s the Creature of the nobler Kind. &mdash;
	But Pleasure is too strong for Reason&rsquo;s Curb;
	And Conscience sinks o&rsquo;er-power&rsquo;d with Beauty&rsquo;s Sweets.
	Come, Leonora, Authress of my Crime,
	Appear, and vindicate thy Empire here;
	Aid me to drive this ling&rsquo;ring Honour hence,
	And I am wholly thine.

	[Enter to him, Don Bernard and Leonora]

Don Bernard	Fye, my good Lord; why would you wait without?
	If you suspect your Welcome, I have brought
	My Leonora to assure you of it. [Henriquez Salutes Leonora]

Henriquez	O Kiss, sweet as the Odours of the Spring,
	But cold as Dews that dwell on Morning Flow&rsquo;rs!
	Say, Leonora, has your Father conquer&rsquo;d?
	Shall Duty then at last obtain the Prize,
	Which you refus&rsquo;d to Love? And shall Henriquez
	Owe all his Happiness to good Bernardo?
	Ah! no; I read my Ruin in your Eyes:
	That Sorrow, louder than a thousand Tongues,
	Pronounces my Despair.

Don Bernard	Come, Leonora,
	You are not now to learn, this noble Lord,
	(Whom but to name, restores my failing Age)
	Has with a Lover&rsquo;s Eye beheld your Beauty;
	Thro&rsquo; which his Heart speaks more than Language can;
	It offers Joy and Happiness to You,
	And Honour to our House. Imagine then
	The Birth and Qualities of him that loves you;
	Which when you know, you cannot rate too dear.

Leonora	My Father, on my Knees I do beseech you
	To pause one Moment on your Daughter&rsquo;s Ruin.
	I vow, my Heart ev&rsquo;n bleeds, that I must thank you
	For your past Tenderness; and yet distrust
	That which is yet behind. Consider, Sir,
	Whoe&rsquo;er&rsquo;s th&rsquo; Occasion of another&rsquo;s Fault,
	Cannot himself be innocent. O, give not
	The censuring World Occasion to reproach
	Your harsh Commands; or to my Charge lay That
	Which most I fear, the Fault of Disobedience.

Don Bernard	Pr&rsquo;ythee, fear neither the One, nor the Other: I tell thee, Girl, there&rsquo;s more Fear than danger. For my own part, as soon as Thou art married to this noble Lord, my Fears will be over.

Leonora	Sir, I should be the vainest of my Sex,
	Not to esteem myself unworthy far
	Of this high Honour. Once there was a Time,
	When to have heard my Lord Henriquez&rsquo; Vows,
	Might have subdued my unexperienc&rsquo;d Heart,
	And made me wholly his. &mdash; But That&rsquo;s now past:
	And my firm-plighted Faith by your Consent
	Was long since given to the injur&rsquo;d Julio.

Don Bernard	Why then, by my Consent e&rsquo;en take it back again. Thou, like a simple Wench, hast given thy Affections to a Fellow, that does not care a Farthing for them. One, that has left thee for a Jaunt to Court; as who should say,  I&rsquo;ll  get a Place now; &rsquo;tis Time enough to marry, when I&rsquo;m turn&rsquo;d out of it.

Henriquez	So, surely, it should seem, most lovely Maid;
	Julio, alas, feels nothing of my Passion:
	His Love is but th&rsquo; Amusement of an Hour,
	A short Relief from Business, or Ambition,
	The Sport of Youth, and Fashion of the Age.
	O! had he known the Hopes, the Doubts, the Ardours,
	Or half the fond Varieties of Passion,
	That play the Tyrant with my tortur&rsquo;d Soul;
	He had not left Thee to pursue his Fortune:
	To practise Cringes in a slavish Circle,
	And barter real Bliss for unsure Honour.

Leonora	Oh, the opposing Wind,
	Should&rsquo;ring the Tide, makes here a fearful Billow:
	I needs must perish in it.&mdash; Oh, my Lord,
	Is it then possible, you can forget
	What&rsquo;s due to your great Name, and princely Birth,
	To Friendship&rsquo;s holy Law, to Faith repos&rsquo;d,
	To Truth, to Honour, and poor injur&rsquo;d Julio?
	O think, my Lord, how much this Julio loves you;
	Recall his Services, his well-try&rsquo;d Faith;
	Think too, this very Hour, where-e&rsquo;er he be,
	Your Favour is the Envy of the Court,
	And secret Triumph of his grateful Heart.
	Poor Julio, how securely thou depend&rsquo;st
	Upon the Faith and Honour of thy Master;
	Mistaken Youth! this very Hour he robs thee
	Of all thy Heart holds dear.&mdash; &rsquo;Tis so Henriquez
	Repays the Merits of unhappy Julio. [Weeps]

Henriquez	My slumb&rsquo;ring Honour catches the Alarm.
	I was to blame to parley with her thus:
	Sh&rsquo;as shown me to myself. It troubles me. [Aside]

Don Bernard	Mad; Mad. Stark mad, by this Light.

Leonora	I but begin to be so. &mdash; I conjure you,
	By all the tender Interests of Nature,
	By the chaste Love &rsquo;twixt you, and my dear Mother,
	(O holy Heav&rsquo;n, that she were living now!)
	Forgive and pity me.&mdash; Oh, Sir, remember,
	I&rsquo;ve heard my Mother say a thousand Times,
	Her Father would have forced her Virgin Choice;
	But when the Conflict was &rsquo;twixt Love and Duty,
	Which should be first obey&rsquo;d, my Mother quickly
	Paid up her Vows to Love, and married You.
	You thought this well, and she was praised for This;
	For this her Name was honour&rsquo;d, Disobedience
	Was ne&rsquo;er imputed to her, her firm Love
	Conquer&rsquo;d whate&rsquo;er oppos&rsquo;d it, and she prosper&rsquo;d
	Long Time your Wife. My Case is now the same;
	You are the Father, which You then condemn&rsquo;d;
	I, what my Mother was; but not so happy.&mdash;

Don Bernard	Go to, you&rsquo;re a Fool. No doubt, You have old Stories enough to undo you.&mdash; What, you can&rsquo;t throw yourself away but by Precedent, ha?&mdash; You will needs be married to One, that will None of You? You will be happy no Body&rsquo;s way but your own, forsooth.&mdash; But, d&rsquo;ye mark me, spare your Tongue for the future; (and That&rsquo;s using you hardly too, to bid you spare what you have a great deal too much of:) Go, go your ways, and d&rsquo;ye hear, get ready within these Two days to be married to a Husband you don&rsquo;t deserve; &mdash; Do it, or, by my dead Father&rsquo;s Soul, you are no Acquaintance of mine.

Henriquez	She weeps: Be gentler to her, good Bernardo.

Leonora	Then Woe the Day. &mdash; I&rsquo;m circled round with Fire;
	No Way for my Escape, but thro&rsquo; the Flames.
	Oh, can I e&rsquo;er resolve to live without
	A Father&rsquo;s Blessing, or abandon Julio?
	With other Maids, the Choice were not so hard;
	Int&rsquo;rest, that rules the World, has made at last
	A Merchandize of Hearts: and Virgins now
	Chuse as they&rsquo;re bid, and wed without Esteem.
	 By nobler Springs shall my Affections move;
	 Nor own a Master, but the Man I love.

	[Exit Leonora]

Don Bernard	Go thy ways, Contradiction. &mdash; Follow her, my Lord; follow her, in the very Heat. This Obstinacy must be combated by Importunity as obstinate. [Exit Henriquez after her]

	The Girl says right; her Mother was just such Another. I remember, Two of Us courted her at the same Time. She lov&rsquo;d neither of Us, but She chose me purely to spight that surly Old Blockhead my Father-in-Law. Who comes here, Camillo? Now the refusing Part will lie on my Side.&mdash;

	[Enters Camillo]

Camillo	My worthy Neighbour, I am much in Fortune&rsquo;s Favour to find You thus alone. I have a Suit to You.

Don Bernard	Please to name it, Sir.

Camillo	Sir, I have long held You in singular Esteem: and what I shall now say, will be a Proof of it. You know, Sir, I have but one Son.

Don Bernard	Ay, Sir.

Camillo	And the Fortune I am blest withal, You pretty well know what it is.

Don Bernard	&rsquo;Tis a fair One, Sir.

Camillo	Such as it is, the whole Reversion is my Son&rsquo;s. He is now engaged in his Attendance on our Master, the Duke Angelo But e&rsquo;er he went, he left with me the Secret of his Heart, his Love for your fair Daughter. For your Consent, he said, &rsquo;twas ready: I took a Night, indeed, to think upon it, and now have brought you mine; and am come to bind the Contract with half my Fortune in present, the Whole some time hence, and, in the mean while, my hearty Blessing. Ha? What say You to&rsquo;t, Don Bernard?

Don Bernard	Why, really, Neighbour, &mdash; I must own, I have heard Something of this Matter.&mdash;

Camillo	Heard Something of it? No doubt, you have.

Don Bernard	Yes, now I recollect it well.

Camillo	Was it so long ago then?

Don Bernard	Very long ago, Neighbour.&mdash; On Tuesday last.

Camillo	What, am I mock&rsquo;d in this Business, Don Bernard?

Don Bernard	Not mock&rsquo;d, good Camillo, not mock&rsquo;d: But in Love-matters, you know, there are Abundance of Changes in half an Hour. Time, Time, Neighbour, plays Tricks with all of us.

Camillo	Time, Sir! What tell you me of Time? Come, I see how this goes. Can a little Time take a Man by the Shoulder, and shake off his Honour? Let me tell you, Neighbour, it must either be a strong Wind, or a very mellow Honesty that drops so easily. Time, quoth&rsquo;a?

Don Bernard	Look&rsquo;ee, Camillo; will you please to put your Indignation in your Pocket for half a Moment, while I tell you the whole Truth of the Matter.My Daughter, you must know, is such a tender Soul, she cannot possibly see a Duke&rsquo;s younger Son without falling desperately in Love with him. Now, you know, Neighbour, when Greatness rides Post after a Man of my Years, &rsquo;tis both Prudence, and good Breeding, to let one&rsquo;s self be overtaken by it. And who can help all This? I profess, it was not my seeking, Neighbour.

Camillo	I profess, a Fox might earth in the Hollowness of your Heart, Neighbour, and there&rsquo;s an End. If I were to give a bad Conscience its true Likeness, it should be drawn after a very near Neighbour to a certain poor Neighbour of yours. &mdash; Neighbour! with a Pox.

Don Bernard	Nay, you are so nimble with me, you will hear Nothing.

Camillo	Sir, if I must speak Nothing, I will hear Nothing. As for what you have to say, if it comes from your Heart, &rsquo;tis a Lye before you speak it. &mdash;  I&rsquo;ll  to Leonora; and if I find her in the same Story, why, I shall believe your Wife was true to You, and your Daughter is your own. Fare you well. [Exit, as into Don Bernardard&rsquo;s House]

Don Bernard	Ay, but two Words must go to that Bargain. It happens, that I am at present of Opinion my Daughter shall receive no more Company to day; at least, no such Visits as yours.

	[Exit Don Bernardo, following him]


	Double Falsehood


ACT II


SCENE IV	Changes to another prospect of Don Bernard&rsquo;s House


Leonora	[Above] How tediously I&rsquo;ve waited at the Window,
	Yet know not One that passes.&mdash; Should I trust
	My Letter to a Stranger, whom I think
	To bear an honest Face, (in which sometimes
	We fancy we are wond&rsquo;rous skillful;) then
	I might be much deceiv&rsquo;d. This late Example
	Of base Henriquez, bleeding in me now,
	From each good Aspect takes away my Trust:
	For his Face seem&rsquo;d to promise Truth and Honour.
	Since Nature&rsquo;s Gifts in noblest Forms deceive,
	Be happy You, that want &rsquo;em! &mdash; Here comes One;
	I&rsquo;ve seen him, tho&rsquo; I know him not; He has
	An honest Face too&mdash; that&rsquo;s no Matter.&mdash; Sir, &mdash;

	[Enters Citizen]

Citizen	To me?

Leonora	As You were of a virtuous Matron born,
	(There is no Doubt, you are:) I do conjure you
	Grant me one Boon. Say, do you know me, Sir?

Citizen	Ay, Leonora, and your worthy Father.

Leonora	I have not Time to press the Suit I&rsquo;ve to you
	With many Words; nay, I should want the Words,
	Tho&rsquo; I had Leisure: but for Love of Justice,
	And as you pity Misery&mdash; But I wander
	Wide from my Subject. Know you Julio, Sir?

Citizen	Yes, very well; and love him too, as well.

Leonora	Oh, there an Angel spake! Then I conjure you,
	Convey this Paper to him: and believe me,
	You do Heav&rsquo;n Service in&rsquo;t, and shall have Cause
	Not to repent your Pains. &mdash; I know not what
	Your Fortune is; &mdash; Pardon me, gentle Sir,
	That I am bold to offer This.

	[Throws down a Purse with Money]

Don Bernard	[Within] Leonora. &mdash;

Leonora	I trust to you; Heav&rsquo;n put it in your Heart
	To work me some Relief.

Citizen	Doubt it not, Lady. You have mov&rsquo;d me so,
	That tho&rsquo; a thousand Dangers barr&rsquo;d my way,
	I&rsquo;d dare &rsquo;em all to serve you. [Exit Citizen]

Leonora	Thanks from a richer Hand than mine requite you!

Don Bernard	[Within] Why, Daughter &mdash;

Leonora	I come: &mdash; Oh, Julio, feel but half my Grief,
	 And Thou wilt outfly Time to bring Relief.

	[Exit Leonora from the Window]


	Double Falsehood


ACT III

SCENE I	The Prospect of a Village


	[Enter Julio with a Letter, and Citizen]

Citizen	When from the Window she did bow and call,
	Her Passions shook her Voice; and from her Eyes
	Mistemper and Distraction, with strange Wildness
	Bespoke Concern above a common Sorrow.

Julio	Poor Leonora! Treacherous, damn&rsquo;d Henriquez!
	She bids me fill my Memory with her Danger;
	I do, my Leonora; yes, I fill
	The Region of my Thought with nothing else;
	Lower, she tells me here, that this Affair
	Shall yield a Testimony of her Love:
	And prays, her Letter may come safe and sudden.
	This Pray&rsquo;r the Heav&rsquo;ns have heard, and I beseech &rsquo;em,
	To hear all Pray&rsquo;rs she makes.

Citizen	Have Patience, Sir.

Julio	O my good Friend, methinks, I am too patient.
	Is there a Treachery, like This in Baseness,
	Recorded any where? It is the deepest:
	None but Itself can be its Parallel:
	And from a Friend, profess&rsquo;d! &mdash; Friendship? Why, &rsquo;tis
	A Word for ever maim&rsquo;d; in human Nature
	It was a Thing the noblest; and &rsquo;mong Beasts,
	It stood not in mean Place: Things of fierce Nature
	Hold Amity and Concordance. &mdash; Such a Villany
	A Writer could not put down in his Scene,
	Without Taxation of his Auditory
	For Fiction most enormous.

Citizen	These Upbraidings
	Cool Time, while they are vented.

Julio	I am counsel&rsquo;d.
	For you, evermore, Thanks. You&rsquo;ve done much for Us;
	So gently press&rsquo;d to &rsquo;t, that I may perswade me
	You&rsquo;ll do a little more.

Citizen	Put me t&rsquo;Employment
	That&rsquo;s honest, tho&rsquo; not safe, with my best spirits
	 I&rsquo;ll  give&rsquo;t Accomplishment.

Julio	No more but This;
	For I must see Leonora: And to appear
	Like Julio, as I am, might haply spoil
	Some good Event ensuing. Let me crave
	Th&rsquo; Exchange of Habit with you: some Disguise,
	May bear Me to my Love, unmark&rsquo;d, and secret.

Citizen	You shall not want. Yonder&rsquo;s the House before us:
	Make Haste to reach it.

Julio	Still I thank you, Sir.
	O Leonora! stand but this rude Shock;
	Hold out thy Faith against the dread Assault
	Of this base Lord, the Service of my Life
	Shall be devoted to repay thy Constancy. [Exeunt]


	Double Falsehood


ACT III


SCENE II	Don Bernard&rsquo;s House


	[Enters Leonora]

Leonora	I&rsquo;ve hoped to th&rsquo; latest Minute Hope can give:
	He will not come: H&rsquo;as not receiv&rsquo;d my Letter:
	&rsquo;Maybe, some other View has from our Home
	Repeal&rsquo;d his chang&rsquo;d Eye: for what Business can
	Excuse a Tardiness thus willfull? None.
	Well then, it is not Business. &mdash; Oh! that Letter, &mdash;
	I say, is not deliver&rsquo;d; or He&rsquo;s sick;
	Or, O Suggestion, wherefore wilt Thou fright me?
	Julio does to Henriquez on mere Purpose,
	On plotted Purpose, yield me up; and He
	Hath chose another Mistress. All Presumptions
	Make pow&rsquo;rful to this Point: His own Protraction,
	Henriquez left behind; &mdash; That Strain lack&rsquo;d Jealousie,
	Therefore lack&rsquo;d Love. &mdash; So sure as Life shall empty
	It self in Death, this new Surmise of mine
	Is a bold Certainty. &rsquo;Tis plain, and obvious,
	Henriquez	would not, durst not, thus infringe
	The Law of Friendship; thus provoke a Man,
	That bears a Sword, and wears his Flag of Youth
	As fresh as He: He durst not: &rsquo;Tis Contrivance,
	Gross-dawbing &rsquo;twixt them Both. &mdash; But I&rsquo;m o&rsquo;erheard. [Going]

	[Enters Julio, disguised]

Julio	Stay, Leonora; Has this outward Veil
	Quite lost me to thy Knowledge?

Leonora	O my Julio!
	Thy Presence ends the stern Debate of Doubt,
	And cures me of a thousand heartsick Fears,
	Sprung from thy Absence: yet awakes a Train
	Of other sleeping Terrors. Do you weep?

Julio	No, Leonora; when I weep, it must be
	The Substance of mine Eye. &rsquo;Would I could weep;
	For then mine Eye would drop upon my Heart,
	And swage the Fire there.

Leonora	You are full possess&rsquo;d
	How things go here. First, welcome heartily;
	Welcome to th&rsquo;Ending of my last good Hour:
	Now Summer Bliss and gawdy Days are gone,
	My Lease in &rsquo;em &rsquo;s expir&rsquo;d.

Julio	Not so, Leonora.

Leonora	Yes, Julio, yes; an everlasting Storm
	Is come upon me, which I can&rsquo;t bear out.
	I cannot stay much Talk; we have lost Leisure;
	And thus it is: Your Absence hath giv&rsquo;n Breeding
	To what my Letter hath declar&rsquo;d, and is
	This Instant on th&rsquo;effecting, Hark! the Musick

	[Flourish within]

	Is now on tuning, which must celebrate
	This Bus&rsquo;ness so discordant. &mdash; Tell me then,
	What you will do.

Julio	I know not what: Advise me:
	 I&rsquo;ll  kill the Traytor.

Leonora	O! take Heed: his Death
	Betters our Cause no whit. No killing, Julio.

Julio	My Blood stands still; and all my Faculties
	Are by Enchantment dull&rsquo;d. You gracious Pow&rsquo;rs,
	The Guardians of sworn Faith, and suff&rsquo;ring Virtue,
	Inspire Prevention of this dreaded Mischief!
	This Moment is our own; Let&rsquo;s use it, Love,
	And fly o&rsquo;th&rsquo; Instant from this House of Woe.

Leonora	Alas! Impossible: My steps are watch&rsquo;d;
	There&rsquo;s no Escape for Me. You must stay too.

Julio	What! stay, and see thee ravish&rsquo;d from my Arms?
	 I&rsquo;ll  force thy Passage. Wear I not a Sword?
	Ne&rsquo;er on Man&rsquo;s Thigh rode better. &mdash; If I suffer
	The Traytor play his Part; if I not do
	Manhood and Justice, Honour; let me be deem&rsquo;d
	A tame, pale, Coward, whom the Night-Owl&rsquo;s Hoot
	May turn to Aspen-leaf: Some Man take This,
	Give Me a Distaff for it.

Leonora	Patience, Julio;
	And trust to Me: I have fore-thought the Means
	To disappoint these Nuptials. &mdash; Hark! again;

	[Musick within]

	These are the Bells knoll for Us.&mdash; See, the Lights
	Move this Way, Julio. Quick, behind yon Arras,
	And take thy secret Stand. &mdash; Dispute it not;
	I have my Reasons, you anon shall know them: &mdash;
	There you may mark the Passages of the Night.
	Yet, more: &mdash; I charge you by the dearest Tyes,
	What-e&rsquo;er you see, or hear, what-e&rsquo;er shall hap,
	In your Concealment rest a silent Statue.
	Nay, hide thee strait, &mdash; or, &mdash; see, I&rsquo;m arm&rsquo;d and vow [Shews a dagger]
	To fall a bleeding Sacrifice before Thee.

	[Thrusts him out, to the Arras]

	I dare not tell thee of my Purpose, Julio,
	Lest it should wrap thee in such Agonies,
	Which my Love could not look on. &mdash;

	[Scene opens to a large Hall: An Altar prepared with Tapers. Enter at one Door Servants with Lights, Henriquez, Don Bernard, and Churchman. At another, Attendants to Leonora. Henriquez runs to her]

Henriquez	Why, Leonora, wilt Thou with this Gloom
	Darken my Triumph; suff&rsquo;ring Discontent,
	And wan Displeasure, to subdue that Cheek
	Where Love should sit inthron&rsquo;d? Behold your Slave;
	Nay, frown not; for each Hour of growing Time
	Shall task me to thy Service, &rsquo;till by Merit
	Of dearest Love I blot the low-born Julio
	From thy fair Mind.

Leonora	So I shall make it foul;
	This Counsel is corrupt.

Henriquez	Come, you will change.&mdash;

Leonora	Why would you make a Wife of such a One,
	That is so apt to change? This foul Proceeding
	Still speaks against itself, and vilifies
	The purest of your Judgment. &mdash; For your Birth&rsquo;s Sake
	I will not dart my hoarded Curses at you,
	Nor give my Meanings Language: For the Love
	Of all good Things together, yet take heed,
	And spurn the Tempter back.

Don Bernard	I think, you&rsquo;re mad. &mdash; Perverse, and foolish, Wretch!

Leonora	How may I be obedient, and wise too?
	Of my Obedience, Sir, I cannot strip me;
	Nor can I then be wise: Grace against Grace!
	Ungracious, if I not obey a Father;
	Most perjur&rsquo;d, if I do. &mdash; Yet, Lord, consider,
	Or e&rsquo;er too late, or e&rsquo;er that Knot be ty&rsquo;d,
	Which may with Violence damnable be broken,
	No other way dissever&rsquo;d: Yet consider,
	You wed my Body, not my Heart, my Lord;
	No Part of my Affection. Sounds it well,
	That Julio&rsquo;s Love is Lord Henriquez&rsquo; Wife;
	Have you an Ear for this harsh Sound?

Henriquez	No Shot of Reason can come near the Place,
	Where my Love&rsquo;s fortified. The Day shall come,
	Wherein you&rsquo;ll chide this Backwardness, and bless
	Our Fervour in this Course.

Leonora	No, no, Henriquez,
	When you shall find what Prophet you are prov&rsquo;d,
	You&rsquo;ll prophesie no more.

Don Bernard	Have done this Talking,
	If you will cleave to your Obedience, do&rsquo;t;
	If not, unbolt the Portal, and be gone;
	My Blessing stay behind you.

Leonora	Sir, your Pardon:
	I will not swerve a Hair&rsquo;s Breadth from my Duty;
	It shall first cost me dear.

Don Bernard	Well then, to th&rsquo; Point:
	Give me your Hand. &mdash; My honour&rsquo;d Lord, receive
	My Daughter of Me, &mdash; (nay, no dragging back,
	But with my Curses;) &mdash; whom I frankly give you,
	And wish you Joy and Honour.

	[As Don Bernard goes to give Leonora to Henriquez, Julio advances from the Arras, and steps between]

Julio	Hold, Don Bernard,
	Mine is the elder Claim.

Don Bernard	What are you, Sir?

Julio	A Wretch, that&rsquo;s almost lost to his own Knowledge,
	Struck thro&rsquo; with Injuries. &mdash;

Henriquez	Ha! Julio? &mdash; Hear you,
	Were you not sent on our Commands to Court?
	Order&rsquo;d to wait your fair Dismission thence?
	And have you dared, knowing you are our Vassal,
	To steal away unpriviledg&rsquo;d, and leave
	My Business and your Duty unaccomplish&rsquo;d?

Julio	Ungen&rsquo;rous Lord! The Circumstance of Things
	Should stop the Tongue of Question. &mdash; You have wrong&rsquo;d me;
	Wrong&rsquo;d me so basely, in so dear a Point,
	As stains the Cheek of Honour with a Blush;
	Cancells the Bonds of Service; bids Allegiance
	Throw to the Wind all high Respects of Birth,
	Title, and Eminence; and, in their Stead,
	Fills up the panting Heart with just Defiance.
	If you have Sense of Shame, or Justice, Lord,
	Forego this bad Intent; or with your Sword
	Answer me like a Man, and I shall thank you.
	Julio once dead, Leonora may be thine;
	But, living, She&rsquo;s a Prize too rich to part with.

Henriquez	Vain Man! the present Hour is fraught with Business
	Of richer Moment. Love shall first be serv&rsquo;d:
	Then, if your Courage hold to claim it of me,
	I may have Leisure to chastise this Boldness.

Julio	Nay, then  I&rsquo;ll  seize my Right.

Henriquez	What, here, a Brawl?
	My Servants, &mdash; Turn this boist&rsquo;rous Sworder forth;
	And see he come not to disturb our Joys.

Julio	Hold, Dogs! &mdash; Leonora, &mdash; Coward, base, Henriquez!

	[Julio is seiz&rsquo;d, and drag&rsquo;d out by the Servants]

Henriquez	She dies upon Me; help!

	[Leonora swoons; as they endeavour to recover her, a Paper drops from her]

Don Bernard	Throng not about her;
	But give her Air.

Henriquez	What Paper&rsquo;s That? let&rsquo;s see it.
	It is her own Hand-Writing.

Don Bernard	Bow her Head:
	&rsquo;Tis but her Fright; she will recover soon.
	What learn you by that Paper, good my Lord?

Henriquez	That she would do the Violence to herself,
	Which Nature hath anticipated on her.
	What Dagger means she? Search her well, I pray you.

Don Bernard	Here is the dagger. &mdash; Oh, the stubborn Sex,
	Rash ev&rsquo;n to Madness! &mdash;

Henriquez	Bear her to her Chamber:
	Life flows in her again. &mdash; Pray, bear her hence:
	And tend her, as you would the World&rsquo;s best Treasure.

	[Women carry Leonora off]

Don Bernard	This wild Tumult soon will cease,
	The Cause remov&rsquo;d; and all return to Calmness.
	Passions in Women are as short in Working,
	As strong in their Effect. Let the Priest wait:
	Come, go we in: My Soul is all on Fire;
	And burns impatient of this forc&rsquo;d Delay.


	Double Falsehood


ACT III


SCENE III	Prospect of a Village at a Distance


	[Enters Roderick]

Roderick	Julio&rsquo;s Departure thus in secret from Me,
	With the long doubtful Absence of my Brother,
	(Who cannot suffer, but my Father feels it;)
	Have trusted me with strong Suspicions,
	And Dreams, that will not let me sleep, nor eat,
	Nor taste those Recreations Health demands:
	But, like a Whirlwind, hither have they snatch&rsquo;d me,
	Perforce, to be resolv&rsquo;d. I know my Brother
	Had Julio&rsquo;s Father for his Host: from him
	Enquiry may befriend me.

	[Enters Camillo]

	Old Sir, I&rsquo;m glad
	To &rsquo;ve met you thus: What ails the Man? Camillo, &mdash;

Camillo	Ha?

Roderick	Is&rsquo;t possible, you should forget your Friends?

Camillo	Friends! What are Those?

Roderick	Why, Those that love you, Sir.

Camillo	You&rsquo;re None of Those, sure, if you be Lord Roderick.

Roderick	Yes, I am that Lord Roderick, and I lie not,
	If I protest, I love you passing well.

Camillo	You lov&rsquo;d my Son too passing well, I take it:
	One, that believ&rsquo;d too suddenly his Court-Creed.

Roderick	All is not well. [aside] &mdash; Good old man, do not rail.

Camillo	My Lord, my Lord, you&rsquo;ve dealt dishonourably.

Roderick	Good Sir, I am so far from doing Wrongs
	Of that base Strain, I understand you not.

Camillo	Indeed! &mdash; You know not neither, o&rsquo; my Conscience,
	How your most virtuous Brother, noble Henriquez,
	(You look so like him, Lord, you are the worse for&rsquo;t;
	Rots upon such Dissemblers!) under colour
	Of buying Coursers, and I know not what,
	Bought my poor Boy out of Possession
	Ev&rsquo;n of his plighted Faith. &mdash; Was not this Honour?
	And This a constant Friend?

Roderick	I dare not say so.

Camillo	Now you have robb&rsquo;d him of his Love, take all;
	Make up your Malice, and dispatch his Life too.

Roderick	If you would hear me, Sir, &mdash;

Camillo	Your brave old Father
	Would have been torn in Pieces with wild Horses,
	E&rsquo;er he had done this Treachery. On my Conscience,
	Had he but dreamt you Two durst have committed
	This base, unmanly Crime, &mdash;

Roderick	Why, this is Madness. &mdash;

Camillo	I&rsquo;ve done; I&rsquo;ve eas&rsquo;d my Heart; now you may talk.

Roderick	Then as I am a Gentleman, believe me,
	(For I will lie for no Man;) I&rsquo;m so far
	From being guilty of the least Suspicion
	Of Sin that way, that fearing the long Absence
	Of Julio	and my Brother might beget
	Something to start at, hither have I travell&rsquo;d
	To know the Truth of you.

	[Enters Violante behind]

Violante	My Servant loiters; sure, he means me well.
	Camillo, and a Stranger? These may give me
	Some Comfort from their Talk.  I&rsquo;ll  step aside:
	And hear what Fame is stirring. [Violante retires]

Roderick	Why this Wond&rsquo;ring?

Camillo	Can there be one so near in Blood as you are
	To that Henriquez, and an honest Man?

Roderick	While he was good, I do confess my Nearness;
	But, since his Fall from Honour, he&rsquo;s to me
	As a strange Face I saw but Yesterday,
	And as soon lost.

Camillo	I ask your Pardon, Lord;
	I was too rash and bold.

Roderick	No Harm done, Sir.

Camillo	But is it possible, you should not hear
	The Passage &rsquo;twixt Leonora and your Brother?

Roderick	None of All This.

	[Enters Citizen]

	How now?

Citizen	I bear you Tidings, Sir, which I could wish
	Some other Tongue deliver&rsquo;d.

Camillo	Whence, I pray you?

Citizen	From your Son, Sir.

Camillo	Pr&rsquo;ythee, where is he?

Citizen	That&rsquo;s more than I know now, Sir.
	But This I can assure you, he has left
	The City raging mad; Heav&rsquo;n comfort him!
	He came to that curst Marriage &mdash; The Fiends take it! &mdash;

Camillo	Pr&rsquo;ythee, be gone, and bid the Bell knoll for me:
	I have had one Foot in the Grave some Time.
	Nay, go, good Friend; thy News deserve no Thanks.
	How does your Lordship? [Exit Citizen]

Roderick	That&rsquo;s well said, old man.
	I hope, all shall be well yet.

Camillo	It had need;
	For &rsquo;tis a crooked World. Farewell, poor Boy! &mdash;

	[Enters Don Bernard]

Don Bernard	This comes of forcing Women where they hate:
	It was my own Sin; and I am rewarded.
	Now I am like an aged Oak, alone,
	Left for all Tempests. &mdash; I would cry, but cannot:
	I&rsquo;m dry&rsquo;d to Death almost with these Vexations.
	Lord! what a heavy Load I have within me!
	My Heart, &mdash; my Heart, &mdash; my Heart &mdash;

Camillo	Has this ill Weather
	Met with Thee too?

Don Bernard	 O Wench, that I were with thee!

Camillo	You do not come to mock at me now?

Don Bernard	Ha? &mdash;

Camillo	Do not dissemble; Thou may&rsquo;st find a Knave
	As bad as thou art, to undo thee too:
	I hope to see that Day before I die yet.

Don Bernard	It needeth not, Camillo; I am Knave
	Sufficient to my self. If thou wilt rail,
	Do it as bitterly as thou canst think of;
	For I deserve it. Draw thy Sword, and strike me;
	And I will thank thee for&rsquo;t. &mdash; I&rsquo;ve lost my Daughter;
	She&rsquo;s stol&rsquo;n away; and whither gone, I know not.

Camillo	She has a fair Blessing in being from you, Sir.
	I was too poor a Brother for your Greatness;
	You must be grafted into noble Stocks,
	And have your Titles rais&rsquo;d. My State was laugh&rsquo;d at:
	And my Alliance scorn&rsquo;d. I&rsquo;ve lost a Son too;
	Which must not be put up so. [Offers to draw]

Roderick	Hold; be counsel&rsquo;d.
	You&rsquo;ve equal Losses; urge no farther Anger.
	Heav&rsquo;n, pleas&rsquo;d now at your Love, may bring again,
	And, no Doubt, will, your Children to your Comforts:
	In which Adventure my Foot shall be foremost.
	And One more will I add, my Honour&rsquo;d Father;
	Who has a Son to grieve for too, tho&rsquo; tainted.
	Let your joint Sorrow be as Balm to heal
	These Wounds of adverse Fortune.

Don Bernard	Come, Camillo,
	Do not deny your Love, for Charity;
	I ask it of you. Let this noble Lord
	Make Brothers of Us, whom our own cross Fates
	Could never join. What I have been, forget;
	What I intend to be, believe and nourish:
	I do confess my Wrongs; give me your Hand.

Camillo	Heav&rsquo;n make thee honest; &mdash; there.

Roderick	&rsquo;Tis done like good Men.
	Now there rests Nought, but that we part, and each
	Take sev&rsquo;ral Ways in Quest of our lost Friends:
	Some of my Train o&rsquo;er the wild Rocks shall wait you.
	Our best Search ended, here we&rsquo;ll meet again,
	And tell the Fortunes of our separate Travels. [Exeunt]

	[Violante comes forward]

Violante	I would, your Brother had but half your Virtue!
	Yet there remains a little Spark of Hope
	That lights me to some Comfort. The Match is cross&rsquo;d;
	The Parties separate; and I again
	May come to see this Man that has betray&rsquo;d me;
	And wound his Conscience for it: Home again
	I will not go, whatever Fortune guides me;
	Tho&rsquo; ev&rsquo;ry Step I went, I trod upon
	Dangers as fearful and as pale as Death.
	No, no, Henriquez; I will follow thee
	Where there is Day. Time may beget a Wonder.

	[Enters Servant to Violante]

	O, are you come? What News?

Servant to Violante	None, but the worst.Your Father makes mighty Offers yonder by a Cryer, to any One can bring you home again.

Violante	Art Thou corrupted?

Servant to Violante	No.

Violante	Wilt thou be honest?

Servant to Violante	I hope, you do not fear me.

Violante	Indeed, I do not. Thou hast an honest Face;
	And such a Face, when it deceives, take heed,
	Is curst of all Heav&rsquo;n&rsquo;s Creatures.

Servant to Violante	 I&rsquo;ll  hang first.

Violante	Heav&rsquo;n bless thee from that End! &mdash; I&rsquo;ve heard a Man
	Say more than This; and yet that Man was false.
	Thou&rsquo;lt not be so, I hope.

Servant to Violante	By my Life, Mistress, &mdash;

Violante	Swear not; I credit Thee. But pr&rsquo;ythee tho&rsquo;,
	Take Heed, thou dost not fail: I do not doubt Thee:
	Yet I have trusted such a serious Face,
	And been abused too.

Servant to Violante	If I fail your Trust, &mdash;

Violante	I do thee Wrong to hold thy Honesty
	At Distance thus: Thou shalt know all my Fortunes.
	Get me a Shepherd&rsquo;s Habit.

Servant to Violante	Well; what else?

Violante	And wait me in the Evening, where I told thee;
	There Thou shalt know my farther Ends. Take Heed&mdash;

Servant to Violante	D&rsquo;ye fear me still?

Violante	No; This is only Counsel:
	My Life and Death I have put equally
	Into thy Hand: Let not Rewards, nor Hopes,
	Be cast into the Scale to turn thy Faith.
	Be honest but for Virtue&rsquo;s sake, that&rsquo;s all;
	He, that has such a Treasure, cannot fall. [Exeunt]


	Double Falsehood


ACT IV


SCENE I	A Wide Plain, with a Prospect of Mountains at a Distance


	[Enter Master of the Flocks, three or four Shepherds, and Violante in Boy&rsquo;s Clothes]

Shepherd 1	Well, he&rsquo;s as sweet a Man, Heav&rsquo;n comfort him! as ever these Eyes look&rsquo;d on.

Shepherd 2	If he have a Mother, I believe, Neighbours, she&rsquo;s a Woe-woman for him at this Hour.

Master of the Flocks	Why should he haunt these wild unpeopled Mountains,
	Where nothing dwells but Hunger, and sharp Winds?

Shepherd 1	His Melancholy, Sir, that&rsquo;s the main Devil does it. Go to, I fear he has had too much foul Play offer&rsquo;d him.

Master of the Flocks	How gets he Meat?

Shepherd 2	Why, now and then he takes our Victuals from us, tho&rsquo; we desire him to eat; and instead of a short Grace, beats us well and soundly, and then falls to.

Master of the Flocks	Where lies He?

Shepherd 1	Ev&rsquo;n where the Night o&rsquo;ertakes him.

Shepherd 2	Now will I be hang&rsquo;d, an&rsquo; some fair-snouted skittish Woman, or other, be not at the End of this Madness.

Shepherd 1	Well, if he lodg&rsquo;d within the Sound of us, I knew our Musick would allure him. How attentively he stood, and how he fix&rsquo;d his Eyes, when your Boy sung his Love-Ditty. Oh, here he comes again.

Master of the Flocks	Let him alone; he wonders strangely at us.

Shepherd 1	Not a Word, Sirs, to cross him, as you love your Shoulders.

Shepherd 2	He seems much disturb&rsquo;d: I believe the mad Fit is upon him.

	[Julio enters]

Julio	Horsemanship!&mdash; Hell&mdash; Riding shall be abolish&rsquo;d:
	Turn the barb&rsquo;d Steed loose to his native Wildness;
	It is a Beast too noble to be made
	The Property of Man&rsquo;s Baseness.&mdash; What a Letter
	Wrote he to&rsquo;s Brother? What a Man was I?
	Why, Perseus	did not know his Seat like me;
	The Parthian, that rides swift without the Rein,
	Match&rsquo;d not my Grace and Firmness. &ndash; &ndash; &ndash; Shall this Lord
	Dye, when Men pray for him? Think you &rsquo;tis meet?

Shepherd 1	I don&rsquo;t know what to say: Neither I, nor all the Confessors in Spain, can unriddle this wild Stuff.

Julio	I must to Court! be usher&rsquo;d into Grace,
	By a large List of Praises ready penn&rsquo;d!
	O Devil! What a venomous World is this,
	When Commendations are the Baits to Ruin!
	All these good Words were Gyves and Fetters, Sir,
	To keep me bolted there: while the false Sender
	Play&rsquo;d out the Game of Treach&rsquo;ry.&mdash; Hold; come hither;
	You have an Aspect, Sir, of wond&rsquo;rous Wisdom,
	And, as it seems, are travell&rsquo;d deep in Knowledge;
	Have you e&rsquo;er seen the Phoenix of the Earth,
	The Bird of Paradise?

Shepherd 2	In Troth, not I, Sir.

Julio	I have; and known her Haunts, and where she built
	Her spicy Nest: &rsquo;till, like a credulous Fool,
	I shew&rsquo;d the Treasure to a Friend in Trust,
	And he hath robb&rsquo;d me of her. &mdash; Trust no Friend:
	Keep thy Heart&rsquo;s Counsels close. &mdash; Hast thou a Mistress?
	Give her not out in Words; nor let thy Pride
	Be wanton to display her Charms to View;
	Love is contagious: and a Breath of Praise,
	Or a slight Glance, has kindled up its Flame,
	And turn&rsquo;d a Friend a Traytor. &mdash; &rsquo;Tis in Proof;
	And it has hurt my Brain.

Shepherd 1	Marry, now there is some Moral in his Madness, and we may profit by it.

Master of the Flocks	See, he grows cool, and pensive.
	Go towards him, Boy, but do not look that way.

Violante	Alas! I tremble &mdash;

Julio	Oh, my pretty Youth!
	Come hither, Child; Did not your Song imply
	Something of Love?

Shepherd 1	Ha&mdash;ha&mdash; goes it there? Now if the Boy be witty, we shall trace something.

Violante	Yes, Sir, it was the Subject.

Julio	Sit here then: Come, shake not, good pretty Soul,
	Nor do not fear me;  I&rsquo;ll  not do thee Wrong.

Violante	Why do you look so on me?

Julio	I have Reasons.
	It puzzles my Philosophy, to think
	That the rude Blast, hot Sun, and dashing Rains
	Have made no fiercer War upon thy Youth;
	Nor hurt the Bloom of that Vermilion Cheek.
	You weep too, do you not?

Violante	Sometimes, I do.

Julio	I weep sometimes too. You&rsquo;re extremely young.

Violante	Indeed, I&rsquo;ve seen more Sorrows far than Years.

Julio	Yet all these have not broken your Complexion.
	You have a strong Heart, and you are the happier.
	I warrant, you&rsquo;re a very loving Woman.

Violante	A Woman, Sir?&mdash; I fear, h&rsquo;as found me out.

	[Aside]

Shepherd 2	He takes the Boy for a Woman.&mdash; Mad, again!

Julio	You&rsquo;ve met some Disappointment; some foul Play
	Has cross&rsquo;d your Love.&mdash; I read it in your Face.

Violante	You read a Truth then.

Julio	Where can lie the Fault?
	Is&rsquo;t in the Man, or some dissembling Knave,
	He put in Trust? Ho! have I hit the Cause?

Violante	You&rsquo;re not far off.

Julio	This World is full of Coz&rsquo;ners, very full;
	Young Virgins must be wary in their Ways.
	I&rsquo;ve known a Duke&rsquo;s Son do as great a Knavery.
	Will you be rul&rsquo;d by me?

Violante	Yes.

Julio	Kill Yourself.
	&rsquo;Twill be a Terror to the Villain&rsquo;s Conscience,
	The longest Day he lives.

Violante	By no Means. What?
	Commit Self-murther!

Julio	Yes;  I&rsquo;ll  have it so.

Shepherd 1	I fear, his Fit is returning. Take heed of all hands. &mdash; Sir,&mdash; do you want any thing?

Julio	Thou ly&rsquo;st; thou can&rsquo;st not hurt me: I am proof
	&rsquo;Gainst farther Wrongs. &mdash; Steal close behind me, Lady.
	I will avenge Thee.

Violante	Thank the Heav&rsquo;ns, I&rsquo;m free.

Julio	O treach&rsquo;rous, base Henriquez! have I caught thee?

Shepherd 2	Help! help! good Neighbours; he will kill me else.

	[Julio seizes on the Shepherd; Violante runs out]

Julio	Here Thou shalt pay thy Heart-blood for the Wrongs
	Thou&rsquo;st heap&rsquo;d upon this Head. Faith-breaker! Villain!
	 I&rsquo;ll  suck thy Life-blood.

Shepherd 1	Good Sir, have Patience; this is no Henriquez. [They rescue the Shepherd]

Julio	Well; let him slink to Court, and hide a Coward;
	Not all his Father&rsquo;s Guards shall shield him there.
	Or if he prove too strong for Mortal Arm,
	I will sollicit ev&rsquo;ry Saint in Heav&rsquo;n
	To lend me Vengeance. &mdash;  I&rsquo;ll  about it strait. &mdash;
	The wrathful Elements shall wage this War;
	Furies shall haunt him; Vultures gnaw his Heart;
	And Nature pour forth all her Stores of Plagues,
	To join in Punishment of Trust betray&rsquo;d. [Exit Julio]

Shepherd 2	Go thy Ways, and a Vengeance go with Thee! &mdash; Pray, feel my Nose; is it fast, Neighbours?

Shepherd 1	&rsquo;Tis as well as may be.

Shepherd 2	He pull&rsquo;d at it, as he would have drag&rsquo;d a Bullock backward by the Tail. &mdash; An&rsquo;t had been some Men&rsquo;s Nose that I know, Neighbours, who knows where it had been now? He has given me such a devilish Dash o&rsquo;er the Mouth, that I feel, I shall never whistle to my Sheep again: Then they&rsquo;ll make Holy-day.

Shepherd 1	Come, shall we go? for, I fear, if the Youth return, our second Course will be much more against our Stomachs.

Master of the Flocks	Walk you afore; I will but give my Boy
	Some short Instructions, and  I&rsquo;ll  follow strait.
	We&rsquo;ll crash a Cup together.

Shepherd 1	Pray, do not linger.

Master of the Flocks	I will not, Sirs; &mdash; This must not be a Boy;
	His Voice, Mein, Gesture, ev&rsquo;ry Thing he does,
	Savour of soft and female Delicacy.
	He but puts on this Seeming, and his Garb
	Speaks him of such a Rank, as well perswades me,
	He plays the Swain, rather to cloak some Purpose,
	Than forced to&rsquo;t by a Need: I&rsquo;ve waited long
	To mark the End he has in his Disguise;
	But am not perfect in&rsquo;t. The Madman&rsquo;s Coil
	Has driv&rsquo;n him shaking hence. These Fears betray him.
	If he prove right, I&rsquo;m happy. O, he&rsquo;s here.

	[Enters Violante]

	Come hither, Boy; where did you leave the Flock, Child?

Violante	Grazing below, Sir. &mdash; What does he mean, to stroke One o&rsquo;the Cheek so? I hope, I&rsquo;m not betray&rsquo;d.

Master of the Flocks	Have you learnt the Whistle yet, and when to Fold?
	And how to make the Dog bring in the Strayers?

Violante	Time, Sir, will furnish me with all these Rules;
	My Will is able, but my Knowledge weak, Sir.

Master of the Flocks	That&rsquo;s a good Child: Why dost thou blush, my Boy?
	&rsquo;Tis certainly a Woman. [Aside] Speak, my Boy.

Violante	Heav&rsquo;n! how I tremble. &mdash; &rsquo;Tis unusual to me
	To find such Kindness at a Master&rsquo;s Hand,
	That am a poor Boy, ev&rsquo;ry way unable,
	Unless it be in Pray&rsquo;rs to merit it.
	Besides, I&rsquo;ve often heard old People say,
	Too much Indulgence makes Boys rude and sawcy.

Master of the Flocks	Are you so cunning!&mdash;

Violante	How his Eyes shake Fire,
	And measure ev&rsquo;ry Piece of Youth about me! [Aside]
	The Ewes want Water, Sir: Shall I go drive &rsquo;em
	Down to the Cisterns? Shall I make haste, Sir?
	&rsquo;Would I were five Miles from him&mdash; How he gripes me! [Aside]

Master of the Flocks	Come, come, all this is not sufficient, Child,
	To make a Fool of me.&mdash; This is a fine Hand,
	A delicate fine Hand,&mdash; Never change Colour;
	You understand me, &mdash; and a Woman&rsquo;s Hand.

Violante	You&rsquo;re strangely out: Yet if I were a Woman,
	I know, you are so honest and so good,
	That tho&rsquo; I wore Disguises for some Ends,
	You would not wrong me.&mdash;

Master of the Flocks	Come, you&rsquo;re made for Love;
	Will you comply? I&rsquo;m madder with this Talk.
	There&rsquo;s Nothing you can say, can take my Edge off.

Violante	Oh, do but quench these foul Affections in you,
	That, like base Thieves, have rob&rsquo;d you of your Reason,
	And I will be a Woman; and begin
	So sad a Story, that if there be aught
	Of humane in you, or a Soul that&rsquo;s gentle,
	You cannot chuse but pity my lost Youth.

Master of the Flocks	No Stories now.&mdash;

Violante	Kill me directly, Sir;
	As you have any Goodness, take my Life.

Roderick	[Within] Hoa! Shepherd, will you hear, Sir?

Master of the Flocks	What bawling Rogue is that, i&rsquo;th&rsquo; Devil&rsquo;s Name?

Violante	Blessings upon him, whatsoe&rsquo;er he be! [Runs out]

	[Enters Roderick]

Roderick	Good Even, my Friend; I thought, you all had been asleep in this Country.

Master of the Flocks	You had lied then; for you were waking, when you thought so.

Roderick	I thank you, Sir.

Master of the Flocks	I pray, be cover&rsquo;d; &rsquo;tis not so much worth, Sir.

Roderick	Was that thy Boy ran crying?

Master of the Flocks	Yes; what then?

Roderick	Why dost thou beat him so?

Master of the Flocks	To make him grow.

Roderick	A pretty Med&rsquo;cine! Thou can&rsquo;st not tell me the Way to the next Nunnery?&mdash;

Master of the Flocks	How do you know That? &mdash; Yes, I can tell you; but the Question is, whether I will or no; and, indeed, I will not. Fare you well.  [Exit Master]

Roderick	What a brute Fellow&rsquo;s this! Are they all thus?
	My Brother Henriquez tells me by his Letters,
	The Mistress of his Soul not far from hence
	Hath taken Sanctuary: from which he prays
	My Aid to bring her back.&mdash; From what Camillo
	Hinted, I wear some Doubts.&mdash; Here &rsquo;tis appointed
	That we should meet; it must be here; &rsquo;tis so.
	He comes.

	[Enters Henriquez]

	Now, Brother, what&rsquo;s this post-haste Business
	You hurry me about? &mdash; Some wenching Matter &mdash;

Henriquez	My Letter told you, Sir.

Roderick	&rsquo;Tis true, it tells me, that you&rsquo;ve lost a Mistress
	Whom your Heart bleeds for; but the Means to win her
	From her close Life, I take it, is not mention&rsquo;d.
	You&rsquo;re ever in these Troubles.&mdash;

Henriquez	Noble Brother,
	I own, I have too freely giv&rsquo;n a Scope
	To Youth&rsquo;s intemp&rsquo;rate Heat, and rash Desires:
	But think not, that I would engage your Virtues
	To any Cause, wherein my constant Heart
	Attended not my Eye. &rsquo;Till now my Passions
	Reign&rsquo;d in my Blood; ne&rsquo;er pierc&rsquo;d into my Mind;
	But I&rsquo;m a Convert grown to purest Thoughts:
	And must in Anguish spend my Days to come,
	If I possess not her: So much I love.

Roderick	The Means? &mdash; She&rsquo;s in a Cloyster, is she not?
	Within whose Walls to enter as We are,
	Will never be: Few Men, but Fryars, come there;
	Which We shall never make.

Henriquez	If That would do it,
	I would make Any thing.

Roderick	Are you so hot?
	 I&rsquo;ll  serve him, be it but to save his Honour. [Aside]
	To feign a Corpse &mdash; By th&rsquo; Mass, it shall be so.
	We must pretend, we do transport a Body
	As &rsquo;twere to&rsquo;s Funeral: and coming late by,
	Crave a Night&rsquo;s Leave to rest the Herse i&rsquo;th&rsquo; Convent.
	That be our Course; for to such Charity
	Strict Zeal and Custom of the House give Way.

Henriquez	And, opportune, a vacant Herse pass&rsquo;d by
	From Rites but new perform&rsquo;d: This for a Price
	We&rsquo;ll hire, to put our Scheme in Act. Ho! Gerald &mdash;

	[Enter Gerald, whom Henriquez whispers; then Gerald goes out]

Roderick	When we&rsquo;re once lodg&rsquo;d, the Means of her Conveyance,
	By safe and secret Force, with Ease we&rsquo;ll compass
	But, Brother, know my Terms. &mdash; If that your Mistress
	Will to the World come back, and she appear
	An Object worthy in our Father&rsquo;s Eye,
	Wooe her, and win her; but if his Consent
	Keep not Pace with your Purpose &mdash;

Henriquez	Doubt it not.
	I&rsquo;ve look&rsquo;d not with a common Eye; but chose
	A noble Virgin, who to make her so,
	Has all the Gifts of Heav&rsquo;n and Earth upon her.
	If ever Woman yet could be an Angel,
	She is the nearest.

Roderick	Well; a Lover&rsquo;s Praise
	Feasts not a Common Ear. &mdash; Now to our Plot;
	We shall bring Night in with Us. [Exeunt]


	Double Falsehood


ACT IV


SCENE II	The same


	[Enter Julio, and Two Gentlemen]

Gentleman	Good Sir, compose yourself.

Julio	O Leonora,
	That Heav&rsquo;n had made Thee stronger than a Woman,
	How happy had I been!

Gentleman	He&rsquo;s calm again:
	 I&rsquo;ll  take this Interval to work upon Him.
	These wild and solitary Places, Sir,
	But feed your Pain; let better Reason guide you;
	And quit this forlorne State, that yields no Comfort.

	[Lute sounds within]

Julio	Ha! hark, a Sound from Heav&rsquo;n! Do you hear Nothing?

Gentleman	Yes, Sir; the Touch of some sweet Instrument:
	Here&rsquo;s no Inhabitant.

Julio	No, no, the better.

Gentleman	This is a strange Place to hear Musick in.

Julio	I&rsquo;m often visited with these sweet Airs.
	The Spirit of some hapless Man that dy&rsquo;d,
	And left his Love hid in a faithless Woman,
	Sure haunts these Mountains.

Violante	[Sings within]
	<i>Fond Echo! forego thy light Strain,
	And heedfully hear a lost Maid;
	Go, tell the false Ear of the Swain
	How deeply his Vows have betray&rsquo;d.
	Go, tell him, what Sorrows I bear;
	See, yet if his Heart feel my Woe:
	&rsquo;Tis now he must heal my Despair,
	Or Death will make Pity too slow.</i>

Gentleman	See, how his Soul strives in him! This sad Strain
	Has search&rsquo;d him to the Heart.

Julio	Excellent Sorrow!
	You never lov&rsquo;d?

Gentleman	No.

Julio	Peace; and learn to grieve then.

Violante	[Sings within]
	<i>Go, tell him, what Sorrows I bear;
	See, yet if his Heart feel my Woe:
	&rsquo;Tis now he must heal my Despair,
	Or Death will make Pity too slow.</i>

Julio	Is not this heav&rsquo;nly?

Gentleman	I never heard the Like, Sir.

Julio	 I&rsquo;ll  tell you, my good Friends; but pray, say Nothing;
	I&rsquo;m strangely touch&rsquo;d with This. The heav&rsquo;nly Sound
	Diffuses a sweet Peace thro&rsquo; all my Soul.
	But yet I wonder, what new, sad, Companion
	Grief has brought hither to out-bid my Sorrows.
	Stand off, stand off, stand off &mdash; Friends, it appears.

	[Enters Violante]

Violante	How much more grateful are these craggy Mountains,
	And these wild Trees, than things of nobler Natures;
	For These receive my Plaints, and mourn again
	In many Echoes to Me. All good People
	Are faln asleep for ever. None are left,
	That have the Sense, and Touch of Tenderness
	For Virtue&rsquo;s sake: No, scarce their Memory:
	From whom I may expect Counsel in Fears,
	Ease to Complainings, or Redress of Wrongs.

Julio	This is a moving Sorrow, but say nothing.

Violante	What Dangers have I run, and to what Insults
	Expos&rsquo;d this Ruin of my self? Oh! Mischief
	On that Soul-spotted Hind, my vicious Master!
	Who would have thought, that such poor Worms as They,
	(Whose best Feed is coarse Bread; whose Bev&rsquo;rage, Water;)
	Should have so much rank Blood? I shake all over,
	And blush to think what had become of me,
	If that good Man had not reliev&rsquo;d me from him.

Julio	Since she is not Leonora, she is heav&rsquo;nly.
	When she speaks next, listen as seriously,
	As Women do that have their Loves at Sea,
	What Wind blows ev&rsquo;ry Morning. &mdash;

Violante	I cannot get this false Man&rsquo;s Memory
	Out of my Mind. You Maidens, that shall live
	To hear my mournful Tale, when I am Ashes,
	Be wise; and to an Oath no more give Credit,
	To Tears, to Vows, (false Both!) or any Thing
	A Man shall promise, than to Clouds, that now
	Bear such a pleasing Shape, and now are nothing.
	For they will cozen, (if They may be cozen&rsquo;d)
	The very Gods they worship. &mdash; Valour, Justice,
	Discretion, Honesty, and all they covet,
	To make them seeming Saints, are but the Wiles
	By which these Syrens lure us to Destruction.

Julio	Do not you weep now? I could drop myself
	Into a Fountain for her.

Gentleman	She weeps extremely.

Julio	Let her weep; &rsquo;tis well:
	Her Heart will break else. Great Sorrows live in Tears.

Violante	O false Henriquez! &mdash;

Julio	Ha!

Violante	And Oh, thou Fool,
	Forsaken Violante! whose Belief
	And childish Love have made Thee so &mdash; go, dye;
	For there is nothing left Thee now to look for,
	That can bring Comfort, but a quiet Grave.
	There all the Miseries I long have felt,
	And Those to come, shall sweetly sleep together.
	Fortune may guide that false Henriquez hither,
	To weep Repentance o&rsquo;er my pale, dead corpse,
	And cheer my wand&rsquo;ring Spirit with those lov&rsquo;d Obsequies. [Going]

Julio	Stay, Lady, stay: Can it be possible,
	That you are Violante?

Violante	That lost Name,
	Spoken by One, that needs must know my Fortunes,
	Has taken much Fear from me. Who are you, Sir?
	For, sure, I am that hopeless Violante.

Julio	And I, as far from any earthly Comfort
	That I know yet, the much-wrong&rsquo;d Julio!

Violante	Julio!

Julio	I once was thought so. &mdash; If the curst Henriquez
	Had Pow&rsquo;r to change you to a Boy, why, Lady,
	Should not that Mischief make me any thing,
	That have an equal Share in all the Miseries
	His Crimes have flung upon Us?

Violante	Well I know it:
	And pardon Me, I could not know your Virtues,
	Before your Griefs. Methought, when last we met,
	The Accent of your Voice struck on my Ear
	Like something I had known, but Floods of Sorrow
	Drown&rsquo;d the Remembrance. If you&rsquo;ll please to sit,
	(Since I have found a suff&rsquo;ring true Companion)
	And give me Hearing, I will tell you something
	Of Leonora, that may comfort you.

Julio	Blessing upon Thee! Henceforth, I protest
	Never to leave Thee, if Heav&rsquo;n say Amen.
	But, soft! let&rsquo;s shift our Ground, guide our sad Steps
	To some remoter Gloom, where, undisturb&rsquo;d,
	We may compare our Woes; dwell on the Tale
	Of mutual Injuries, &rsquo;till our Eyes run o&rsquo;er,
	And we infect each other, with fresh Sorrows. &mdash;
	Talk&rsquo;d you of Comfort? &rsquo;Tis the Food of Fools,
	And We will None on&rsquo;t; but indulge Despair:
	So, worn with Griefs, steal to the Cave of Death,
	And in a Sigh give up our latest Breath. [Exeunt]


	Double Falsehood


ACT V


SCENE I	The Prospect of the Mountains continued


	[Enter Roderick, Leonora veil&rsquo;d, Henriquez, Attendants as Mourners]

Roderick	Rest certain, Lady, Nothing shall betide you,
	But fair, and noble Usage. Pardon me,
	That hitherto a Course of Violence
	Has snatch&rsquo;d you from that Seat of Contemplation
	To which you gave your After-Life.

Leonora	Where am I?

Roderick	Not in the Nunnery; never blush, nor tremble;
	Your Honour has as fair a Guard, as when
	Within a Cloyster. Know then, what is done,
	(Which, I presume, you understand not truly)
	Has this Use, to preserve the Life of One
	Dying for Love of You: my Brother, and your Friend:
	Under which Colour we desir&rsquo;d to rest
	Our Herse one Night within your hallow&rsquo;d Walls,
	Where we surpriz&rsquo;d you.

Leonora	Are you that Lord Roderick,
	So spoken of for Virtue, and fair Life,
	And dare you lose these to be Advocate
	For such a Brother, such a sinful Brother,
	Such an unfaithful, treacherous, brutal Brother?

Roderick	This is a fearful Charge. &mdash;

	[Looks at Henriquez]

Leonora	If you would have me
	Think, you still bear Respect for Virtue&rsquo;s Name;
	As you would wish, your Daughters, thus distress&rsquo;d,
	Might find a Guard, protect me from Henriquez;
	And I am happy.

Roderick	Come, Sir, make your Answer;
	For as I have a Soul, I am asham&rsquo;d on&rsquo;t.

Henriquez	O Leonora, see! thus self-condemn&rsquo;d,
	I throw me at your Feet, and sue for Mercy.
	If I have err&rsquo;d, impute it to my Love;
	The Tyrant God that bows us to his Sway,
	Rebellious to the Laws of reas&rsquo;ning Men;
	That will not have his Votaries Actions scann&rsquo;d,
	But calls it Justice, when we most obey him.
	He but commanded, what your Eyes inspir&rsquo;d;
	Whose sacred Beams, darted into my Soul,
	Have purg&rsquo;d the Mansion from impure Desires,
	And kindled in my Heart a Vestal&rsquo;s Flame.

Leonora	Rise, rise, my Lord; this well-dissembled Passion
	Has gain&rsquo;d you nothing but a deeper Hate.
	Should I imagine, he can truly love me,
	That, like a Villain, murthers my Desires?
	Or should I drink that Wine, and think it Cordial,
	When I see Poyson in&rsquo;t?

Roderick	Draw this way, Lady;
	I am not perfect in your Story yet;
	But see you&rsquo;ve had some Wrongs, that want Redress.
	Only you must have Patience to go with us
	To yon small Lodge, which meets the Sight from hence,
	Where your Distress shall find the due Respect:
	&rsquo;Till when, your Griefs shall govern me as much,
	As Nearness and Affection to my Brother.
	Call my attendants yours; and use them freely;
	For as I am a Gentleman, no Pow&rsquo;r,
	Above your own Will, shall come near your Person.

	[As they are going out, Violante enters, and plucks Roderick by the Sleeve; the rest go out]

Violante	Your Ear a Moment: Scorn not my tender Youth.

Roderick	Look to the Lady there. &mdash; I follow strait.
	What ails this Boy? Why dost thou single me?

Violante	The due Observance of your noble Virtue,
	Vow&rsquo;d to this mourning Virgin, makes me bold
	To give it more Employment.

Roderick	Art not Thou
	The surly Shepherd&rsquo;s Boy, that, when I call&rsquo;d
	To know the Way, ran crying by me?

Violante	Yes, Sir.
	And I thank Heav&rsquo;n and you for helping me.

Roderick	How did I help thee, Boy?

Violante	I do but seem so, Sir; and am indeed
	A Woman; one your Brother once has lov&rsquo;d;
	Or, Heav&rsquo;n forgive him else, he ly&rsquo;d extremely.

Roderick	Weep not, good Maid; O this licentious Brother!
	But how came you a Wand&rsquo;rer on these Mountains?

Violante	That, as we pass, an&rsquo;t please you,  I&rsquo;ll  discover.
	I will assure you, Sir, these barren Mountains
	Hold many Wonders of your Brother&rsquo;s making.
	Here wanders hapless Julio, worthy Man!
	Besides himself with Wrongs &mdash;

Roderick	That once again &mdash;

Violante	Sir, I said, Julio. &mdash; Sleep weigh&rsquo;d down his Eyelids,
	Oppress&rsquo;d with Watching, just as you approach&rsquo;d us.

Roderick	O Brother! We shall sound the Depths of Falshood.
	If this be true, no more but guide me to him:
	I hope, a fair End will succeed all yet.
	If it be He, by your Leave, gentle Brother,
	 I&rsquo;ll  see him serv&rsquo;d first. &mdash; Maid, you have o&rsquo;erjoy&rsquo;d me.
	Thou shalt have Right too: Make thy fair Appeal
	To the good Duke, and doubt not but thy Tears
	Shall be repaid with Interest from his Justice.
	Lead me to Julio. [Exeunt]


	Double Falsehood


ACT V


SCENE II	An Apartment in the Lodge


	[Enter Duke, Don Bernard, and Camillo]

Camillo	Ay, then your Grace had had a Son more; He, a Daughter; and I, an Heir: But let it be as &rsquo;tis, I cannot mend it; one way or other, I shall rub it over, with rubbing to my Grave, and there&rsquo;s an End on&rsquo;t.

Duke Angelo	Our Sorrows cannot help us, Gentlemen.

Camillo	Hang me, Sir, if I shed one Tear more. By Jove, I&rsquo;ve wept so long, I&rsquo;m as blind as Justice. When I come to see my Hawks (which I held a Toy next to my Son;) if they be but House-high, I must stand aiming at them like a Gunner.

Duke Angelo	Why, he mourns like a Man. Don Bernard, you
	Are still like April, full of Show&rsquo;rs and Dews:
	And yet I blame you not: for I myself
	Feel the self-same Affections. &mdash; Let them go;
	They&rsquo;re disobedient Children.

Don Bernard	Ay, my Lord;
	Yet they may turn again.

Camillo	Let them e&rsquo;en have their Swing: they&rsquo;re young and wanton; the next Storm we shall have them gallop homeward, whining as Pigs do in the Wind.

Don Bernard	Would I had my Daughter any way.

Camillo	Would&rsquo;st thou have her with Bearn, Man, tell me that?

Don Bernard	I care not, if an honest Father got it.

Camillo	You might have had her so in this good Time, Had my Son had her: Now you may go seek Your Fool to stop a Gap with.

Duke Angelo	You say, that Rod&rsquo;rick charg&rsquo;d you here should wait him:
	He has o&rsquo;erslip&rsquo;ed the Time, at which his Letters
	Of Speed request that I should also meet him.
	I fear, some bad Event is usher&rsquo;d in
	By this Delay: &mdash; How now?

	[Enters Gentleman]

Gentleman	So please your Grace,
	Lord Rod&rsquo;rick makes Approach.

Duke Angelo	I thank thee, Fellow,
	For thy so timely News: Comes he alone?

Gentleman	No, Sir, attended well; and in his Train
	Follows a Herse with all due Rites of Mourning.

	[Exit Gentleman]

Duke Angelo	Heav&rsquo;n send, Henriquez live!

Camillo	&rsquo;Tis my poor Julio.&mdash;

	[Enters Roderick, hastily]

Duke Angelo	O welcome, welcome,
	Welcome, good Rod&rsquo;rick! Say, what News?

Camillo	Do you bring Joy or Grief, my Lord? For me,
	Come what can come,  I&rsquo;ll  live a Month or two
	If the Gout please; curse my Physician once more,
	And then, &mdash; &mdash;
	 Under this Stone Lies Sev&rsquo;nty One.

Roderick	Signior, you do express a manly Patience.
	My noble Father, something I have brought
	To ease your Sorrows: My Endeavours have not
	Been altogether barren in my Journey.

Duke Angelo	It comes at need, Boy; but I hop&rsquo;d it from thee.

	[Enter Leonora veil&rsquo;d, Henriquez behind, and Attendants]

Roderick	The Company I bring, will bear me Witness
	The busiest of my Time has been employ&rsquo;d
	On this good Task. Don Bernard finds beneath
	This Veil his Daughter: You, my Royal Father,
	Behind that Lady find a wand&rsquo;ring Son.
	How I met with them, and how brought them hither,
	More Leisure must unfold.

Henriquez	My Father here!
	And Julio&rsquo;s! O Confusion! &mdash;
	[To the Duke Angelo] Low as Earth
	I bow me for your Pardon.

Don Bernard	O my Girl!
	Thou bring&rsquo;st new Life. &mdash; [Embraces Leonora]

Duke Angelo	[To Roderick] And you, my Son, restore me.
	[To Henriquez] One Comfort here that has been missing long.
	I hope, thy Follies thou hast left abroad.

Camillo	Ay, ay; you&rsquo;ve all Comforts but I; you have ruin&rsquo;d me, kill&rsquo;d my poor Boy; cheated and ruin&rsquo;d him; and I have no Comfort.

Roderick	Be patient, Signior; Time may guide my Hand
	To work you Comfort too.

Camillo	I thank your Lordship;
	&rsquo;Would Grandsire Time had been so kind to&rsquo;ve done it;
	We might have joy&rsquo;d together like good Fellows.
	But he&rsquo;s so full of Business, good old man,
	&rsquo;Tis Wonder, he could do the Good he has done.

Don Bernard	Nay, Child, be comforted. These Tears distract me.

Duke Angelo	Hear your good Father, Lady.

Leonora	Willingly.

Duke Angelo	The Voice of Parents is the Voice of Gods:
	For to their Children they are Heav&rsquo;n&rsquo;s Lieutenants:
	Made Fathers, not for common Uses meerly
	Of Procreation; (Beasts and Birds would be
	As noble then as we are) but to steer
	The wanton Freight of Youth thro&rsquo; Storms and Dangers,
	Which with full Sails they bear upon: and streighten
	The moral Line of Life, they bend so often.
	For these are We made Fathers; and for These,
	May challenge Duty on our Children&rsquo;s Part.
	Obedience is the Sacrifice of angels,
	Whose Form you carry.

Don Bernard	Hear the Duke, good Wench.

Leonora	I do most heedfully. My gracious Lord,

	[To the Duke]

	Let me be so unmanner&rsquo;d to request,
	He would not farther press me with Persuasions
	O&rsquo;th&rsquo; instant Hour: but have the gentle Patience
	To bury this keen Suit, &rsquo;till I shake Hands
	With my old Sorrows, &mdash;

Camillo	Why dost look at me?
	Alas! I cannot help thee.

Leonora	And but weep
	A Farewell to my murther&rsquo;d Julio, &mdash;

Camillo	Blessing be with thy Soul, whene&rsquo;er it leaves Thee!

Leonora	For such sad Rites must be perform&rsquo;d, my Lord,
	E&rsquo;er I can love again. Maids, that have lov&rsquo;d,
	If they be worth that noble Testimony,
	Wear their Loves here, my Lord; here, in their Hearts;
	Deep, deep within; not in their Eyes, or Accents;
	Such may be slip&rsquo;d away; or with two Tears
	Wash&rsquo;d out of all Remembrance: Mine, no Physick,
	But Time, or Death, can cure.

Henriquez	You make your own Conditions, and I seal them
	Thus on your virtuous Hand. [Aside]

Camillo	Well, Wench, thy Equal
	Shall not be found in haste; I give thee That:
	Thou art a right one, ev&rsquo;ry Inch. &mdash; Thy Father
	(For, without Doubt, that Snuff never begot Thee)
	Was some choice Fellow, some true Gentleman;
	I give thy Mother Thanks for&rsquo;t &mdash; there&rsquo;s no Harm done. &mdash;
	Would I were young again, and had but thee,
	A good Horse under me, and a good Sword,
	And thus much for Inheritance. &mdash;

	[Violante offers, once or twice, to shew herself, but goes back]

Duke Angelo	What Boy&rsquo;s That,
	Has offer&rsquo;d twice or thrice to break upon us?
	I&rsquo;ve noted him, and still he falls back fearful.

Roderick	A little Boy, Sir, like a Shepherd?

Duke Angelo	Yes.

Roderick	&rsquo;Tis your Page, Brother; &mdash; One that was so, late.

Henriquez	My Page! What Page?

Roderick	Ev&rsquo;n so he says, your Page;
	And more, and worse, you stole him from his Friends,
	And promis&rsquo;d him Preferment.

Henriquez	I, Preferment!&mdash;

Roderick	And on some slight Occasion let him slip
	Here on these Mountains, where he had been starv&rsquo;d,
	Had not my People found him, as we travell&rsquo;d.
	This was not handsome, Brother.

Henriquez	You are merry.

Roderick	You&rsquo;ll find it sober Truth.

Duke Angelo	If so, &rsquo;tis ill.

Henriquez	&rsquo;Tis Fiction all, Sir; &mdash; Brother, you must please
	To look some other Fool to put these Tricks on;
	They are too obvious: &mdash; Please your Grace, give Leave
	T&rsquo; admit the Boy; If he know me, and say,
	I stole him from his Friends, and cast him off,
	Know me no more. &mdash; Brother, pray do not wrong me.

	[Enters Violante]

Roderick	Here is the Boy. If he deny this to you,
	Then I have wrong&rsquo;d you.

Duke Angelo	Hear me; What&rsquo;s thy Name, Boy?

Violante	Florio, an&rsquo;t like your Grace.

Duke Angelo	A pretty Child.
	Where wast thou born?

Violante	On t&rsquo;other Side the Mountains.

Duke Angelo	What are thy Friends?

Violante	A Father, Sir; but poor.

Duke Angelo	How camest thou hither? how, to leave thy Father?

Violante	That noble Gentleman pleas&rsquo;d once to like me, [Pointing to Henriquez]
	And, not to lye, so much to doat upon me,
	That with his Promises he won my Youth,
	And Duty, from my Father: Him I follow&rsquo;d.

Roderick	How say you now, Brother?

Camillo	Ay, my Lord, how say You?

Henriquez	As I have Life and Soul, &rsquo;tis all a Trick, Sir.
	I never saw the Boy before.

Violante	O Sir,
	Call not your Soul to witness in a Wrong:
	And &rsquo;tis not noble in you, to despise
	What you have made thus. If I lye, let Justice
	Turn all her Rods upon me.

Duke Angelo	Fye, Henriquez;
	There is no Trace of Cunning in this Boy.

Camillo	A good Boy! &mdash; Be not fearful: Speak thy Mind, Child.
	Nature, sure, meant thou should&rsquo;st have been a Wench;
	And then&rsquo;t had been no Marvel he had bobb&rsquo;d thee.

Duke Angelo	Why did he put thee from him?

Violante	That to me
	Is yet unknown, Sir; for my Faith, he could not;
	I never did deceive him: for my Service,
	He had no just Cause; what my Youth was able,
	My Will still put in Act, to please my Master:
	I cannot steal; therefore that can be nothing
	To my Undoing: no, nor lye; my Breeding,
	Tho&rsquo; it be plain, is honest.

Duke Angelo	Weep not, Child.

Camillo	This Lord has abused Men, Women, and Children already: What farther Plot he has, the Devil knows.

Duke Angelo	If thou can&rsquo;st bring a Witness of thy Wrong,
	(Else it would be Injustice to believe thee,
	He having sworn against it;) thou shalt have,
	I bind it with my Honour, Satisfaction
	To thine own Wishes.

Violante	I desire no more, Sir.
	I have a Witness, and a noble one,
	For Truth and Honesty.

Roderick	Go, bring him hither. [Exit Violante]

Henriquez	This lying Boy will take him to his Heels,
	And leave me slander&rsquo;d.

Roderick	No;  I&rsquo;ll  be his Voucher.

Henriquez	Nay then &rsquo;tis plain, this is Confederacy.

Roderick	That he has been an Agent in your Service,
	Appears from this. Here is a Letter, Brother,
	(Produc&rsquo;d, perforce, to give him Credit with me;)
	The Writing, yours; the Matter, Love; for so,
	He says, he can explain it.

Camillo	Then, belike,
	A young He-bawd.

Henriquez	This Forgery confounds me!

Duke Angelo	Read it, Roderick.

Roderick	[Reads] <I>Our Prudence should now teach us to
	 forget, what our Indiscretion has committed. I have already made one Step
	 towards this Wisdom &mdash; &mdash;</I>

Henriquez	Hold, Sir.&mdash; My very Words to Violante!

	[Aside]

Duke Angelo	Go on.

Henriquez	My gracious Father, give me Pardon;
	I do confess, I some such Letter wrote
	(The Purport all too trivial for your Ear)
	But how it reach&rsquo;d this young Dissembler&rsquo;s Hands,
	Is what I cannot solve. For on my Soul,
	And by the Honours of my Birth and House,
	The Minion&rsquo;s Face &rsquo;till now I never saw.

Roderick	Run not too far in Debt on Protestation.&mdash;
	Why should you do a Child this Wrong?

Henriquez	Go to;
	Your Friendships past warrant not this Abuse:
	If you provoke me thus, I shall forget
	What you are to me. This is a mere Practice,
	And Villany to draw me into Scandal.

Roderick	No more; you are a Boy. &mdash; Here comes a Witness,
	Shall prove you so: No more.&mdash;

	[Enter Julio, disguis&rsquo;d; Violante, as a Woman]

Henriquez	Another Rascal!

Duke Angelo	Hold: &mdash;

Henriquez	Ha! [ Seeing Violante]

Duke Angelo	What&rsquo;s here?

Henriquez	By all my Sins, the injur&rsquo;d Violante. [Aside]

Roderick	Now, Sir, whose Practice breaks?

Camillo	Is this a Page? [To Henriquez]

Roderick	One that has done him Service,
	And he has paid her for&rsquo;t; but broke his Covenant.

Violante	My Lord, I come not now to wound your Spirit.
	Your pure Affection dead, which first betray&rsquo;d me,
	My Claim dye with it! Only let me not
	Shrink to the Grave with Infamy upon me:
	Protect my Virtue, tho&rsquo; it hurt your Faith;
	And my last Breath shall speak Henriquez noble.

Henriquez	What a fierce Conflict Shame, and wounded Honour,
	Raise in my Breast! &mdash; but Honour shall o&rsquo;ercome.&mdash;
	She looks as beauteous, and as innocent,
	As when I wrong&rsquo;d her. &mdash; Virtuous Violante!
	Too good for me! dare you still love a Man,
	So faithless as I am?&mdash; I know you love me.
	Thus, thus, and thus, I print my vow&rsquo;d Repentance:
	Let all Men read it here.&mdash; My gracious Father,
	Forgive, and make me rich with your Consent,
	This is my Wife; no other would I chuse,
	Were she a Queen.

Camillo	Here&rsquo;s a new Change. Bernard looks dull upon&rsquo;t.

Henriquez	And fair Leonora, from whose Virgin Arms
	I forc&rsquo;d my wrong&rsquo;d Friend Julio, O forgive me.
	Take home your holy Vows, and let him have &rsquo;em
	That has deserv&rsquo;d them. O that he were here!
	That I might own the Baseness of my Wrong,
	And purpos&rsquo;d Recompence. My Violante,
	You must again be widow&rsquo;d: for I vow
	A ceaseless Pilgrimage, ne&rsquo;er to know Joy,
	&rsquo;Till I can give it to the injur&rsquo;d Julio.

Camillo	This almost melts me: &mdash; But my poor lost Boy &mdash;

Roderick	 I&rsquo;ll  stop that Voyage, Brother. &mdash; Gentle Lady,
	What think you of this honest Man?

Leonora	Alas!
	My Thoughts, my Lord, were all employ&rsquo;d within!
	He has a Face makes me remember something
	I have thought well of; how he looks upon me!
	Poor Man, he weeps. &mdash; Ha! stay; it cannot be &mdash;
	He has his Eye, his Features, Shape, and Gesture.&mdash;
	&rsquo;Would, he would speak.

Julio	Leonora, &mdash; [Throws off his Disguise]

Leonora	Yes, &rsquo;tis He.
	O Ecstacy of Joy! &mdash; [They embrace]

Camillo	Now, what&rsquo;s the Matter?

Roderick	Let &rsquo;em alone; they&rsquo;re almost starv&rsquo;d for Kisses.

Camillo	Stand forty Foot off; no Man trouble &rsquo;em.
	Much Good may&rsquo;t do your Hearts! &mdash; What is he, Lord,
	What is he?

Roderick	A certain Son of yours.

Camillo	 The Devil he is.

Roderick	If he be the Devil, that Devil must call you Father.

Camillo	By your Leave a little, ho, &mdash; Are you my Julio?

	Julio My Duty tells me so, Sir,
	Still on my Knees. &mdash; But Love engross&rsquo;d me all;
	O Leonora, do I once more hold thee?

Camillo	Nay, to&rsquo;t again: I will not hinder a Kiss,
	&rsquo;Tis he&mdash; [Leaps]

Leonora	The righteous Pow&rsquo;rs at length have crown&rsquo;d our Loves.
	Think, Julio, from the Storm that&rsquo;s now o&rsquo;erblown,
	Tho&rsquo; sour Affliction combat Hope awhile,
	When Lovers swear true Faith, the list&rsquo;ning angels
	Stand on the golden Battlements of Heav&rsquo;n,
	And waft their Vows to the Eternal Throne.
	Such were our Vows, and so are they repaid.

Duke Angelo	E&rsquo;en as you are, we&rsquo;ll join your Hands together.
	A Providence above our Pow&rsquo;r rules all.
	Ask him Forgiveness, Boy. [To Henriquez]

Julio	He has it, Sir:
	The Fault was Love&rsquo;s, not his.

Henriquez	Brave, gen&rsquo;rous Julio!
	I knew thy Nobleness of old, and priz&rsquo;d it,
	&rsquo;Till Passion made me blind &mdash; Once more, my Friend,
	Share in a Heart, that ne&rsquo;er shall wrong thee more.
	And, Brother, &mdash;

Roderick	This Embrace cuts off Excuses.

Duke Angelo	I must, in part, repair my Son&rsquo;s Offence:
	At your best Leisure, Julio, know our Court.
	And, Violante, (for I know you now;)
	I have a Debt to pay: Your good old Father,
	Once, when I chas&rsquo;d the Boar, preserv&rsquo;d my Life:
	For that good Deed, and for your Virtue&rsquo;s Sake,
	Tho&rsquo; your Descent be low, call me your Father.
	A Match drawn out of Honesty, and Goodness,
	Is Pedigree enough. &mdash; Are you all pleas&rsquo;d?

	[Gives her to Henriquez]

Camillo	All.

Henriquez	All, Sir,

Don Bernard	All, Sir,

Julio	All.

Duke Angelo	And I not least. We&rsquo;ll now return to Court:
	(And that short Travel, and your Loves compleated,
	Shall, as I trust, for Life restrain these Wand&rsquo;rings.)

	There, the Solemnity, and Grace,  I&rsquo;ll  do
	Your sev&rsquo;ral Nuptials, shall approve my Joy;
	And make griev&rsquo;d Lovers, that your Story read,
	Wish, true Love&rsquo;s Wand&rsquo;rings may like yours succeed.


	Double Falsehood


Epilogue


	[Enter Epilogue]

Epilogue	Well Heaven defend us from these ancient Plays,
	These Moral Bards of good Queen Bess&rsquo;s Days!
	They write from Virtue&rsquo;s Laws, and think no further;
	But draw a Rape as dreadful as a Murther.
	You modern Wits, more deeply vers&rsquo;d in Nature,
	Can tip the wink, to tell us, you know better;
	As who shou&rsquo;d say&mdash; &rsquo;Tis no such killing Matter.&mdash;
	We&rsquo;ve heard old Stories told, and yet ne&rsquo;er wonder&rsquo;d,
	Of many a Prude, that has endur&rsquo;d a Hundred:
	And Violante grieves, or we&rsquo;re mistaken,
	Not, because ravisht; but because &mdash; forsaken.&mdash;

	Had this been written to the modern Stage,
	Her Manners had been copy&rsquo;d from the Age.
	Then, tho&rsquo; she had been once a little wrong,
	She still had had the Grace to&rsquo;ve held her Tongue;
	And after all, with downcast Looks, been led
	Like any Virgin to the Bridal Bed.
	There, if the good Man question&rsquo;d her Mis-doing,
	She&rsquo;d stop him short&mdash; Pray, who made you so knowing?
	What, doubt my Virtue!&mdash; What&rsquo;s your base Intention?
	Sir, that&rsquo;s a Point above your Comprehension.&mdash;

	Well, Heav&rsquo;n be prais&rsquo;d, the Virtue of our Times
	Secures us from our Gothick Grandsires&rsquo; Crimes.
	Rapes, Magick, new Opinions, which before
	Have fill&rsquo;d our Chronicles, are now no more:
	And this reforming Age may justly boast,
	That dreadful Sin Polygamy is lost.
	So far from multiplying Wives, &rsquo;tis known
	Our Husbands find, they&rsquo;ve Work enough with one.&mdash;
	Then, as for Rapes, those dangerous days are past;
	Our Dapper Sparks are seldom in such haste.

	In Shakespeare&rsquo;s Age the English Youth inspir&rsquo;d,
	Lov&rsquo;d, as they fought, by him and Beauty fir&rsquo;d.
	&rsquo;Tis yours to crown the Bard, whose Magick Strain
	Cou&rsquo;d charm the Heroes of that glorious Reign,
	Which humbled to the Dust the Pride of Spain.


	A Mad World My Masters


Preface


It&rsquo;s a Mad World my MASTERS:
A Comedy. As it hath bin often Acted at the Private House in SalisburyCourt,
by her Majesties Servants. Composed by T. M. Gent. LONDON:
Printed for  J. S. and are to be sold by James Bccfyt, at his Shop in the inner Temple Gate. 1640
The Printer and Stationer to the Gentle Reader.
Courteous Reader, let not the Title or Name of this Comedy be any fore-stalling,
or a weakening of the worthy author&rsquo;s judgement, whole known abilities will
survive to all posterities, though he be long since dead.
I hope the reading thereof shall not prove distasteful unto any in particular,
nor hurtful unto any in general; but I rather trust that the language and the plot which you shall find in each scene, shall rather be commended and applauded, than any way derided or scorned. In the action, which is the life of a comedy, and the glory of the author, it hath been sufficiently expressed, to the liking of the spectators, and commendations of the actors; who have set it forth in such lively colours, and to the meaning of the gentleman that true penned it, that I dare say few can excel them, though some may equal them.
In the reading of one Act you guess the consequence, for here is no bombasted or fustian stuff;
but every line weighed as with balance; and every sentence placed with judgement and deliberation.
All that you can find in the perusal, I will give you notice of beforehand, to prevent a censure
that may arise in thy reading of this comedy; as also for the excuse of the author and that is this:
here and there you shall find some lines that do answer in metre,
which I hope will not prove so disdainful, whereby the book maybe so much slighted, as not to be read or the author&rsquo;s judgement undervalued as of no worth. Consider (gentle Reader) it is full twenty years since it was written, at which time metre was most in use, and showed well upon the conclusion of every Act & Scene. My prevalent hope desires thy charitable censure, and thereby draws me to be Thy immutable friend J. S.


	A Mad World My Masters


Dramatis person&aelig;


	The Actors in the Comedy.
	Sir Bounteous Progress an old rich Knight.
	Richard Folly-wit Nephew to Sir Bounteous Progress.
	Master Penitent Brothel, a Country gentleman.
	Maw-worm a Lieutenant,  - Comrade to Folly-wit
	Hoboy an Ancient, 		ditto
	Master Inesse,  &
	Master Possibility Two Brothers.
	Master Harebrain a Citizen.
	Gum-water Sir Bounteous man.
	Jasper Master Penitent&rsquo;s man.
	Ralph Master Harebrain&rsquo;s man.
	Semus, One of Sir Bounteous&rsquo;s servants (in Bullard cast but not 1640)-Alasdair
	Two Knights.
	One Constable.
	A Succubus.
	Watch-men.
	A Foot-man.
	An old Gentlewoman and mother to the Courtesan.
	Mistress Harebrain, the Citizen&rsquo;s wife.
	Franke Gulman the Courtesan,
	Attendants.


	A Mad World My Masters


ACT I


SCENE I	A Street


	[Enter Follywit and his consorts Lieutenant Mawworm & Ancient Hoboy, and others his Comrades]

Maw.	Captain, Regent, Principal,

Hob.	What shall I call thee? the Noble spark of bounty; the life-blood of Society.

Fol.	Call me your forecast, you whoresons, when you come drunk out of a  tavern, &rsquo;tis I must cast your plots into form still ; &rsquo;tis I must manage the prank, or I&rsquo;ll not give a louse for the proceeding: I must let fly my civil fortunes, turn wild-brain, lay my wits upo&rsquo; th Tenters, you rascals, to maintain a company of villains, whom I love in my very soul and conscience.

Maw.	A ha, our little forecast,
	Fol. Hang you, you have bewitched me among you, I was as well given till I fell to be wicked, my grandsire had hope of me, I went all in black, swore but a&rsquo; Sundays, never came home drunk, but upon fasting nights to cleanse my sto|mach; And now I&rsquo;m quite altered, blown into light colours, let out oaths by th&rsquo; minute, sit up late till it be early, drink drunk till I am sober, sink down dead in a tavern, and rise in a tobacco-shop: here&rsquo;s a transformation: I was wont yet to pity the simple, and leave &rsquo;em some money: &rsquo;slid, now I gull &rsquo;em without confidence; I go without order, swear without number, gull without mercy, and drink without measure.

Maw.	I deny the last, for if you drink ne&rsquo;er so much, you drink within measure.

Fol.	How prove you that sir?

Maw.	Because the drawers never fill their pots
	
Fol.	Mass that was well found out! all drunkards may lawfully say, they drink within
	measure by that trick; and now I’m put i’th mind of a trick, you can keep your countenance villains?  yet I am a fool to ask that, for how can they keep their countenance that have lost their credits?

Hob.	I warrant you for blushing Captain.

Fol.	%%I easily believe that ancient, for thou hast lost thy colours once.
	Nay faith as for blushing, I think there&rsquo;s grace little enough among you all;
	'tis Lent in your cheeks, the flag&rsquo;s down. Well, your blushing face I suspect not,
	nor indeed greatly your laughing face, unless you had more money in your purses.
	Then thus compendiously now you all know the possibilities of my hereafter fortunes and
	the humour of my frolic grandsire Sir Bounteous Progress;
	whose death makes all possible to me: I shall have all, when he has nothing;
	but now he has all, I shall have nothing: I think one mind runs through a million of
	&rsquo;em; they love to keep us sober all the while they&rsquo;re alive, that when
	they&rsquo;re dead we may drink to their healths; they cannot abide to see us merry all the while they&rsquo;re above ground; and that makes so many laugh at their fathers&rsquo; funerals; I know my Grandsire has his will in a box, and has bequeathed all to me, when he can carry nothing away; but stood I in needs of poor ten pounds now, by his will I should hang myself e&rsquo;er I should get it, there&rsquo;s no such word in his will I warrant you, nor no such thought in his mind.

Maw.	You may build upon that Captain.

Fol.	Then since he has no goodwill to do me good as long as he lives; by mine own will, I&rsquo;ll do myself good before he dies, and now I arrive at the purpose. You are not ignorant I&rsquo;m sure, you true and necessary implements of mischief; first, that my Grandsire Sir Bounteous Progress is a Knight of thousands and therefore no Knight since one thousand six hundred: (the year 1600?-Alasdair, Bullard see note Vol I. p.135) next, that he keeps a house like his name Bounteous, open for all comers: thirdly and lastly, that he stands much upon the glory of his complement, variety of entertainment, together with the largeness of his kitchen, longitude of his buttery, and fecundity of his larder, and thinks himself never happier than when some stiff lord or great countess alights, to make light his dishes.
	These being well mixed together, may give my project better encouragement, and make my purpose spring forth more fortunate: to be short, and cut off a great deal of dirty way I&rsquo;ll down to my grandsire like a lord.

Maw.	How Captain?

Fol.	A French ruff, a thin beard, and a strong perfume will do&rsquo;t : I can hire blue coats for you all by Westminster Clock, and that colour will be soonest believed.

Maw.	But prithee captain —
	Fol. Push, I reach past your fathoms; you desire crowns?
	Maw.  From the Crown of our Head, to the sole of our foot bully.
	Fol. Why carry your selves but probably, and carry away enough with your selves.
	Enter Penitent Brothel.
	Maw.  Why there spoke a Roman Captain! — Master Penitent Brothell!.

M. Pen.	Sweet Master Follywit [Exeunt Follywit, Mawworm, Hoboy, etc.] Here&rsquo;s a mad-brain a&rsquo;th first, whose pranks scorn to have precedents, to be second to any, or walk beneath any: madcap&rsquo;s inventions; has played more tricks than the cards can allow a man, and of the last stamp too, hating imitation, a fellow whose only glory is to be prime of the company; to be sure of which, he maintains all the rest: he&rsquo;s the carrion, and they the kites that gore upon him.
	But why in others do I check wild passions.
	And retain deadly follies in myself?
	I tax his youth of common receiv&rsquo;d riot.
	Time&rsquo;s comic flashes, and the fruits of blood;
	And in my self sooth up adulterous motions.
	And such an appetite that I know damns me;
	Yet willingly embrace it, love to Harebrain&rsquo;s wife.
	Over whose hours and pleasures her sick husband
	With a fantastic but deserv&rsquo;d suspect,
	Bestows his serious time in watch and ward;
	And therefore I&rsquo;m constrain&rsquo;d to use the means
	Of one that knows no mean, a courtesan,
	One poison for another, whom her husband
	Without suspicion innocently admits
	Into her company, who with tried art
	Corrupts and loosens her most constant powers,.
	Making his jealousy more than half a Wittall,
	Before his face plotting his own abuse.
	To which himself gives aim. 	
	Whilst the broad arrow with the forked head
	Misses his brow but narrowly; see here she comes,
	The close Courtesan, whose mother is her bawd.

	[Enter Courtesan]

Cour.	Master Penitent Brothel! —

M. Pen.	My little pretty Lady Gullman, the news, the comfort?
	Cour. You&rsquo;re the fortunate man sir, Knight a&rsquo; th holland shirt: there wants but opportunity and she&rsquo;s wax o&rsquo; your own fashioning. She had wrought herself into the form of your love before my art set finger to her.
	P. Bro. Did our affections meet? our thoughts keep time?
	Cour. So it should seem by the music: the only jar is in the grumbling bass-viol her husband.
	P. Bro. O, his waking suspicion!
	Cour. Sigh not, master Penitent; trust the managing of the business with me, 'tis for my credit now to see't well finished : if I do you no good, sir, you shall give me no money, sir.
	P. Bro. I am arrived at the court of conscience ; a courtesan ! O admirable times ! honesty is removed to the common-place. [Aside] Farewell, lady.

	[Exit]

	[Enter Mother]

	Mot. How now, daughter ?
	Cour. What news, mother ?
	Mot. A token from thy keeper.
	Cour. O, from Sir Bounteous Progress : he's my keeper indeed ; but there's many a piece of venison stolen that my keeper wots not on. There's no park kept so warily but loses flesh one time or other ; and no woman kept so privately but may watch advantage to make the best of her pleasure ; and in common reason one keeper cannot be enough for so proud a park as a woman.
	Mot. Hold thee there, girl.
	Cour. Fear not me, mother.
	Mot. Every part of the world shoots up daily into more subtlety; the very spider weaves her cauls with more art and cunning to entrap the fly.
	The shallow ploughman can distinguish now
	'Twixt simple truth and a dissembling brow;
	Your base mechanic fellow can spy out
	A weakness in a lord, and learns to flout.
	How does't behove us then that live by slight,
	To have our wits wound up to their stretch'd height !
	Fift-een times
	Thou knowest I have sold thy maidenhead
	To make up a dowry for thy marriage, and yet
	There's maidenhead enough for old Sir Bounteous still :
	He'll be all his lifetime about it yet,
	And be as far to seek when he has done.
	The sums that I have told upon thy pillow !
	I shall once see those golden days again :
	Though fifteen, all thy maidenheads are not gone.
	Th' Italian is not serv'd yet, nor the French :
	The British men come for a dozen at once.
	They engross all the market : tut, my girl,
	’Tis nothing but a politic conveyance,
	A sincere carriage, a religious eyebrow,
	That throws their charms over the worldling's senses ;
	And when thou spiest a fool that truly pities
	The false springs of thine eyes,
	And honourably doats upon thy love,
	If he be rich, set him by for a husband.
	Be wisely temper'd, and learn this, my wench,
	Who gets th' opinion for a virtuous name
	May sin at pleasure, and ne'er think of shame.
	Cour. Mother, I am too deep a scholar grown
	To learn my first rules now.
	Mot. 'Twill be thy own ;
	I say no more : peace, hark ! remove thyself

	[Exit Courtesan]

	O, the two elder brothers !
	Enter Inesse and Possibility.
	Pos. A fair hour, sweet lady !
	Mot. Good morrow, gentlemen, master Inesse and master Possibility.
	In. Where's the little sweet lady your daughter ?
	Mot. Even at her book, sir.
	Pos. So religious ?
	Mot. 'Tis no new motion, sir ; sh'as took it from an infant.
	Pos. May we deserve a sight of her, lady ?
	Mot. Upon that condition you will promise me, gentlemen, to avoid all profane talk, wanton compliments, undecent phrases, and lascivious courtings (which I know my daughter will sooner die than endure), I am contented your suits shall be granted.
	Pos. Not a bawdy syllable, I protest.
	In. Syllable was [well] placed there ; for indeed your one syllables are your bawdiest words : prick that down. [Exeunt]


	A Mad World My Masters


ACT I


SCENE II	Before Harebrain's House


	[Enter Harebrain]

Har.	She may make night-work on't ; 'twas well recover'd ; (editor hints misprint for discovered)
	He-cats and courtesans stroll most 'i th' night :
	Her friend may be receiv'd and convey'd forth nightly ;
	I'll be at charge
	For watch and ward, for watch and ward, i'faith ;
	And here they come.
	Enter Watchmen.
	First W. Give your worship good even.
	Har. Welcome, my friends ; I must deserve your diligence
	In an employment serious. The troth is,
	There's a cunning plot laid, but happily discover'd.
	To rob my house ; the night uncertain when,
	But fix'd within the circle of this month ;
	Nor does this villany consist in numbers.
	Or many partners ; only some one
	Shall, in the form of my familiar friend.
	Be receiv'd privately into my house
	By some perfidious servant of mine own,
	Address'd fit for the practice.
	First W. O abominable !
	Har. If you be faithful watchmen, show your goodness,
	And with these angels shore up your eyelids :  [Giving money]
	Let me not be purloin'd — purloin'd indeed !
	The merry Greeks  conceive me — there's a gem
	I would not lose.
	Kept by th' Italian under lock and key :
	We Englishmen are careless creatures : well,
	I have said enough.

Sec. W.	And we will do enough, sir.

Har.	Why, well said ; watch me a good turn now ; so, so, so.

	[Exeunt Watchmen]

	Rise villany with the lark, why, 'tis prevented ;
	Or steal't by with the leather-winged bat,
	The evening cannot save it &ndash; peace. &ndash;
	Enter Courtesan.
	O, lady Gullman, my wife's only company, welcome ! and how does the virtuous matron, that good old gentlewoman, thy mother ? I persuade myself, if modesty be in the world, she has part(?) on't ; a woman of an excellent carriage all her lifetime, in court, city, and country.
	Cour. Sh'as always carried it well in those places, sir; &ndash; witness three bastards a-piece. [Aside.] &ndash; How does your sweet bed-fellow, sir ? you see I'm her boldest visitant.
	Har. And welcome, sweet virgin ; the only companion my soul wishes for her. I left her within at her lute ; prithee, give her good counsel.
	Cour. Alas, she needs none, sir !
	Har. Yet, yet, yet, a little of thy instructions will not come amiss to her.
	Cour. I'll bestow my labour, sir.
	Har. Do, labour her, prithee. I have conveyed away all her wanton pamphlets ; as Hero and Leander, Venus and Adonis ; O, two luscious marrow-bone pies for a young married wife ! Here, here, prithee, take the Resolution, and read to her a little. [Gives book]
	Cour. Sh'as set up her resolution already, sir.
	Har. True, true, and this will confirm it the more : there's a chapter of hell; 'tis good to read this cold weather : terrify her, terrify her. Go, read to her the horrible punishments for itching wantonness, the pains allotted for adultery; tell her her thoughts, her very dreams are answerable, say so ; rip up the life of a courtesan, and show how loathsome 'tis.

Cour.	The gentleman would persuade me in time to disgrace myself, and speak ill of mine own function.  [Aside and exit.

Har.	This is the course I take ; I'll teach the married man
	A new-selected strain. I admit none
	But this pure virgin to her company :
	Pooh, that's enough ; I'll keep her to her stint,
	I'll put her to her pension ;
	She gets but her allowance, that's [a] bare one :
	Few women but have that beside their own :
	Ha, ha, ha ! nay, I will put her hard to't.
	Enter Mistress Harebrain and Courtesan.
	Mis. H. Fain would I meet the gentleman.
	Cour. Push, fain would you meet him ! why, you do not take the course.
	Har. How earnestly she labours her,
	Like a good wholesome sister of the Family !
	She will prevail, I hope. [Aside.
	Cour. Is ,that the means ?
	Mis. H. What is the means ?
	I would as gladly, to enjoy his sight,
	Embrace it as the &ndash;
	Cour. Shall I have hearing ? listen.
	Har. She's round with her, i'faith. [Aside]
	Cour. When husbands in their rank'st suspicions dwell,
	Then 'tis our best art to dissemble well :
	Put but these notes in use that I'll direct you,
	He'll curse himself that e'er he did suspect you.
	Perhaps he will solicit you, as in trial.
	To visit such and such ; still give denial :
	Let no persuasions sway you ; they're but fetches
	Set to betray you, jealousies, slights, and reaches.
	Seem in his sight t' endure the sight of no man ;
	Put by all kisses, till you kiss in common :
	Neglect all entertain ; if he bring in
	Strangers, keep you your chamber, be not seen.
	If he chance steal upon you, let him find
	Some book lie open 'gainst an unchaste mind,
	And coted Scriptures ; though for your own pleasure
	You read some stirring pamphlet, and convey it
	Under your skirt, the fittest place to lay it.
	This is the course, my wench, t' enjoy thy wishes ;
	Here you perform best when you most neglect :
	The way to daunt is to outvie suspect
	Manage these principles but with art and life,
	Welcome all nations, thou'rt an honest wife.
	Har. She puts it home, i'faith, even to the quick :
	From her elaborate action I reach that.
	I must requite this maid ; faith, I'm forgetful. [Aside.
	Mis. H. Here, lady. Convey my heart unto him in this jewel.
	Against you see me next, you shall perceive
	I've profited ; in the mean season tell him
	I am a prisoner yet a' th' Master's side,
	My husband's jealousy,
	That masters him, as he doth master me ;
	And as a keeper that locks prisoners up
	Is himself prison'd under his own key,
	Even so my husband, in restraining me,
	With the same ward bars his own liberty.
	Cour. I'll tell him how you wish it, and I'll wear
	My wits to the third pile but all shall clear.
	Mis. H. I owe you more than thanks, but that I hope
	My husband will requite you.
	Cour. Think you so, lady? he has small reason for't.
	Har. What, done so soon? away, to't again, to't again, good wench, to't again ; leave her not so : where left you ? come.
	Cour. Faith, I am weary, sir.
	I cannot draw her from her strict opinion ,
	With all the arguments that sense can frame.
	Har. No ? let me come. &ndash; Fie, wife, you must consent.
	&ndash; What opinion is't ? let's hear.
	Cour. Fondly and wilfully she retains that thought.
	That every sin is damn'd.
	Har. O, fie, fie, wife ! pea, pea, pea, pea, how have you lost your time ! for shame, be converted. There's a diabolical opinion indeed ! then you may think that usury were damned ; you're a fine merchant, i'faith ! or bribery ; you know the law well ! or sloth ; would some of the clergy heard you, i'faith ! or pride ; you come at court ! or gluttony ; you're not worthy to dine at an alderman's table !
	Your only deadly sin&rsquo;s adultery,
	That villanous ringworm, woman's worst requittal ;
	&rsquo;Tis only lechery that's damn'd to th' pit-hole :
	Ah, that's an arch offence, believe it, squall !
	All sins are venial but venereal.
	Cour. I've said enough to her.
	Har. And she will be rul'd by you.
	Cour. Faugh !
	Har. I'll pawn my credit on't. Come hither, lady,
	I will not altogether rest ingrateful ;
	Here, wear this ruby for thy pains and counsel.
	Cour. It is not so much worth, sir ; I am a very ill counsellor, truly.
	Har. Go to, I say.
	Cour. You're to blame, i'faith, sir ; I shall ne'er deserve it.
	Har. Thou hast done't already : farewell, sweet virgin ; prithee, let's see thee oftener.

Cour.	Such gifts will soon entreat me. [Aside, and exit.

	Har. Wife, as thou lov'st the quiet of my breast.
	Embrace her counsel, yield to her advices :
	Thou wilt find comfort in 'em in the end ;
	Thou'lt feel an alteration : prithee, think on't :
	Mine eyes can scarce refrain.
	Mis. H. Keep in your dew, sir,
	Lest when you would, you want it.
	Har. I've pawn'd my credit on't : ah, didst thou know
	The sweet fruit once, thou'dst never let it go !
	Mis. H. 'Tis that I strive to get.
	Har. And still do so.

	[Exeunt

	ACT II.
	SCENE I.
	A Hall in Sir Bounteous Progress's Country House.
	Enter Sir Bounteous Progress and two Knights.
	First K. You have been too much like your name, sir Bounteous.
	Sir B. O, not so, good knights, not so ; you know my humour : most welcome, good sir Andrew Pollcut ; sir Aquitain Colewort, most welcome.
	Both. Thanks, good sir Bounteous.

	[Exeunt at one door

	At the other door, enter in haste one of Follywit's companions disguised as a Footman.
	Foot. O, cry your worship heartily mercy, sir !
	Sir B. How now, linen stockings and threescore mile a-day ? whose footman art thou ?
	Foot. Pray, can your worship tell me &ndash; ho, ho, ho ! &ndash; if my lord be come in yet.
	Sir B. Thy lord ! what lord ?
	Foot. My lord Owemuch, sir.
	Sir B. My lord Owemuch ? I have heard much speech of that lord ; has great acquaintance i' th' city ; that lord has been much followed.
	Foot. And is still, sir ; he wants no company when he's in London : he's free of the mercers, and there's none of 'em all dare cross him.
	Sir B. And they did, he'd turn over a new leaf with 'em ; he would make 'em all weary on't i' th' end. Much fine rumour have I heard of that lord, yet had I never the fortune to set eye upon him : art sure he will alight here, footman ? I am afraid thou'rt mistook.
	Foot. Thinks your worship so, sir ? by your leave, sir.
	[Going.
	Sir B. Pooh, passion of me, footman ! why, pumps, I say, come back !
	Foot. Does your worship call ?
	Sir B. Come hither, I say. I am but afraid on't ; would it might happen so well ! How dost know ? did he name the house with the great turret a' th' top ?
	Foot. No, faith, did he not, sir.
	[Going.
	Sir B. Come hither, I say. Did he speak of a cloth-a'-gold chamber ?
	Foot. Not one word, by my troth, sir.
	[Going.
	Sir B. Come again, you lousy seven-mile-an-hour !
	Foot. I beseech your worship, detain me not.
	Sir B. Was there no talk of a fair pair of organs, a great gilt candlestick, and a pair of silver snuffers ?
	Foot. 'Twere sin to belie my lord ; I heard no such words, sir.
	[Going.
	Sir B. A pox confine thee ! come again, pooh !
	Foot. Your worship will undo me, sir.
	Sir B. Was there no speech of a long dining-room, a huge kitchen, large meat, and a broad dresser-board?
	Foot. I have a greater maw to that indeed, an't please your worship.
	Sir B. Whom did he name ?
	Foot. Why, one sir Bounteous Progress.
	Sir B. Ah, a, a ! I am that sir Bounteous, you progressive round-about rascal.
	Foot. Pooh !
	[Laughs.
	Sir B. I knew I should have him i' th' end : there's not a lord will miss me, I thank their good honours ; 'tis a fortune laid upon me ; they can scent out their best entertainment. I have a kind of complimental gift given me above ordinary country knights ; and how soon 'tis smelt out ! I warrant ye, there's not one knight i' th' shire able to entertain a lord i' th' cue, or a lady i' th' nick, like me ; &ndash; like me ! there's a kind of grace belongs to't, a kind of art which naturally slips from me ; I know not on't, I promise you, 'tis gone before I'm aware on't &ndash; cuds me, I forget myself &ndash; where &ndash;&ndash;
	Enter Servants.
	First S. Does your worship call ?
	Sir B. Run, sirrah ! , call in my chief gentleman i' th' chain of gold ; expedite. [Exit First Servant.] &ndash; And how does my good lord? I never saw him before in my life. &ndash; A cup of bastard for this footman !
	Foot. My lord has travelled this five year, sir.
	Sir B. Travelled this five year ? how many children has he ? &ndash; Some bastard, I say !
	Foot. No bastard, an't please your worship.
	Sir B. A cup of sack to strengthen his wit !
	[Exit Second Servant, and returns with the wine.
	The footman's a fool.
	Enter Gumwater.
	O, come hither, master Gumwater, come hither : send presently to master Pheasant for one of his hens ; there's partridge i' th' house ?
	Gum. And wild-duck, an't please your worship.
	Sir B. And woodcock, an't please thy worship.
	Gum. And woodcock, an't please your worship. &ndash; I had thought to have spoke before you.
	Sir B. Remember the pheasant, down with some plover, clap down six woodcocks ; my lord's coming ; now, sir.
	Gum. An't please your worship, there's a lord and his followers newly alighted.
	Sir B. Despatch, I say, despatch : why, where's my music ? he's come indeed.
	[Exit Gumwater.
	Enter Follywit dressed as a lord, with Mawworm, Hoboy, and others in blue coats.
	Fol. Footman !
	Foot. My lord ?
	Fol. Run swiftly with my commendations to Sir Jasper Topaz : we'll ride and visit him i' th' morning, say.
	Foot. Your lordship's charge shall be effected.
	[Exit.
	Fol. That courtly, comely form should present to me Sir Bounteous Progress.
	Sir B. You've found me out my lord ; I cannot hide myself : Your honour is most spaciously welcome.
	Fol. In this forgive me, sir,
	That being a stranger to your house and you,
	I make my way so bold[ly] ; and presume
	Rather upon your kindness than your knowledge;
	Only your bounteous disposition
	Fame hath divulg'd, and is to me well known.
	Sir B. Nay, and your lordship know my disposition, you know me better than they that know my person ; your honour is so much the welcomer for that.
	Fol. Thanks, good sir Bounteous.
	Sir B. Pray, pardon me ; it has been often my ambition, my lord, both in respect of your honourable presence, and the prodigal fame that keeps even stroke with your unbounded worthiness,
	To have wish'd your lordship where your lordship is,
	A noble guest in this unworthy seat :
	Your lordship ne'er heard my organs ?
	Fol. Heard of 'em, sir Bounteous, but never heard 'em.
	Sir B. They're but double-gilt, my lord ; some hundred and fifty pound will fit your lordship with such another pair.
	Fol. Indeed, sir Bounteous !
	Sir B. O my lord, I have a present suit to you !
	Fol. To me, sir Bounteous ? and you could ne'er speak at fitter time, for I'm here present to grant you.
	Sir B. Your lordship has been a traveller ?
	Fol. Some five year, sir.
	Sir B. I have a grandchild, my lord ; I love him ; and when I die I'll do somewhat for him : I'll tell your honour the worst of him, a wild lad he has been.
	Fol. So we have been all, sir.
	Sir B. So we have been all indeed, my lord ; I thank your lordship's assistance. Some comic pranks he has been guilty of; but I'll pawn my credit for him, an honest, trusty bosom.
	Fol. And that's worth all, sir.
	Sir B. And that's worth all indeed, my lord, for he's like to have all when I die ; imberbis iuvenis, his chin has no more prickles yet than a midwife's ; there' great hope of his wit, his hair's so long acoming. Shall I be bold with your honour, to prefer this aforesaid Ganymede to hold a plate under your lordship's cup ?
	Fol. You wrong both his worth and your bounty, and you call that boldness. Sir, I have heard much good of that young gentleman.
	Sir B. Nay, has a good wit, i'faith my lord.
	Fol. Has carried himself always generously.
	Sir B. Are you advised of that, my lord ? has carried many things cleanly. I'll show your lordship my will ; I keep it above in an outlandish box ; the whoreson boy must have all ; I love him, yet he shall ne'er find it as long as I live.
	Fol. Well, sir, for your sake, and his own deserving, I'll reserve a place for him nearest to my secrets.
	Sir B. I understand your good lordship ; you'll make him your secretary. &ndash; My music! give my -lord a taste of his welcome. [A strain played by the consort: Sir Bounteous makes a courtly honour to Follywit, and seems to foot the tune.] So. &ndash; How like you our airs, my lord ? are they choice ?
	Fol. They're seldom matched, believe it.
	Sir B. The consort of mine own household.
	Fol. Yea, sir !
	Sir B. The musicians are in ordinary, yet no ordinary musicians. Your lordship shall hear my organs now.
	Fol. O, I beseech you, sir Bounteous !
	Sir B. My organist ! [ The organs play, and servants with covered dishes pass over the stage.] &ndash; Come, my lord, how does your honour relish my organ[s] ?
	Fol. A very proud air, i'faith, sir.
	Sir B. O, how can't choose ? a Walloon plays upon 'em, and a Welchman blows wind in their breech.
	[Exeunt.
	[A song to the organs.
	SCENE II.
	A Gallery.
	Enter Sir Bounteous with Follywit, Mawworm, Hoboy, and his consorts towards his lodging.
	Sir B. You must pardon us, my lord, hasty cates ; your honour has had even a hunting-meal on't; and now I am like to bring your lordship to as mean a lodging; a hard down bed, i'faith, my lord, poor cambric sheets, and a cloth a' tissue canopy; the curtains, indeed, were wrought in Venice, with the story of the Prodigal Child in silk and gold; only the swine are left out, my lord, for spoiling the curtains.
	Fol. 'Twas well prevented, sir.
	Sir B. Silken rest, harmonious slumbers, and venereal dreams to your lordship !
	Fol. The like to kind Sir Bounteous !
	Sir B. Fie, not to me, my lord ; I'm old, past dreaming of such vanities.
	Fol. Old men should dream best.
	Sir B. They're dreame[r]s indeed, my lord ; you've gi'nt us. To-morrow your lordship shall see my cocks, my fish-ponds, my park, my champion grounds : I keep champers in my house can, show your lordship some pleasure.
	Fol. Sir Bounteous, you even whelm me with delights.
	Sir B. Once again, a musical night to your honour ! I&rsquo;ll trouble your lordship no more.
	Fol. Good rest, sir Bounteous. [Exit Sir Bounteous.] &ndash; So, come, the vizards ! where be the masking- suits ?
	Maw. In your lordship's portmantua.
	Fol. Peace, lieutenant.
	Maw. I had rather have war, captain.
	Fol. Pooh, the plot's ripe ! come to your business, lad ;
	Though guilt condemn, 'tis gilt must make us glad.
	Maw. Nay, and you be at your distinctions, captain, I'll follow behind no longer.
	Fol. Get you before, then, and whelm your nose with your vizard ; go.
	[Exit Mawworm.
	Now, grandsire, you that hold me at hard meat,
	And keep me out at the dag's end, I'll fit you :
	Under his lordship's leave, all must be mine
	He and his will confesses ; what I take, then.
	Is but a borrowing of so much beforehand ;
	I'll pay him again when he dies in so many blacks; I'll have the church hung round with a noble a yard, or requite him in scutcheons : let him trap me in gold, and I'll lap him in lead ; quid pro quo. I must look none of his angels in the face, forsooth, until his face be not worth looking on . tut, lads, Let sires and grandsires keep us low, we must
	Live when they're flesh, as well as when they're dust.
	[Exeunt.
	SCENE III.
	A Room in the Courtesan's House.
	Enter Courtesan and Servant.
	Cour. Go, sirrah, run presently to master Penitent Brothel : you know his lodging; knock him up ; I know he cannot sleep for sighing ;
	Tell him, I've happily bethought a mean
	To make his purpose prosper in each limb,
	Which only rests to be approv&rsquo;d by him :
	Make haste, I know he thirsts for't.
	[Exeunt severally.
	SCENE IV.
	A Gallery.
	Enter Follywit in a masking suit with a vizard in his hand.
	[Within.] Oh!
	Fol. Hark ! they're at their business.
	[Within.] Thieves, thieves !
	Fol. Gag that gaping rascal ! though he be my grandsire's chief gentleman i' th' chain of gold, I'll have no pity of him.
	Enter Mawworm, Hoboy, and others, vizarded.
	How now, lads ?
	Maw. All's sure and safe ; on with your vizard, sir ; the servants are all bound.
	Fol. There's one care past then : come, follow me, lads; I'll lead you now to the point and top of all your fortunes : yon lodging is my grandsire's.
	Maw. So, so ; lead on, on !
	Hob. Here's a captain worth the following, and a wit worth a man's love and admiring !
	[Exeunt
	SCENE V.
	A Room opening into Sir Bounteous's Bed-chamber, from which enter Follywit, Mawworm, Hoboy, and others, dragging in Sir Bounteous in his night-gown.
	Sir B. O gentlemen, and you be kind gentlemen, what countrymen are you ?
	Fol. Lincolnshire men, sir.
	Sir B. I am glad of that, i'faith.
	Fol. And why should you be glad of that ?
	Sir B. O, the honestest thieves of all come out of Lincolnshire, the kindest-natured gentlemen ; they'll rob a man with conscience ; they have a feeling of what they go about and will steal with tears in their eyes : ah, pitiful gentlemen !
	Fol. Push, money, money ! we come for money.
	Sir B. Is that all you come for ? Ah, what a beast was I to put out my money t'other day ! Alas, good gentlemen, what shift shall I make for you ? pray, come again another time.
	Fol. Tut, tut, sir, money !
	Sir B. O not so loud, sir ! you're too shrill a gentleman : I have a lord lies in my house ; I would not for the world his honour should be disquieted.
	Fol. Who, my lord Owemuch ? we have took order with him beforehand ; he lies bound in his bed, and all his followers.
	Sir B. Who, my lord ? bound my lord ? Alas, what did you mean to bind my lord ? he could keep his bed well enough without binding. You've undone me in't already, you need rob me no farther.
	Fol. Which is the key ? come !
	Sir B. Ah, I perceive now you're no true Lincolnshire spirits ! you come rather out of Bedfordshire ; we cannot lie quiet in our beds for you. So, take enough, my masters [they rifle his cabinets] : spur a free horse, my name's sir Bounteous ; a merry world, i'faith ; what knight but I keep open house at midnight ? Well, there should be a conscience, if one could hit upon't.
	Fol. Away now ; seize upon him, bind him.
	Sir B. Is this your court of equity ? why should I be bound for mine own money ? but come, come, bind me, I have need on't ; I have been too liberal to-night, keep in my hands [they bind him]: nay, as hard as you list ; I am too good to bear my lord company. You have watched your time, my masters ; I was knighted at Westminster, but many of these nights will make me a knight of Windsor. You've deserved so well, my masters, I bid you all to dinner to-morrow : I would I might have your companies, i'faith ; I desire no more.
	Fol. O, ho, sir !
	Sir B. Pray, meddle not with my organs, to put 'em out of tune.
	Fol. O no, here's better music, sir.
	Sir B. Ah, pox feast you !
	Fol. Despatch with him, away !  [Exeunt Hoboy and others, carrying Sir Bounteous into the bedchamber.] &ndash; So, thank you, good grandsire ! This was bounteously done of him, i'faith : it came somewhat hard from him at first; for, indeed, nothing comes stiff from an old man but money : and he may well stand upon that, when he has nothing else to stand upon. Where's our portmantua ?
	Maw. Here, bully captain.
	Fol. In with the purchase, 'twill lie safe enough there under 's nose, I warrant you. &ndash;
	Re-enter Hoboy and others.
	What, is all sure ?
	Hob. All's sure, captain.
	Fol. You know what follows now, one villain binds his fellows; go, we must be all bound for our own securities, rascals. There's no dallying upo' th' point; you conceit me : there is a lord to be found bound in the morning, and all his followers; can you pick out that lord now ?
	Maw. O admirable spirit !
	Fol. You ne'er plot for your safeties, so your wants be satisfied.
	Hob. But if we bind one another, how shall the last man be bound ?
	Fol. Pox on't, I'll have the footman 'scape.
	Foot. That's I ; I thank you, sir.
	Fol. The footman, of all other, will be supposed to 'scape, for he comes in no bed all night, but lies in 's clothes, to be first ready i' the morning ; the horse and he lies in litter together, that's the right fashion of your bonny footman ; and his freedom will make the better for our purpose, for we must have one i' the morning to unbind the knight, that we may have our sport within ourselves. We now arrive at the most ticklish point, to rob, and take our ease, to be thieves, and lie by't : look to't, lads, it concerns every man's gullet ; I'll not have the jest spoiled, that's certain, though it hazard a windpipe. I'll either go like a lord as I came, or be hanged like a thief as I am ; and that's my resolution.
	Maw. Troth, a match, captain, of all hands !
	[Exeunt.
	SCENE VI.
	A Room in the Courtesan's House.
	Enter Courtesan meeting Penitent Brothel.
	Cour. O master Penitent Brothel !
	Pen. B. What is't, sweet lady Gullman, that so seizes on thee with rapture and admiration ?
	Cour. A thought, a trick, to make you, sir, especially happy, and yet I myself a saver by it.
	Pen. B. I would embrace that, lady, with such courage, I would not leave you on the losing hand. Cour. I will give trust to you, sir. The cause, then, why I raised you from your bed so soon, wherein I know sighs would not let you sleep, thus understand it :
	You love that woman, master Harebrain's wife.
	Which no invented means can crown with freedom
	For your desires and her own wish but this,
	Which in my slumbers did present itself.
	Pen. B. I'm covetous, lady.
	Cour. You know her husband, lingering in suspect,
	Locks her from all society but mine.
	Pen. B. Most true.
	Cour. I only am admitted ; yet hitherto that has done you no real happiness ; by my admittance I cannot perform that deed that should please you, you know : where- fore thus I've conveyed it, I'll counterfeit a fit of violent sickness.
	Pen. B. Good.
	Cour. Nay, 'tis not so good, by my faith, but to do you good.
	Pen. B. And in that sense I called it : but take me with you, lady ; would it be probable enough to have a sickness so suddenly violent ?
	Cour. Pooh, all the world knows women are soon down : we can be sick when we have a mind to't, catch an ague with the wind of our fans, surfeit upon the rump of a lark, and bestow ten pound in physic upon't : we're likest ourselves when we're down ; 'tis the easiest art and . cunning for our sect  to counterfeit sick, that are always full of fits when we are well ; for since we were made for a weak, imperfect creature, we can fit that best that we are made for. I thus translated, and yourself slipt into the form of a physician
	Pen. B. I a physician, lady ? talk not on't, I beseech you ; I shall shame the whole college.
	Cour. Tut, man, any quacksalving terms will serve for this purpose ; for I am pitifully haunted with a brace of elder brothers, new perfumed in the first of their fortunes, and I shall see how forward their purses will be to the pleasing of my palate and restoring of my health. Lay on load enough upon 'em, and spare 'em not, for they're good plump fleshly asses, and may well enough bear it ; let gold, amber, and dissolved pearl, be common ingrediences, and that you cannot compose a cullice without 'em. Put but this cunningly in practice, it shall be both a sufficient recompense for all my pains in your love, and the ready means to make mistress Harebrain way, by the visiting of me, to your mutual desired company.
	Pen. B. I applaud thee, kiss thee, and will constantly embrace it.
	[Exeunt severally.
	SCENE VII.
	A Bed-chamber : Follywit, bound, in bed.
	Sir B. [within.] Ho, Gumwater !
	Fol. Singlestone !
	[Within.] Jenkin, wa, ha, ho !
	[Within.] Ewen!
	[Within.] Simcod !
	Fol. Footman ! whew !
	Foot. [within.] O good your worship, let me help your good old worship !
	Enter Sir Bounteous, with a cord half unbound, and Footman, assisting to loose him.
	Sir B. Ah, poor honest footman ! how did'st thou 'scape this massacre ?
	Foot. E'en by miracle, and lying in my clothes, sir.
	Sir B. I think so ; I would I had lain in my clothes too, footman, so I had 'scaped 'em : I could have but risse like a beggar then, and so I do now, till more money come in ; but nothing afflicts me so much, my poor geometrical footman, as that the barbarous villains should lay violence upon my lord. Ah, the binding of my lord cuts my heart in two pieces ! So, so, 'tis well ; I thank thee : run to thy fellows ; undo 'em, undo 'em, undo 'em !
	Foot. Alas, if my lord should miscarry, they're unbound already, sir ; they have no occupation but sleep, feed, and fart.
	[Exit.
	Sir B. If I be not ashamed to look my lord i' th' face, I&rsquo;m a Saracen. &ndash; My lord !
	Fol. Who's that?
	Sir B. One may see he has been scared : a pox on 'em for their labours!
	Fol. Singlestone !
	Sir B. Singlestone ? I'll ne'er answer to that, i'faith.
	Fol. Suchman !
	Sir B. Suchman ? nor that neither, i'faith ; I am not brought so low, though I be old.
	Fol. Who's that i' th' chamber ?
	Sir B. Good morrow, my lord ; 'tis I.
	Fol. Sir Bounteous, good morrow ; I would give you my hand, sir, but I cannot come at it. Is this the courtesy a' th' country, sir Bounteous ?
	Sir B. Your lordship grieves me more than all my loss;
	'Tis the unnatural'st sight that can be found,
	To see a noble gentleman hard bound.
	Fol. Trust me, I thought you had been better beloved, sir Bounteous; but I see you have enemies, sir, and your friends fare the worse for 'em. I like your talk better than your lodging ; I ne'er lay harder in a bed of down ; I have had a mad night's rest on't. Can you not guess what they should be, sir Bounteous ?
	Sir B. Faith, Lincolnshire men, my lord.
	Fol. How? fie, fie, believe it not, sir; these lie not far off, I warrant you.
	Sir B. Think you so, my lord ? Fol. I'll be burnt and they do ; some that use to your house, sir, and are familiar with all the conveyances.
	Sir B. This is the commodity of keeping open house, my lord ; that makes so many shut their doors about dinner-time.
	Fol. They were resolute villains : I made myself known to 'em, told 'em what I was, gave 'em my honourable word not to disclose 'em &ndash;
	Sir B. O saucy, unmannerly villains !
	Fol. And think you the slaves would trust me upon my word ?
	Sir B. They would not ?
	Fol. Forsooth, no ; I must pardon 'em : they told me . lords' promises were mortal, and commonly die within half an hour after they are spoken ; they were but gristles, and not one amongst a hundred come to any full growth or perfection ; and therefore, though I were a lord, I must enter into bond.
	Sir B. Insupportable rascals !
	Fol. Troth, I'm of that mind. Sir Bounteous, you fared the worse for my coming hither.
	Sir B. Ah, good my lord, but I'm sure your lordship fared the worse !
	Fol. Pray, pity not me, sir.
	Sir B. Is not your honour sore about the brawn of the arm ? a murrain meet 'em, I feel it !
	Fol. About this place, sir Bounteous ?
	Sir B. You feel as it were a twinge, my lord ?
	Fol. Ay, e'en a twinge, you say right.
	Sir B. A pox discover 'em, that twinge I feel too !
	Fol. But that which disturbs me most, sir Bounteous, lies here.
	Sir B. True ; about the wrist, a kind of tumid numbness.
	Fol. You say true, sir.
	Sir B. The reason of that, my lord, is, the pulses had no play.
	Fol. Mass, so I guessed it.
	Sir B. A mischief swell 'em, for I feel that too !
	Enter Mawworm.
	Maw. 'Slid, here's a house haunted indeed !
	Sir B. A word with you, sir.
	Fol. How now, Singlestone ?
	Maw. I'm sorry, my lord, your worship has lost &ndash;
	Sir B. Pup, pup, pup, pup, pup !
	Fol. What have I lost ? speak.
	Sir B. A good night's sleep, say.
	 Fol. Speak, what have I lost, I say ?
	Maw. A good night's sleep, my lord, nothing else,
	Fol. That's true ; my clothes, come.
	Maw. My lord's clothes ! his honour's rising.
	[Enter Hoboy and others with clothes : they retire to Follywit, behind the curtains, which are drawn.
	Sir B. Hist, well said : come hither ; what has my lord lost ? tell me, speak softly.
	Maw. His lordship must know that, sir.
	Sir B. Hush ! prithee tell me.
	Maw. 'Twill do you no pleasure to know't, sir.
	Sir B. Yet again ? I desire it, I say.
	Maw. Since your worship wiU needs know't, they have stolen away a jewel in a blue silk ribband of a hundred pound price, beside some hundred pounds in fair spur-royals.
	Sir B. That's some two hundred i' th' total.
	Maw. Your worship's much about it, sir.
	Sir B. Come, follow me ; I'll make that whole again in so much money ; let not my lord know on't.
	Maw. O pardon me, sir Bounteous ! that were a dis honour to my lord : should it come to his ear, I should hazard my undoing by it.
	Sir B. How should it come to his ear ? if you be my lord's chief man about him, I hope you do not use to speak unless you be paid for't; and I had rather give you a councillor's double fee to hold your peace. Come, go to ; follow me, I say.
	Maw. There will be scarce time to tell it, sir ; my lord will away instantly.
	Sir B. His honour shall stay dinner, by his leave ; I'll prevail with him so far : and now I remember a jest, I bade the whoreson thieves to dinner last night; I would I might have their companies ; a pox poison em !
	[Exit.
	Maw. Faith, and you are like to have no other guess, sir Bounteous, if you have none but us ; I'll give you that gift, i'faith.
	[Exit.


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


PROLOGUE


	[Florish]

Prologue	New Playes, and Maydenheads, are neare a kin,
	Much follow'd both, for both much mony g'yn,
	If they stand sound, and well: And a good Play
	(Whose modest Sceanes blush on his marriage day,
	And shake to loose his honour) is like hir
	That after holy Tye and first nights stir
	Yet still is Modestie, and still retaines
	More of the maid to sight, than Husbands paines;
	We pray our Play may be so; For I am sure
	It has a noble Breeder, and a pure,
	A learned, and a Poet never went
	More famous yet twixt Po and silver Trent:
	Chaucer (of all admir'd) the Story gives,
	There constant to Eternity it lives.
	If we let fall the Noblenesse of this,
	And the first sound this child heare, be a hisse,
	How will it shake the bones of that good man,
	And make him cry from under ground, 'O fan
	From me the witles chaffe of such a wrighter
	That blastes my Bayes, and my fam'd workes makes lighter
	Then Robin Hood!'  This is the feare we bring;
	For to say Truth, it were an endlesse thing,
	And too ambitious, to aspire to him,
	Weake as we are, and almost breathlesse swim
	In this deepe water. Do but you hold out
	Your helping hands, and we shall take about,
	And something doe to save us: You shall heare
	Sceanes, though below his Art, may yet appeare
	Worth two houres travell. To his bones sweet sleepe:
	Content to you. If this play doe not keepe
	A little dull time from us, we perceave
	Our losses fall so thicke, we must needs leave. [Florish]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT I


SCENE I	Athens. Before a temple


	[Enter Hymen with a Torch burning: a Boy, in a white Robe before
	singing, and strewing Flowres: After Hymen, a Nimph, encompast in
	her Tresses, bearing a wheaten Garland. Then Theseus betweene
	two other Nimphs with wheaten Chaplets on their heades. Then
	Hipolita the Bride, lead by Pirithous, and another holding a
	Garland over her head (her Tresses likewise hanging.)  After
	her Emilia holding up her Traine. (Artesius and Attendants)]

BOY	[The Song, Musike]

	Roses their sharpe spines being gon,
	Not royall in their smels alone,
	But in their hew.
	Maiden Pinckes, of odour faint,
	Dazies smel-lesse, yet most quaint
	And sweet Time true.

	Prim-rose first borne child of Ver,
	Merry Spring times Herbinger,
	With her bels dimme.
	Oxlips, in their Cradles growing,
	Mary-golds, on death beds blowing,
	Larkes-heeles trymme.

	All deere natures children sweete,
	Ly fore Bride and Bridegroomes feete,  [Strew Flowers]
	Blessing their sence.
	Not an angle of the aire,
	Bird melodious, or bird faire,
	Is absent hence.

	The Crow, the slaundrous Cuckoe, nor
	The boding Raven, nor Chough hore
	Nor chattring Pie,
	May on our Bridehouse pearch or sing,
	Or with them any discord bring,
	But from it fly.

	[Enter three Queenes in Blacke, with vailes staind,
	 with imperiall crownes. Queen 1 fals downe at the foote of Theseus;
	Queen 2 fals downe at the foote of Hypolita. Queen 3 before Emilia]

QUEEN 1	For pitties sake and true gentilities,
	Heare, and respect me.

QUEEN 2	For your Mothers sake,
	And as you wish your womb may thrive with faire ones,
	Heare and respect me.

QUEEN 3	Now for the love of him whom Jove hath markd
	The honour of your Bed, and for the sake
	Of cleere virginity, be Advocate
	For us, and our distresses. This good deede
	Shall raze you out o'th Booke of Trespasses
	All you are set downe there.

THESEUS	Sad Lady, rise.

HIPPOLITA	Stand up.

EMILIA	No knees to me.
	What woman I may steed that is distrest,
	Does bind me to her.

THESEUS	What's your request?  Deliver you for all.

QUEEN 1	We are three Queenes, whose Soveraignes fel before
	The wrath of cruell Creon; who endured
	The Beakes of Ravens, Tallents of the Kights,
	And pecks of Crowes, in the fowle fields of Thebs.
	He will not suffer us to burne their bones,
	To urne their ashes, nor to take th' offence
	Of mortall loathsomenes from the blest eye
	Of holy Phoebus, but infects the windes
	With stench of our slaine Lords. O pitty, Duke:
	Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feard Sword
	That does good turnes to'th world; give us the Bones
	Of our dead Kings, that we may Chappell them;
	And of thy boundles goodnes take some note
	That for our crowned heades we have no roofe,
	Save this which is the Lyons, and the Beares,
	And vault to every thing.

THESEUS	Pray you, kneele not:
	I was transported with your Speech, and suffer'd
	Your knees to wrong themselves; I have heard the fortunes
	Of your dead Lords, which gives me such lamenting
	As wakes my vengeance, and revenge for'em,
	King Capaneus was your Lord: the day
	That he should marry you, at such a season,
	As now it is with me, I met your Groome,
	By Marsis Altar; you were that time faire,
	Not Junos Mantle fairer then your Tresses,
	Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreathe
	Was then nor threashd, nor blasted; Fortune at you
	Dimpled her Cheeke with smiles: Hercules our kinesman
	(Then weaker than your eies) laide by his Club,
	He tumbled downe upon his Nemean hide
	And swore his sinews thawd: O greife, and time,
	Fearefull consumers, you will all devoure.

QUEEN 1	O, I hope some God,
	Some God hath put his mercy in your manhood
	Whereto heel infuse powre, and presse you forth
	Our undertaker.

THESEUS	O no knees, none, Widdow,
	Vnto the Helmeted Belona use them,
	And pray for me your Souldier.
	Troubled I am. [Turnes away]

QUEEN 2	Honoured Hypolita,
	Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slaine
	The Sith-tuskd Bore; that with thy Arme as strong
	As it is white, wast neere to make the male
	To thy Sex captive, but that this thy Lord,
	Borne to uphold Creation in that honour
	First nature stilde it in, shrunke thee into
	The bownd thou wast ore-flowing, at once subduing
	Thy force, and thy affection: Soldiresse
	That equally canst poize sternenes with pitty,
	Whom now I know hast much more power on him
	Then ever he had on thee, who ow'st his strength
	And his Love too, who is a Servant for
	The Tenour of thy Speech: Deere Glasse of Ladies,
	Bid him that we, whom flaming war doth scortch,
	Vnder the shaddow of his Sword may coole us:
	Require him he advance it ore our heades;
	Speak't in a womans key: like such a woman
	As any of us three; weepe ere you faile;
	Lend us a knee;
	But touch the ground for us no longer time
	Then a Doves motion, when the head's pluckt off:
	Tell him if he i'th blood cizd field lay swolne,
	Showing the Sun his Teeth, grinning at the Moone,
	What you would doe.

HIPPOLITA	Poore Lady, say no more:
	I had as leife trace this good action with you
	As that whereto I am going, and never yet
	Went I so willing way. My Lord is taken
	Hart deepe with your distresse: Let him consider:
	I'll speake anon.

QUEEN 3	O my petition was  [Kneele to Emilia]
	Set downe in yce, which by hot greefe uncandied
	Melts into drops, so sorrow, wanting forme,
	Is prest with deeper matter.

EMILIA	Pray stand up,
	Your greefe is written in your cheeke.

QUEEN 3	O woe,
	You cannot reade it there, there through my teares &ndash;
	Like wrinckled peobles in a glassie streame
	You may behold 'em. Lady, Lady, alacke,
	He that will all the Treasure know o'th earth
	Must know the Center too; he that will fish
	For my least minnow, let him lead his line
	To catch one at my heart. O pardon me:
	Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
	Makes me a Foole.

EMILIA	Pray you say nothing, pray you:
	Who cannot feele nor see the raine, being in't,
	Knowes neither wet nor dry: if that you were
	The ground-peece of some Painter, I would buy you
	T'instruct me gainst a Capitall greefe indeed &ndash;
	Such heart peirc'd demonstration; but, alas,
	Being a naturall Sifter of our Sex
	Your sorrow beates so ardently upon me,
	That it shall make a counter reflect gainst
	My Brothers heart, and warme it to some pitty,
	Though it were made of stone: pray, have good comfort.

THESEUS	Forward to'th Temple, leave not out a jot
	O'th sacred Ceremony.

QUEEN 1	O, This Celebration
	Will long last, and be more costly then
	Your Suppliants war: Remember that your Fame
	Knowles in the eare o'th world: what you doe quickly
	Is not done rashly; your first thought is more
	Then others laboured meditance: your premeditating
	More then their actions: But, oh Jove! your actions,
	Soone as they mooves, as Asprayes doe the fish,
	Subdue before they touch: thinke, deere Duke, thinke
	What beds our slaine Kings have.

QUEEN 2	What greifes our beds,
	That our deere Lords have none.

QUEEN 3	None fit for 'th dead:
	Those that with Cordes, Knives, drams precipitance,
	Weary of this worlds light, have to themselves
	Beene deathes most horrid Agents, humaine grace
	Affords them dust and shaddow.

QUEEN 1	But our Lords
	Ly blistring fore the visitating Sunne,
	And were good Kings, when living.

THESEUS	It is true, and I will give you comfort,
	To give your dead Lords graves: the which to doe,
	Must make some worke with Creon.

QUEEN 1	And that worke presents it selfe to'th doing:
	Now twill take forme, the heates are gone to morrow.
	Then, booteles toyle must recompence it selfe
	With it's owne sweat; Now he's secure,
	Not dreames we stand before your puissance
	Wrinching our holy begging in our eyes
	To make petition cleere.

QUEEN 2	Now you may take him, drunke with his victory.

QUEEN 3	And his Army full of Bread, and sloth.

THESEUS	Artesius, that best knowest
	How to draw out fit to this enterprise
	The prim'st for this proceeding, and the number
	To carry such a businesse, forth and levy
	Our worthiest Instruments, whilst we despatch
	This grand act of our life, this daring deede
	Of Fate in wedlocke.

QUEEN 1	Dowagers, take hands;
	Let us be Widdowes to our woes: delay
	Commends us to a famishing hope.

All	Farewell.

QUEEN 2	We come unseasonably: But when could greefe
	Cull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fit'st time
	For best solicitation.

THESEUS	Why, good Ladies,
	This is a service, whereto I am going,
	Greater then any was; it more imports me
	Then all the actions that I have foregone,
	Or futurely can cope.

QUEEN 1	The more proclaiming
	Our suit shall be neglected: when her Armes
	Able to locke Jove from a Synod, shall
	By warranting Moone-light corslet thee, oh, when
	Her twyning Cherries shall their sweetnes fall
	Vpon thy tastefull lips, what wilt thou thinke
	Of rotten Kings or blubberd Queenes, what care
	For what thou feelst not? what thou feelst being able
	To make Mars spurne his Drom. O, if thou couch
	But one night with her, every howre in't will
	Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and
	Thou shalt remember nothing more then what
	That Banket bids thee too.

HIPPOLITA	Though much unlike  [Kneeling]
	You should be so transported, as much sorry
	I should be such a Suitour; yet I thinke,
	Did I not by th'abstayning of my joy,
	Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit
	That craves a present medcine, I should plucke
	All Ladies scandall on me. Therefore, Sir,
	As I shall here make tryall of my prayres,
	Either presuming them to have some force,
	Or sentencing for ay their vigour dombe:
	Prorogue this busines we are going about, and hang
	Your Sheild afore your Heart, about that necke
	Which is my ffee, and which I freely lend
	To doe these poore Queenes service.

All QUEENS	Oh helpe now,
	Our Cause cries for your knee.

EMILIA	If you grant not  [Kneeling]
	My Sister her petition in that force,
	With that Celerity and nature, which
	Shee makes it in, from henceforth I&rsquo;ll not dare
	To aske you any thing, nor be so hardy
	Ever to take a Husband.

THESEUS	Pray stand up.
	I am entreating of my selfe to doe
	That which you kneele to have me. Pyrithous,
	Leade on the Bride; get you and pray the Gods
	For successe, and returne; omit not any thing
	In the pretended Celebration. Queenes,
	Follow your Soldier. As before, hence you  [to Artesius]
	And at the banckes of Aulis meete us with
	The forces you can raise, where we shall finde
	The moytie of a number, for a busines
	More bigger look't. Since that our Theame is haste,
	I stamp this kisse upon thy currant lippe;
	Sweete, keepe it as my Token. Set you forward,
	For I will see you gone. [Procession moves toward the temple]
	Farewell, my beauteous Sister: Pyrithous,
	Keepe the feast full, bate not an howre on't.

PERITHOUS	Sir,
	I'll follow you at heeles; The Feasts solempnity
	Shall want till your returne.

THESEUS	Cosen, I charge you
	Boudge not from Athens; We shall be returning
	Ere you can end this Feast, of which, I pray you,
	Make no abatement; once more, farewell all.

QUEEN 1	Thus do'st thou still make good the tongue o'th world.

QUEEN 2	And earnst a Deity equal with Mars.

QUEEN 3	If not above him, for
	Thou being but mortall makest affections bend
	To Godlike honours; they themselves, some say,
	Grone under such a Mastry.

THESEUS	As we are men,
	Thus should we doe; being sensually subdude,
	We loose our humane tytle. Good cheere, Ladies. [Florish]
	Now turne we towards your Comforts. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT I


SCENE II	Thebes


	[Enter Palamon, and Arcite]

ARCITE	Deere Palamon, deerer in love then Blood
	And our prime Cosen, yet unhardned in
	The Crimes of nature; Let us leave the Citty
	Thebs, and the temptings in't, before we further
	Sully our glosse of youth:
	And here to keepe in abstinence we shame
	As in Incontinence; for not to swim
	I'th aide o'th Current were almost to sincke,
	At least to frustrate striving, and to follow
	The common Streame, twold bring us to an Edy
	Where we should turne or drowne; if labour through,
	Our gaine but life, and weakenes.

PALAMON	Your advice
	Is cride up with example: what strange ruins
	Since first we went to Schoole, may we perceive
	Walking in Thebs?  Skars, and bare weedes
	The gaine o'th Martialist, who did propound
	To his bold ends honour, and golden Ingots,
	Which though he won, he had not, and now flurted
	By peace for whom he fought: who then shall offer
	To Marsis so scornd Altar? I doe bleede
	When such I meete, and wish great Juno would
	Resume her ancient fit of jelouzie
	To get the Soldier worke, that peace might purge
	For her repletion, and retaine anew
	Her charitable heart now hard, and harsher
	Then strife or war could be.

ARCITE	Are you not out?
	Meete you no ruine but the Soldier in
	The Cranckes and turnes of Thebs? you did begin
	As if you met decaies of many kindes:
	Perceive you none, that doe arowse your pitty
	But th'un-considerd Soldier?

PALAMON	Yes, I pitty
	Decaies where ere I finde them, but such most
	That, sweating in an honourable Toyle,
	Are paide with yce to coole 'em.

ARCITE	Tis not this
	I did begin to speake of: This is vertue
	Of no respect in Thebs; I spake of Thebs
	How dangerous if we will keepe our Honours,
	It is for our resyding, where every evill
	Hath a good cullor; where eve'ry seeming good's
	A certaine evill, where not to be ev'n jumpe
	As they are, here were to be strangers, and
	Such things to be, meere Monsters.

PALAMON	Tis in our power,
	(Vnlesse we feare that Apes can Tutor's) to
	Be Masters of our manners: what neede I
	Affect anothers gate, which is not catching
	Where there is faith, or to be fond upon
	Anothers way of speech, when by mine owne
	I may be reasonably conceiv'd; sav'd too,
	Speaking it truly? why am I bound
	By any generous bond to follow him
	Followes his Taylor, haply so long untill
	The follow'd make pursuit? or let me know,
	Why mine owne Barber is unblest, with him
	My poore Chinne too, for tis not Cizard iust
	To such a Favorites glasse: What Cannon is there
	That does command my Rapier from my hip
	To dangle't in my hand, or to go tip toe
	Before the streete be foule?  Either I am
	The fore-horse in the Teame, or I am none
	That draw i'th sequent trace: these poore sleight sores
	Neede not a plantin; That which rips my bosome
	Almost to'th heart's &ndash;

ARCITE	Our Vncle Creon.

PALAMON	He,
	A most unbounded Tyrant, whose successes
	Makes heaven unfeard, and villany assured
	Beyond its power there's nothing, almost puts
	Faith in a feavour, and deifies alone
	Voluble chance; who onely attributes
	The faculties of other Instruments
	To his owne Nerves and act; Commands men service,
	And what they winne in't, boot and glory; on(e)
	That feares not to do harm; good, dares not; Let
	The blood of mine that's sibbe to him be suckt
	From me with Leeches; Let them breake and fall
	Off me with that corruption.

ARCITE	Cleere spirited Cozen,
	Lets leave his Court, that we may nothing share
	Of his lowd infamy: for our milke
	Will relish of the pasture, and we must
	Be vile or disobedient, not his kinesmen
	In blood, unlesse in quality.

PALAMON	Nothing truer:
	I thinke the Ecchoes of his shames have dea'ft
	The eares of heav'nly justice: widdows cryes
	Descend againe into their throates, and have not

	[enter Valerius]

	Due audience of the Gods. &ndash; Valerius!

VALERIUS	The King calls for you; yet be leaden footed,
	Till his great rage be off him. Phebus, when
	He broke his whipstocke and exclaimd against
	The Horses of the Sun, but whisperd too
	The lowdenesse of his Fury.

PALAMON	Small windes shake him:
	But whats the matter?

VALERIUS	Theseus (who where he threates appalls) hath sent
	Deadly defyance to him, and pronounces
	Ruine to Thebs; who is at hand to seale
	The promise of his wrath.

ARCITE	Let him approach;
	But that we feare the Gods in him, he brings not
	A jot of terrour to us; Yet what man
	Thirds his owne worth (the case is each of ours)
	When that his actions dregd with minde assurd
	Tis bad he goes about?

PALAMON	Leave that unreasond.
	Our services stand now for Thebs, not Creon,
	Yet to be neutrall to him were dishonour;
	Rebellious to oppose: therefore we must
	With him stand to the mercy of our Fate,
	Who hath bounded our last minute.

ARCITE	So we must.
	Ist sed this warres a foote? or it shall be,
	On faile of some condition?

VALERIUS	Tis in motion
	The intelligence of state came in the instant
	With the defier.

PALAMON	Lets to the king, who, were he
	A quarter carrier of that honour which
	His Enemy come in, the blood we venture
	Should be as for our health, which were not spent,
	Rather laide out for purchase: but, alas,
	Our hands advanc'd before our hearts, what will
	The fall o'th stroke doe damage?

ARCITE	Let th'event,
	That never erring Arbitratour, tell us
	When we know all our selves, and let us follow
	The becking of our chance. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT I


SCENE III	Before the gates of Athens


	[Enter Pirithous, Hipolita, Emilia]

PERITHOUS	No further.

HIPPOLITA	Sir, farewell; repeat my wishes
	To our great Lord, of whose succes I dare not
	Make any timerous question; yet I wish him
	Exces and overflow of power, and't might be,
	To dure ill-dealing fortune: speede to him,
	Store never hurtes good Gouernours.

PERITHOUS	Though I know
	His Ocean needes not my poore drops, yet they
	Must yeild their tribute there. My precious Maide,
	Those best affections, that the heavens infuse
	In their best temperd peices, keepe enthroand
	In your deare heart.

EMILIA	Thanckes, Sir. Remember me
	To our all royall Brother, for whose speede
	The great Bellona I&rsquo;ll sollicite; and
	Since in our terrene State petitions are not
	Without giftes understood, I'll offer to her
	What I shall be advised she likes: our hearts
	Are in his Army, in his Tent.

HIPPOLITA	In's bosome:
	We have bin Soldiers, and wee cannot weepe
	When our Friends don their helmes, or put to sea,
	Or tell of Babes broachd on the Launce, or women
	That have sod their Infants in (and after eate them)
	The brine, they wept at killing 'em; Then if
	You stay to see of us such Spincsters, we
	Should hold you here for ever.

PERITHOUS	Peace be to you,
	As I pursue this war, which shall be then
	Beyond further requiring. [Exit Perithous]

EMILIA	How his longing
	Followes his Friend! since his depart, his sportes
	Though craving seriousnes, and skill, past slightly
	His careles execution, where nor gaine
	Made him regard, or losse consider; but
	Playing one busines in his hand, another
	Directing in his head, his minde, nurse equall
	To these so diffring Twyns &ndash; have you observ'd him,
	Since our great Lord departed?

HIPPOLITA	With much labour,
	And I did love him fort: they two have Cabind
	In many as dangerous, as poore a Corner,
	Perill and want contending; they have skift
	Torrents whose roring tyranny and power
	I'th least of these was dreadfull, and they have
	Fought out together, where Deaths-selfe was lodgd,
	Yet fate hath brought them off: Their knot of love,
	Tide, weau'd, intangled, with so true, so long,
	And with a finger of so deepe a cunning,
	May be outworne, never undone. I thinke
	Theseus cannot be umpire to himselfe,
	Cleaving his conscience into twaine and doing
	Each side like justice, which he loves best.

EMILIA	Doubtlesse
	There is a best, and reason has no manners
	To say it is not you: I was acquainted
	Once with a time, when I enjoyd a Play-fellow;
	You were at wars, when she the grave enrichd,
	Who made too proud the Bed, tooke leave o th Moone
	(Which then lookt pale at parting) when our count
	Was each eleven.

HIPPOLITA	Twas Flaui(n)a.

EMILIA	Yes.
	You talke of Pirithous and Theseus love;
	Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasond,
	More buckled with strong judgement and their needes
	The one of th'other may be said to water

	[Two hearses ready with Palamon: and Arcite: the three Queenes.
	Theseus: and his Lordes ready]

	Their intertangled rootes of love; but I
	And shee I sigh and spoke of were things innocent,
	Lou'd for we did, and like the Elements
	That know not what, nor why, yet doe effect
	Rare issues by their operance, our soules
	Did so to one another; what she lik'd,
	Was then of me approov'd, what not, condemd,
	No more arraignment; the flowre that I would plucke
	And put betweene my breasts (then but beginning
	To swell about the blossome) oh, she would long
	Till shee had such another, and commit it
	To the like innocent Cradle, where Phenix like
	They dide in perfume: on my head no toy
	But was her patterne; her affections (pretty,
	Though, happely, her careles were) I followed
	For my most serious decking; had mine eare
	Stolne some new aire, or at adventure humd on
	From musicall Coynadge, why it was a note
	Whereon her spirits would sojourne (rather dwell on)
	And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsall
	(Which ev'ry innocent wots well comes in
	Like old importments bastard) has this end,
	That the true love tweene Mayde, and mayde, may be
	More then in sex idividuall.

HIPPOLITA	Y'are out of breath
	And this high speeded pace, is but to say
	That you shall never like the Maide Flavina
	Love any that's calld Man.

EMILIA	I am sure I shall not.

HIPPOLITA	Now, alacke, weake Sister,
	I must no more beleeve thee in this point
	(Though in't I know thou dost beleeve thy selfe)
	Then I will trust a sickely appetite,
	That loathes even as it longs; but, sure, my Sister,
	If I were ripe for your perswasion, you
	Have saide enough to shake me from the Arme
	Of the all noble Theseus, for whose fortunes
	I will now in, and kneele with great assurance,
	That we, more then his Pirothous, possesse
	The high throne in his heart.

EMILIA	I am not
	Against your faith; yet I continew mine. [Exeunt. Cornets]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT I


SCENE IV	A field before Thebes. Dead bodies lying on the ground


	[A Battaile strooke within: Then a Retrait: Florish. Then
	Enter Theseus (victor), (Herald and Attendants:) the three
	Queenes meete him, and fall on their faces before him]

QUEEN 1	To thee no starre be darke.

QUEEN 2	Both heaven and earth
	Friend thee for ever.

QUEEN 3	All the good that may
	Be wishd upon thy head, I cry Amen too't.

THESEUS	Th'imparciall Gods, who from the mounted heavens
	View us their mortall Heard, behold who erre,
	And in their time chastice: goe and finde out
	The bones of your dead Lords, and honour them
	With treble Ceremonie; rather then a gap
	Should be in their deere rights, we would supply't.
	But those we will depute, which shall invest
	You in your dignities, and even each thing
	Our hast does leave imperfect: So, adiew,
	And heavens good eyes looke on you. What are those?  [Exeunt Queenes]

HERALD	Men of great quality, as may be judgd
	By their appointment; Sone of Thebs have told's
	They are Sisters children, Nephewes to the King.

THESEUS	By'th Helme of Mars, I saw them in the war,
	Like to a paire of Lions, smeard with prey,
	Make lanes in troopes agast. I fixt my note
	Constantly on them; for they were a marke
	Worth a god's view: what prisoner was't that told me
	When I enquired their names?

HERALD	Wi&rsquo; leave, they&rsquo;r called Arcite and Palamon.

THESEUS	Tis right: those, those. They are not dead?

HERALD	Nor in a state of life: had they bin taken,
	When their last hurts were given, twas possible  [Three hearses ready]
	They might have bin recovered; Yet they breathe
	And haue the name of men.

THESEUS	Then like men use 'em.
	The very lees of such (millions of rates)
	Exceede the wine of others: all our Surgions
	Convent in their behoofe; our richest balmes
	Rather then niggard, waft: their lives concerne us
	Much more then Thebs is worth: rather then have 'em
	Freed of this plight, and in their morning state
	(Sound and at liberty) I would 'em dead;
	But forty thousand fold we had rather have 'em
	Prisoners to us then death. Beare 'em speedily
	From our kinde aire, to them unkinde, and minister
	What man to man may doe &ndash; for our sake more,
	Since I have knowne frights, fury, friends beheastes,
	Loves provocations, zeale, a mistris Taske,
	Desire of liberty, a feavour, madnes,
	Hath set a marke which nature could not reach too
	Without some imposition: sicknes in will
	Or wrastling strength in reason. For our Love
	And great Appollos mercy, all our best
	Their best skill tender. Leade into the Citty,
	Where having bound things scatterd, we will post [Florish]
	To Athens for our Army  [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT I


SCENE V	Another part of the same


	[Enter the Queenes with the Hearses of their Knightes, in a Funerall Solempnity, &amp;c.]

	[Music]

Singer	<i>Urns and odours bring away,
	Vapours, sighs, darken the day;
	Our dole more deadly looks than dying;
	Balms, and gums and heavy cheers,
	Sacred vials fill&rsquo;d with tears,
	And clamors through the wild air flying.</i>

	<i>Come all sad and solemn shows,
	That are quick-eyed pleasure&rsquo;s foes;
	We convent nought else but woes,
	We convent nought else but woes.</i>

QUEEN 3	This funeral path brings to your housholds grave:
	Ioy ceaze on you againe: peace sleepe with him.

QUEEN 2	And this to yours.

QUEEN 1	Yours this way: Heavens lend
	A thousand differing waies to one sure end.

QUEEN 3	This world's a Citty full of straying Streetes,
	And Death's the market place,
	where each one meetes. [Exeunt severally]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT II


SCENE I	Athens. A garden, with a prison in the background


	[Enter Jailor, and Wooer]

JAILOR	I may depart with little, while I live; some thing I may cast to
you, not much: Alas, the Prison I keepe, though it be for great
ones, yet they seldome come; Before one Salmon, you shall take a
number of Minnowes. I am given out to be better lyn'd then it
can appeare to me report is a true Speaker: I would I were really
that I am deliverd to be. Marry, what I have (be it what it
will) I will assure upon my daughter at the day of my death.

WOOER	Sir, I demaund no more then your owne offer, and I will
	estate your Daughter in what I have promised.

JAILOR	Wel, we will talke more of this, when the solemnity is past. But
	have you a full promise of her?  When that shall be seene, I
	tender my consent.

	[Enter Daughter]

WOOER	I have Sir; here shee comes.

JAILOR	Your Friend and I have chanced to name you here, upon the old
busines: But no more of that now; so soone as the Court hurry
is over, we will have an end of it: I'th meane time looke
tenderly to the two Prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.

DAUGHTER	These strewings are for their Chamber; tis pitty they are in
	prison, and twer pitty they should be out: I doe thinke
	they have patience to make any adversity asham'd;
	the prison it selfe is proud of 'em; and they
	have all the world in their Chamber.

JAILOR	They are fam'd to be a paire of absolute men.

DAUGHTER	By my troth, I think Fame but stammers 'em; they stand a greise
above the reach of report.

JAILOR	I heard them reported in the Battaile to be the only doers.

DAUGHTER	%%Nay, most likely, for they are noble suffrers; I mervaile how
	they would have lookd had they beene Victors, that with such a
	constant Nobility enforce a freedome out of Bondage, making misery their
	Mirth, and affliction a toy to jest at.

JAILOR	Doe they so?

DAUGHTER	It seemes to me they have no more sence of their Captivity, then I
of ruling Athens: they eate well, looke merrily, discourse of many
things, but nothing of their owne restraint, and disasters: yet
sometime a devided sigh, martyrd as 'twer i'th deliverance, will
breake from one of them; when the other presently gives it so
sweete a rebuke, that I could wish my selfe a Sigh to be so chid,
	or at least a Sigher to be comforted.

WOOER	I never saw 'em.

JAILOR	The Duke himselfe came privately in the night,
	[Enter Palamon, and Arcite, above]
	and so did they: what the reason of it is, I know not: Looke,
	yonder they are! that's Arcite lookes out.

DAUGHTER	No, Sir, no, that's Palamon: Arcite is the lower of the twaine;
you may perceive a part of him.

JAILOR	Goe too, leave your pointing; they would not make us their
object; out of their sight.

DAUGHTER	It is a holliday to looke on them: Lord, the diffrence of men!
	[Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT II


SCENE II	The prison


	[Enter Palamon, and Arcite in prison]

PALAMON	How doe you, Noble Cosen?

ARCITE	How doe you, Sir?

PALAMON	Why strong inough to laugh at misery,
	And beare the chance of warre, yet we are prisoners,
	I feare, for ever, Cosen.

ARCITE	I beleeve it,
	And to that destiny have patiently
	Laide up my houre to come.

PALAMON	O Cosen Arcite,
	Where is Thebs now? where is our noble Country?
	Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more
	Must we behold those comforts, never see
	The hardy youthes strive for the Games of honour
	(Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies,
	Like tall Ships under saile) then start among'st 'em
	And as an Eastwind leave 'en all behinde us,
	Like lazy Clowdes, whilst Palamon and Arcite,
	Even in the wagging of a wanton leg
	Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands,
	Ere they have time to wish 'em ours. O never
	Shall we two exercise, like Twyns of honour,
	Our Armes againe, and feele our fyry horses
	Like proud Seas under us: our good Swords now
	(Better the red-eyd god of war nev'r wore)
	Ravishd our sides, like age must run to rust,
	And decke the Temples of those gods that hate us:
	These hands shall never draw'em out like lightning,
	To blast whole Armies more.

ARCITE	No, Palamon,
	Those hopes are Prisoners with us; here we are
	And here the graces of our youthes must wither
	Like a too-timely Spring; here age must finde us,
	And, which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried;
	The sweete embraces of a loving wife,
	Loden with kisses, armd with thousand Cupids
	Shall never claspe our neckes, no issue know us,
	No figures of our selves shall we ev'r see,
	To glad our age, and like young Eagles teach 'em
	Boldly to gaze against bright armes, and say:
	'Remember what your fathers were, and conquer.'
	The faire-eyd Maides, shall weepe our Banishments,
	And in their Songs, curse ever-blinded fortune,
	Till shee for shame see what a wrong she has done
	To youth and nature. This is all our world;
	We shall know nothing here but one another,
	Heare nothing but the Clocke that tels our woes.
	The Vine shall grow, but we shall never see it:
	Sommer shall come, and with her all delights;
	But dead-cold winter must inhabite here still.

PALAMON	Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban houndes,
	That shooke the aged Forrest with their ecchoes,
	No more now must we halloa, no more shake
	Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry Swine
	Flyes like a parthian quiver from our rages,
	Strucke with our well-steeld Darts: All valiant uses
	(The foode, and nourishment of noble mindes)
	In us two here shall perish; we shall die
	(Which is the curse of honour) lastly
	Children of greife, and Ignorance.

ARCITE	Yet, Cosen,
	Even from the bottom of these miseries,
	From all that fortune can inflict upon us,
	I see two comforts rysing, two meere blessings,
	If the gods please: to hold here a brave patience,
	And the enjoying of our greefes together.
	Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
	If I thinke this our prison.

PALAMON	Certeinly,
	Tis a maine goodnes, Cosen, that our fortunes
	Were twyn'd together; tis most true, two soules
	Put in two noble Bodies &ndash; let 'em suffer
	The gaule of hazard, so they grow together &ndash;
	Will never sincke; they must not, say they could:
	A willing man dies sleeping, and all's done.

ARCITE	Shall we make worthy uses of this place
	That all men hate so much?

PALAMON	How, gentle Cosen?

ARCITE	Let's thinke this prison holy sanctuary,
	To keepe us from corruption of worse men.
	We are young and yet desire the waies of honour,
	That liberty and common Conversation,
	The poyson of pure spirits, might like women
	Wooe us to wander from. What worthy blessing
	Can be but our Imaginations
	May make it ours?  And heere being thus together,
	We are an endles mine to one another;
	We are one anothers wife, ever begetting
	New birthes of love; we are father, friends, acquaintance;
	We are, in one another, Families,
	I am your heire, and you are mine: This place
	Is our Inheritance, no hard Oppressour
	Dare take this from us; here, with a little patience,
	We shall live long, and loving: No surfeits seeke us:
	The hand of war hurts none here, nor the Seas
	Swallow their youth: were we at liberty,
	A wife might part us lawfully, or busines;
	Quarrels consume us, Envy of ill men
	Grave our acquaintance; I might sicken, Cosen,
	Where you should never know it, and so perish
	Without your noble hand to close mine eies,
	Or praiers to the gods: a thousand chaunces,
	Were we from hence, would seaver us.

PALAMON	You have made me
	(I thanke you, Cosen Arcite) almost wanton
	With my Captivity: what a misery
	It is to live abroade, and every where!
	Tis like a Beast, me thinkes: I finde the Court here &ndash;
	I am sure, a more content; and all those pleasures
	That wooe the wils of men to vanity,
	I see through now, and am sufficient
	To tell the world, tis but a gaudy shaddow,
	That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him.
	What had we bin, old in the Court of Creon,
	Where sin is justice, lust and ignorance
	The vertues of the great ones! Cosen Arcite,
	Had not the loving gods found this place for us,
	We had died as they doe, ill old men, unwept,
	And had their Epitaphes, the peoples Curses:
	Shall I say more?

ARCITE	I would heare you still.

PALAMON	Ye shall.
	Is there record of any two that lov'd
	Better then we doe, Arcite?

ARCITE	Sure, there cannot.

PALAMON	I doe not thinke it possible our friendship
	Should ever leave us.

ARCITE	Till our deathes it cannot;

	[Enter Emilia and her woman (below)]

	And after death our spirits shall be led
	To those that love eternally. Speake on, Sir.

EMILIA	This garden has a world of pleasures in't.
	What Flowre is this?

WOMAN	Tis calld Narcissus, Madam.

EMILIA	That was a faire Boy, certaine, but a foole,
	To love himselfe; were there not maides enough?

ARCITE	Pray forward.

PALAMON	Yes.

EMILIA	Or were they all hard hearted?

WOMAN	They could not be to one so faire.

EMILIA	Thou wouldst not.

WOMAN	I thinke I should not, Madam.

EMILIA	That's a good wench:
	But take heede to your kindnes though.

WOMAN	Why, Madam?

EMILIA	Men are mad things.

ARCITE	Will ye goe forward, Cosen?

EMILIA	Canst not thou worke such flowers in silke, wench?

WOMAN	Yes.

EMILIA	I'll have a gowne full of 'em, and of these;
	This is a pretty colour, wilt not doe
	Rarely upon a Skirt, wench?

WOMAN	Deinty, Madam.

ARCITE	Cosen, Cosen, how doe you, Sir?  Why, Palamon?

PALAMON	Never till now I was in prison, Arcite.

ARCITE	Why whats the matter, Man?

PALAMON	Behold, and wonder.
	By heaven, shee is a Goddesse.

ARCITE	Ha.

PALAMON	Doe reverence. She is a Goddesse, Arcite.

EMILIA	Of all Flowres, me thinkes a Rose is best.

WOMAN	Why, gentle Madam?

EMILIA	It is the very Embleme of a Maide.
	For when the west wind courts her gently,
	How modestly she blowes, and paints the Sun,
	With her chaste blushes!  When the North comes neere her,
	Rude and impatient, then, like Chastity,
	Shee lockes her beauties in her bud againe,
	And leaves him to base briers.

WOMAN	Yet, good Madam,
	Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
	She fals for't: a Mayde,
	If shee have any honour, would be loth
	To take example by her.

EMILIA	Thou art wanton.

ARCITE	She is wondrous faire.

PALAMON	She is beauty extant.

EMILIA	The Sun grows high, lets walk in: keep these flowers;
	Weele see how neere Art can come neere their colours.
	I am wondrous merry hearted, I could laugh now.

WOMAN	I could lie downe, I am sure.

EMILIA	And take one with you?

WOMAN	That's as we bargaine, Madam.

EMILIA	Well, agree then. [Exeunt Emilia and woman]

PALAMON	What thinke you of this beauty?

ARCITE	Tis a rare one.

PALAMON	Is't but a rare one?

ARCITE	Yes, a matchles beauty.

PALAMON	Might not a man well lose himselfe and love her?

ARCITE	I cannot tell what you have done, I have;
	Beshrew mine eyes for't: now I feele my Shackles.

PALAMON	You love her, then?

ARCITE	Who would not?

PALAMON	And desire her?

ARCITE	Before my liberty.

PALAMON	I saw her first.

ARCITE	That's nothing.

PALAMON	But it shall be.

ARCITE	I saw her too.

PALAMON	Yes, but you must not love her.

ARCITE	I will not as you doe, to worship her,
	As she is heavenly, and a blessed Goddes;
	I love her as a woman, to enjoy her:
	So both may love.

PALAMON	You shall not love at all.

ARCITE	Not love at all!
	Who shall deny me?

PALAMON	I, that first saw her; I, that tooke possession
	First with mine eyes of all those beauties
	In her reveald to mankinde: if thou lou'st her,
	Or entertain'st a hope to blast my wishes,
	Thou art a Traytour, Arcite, and a fellow
	False as thy Title to her: friendship, blood,
	And all the tyes betweene us I disclaime,
	If thou once thinke upon her.

ARCITE	Yes, I love her,
	And if the lives of all my name lay on it,
	I must doe so; I love her with my soule:
	If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon;
	I say againe, I love, and in loving her maintaine
	I am as worthy and as free a lover,
	And have as just a title to her beauty
	As any Palamon or any living
	That is a mans Sonne.

PALAMON	Have I cald thee friend?

ARCITE	Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov'd thus?
	Let me deale coldly with you: am not I
	Part of your blood, part of your soule? you have told me
	That I was Palamon, and you were Arcite.

PALAMON	Yes.

ARCITE	Am not I liable to those affections,
	Those joyes, greifes, angers, feares, my friend shall suffer?

PALAMON	Ye may be.

ARCITE	Why, then, would you deale so cunningly,
	So strangely, so vnlike a noble kinesman,
	To love alone? speake truely: doe you thinke me
	Vnworthy of her sight?

PALAMON	No; but unjust,
	If thou pursue that sight.

ARCITE	Because an other
	First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still
	And let mine honour downe, and never charge?

PALAMON	Yes, if he be but one.

ARCITE	But say that one
	Had rather combat me?

PALAMON	Let that one say so,
	And use thy freedome; els if thou pursuest her,
	Be as that cursed man that hates his Country,
	A branded villaine.

ARCITE	You are mad.

PALAMON	I must be,
	Till thou art worthy, Arcite; it concernes me,
	And in this madnes, if I hazard thee
	And take thy life, I deale but truely.

ARCITE	Fie, Sir,
	You play the Childe extreamely: I will love her,
	I must, I ought to doe so, and I dare;
	And all this justly.

PALAMON	O that now, that now
	Thy false-selfe and thy friend had but this fortune,
	To be one howre at liberty, and graspe
	Our good Swords in our hands! I would quickly teach thee
	What 'twer to filch affection from another:
	Thou art baser in it then a Cutpurse;
	Put but thy head out of this window more,
	And as I have a soule, I'll naile thy life too't.

ARCITE	Thou dar'st not, foole, thou canst not, thou art feeble.
	Put my head out?  I'll throw my Body out,
	And leape the garden, when I see her next

	[Enter Keeper]

	And pitch between her armes to anger thee.

PALAMON	No more; the keeper's comming; I shall live
	To knocke thy braines out with my Shackles.

ARCITE	Doe.

KEEPER	By your leave, Gentlemen &ndash;

PALAMON	Now, honest keeper?

KEEPER	Lord Arcite, you must presently to'th Duke;
	The cause I know not yet.

ARCITE	I am ready, keeper.

KEEPER	Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you
	Of your faire Cosens Company. [Exeunt Arcite, and Keeper]

PALAMON	And me too,
	Even when you please, of life. Why is he sent for?
	It may be he shall marry her; he's goodly,
	And like enough the Duke hath taken notice
	Both of his blood and body: But his falsehood!
	Why should a friend be treacherous?  If that
	Get him a wife so noble, and so faire,
	Let honest men ne're love againe. Once more
	I would but see this faire One. Blessed Garden,
	And fruite, and flowers more blessed, that still blossom
	As her bright eies shine on ye! would I were,
	For all the fortune of my life hereafter,
	Yon little Tree, yon blooming Apricocke;
	How I would spread, and fling my wanton armes
	In at her window; I would bring her fruite
	Fit for the Gods to feed on: youth and pleasure
	Still as she tasted should be doubled on her,
	And if she be not heavenly, I would make her
	So neere the Gods in nature, they should feare her,

	[Enter Keeper]

	And then I am sure she would love me. How now, keeper.
	Wher's Arcite?

KEEPER	Banishd: Prince Pirithous
	Obtained his liberty; but never more
	Vpon his oth and life must he set foote
	Vpon this Kingdome.

PALAMON	Hees a blessed man!
	He shall see Thebs againe, and call to Armes
	The bold yong men, that, when he bids 'em charge,
	Fall on like fire: Arcite shall have a Fortune,
	If he dare make himselfe a worthy Lover,
	Yet in the field to strike a battle for her;
	And if he lose her then, he's a cold Coward;
	How bravely may he beare himselfe to win her
	If he be noble Arcite &ndash; thousand waies.
	Were I at liberty, I would doe things
	Of such a vertuous greatnes, that this Lady,
	This blushing virgine, should take manhood to her
	And seeke to ravish me.

KEEPER	My Lord for you
	I have this charge too &ndash;

PALAMON	To discharge my life?

KEEPER	No, but from this place to remoove your Lordship:
	The windowes are too open.

PALAMON	Devils take 'em,
	That are so envious to me! pre'thee kill me.

KEEPER	And hang for't afterward.

PALAMON	By this good light,
	Had I a sword I would kill thee.

KEEPER	Why, my Lord?

PALAMON	Thou bringst such pelting scuruy news continually
	Thou art not worthy life. I will not goe.

KEEPER	Indeede, you must, my Lord.

PALAMON	May I see the garden?

KEEPER	Noe.

PALAMON	Then I am resolud, I will not goe.

KEEPER	I must constraine you then: and for you are dangerous,
	I'll clap more yrons on you.

PALAMON	Doe, good keeper.
	I'll shake 'em so, ye shall not sleepe;
	I'll make ye a new Morrisse: must I goe?

KEEPER	There is no remedy.

PALAMON	Farewell, kinde window.
	May rude winde never hurt thee. O, my Lady,
	If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,
	Dreame how I suffer. Come; now bury me. [Exeunt Palamon, and Keeper]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT II


SCENE III	The country near Athens


	[Enter Arcite]

ARCITE	Banishd the kingdome? tis a benefit,
	A mercy I must thanke 'em for, but banishd
	The free enjoying of that face I die for,
	Oh twas a studdied punishment, a death
	Beyond Imagination: Such a vengeance
	That, were I old and wicked, all my sins
	Could never plucke upon me. Palamon,
	Thou ha'st the Start now, thou shalt stay and see
	Her bright eyes breake each morning gainst thy window,
	And let in life into thee; thou shalt feede
	Vpon the sweetenes of a noble beauty,
	That nature nev'r exceeded, nor nev'r shall:
	Good gods! what happines has Palamon!
	Twenty to one, hee'le come to speake to her,
	And if she be as gentle as she's faire,
	I know she's his; he has a Tongue will tame
	Tempests, and make the wild Rockes wanton.
	Come what can come,
	The worst is death; I will not leave the Kingdome.
	I know mine owne is but a heape of ruins,
	And no redresse there; if I goe, he has her.
	I am resolu'd an other shape shall make me,
	Or end my fortunes. Either way, I am happy:
	I'll see her, and be neere her, or no more.

	[Enter four Country people, &amp; one with a garlond before them]

COUNTRYMAN 1	My Masters, I&rsquo;ll be there, that's certaine

COUNTRYMAN 2	And I'll be there.

COUNTRYMAN 3	And I.

COUNTRYMAN 4	Why, then, have with ye, Boyes; Tis but a chiding.
	Let the plough play to day, I'll tick'lt out
	Of the jades tailes to morrow.

COUNTRYMAN 1	I am sure
	To have my wife as jealous as a Turkey:
	But that's all one; I&rsquo;ll goe through, let her mumble.

COUNTRYMAN 2	Clap her aboard to morrow night, and stoa her,
	And all's made up againe.

COUNTRYMAN 3	I, doe but put a feskue in her fist, and you shall see her
	Take a new lesson out, and be a good wench.
	Doe we all hold against the Maying?

COUNTRYMAN 4	Hold? what should aile us?

COUNTRYMAN 3	Arcas will be there.

COUNTRYMAN 2	And Sennois.
	And Rycas, and three better lads nev'r dancd
	Under green Tree. And yee know what wenches: ha?
	But will the dainty Domine, the Schoolemaster,
	Keep touch, doe you thinke? for he do's all, ye know.

COUNTRYMAN 3	He'll eate a hornebooke ere he faile: goe too,
	the matter's too farre driven betweene him and
	the Tanners daughter, to let slip now,
	and she must see the Duke, and she must daunce too.

COUNTRYMAN 4	Shall we be lusty?

COUNTRYMAN 2	%%All the Boyes in Athens blow wind i'th breech on's,
	and here I&rsquo;ll be and there I&rsquo;ll be,
	for our Towne, and here againe, and there againe:
	ha, Boyes, heigh for the weavers.

COUNTRYMAN 1	This must be done i'th woods.

COUNTRYMAN 4	O, pardon me.

COUNTRYMAN 2	By any meanes, our thing of learning saies so:
	Where he himselfe will edifie the Duke
	Most parlously in our behalfes: hees excellent i'th woods;
	Bring him to'th plaines, his learning makes no cry.

COUNTRYMAN 3	Weele see the sports, then; every man to's Tackle:
	And, Sweete Companions, lets rehearse by any meanes,
	Before the Ladies see us, and doe sweetly,
	And God knows what May come on't.

COUNTRYMAN 4	Content; the sports once ended, wee'l performe.
	Away, Boyes and hold.

ARCITE	By your leaves, honest friends: pray you, whither goe you?

COUNTRYMAN 4	Whither? why, what a question's that?

ARCITE	Yes, tis a question, to me that know not.

COUNTRYMAN 3	To the Games, my Friend.

COUNTRYMAN 2	Where were you bred, you know it not?

ARCITE	Not farre, Sir,
	Are there such Games to day?

COUNTRYMAN 1	Yes, marry, are there:
	And such as you neuer saw; The Duke himselfe
	Will be in person there.

ARCITE	What pastimes are they?

COUNTRYMAN 2	Wrastling, and Running. &ndash; Tis a pretty Fellow.

COUNTRYMAN 3	Thou wilt not goe along?

ARCITE	Not yet, Sir.

COUNTRYMAN 4	Well, Sir,
	Take your owne time: come, Boyes.

COUNTRYMAN 1	My minde misgives me;
	This fellow has a veng'ance tricke o'th hip:
	Marke how his Bodi's made for't

COUNTRYMAN 2	I'll be hang&rsquo;d, though,
	If he dare venture; hang him, plumb porredge,
	He wrastle? he rost eggs! Come, lets be gon, Lads. [Exeunt]

ARCITE	This is an offerd oportunity
	I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled,
	The best men calld it excellent, and run &ndash;
	Swifter the winde upon a field of Corne
	(Curling the wealthy eares) never flew: I'll venture,
	And in some poore disguize be there; who knowes
	Whether my browes may not be girt with garlands?
	And happines preferre me to a place,
	Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. [Exit Arcite]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT II


SCENE IV	Athens. A room in the prison


	[Enter Jailors Daughter alone]

DAUGHTER	Why should I love this Gentleman?  Tis odds
	He never will affect me; I am base,
	My Father the meane Keeper of his Prison,
	And he a prince: To marry him is hopelesse;
	To be his whore is witles. Out upon't,
	What pushes are we wenches driven to,
	When fifteene once has found us!  First, I saw him;
	I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man;
	He has as much to please a woman in him,
	(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
	These eyes yet lookt on. Next, I pittied him,
	And so would any young wench, o' my Conscience,
	That ever dream'd, or vow'd her Maydenhead
	To a yong hansom Man; Then I lov'd him,
	Extreamely lov'd him, infinitely lov'd him;
	And yet he had a Cosen, faire as he too.
	But in my heart was Palamon, and there,
	Lord, what a coyle he keepes!  To heare him
	Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!
	And yet his Songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken
	Was never Gentleman. When I come in
	To bring him water in a morning, first
	He bowes his noble body, then salutes me, thus:
	'Faire, gentle Mayde, good morrow; may thy goodnes
	Get thee a happy husband.'  Once he kist me.
	I lov'd my lips the better ten daies after.
	Would he would doe so ev'ry day!  He greives much,
	And me as much to see his misery.
	What should I doe, to make him know I love him?
	For I would faine enjoy him. Say I ventur'd
	To set him free? what saies the law then?  Thus much
	For Law, or kindred!  I will doe it,
	And this night, or to morrow, he shall love me. [Exit]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT II


SCENE V	An open place in Athens


	[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite with a Garland, &amp;c.]

	[This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within]

THESEUS	You have done worthily; I have not seene,
	Since Hercules, a man of tougher synewes;
	What ere you are, you run the best, and wrastle,
	That these times can allow.

ARCITE	I am proud to please you.

THESEUS	What Countrie bred you?

ARCITE	This; but far off, Prince.

THESEUS	Are you a Gentleman?

ARCITE	My father said so;
	And to those gentle uses gave me life.

THESEUS	Are you his heire?

ARCITE	His yongest, Sir.

THESEUS	Your Father
	Sure is a happy Sire then: what prooves you?

ARCITE	A little of all noble Quallities:
	I could have kept a Hawke, and well have holloa'd
	To a deepe crie of Dogges; I dare not praise
	My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me
	Would say it was my best peece: last, and greatest,
	I would be thought a Souldier.

THESEUS	You are perfect.

PERITHOUS	Vpon my soule, a proper man.

EMILIA	He is so.

PERITHOUS	How doe you like him, Ladie?

HIPPOLITA	I admire him;
	I have not seene so yong a man so noble
	(If he say true) of his sort.

EMILIA	Beleeve,
	His mother was a wondrous handsome woman;
	His face, me thinkes, goes that way.

HIPPOLITA	But his Body
	And firie minde illustrate a brave Father.

PERITHOUS	Marke how his vertue, like a hidden Sun,
	Breakes through his baser garments.

HIPPOLITA	Hee's well got, sure.

THESEUS	What made you seeke this place, Sir?

ARCITE	Noble Theseus,
	To purchase name, and doe my ablest service
	To such a well-found wonder as thy worth,
	For onely in thy Court, of all the world,
	Dwells faire-eyd honor.

PERITHOUS	All his words are worthy.

THESEUS	Sir, we are much endebted to your travell,
	Nor shall you loose your wish: Perithous,
	Dispose of this faire Gentleman.

PERITHOUS	Thankes, Theseus.
	What ere you are y'ar mine, and I shall give you
	To a most noble service, to this Lady,
	This bright yong Virgin; pray, observe her goodnesse;
	You have honourd hir faire birth-day with your vertues,
	And as your due y'ar hirs: kisse her faire hand, Sir.

ARCITE	Sir, y'ar a noble Giver: dearest Bewtie,
	Thus let me seale my vowd faith: when your Servant
	(Your most unworthie Creature) but offends you,
	Command him die, he shall.

EMILIA	That were too cruell.
	If you deserve well, Sir, I shall soone see't:
	Y'ar mine, and somewhat better than your rancke
	I'll use you.

PERITHOUS	I'll see you furnish'd, and because you say
	You are a horseman, I must needs intreat you
	This after noone to ride, but tis a rough one.

ARCITE	I like him better, Prince, I shall not then
	Freeze in my Saddle.

THESEUS	Sweet, you must be readie,
	And you, Emilia, and you, Friend, and all,
	To morrow by the Sun, to doe observance
	To flowry May, in Dians wood: waite well, Sir,
	Vpon your Mistris. Emely, I hope
	He shall not goe a foote.

EMILIA	That were a shame, Sir,
	While I have horses: take your choice, and what
	You want at any time, let me but know it;
	If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
	You'l finde a loving Mistris.

ARCITE	If I doe not,
	Let me finde that my Father ever hated,
	Disgrace and blowes.

THESEUS	Go, leade the way; you have won it:
	It shall be so; you shall receave all dues
	Fit for the honour you have won; Twer wrong else.
	Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a Servant,
	That, if I were a woman, would be Master,
	But you are wise. [Florish]

EMILIA	I hope too wise for that, Sir. [Exeunt omnes]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT II


SCENE VI	Before the prison


	[Enter Jailor%rsquo;s Daughter alone]

DAUGHTER	Let all the Dukes, and all the divells rore,
	He is at liberty: I have venturd for him,
	And out I have brought him to a little wood
	A mile hence. I have sent him, where a Cedar,
	Higher than all the rest, spreads like a plane
	Fast by a Brooke, and there he shall keepe close,
	Till I provide him Fyles and foode, for yet
	His yron bracelets are not off. O Love,
	What a stout hearted child thou art!  My Father
	Durst better have indur'd cold yron, than done it:
	I love him beyond love and beyond reason,
	Or wit, or safetie: I have made him know it.
	I care not, I am desperate; If the law
	Finde me, and then condemne me for't, some wenches,
	Some honest harted Maides, will sing my Dirge,
	And tell to memory my death was noble,
	Dying almost a Martyr: That way he takes,
	I purpose is my way too: Sure he cannot
	Be so unmanly, as to leave me here;
	If he doe, Maides will not so easily
	Trust men againe: And yet he has not thank'd me
	For what I have done: no not so much as kist me,
	And that (me thinkes) is not so well; nor scarcely
	Could I perswade him to become a Freeman,
	He made such scruples of the wrong he did
	To me, and to my Father. Yet I hope,
	When he considers more, this love of mine
	Will take more root within him: Let him doe
	What he will with me, so he use me kindly;
	For use me so he shall, or I&rsquo;ll proclaime him,
	And to his face, no man. I'll presently
	Provide him necessaries, and packe my cloathes up,
	And where there is a patch of ground I'll venture,
	So hee be with me; By him, like a shadow,
	I'll ever dwell; within this houre the whoobub
	Will be all ore the prison: I am then
	Kissing the man they looke for: farewell, Father;
	Get many more such prisoners and such daughters,
	And shortly you may keepe your selfe. Now to him!


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT III


SCENE I	A forest near Athens


	[Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hallowing as people a-maying]

	[Enter Arcite alone]

ARCITE	The Duke has lost Hypolita; each tooke
	A severall land. This is a solemne Right
	They owe bloomd May, and the Athenians pay it
	To'th heart of Ceremony. O Queene Emilia,
	Fresher then May, sweeter
	Then hir gold Buttons on the bowes, or all
	Th'enamelld knackes o'th Meade or garden: yea,
	We challenge too the bancke of any Nymph
	That makes the streame seeme flowers; thou, oh jewell
	O'th wood, o'th world, hast likewise blest a place
	With thy sole presence: in thy rumination
	That I, poore man, might eftsoones come betweene
	And chop on some cold thought! thrice blessed chance,
	To drop on such a Mistris, expectation
	Most giltlesse on't! tell me, O Lady Fortune,
	(Next after Emely my Soveraigne) how far
	I may be prowd. She takes strong note of me,
	Hath made me neere her; and this beuteous Morne
	(The prim'st of all the yeare) presents me with
	A brace of horses: two such Steeds might well
	Be by a paire of Kings backt, in a Field
	That their crownes titles tride. Alas, alas,
	Poore Cosen Palamon, poore prisoner, thou
	So little dream'st upon my fortune, that
	Thou thinkst thy selfe the happier thing, to be
	So neare Emilia; me thou deem'st at Thebs,
	And therein wretched, although free. But if
	Thou knew'st my Mistris breathd on me, and that
	I ear'd her language, livde in her eye, O Coz,
	What passion would enclose thee!

	[Enter Palamon as out of a Bush, with his Shackles: bends his fist at Arcite]

PALAMON	Traytor kinesman,
	Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signes
	Of prisonment were off me, and this hand
	But owner of a Sword: By all othes in one,
	I and the iustice of my love would make thee
	A confest Traytor. O thou most perfidious
	That ever gently lookd; the voydest of honour,
	That eu'r bore gentle Token; falsest Cosen
	That ever blood made kin, call'st thou hir thine?
	I'll prove it in my Shackles, with these hands,
	Void of appointment, that thou ly'st, and art
	A very theefe in love, a Chaffy Lord,
	Nor worth the name of villaine: had I a Sword
	And these house clogges away &ndash;

ARCITE	Deere Cosin Palamon &ndash;

PALAMON	Cosoner Arcite, give me language such
	As thou hast shewd me feate.

ARCITE	Not finding in
	The circuit of my breast any grosse stuffe
	To forme me like your blazon, holds me to
	This gentlenesse of answer; tis your passion
	That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy,
	Cannot to me be kind: honor, and honestie
	I cherish, and depend on, how so ev'r
	You skip them in me, and with them, faire Coz,
	I'll maintaine my proceedings; pray, be pleas'd
	To shew in generous termes your griefes, since that
	Your question's with your equall, who professes
	To cleare his owne way with the minde and Sword
	Of a true Gentleman.

PALAMON	That thou durst, Arcite!

ARCITE	My Coz, my Coz, you have beene well advertis'd
	How much I dare, y'ave seene me use my Sword
	Against th'advice of feare: sure, of another
	You would not heare me doubted, but your silence
	Should breake out, though i'th Sanctuary.

PALAMON	Sir,
	I have seene you move in such a place, which well
	Might justifie your manhood; you were calld
	A good knight and a bold; But the whole weeke's not faire,
	If any day it rayne: Their valiant temper
	Men loose when they encline to trecherie,
	And then they fight like coupelld Beares, would fly
	Were they not tyde.

ARCITE	Kinsman, you might as well
	Speake this and act it in your Glasse, as to
	His eare which now disdaines you.

PALAMON	Come up to me,
	Quit me of these cold Gyves, give me a Sword,
	Though it be rustie, and the charity
	Of one meale lend me; Come before me then,
	A good Sword in thy hand, and doe but say
	That Emily is thine: I will forgive
	The trespasse thou hast done me, yea, my life,
	If then thou carry't, and brave soules in shades
	That have dyde manly, which will seeke of me
	Some newes from earth, they shall get none but this,
	That thou art brave and noble.

ARCITE	Be content:
	Againe betake you to your hawthorne house;
	With counsaile of the night, I will be here
	With wholesome viands; these impediments
	Will I file off; you shall have garments and
	Perfumes to kill the smell o'th prison; after,
	When you shall stretch your selfe and say but, 'Arcite,
	I am in plight,' there shall be at your choyce
	Both Sword and Armour.

PALAMON	Oh you heavens, dares any
	So noble beare a guilty busines! none
	But onely Arcite, therefore none but Arcite
	In this kinde is so bold.

ARCITE	Sweete Palamon.

PALAMON	I doe embrace you and your offer, &ndash; for
	Your offer doo't I onely, Sir; your person,
	Without hipocrisy I may not wish  [Winde hornes of Cornets]
	More then my Swords edge ont.

ARCITE	You heare the Hornes;
	Enter your Musite least this match between's
	Be crost, er met: give me your hand; farewell.
	I'll bring you every needfull thing: I pray you,
	Take comfort and be strong.

PALAMON	Pray hold your promise;
	And doe the deede with a bent brow: most certaine
	You love me not, be rough with me, and powre
	This oile out of your language; by this ayre,
	I could for each word give a Cuffe, my stomach
	Not reconcild by reason.

ARCITE	Plainely spoken,
	Yet pardon me hard language: when I spur  [Winde hornes]
	My horse, I chide him not; content and anger
	In me have but one face. Harke, Sir, they call
	The scatterd to the Banket; you must guesse
	I have an office there.

PALAMON	Sir, your attendance
	Cannot please heaven, and I know your office
	Vnjustly is atcheev'd.

ARCITE	If a good title,
	I am perswaded this question sicke between's
	By bleeding must be cur'd. I am a Suitour,
	That to your Sword you will bequeath this plea
	And talke of it no more.

PALAMON	But this one word:
	You are going now to gaze upon my Mistris,
	For note you, mine she is &ndash;

ARCITE	Nay, then.

PALAMON	Nay, pray you,
	You talke of feeding me to breed me strength:
	You are going now to looke upon a Sun
	That strengthens what it lookes on; there
	You have a vantage ore me, but enjoy't till
	I may enforce my remedy. Farewell. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT III


SCENE II	Another part of the forest


	[Enter Jailor&rsquo;s Daughter alone]

DAUGHTER	He has mistooke the Brake I meant, is gone
	After his fancy. Tis now welnigh morning;
	No matter, would it were perpetuall night,
	And darkenes Lord o'th world. Harke, tis a woolfe:
	In me hath greife slaine feare, and but for one thing
	I care for nothing, and that's Palamon.
	I wreake not if the wolves would jaw me, so
	He had this File: what if I hallowd for him?
	I cannot hallow: if I whoop'd, what then?
	If he not answeard, I should call a wolfe,
	And doe him but that service. I have heard
	Strange howles this live-long night, why may't not be
	They have made prey of him? he has no weapons,
	He cannot run, the jengling of his Gives
	Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
	A sence to know a man unarmd, and can
	Smell where resistance is. I'll set it downe
	He's torne to peeces; they howld many together
	And then they fed on him: So much for that,
	Be bold to ring the Bell; how stand I then?
	All's char'd when he is gone. No, no, I lye,
	My Father's to be hang'd for his escape;
	My selfe to beg, if I prizd life so much
	As to deny my act, but that I would not,
	Should I try death by dussons. &ndash; I am mop't,
	Food tooke I none these two daies,
	Sipt some water. I have not closd mine eyes
	Save when my lids scowrd off their brine; alas,
	Dissolue my life, Let not my sence unsettle,
	Least I should drowne, or stab or hang my selfe.
	O state of Nature, faile together in me,
	Since thy best props are warpt! So, which way now?
	The best way is the next way to a grave:
	Each errant step beside is torment. Loe,
	The Moone is down, the Cryckets chirpe, the Schreichowle
	Calls in the dawne; all offices are done
	Save what I faile in: But the point is this,
	An end, and that is all. [Exit]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT III


SCENE III	Athens. Before a temple


	[Enter Arcite, with Meate, Wine, and Files]

ARCITE	I should be neere the place: hoa, Cosen Palamon. [Enter Palamon]

PALAMON	Arcite?

ARCITE	The same: I have brought you foode and files.
	Come forth and feare not, here's no Theseus.

PALAMON	Nor none so honest, Arcite.

ARCITE	That's no matter,
	Wee'l argue that hereafter: Come, take courage;
	You shall not dye thus beastly: here, Sir, drinke;
	I know you are faint: then I&rsquo;ll talke further with you.

PALAMON	Arcite, thou mightst now poyson me.

ARCITE	I might,
	But I must feare you first: Sit downe, and, good, now
	No more of these vaine parlies; let us not,
	Having our ancient reputation with us,
	Make talke for Fooles and Cowards. To your health, &amp;c.

PALAMON	Doe.

ARCITE	Pray, sit downe then; and let me entreate you,
	By all the honesty and honour in you,
	No mention of this woman: t'will disturbe us;
	We shall have time enough.

PALAMON	Well, Sir, I'll pledge you.

ARCITE	Drinke a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood, man.
	Doe not you feele it thaw you?

PALAMON	Stay, I'll tell you after a draught or two more.

ARCITE	Spare it not, the Duke has more, Cuz: Eate now.

PALAMON	Yes.

ARCITE	I am glad you have so good a stomach.

PALAMON	I am gladder I have so good meate too't.

ARCITE	Is't not mad lodging here in the wild woods, Cosen?

PALAMON	Yes, for them that have wilde Consciences.

ARCITE	How tasts your vittails? your hunger needs no sawce, I see.

PALAMON	Not much;
	But if it did, yours is too tart, sweete Cosen: what is this?

ARCITE	Venison.

PALAMON	Tis a lusty meate:
	Giue me more wine; here, Arcite, to the wenches
	We have known in our daies. The Lord Stewards daughter,
	Doe you remember her?

ARCITE	After you, Cuz.

PALAMON	She lov'd a black-haird man.

ARCITE	She did so; well, Sir.

PALAMON	And I have heard some call him Arcite, and &ndash;

ARCITE	Out with't, faith.

PALAMON	She met him in an Arbour:
	What did she there, Cuz? play o'th virginals?

ARCITE	Something she did, Sir.

PALAMON	Made her groane a moneth for't, or two or three or ten.

ARCITE	The Marshals Sister
	Had her share too, as I remember, Cosen,
	Else there be tales abroade; you'l pledge her?

PALAMON	Yes.

ARCITE	A pretty broune wench t'is. There was a time
	When yong men went a hunting, and a wood,
	And a broade Beech: and thereby hangs a tale: &ndash; heigh ho!

PALAMON	For Emily, upon my life!  Foole,
	Away with this straind mirth; I say againe,
	That sigh was breathd for Emily; base Cosen,
	Dar'st thou breake first?

ARCITE	You are wide.

PALAMON	By heaven and earth, ther's nothing in thee honest.

ARCITE	Then I'll leave you: you are a Beast now.

PALAMON	As thou makst me, Traytour.

ARCITE	Ther's all things needfull, files and shirts, and perfumes:
	I'll come againe some two howres hence, and bring
	That that shall quiet all,

PALAMON	A Sword and Armour?

ARCITE	Feare me not; you are now too fowle; farewell.
	Get off your Trinkets; you shall want nought.

PALAMON	Sir, ha &ndash;

ARCITE	I'll heare no more. [Exit]

PALAMON	If he keepe touch, he dies for't. [Exit]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT III


SCENE IV	Another part of the forest


	[Enter Jailor&rsquo;s Daughter]

DAUGHTER	I am very cold, and all the Stars are out too,
	The little Stars, and all, that looke like aglets:
	The Sun has seene my Folly. Palamon!
	Alas no; hees in heaven. Where am I now?
	Yonder's the sea, and ther's a Ship; how't tumbles!
	And ther's a Rocke lies watching under water;
	Now, now, it beates upon it; now, now, now,
	Ther's a leak sprung, a sound one, how they cry!
	Spoon her before the winde, you'l loose all els:
	Vp with a course or two, and take about, Boyes.
	Good night, good night, y'ar gone. &ndash; I am very hungry.
	Would I could finde a fine Frog; he would tell me
	Newes from all parts o'th world, then would I make
	A Carecke of a Cockle shell, and sayle
	By east and North East to the King of Pigmes,
	For he tels fortunes rarely. Now my Father,
	Twenty to one, is trust up in a trice
	To morrow morning; I'll say never a word.

	[Sing]

	For I&rsquo;ll cut my greene coat a foote above my knee,
And I&rsquo;ll clip my yellow lockes an inch below mine eie.
hey, nonny, nonny, nonny,
He's buy me a white Cut, forth for to ride
And I&rsquo;ll goe seeke him, throw the world that is so wide
hey nonny, nonny, nonny.

	O for a pricke now like a Nightingale,
	To put my breast against. I shall sleepe like a Top else. [Exit]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT III


SCENE V	Another part of the forest


	[Enter a Schoole master, four Countrymen, and Bavian. Two or three wenches, with a Taborer]

SCHOOLMASTER	%%Fy, fy, what tediosity, &amp; disensanity is here among ye? have
my Rudiments bin labourd so long with ye? milkd unto ye, and
by a figure even the very plumbroth &amp; marrow of my understanding
laid upon ye? and do you still cry: where, and how, &amp; wherfore?
you most course freeze capacities, ye jane judgements, have I saide:
thus let be, and there let be, and then let be, and no man understand
mee?  Proh deum, medius fidius, ye are all dunces!  For why, here
stand I, Here the Duke comes, there are you close in the Thicket;
the Duke appeares, I meete him and unto him I utter learned things
and many figures; he heares, and nods, and hums, and then cries:
rare, and I goe forward; at length I fling my Cap up; marke there;
then do you, as once did Meleager and the Bore, break comly out
before him: like true lovers, cast your selves in a Body decently,
and sweetly, by a figure trace and turne, Boyes.

COUNTRYMAN 1	And sweetly we will doe it Master Gerrold.

COUNTRYMAN 2	Draw up the Company. Where's the Taborour?

COUNTRYMAN 3	Why, Timothy!

TABORER	Here, my mad boyes, have at ye.

SCHOOLMASTER	But I say, where's their women?

COUNTRYMAN 4	Here's Friz and Maudline.

COUNTRYMAN 2	And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbery.

COUNTRYMAN 1	And freckeled Nel, that never faild her Master.

SCHOOLMASTER	Wher be your Ribands, maids? swym with your Bodies
	And carry it sweetly, and deliverly
	And now and then a fauour, and a friske.

NEL	Let us alone, Sir.

SCHOOLMASTER	Wher's the rest o'th Musicke?

COUNTRYMAN 3	Dispersd as you commanded.

SCHOOLMASTER	Couple, then,
	And see what's wanting; wher's the Bavian?
	My friend, carry your taile without offence
	Or scandall to the Ladies; and be sure
	You tumble with audacity and manhood;
	And when you barke, doe it with judgement.

BAVIAN	Yes, Sir.

SCHOOLMASTER	Quo usque tandem?  Here is a woman wanting.

COUNTRYMAN 4	We may goe whistle: all the fat's i'th fire.

SCHOOLMASTER	We have,
	As learned Authours utter, washd a Tile,
	We have beene FATUUS, and laboured vainely.

COUNTRYMAN 2	This is that scornefull peece, that scurvy hilding,
	That gave her promise faithfully, she would be here,
	Cicely the Sempsters daughter:
	The next gloves that I give her shall be dog skin;
	Nay and she faile me once &ndash; you can tell, Arcas,
	She swore by wine and bread, she would not breake.

SCHOOLMASTER	An Eele and woman,
	A learned Poet sayes, unles by'th taile
	And with thy teeth thou hold, will either faile.
	In manners this was false position

COUNTRYMAN 1	A fire ill take her; do's she flinch now?

COUNTRYMAN 3	What
	Shall we determine, Sir?

SCHOOLMASTER	Nothing.
	Our busines is become a nullity;
	Yea, and a woefull, and a pittious nullity.

COUNTRYMAN 4	Now when the credite of our Towne lay on it,
	Now to be frampall, now to pisse o'th nettle!
	Goe thy waies; I&rsquo;ll remember thee, I&rsquo;ll fit thee.

	[Enter Jailor&rsquo;s Daughter]

DAUGHTER	[Sings] The George alow came from the South,
	From the coast of Barbary a.
	And there he met with brave gallants of war
	By one, by two, by three, a.

	Well haild, well haild, you jolly gallants,
	And whither now are you bound a?
	O let me have your company  [Chaire and stooles out]
	Till I come to the sound a.

	There was three fooles, fell out about an howlet:
	The one sed it was an owle,
	The other he sed nay,
	The third he sed it was a hawke,
	And her bels wer cut away.

COUNTRYMAN 3	Ther's a dainty mad woman Maister
	Comes i'th Nick, as mad as a March hare:
	If wee can get her daunce, wee are made againe:
	I warrant her, she'll do the rarest gambols.

COUNTRYMAN 1	A mad woman? we are made, Boyes.

SCHOOLMASTER	And are you mad, good woman?

DAUGHTER	I would be sorry else;
	Give me your hand.

SCHOOLMASTER	Why?

DAUGHTER	I can tell your fortune.
	You are a foole: tell ten. I have pozd him: Buz!
	Friend you must eate no whitebread; if you doe,
	Your teeth will bleede extreamely. Shall we dance, ho?
	I know you, y'ar a Tinker: Sirha Tinker,
	Stop no more holes, but what you should.

SCHOOLMASTER	Dij boni. A Tinker, Damzell?

DAUGHTER	Or a Conjurer:
	Raise me a devill now, and let him play
	Quipassa o'th bels and bones.

SCHOOLMASTER	Goe, take her,
	And fluently perswade her to a peace:
	Et opus exegi, quod nec Jouis ira, nec ignis.
	Strike up, and leade her in.

COUNTRYMAN 2	Come, Lasse, lets trip it.

DAUGHTER	I'll leade. [Winde Hornes]

COUNTRYMAN 3	Doe, doe.

SCHOOLMASTER	Perswasively, and cunningly: away, boyes,  [Ex. all but Schoolemaster]
	I heare the hornes: give me some meditation,
	And marke your Cue. &ndash; Pallas inspire me.

	[Enter Thes. Pir. Hip. Emil. Arcite, and traine]

THESEUS	This way the Stag tooke.

SCHOOLMASTER	Stay, and edifie.

THESEUS	What have we here?

PERITHOUS	Some Countrey sport, upon my life, Sir.

THESEUS	Well, Sir, goe forward, we will edifie.
	Ladies, sit downe, wee'l stay it.

SCHOOLMASTER	Thou, doughtie Duke, all haile: all haile, sweet Ladies.

THESEUS	This is a cold beginning.

SCHOOLMASTER	If you but favour, our Country pastime made is.
	We are a few of those collected here,
	That ruder Tongues distinguish villager;
	And to say veritie, and not to fable,
	We are a merry rout, or else a rable,
	Or company, or, by a figure, Choris,
	That fore thy dignitie will dance a Morris.
	And I, that am the rectifier of all,
	By title Pedagogus, that let fall
	The Birch upon the breeches of the small ones,
	And humble with a Ferula the tall ones,
	Doe here present this Machine, or this frame:
	And daintie Duke, whose doughtie dismall fame
	From Dis to Dedalus, from post to pillar,
	Is blowne abroad, helpe me thy poore well willer,
	And with thy twinckling eyes looke right and straight
	Vpon this mighty <b>Morr</b> &ndash; of mickle waight;
	<b>Is</b> now comes in, which being glewd together,
	Makes <b>Morris</b>, and the cause that we came hether.
	The body of our sport, of no small study,
	I first appeare, though rude, and raw, and muddy,
	To speake before thy noble grace this tenner:
	At whose great feete I offer up my penner.
	The next the Lord of May and Lady bright,
	The Chambermaid and Servingman by night
	That seeke out silent hanging: Then mine Host
	And his fat Spowse, that welcomes to their cost
	The gauled Traveller, and with a beckning
	Informes the Tapster to inflame the reckning:
	Then the beast eating Clowne, and next the foole,
	The Bavian, with long tayle and eke long toole,
	Cum multis alijs that make a dance:
	Say 'I', and all shall presently advance.

THESEUS	I, I, by any meanes, deere Domine.

PERITHOUS	Produce.

SCHOOLMASTER	Intrate, filii; Come forth, and foot it. &ndash;

	[Musicke, Dance. Knocke for Schoole]

	[Enter the Dance]

	Ladies, if we have beene merry,
	And have pleasd yee with a derry,
	And a derry, and a downe,
	Say the Schoolemaster's no Clowne:
	Duke, if we have pleasd thee too,
	And have done as good Boyes should doe,
	Give us but a tree or twaine
	For a Maypole, and againe,
	Ere another yeare run out,
	Wee'l make thee laugh and all this rout.

THESEUS	Take twenty, Domine; how does my sweet heart?

HIPPOLITA	Never so pleasd, Sir.

EMILIA	Twas an excellent dance, and for a preface
	I never heard a better.

THESEUS	Schoolemaster, I thanke you. &ndash; One see'em all rewarded.

PERITHOUS	And heer's something to paint your Pole withall.

THESEUS	Now to our sports againe.

SCHOOLMASTER	May the Stag thou huntst stand long,
	And thy dogs be swift and strong:
	May they kill him without lets,
	And the Ladies eate his dowsets!
	Come, we are all made. [Winde Hornes]
	Dij Deoeq(ue) omnes, ye have danc'd rarely, wenches. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT III


SCENE VI	Athens before a temple


	[Enter Palamon from the Bush]

PALAMON	About this houre my Cosen gave his faith
	To visit me againe, and with him bring
	Two Swords, and two good Armors; if he faile,
	He's neither man nor Souldier. When he left me,
	I did not thinke a weeke could have restord
	My lost strength to me, I was growne so low,
	And Crest-falne with my wants: I thanke thee, Arcite,
	Thou art yet a faire Foe; and I feele my selfe
	With this refreshing, able once againe
	To out dure danger: To delay it longer
	Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing,
	That I lay fatting like a Swine to fight,
	And not a Souldier: Therefore, this blest morning
	Shall be the last; and that Sword he refuses,
	If it but hold, I kill him with; tis justice:
	So love, and Fortune for me! &ndash; O, good morrow.

	[Enter Arcite with Armors and Swords]

ARCITE	Good morrow, noble kinesman.

PALAMON	I have put you to too much paines, Sir.

ARCITE	That too much, faire Cosen,
	Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.

PALAMON	Would you were so in all, Sir; I could wish ye
	As kinde a kinsman, as you force me finde
	A beneficiall foe, that my embraces
	Might thanke ye, not my blowes.

ARCITE	I shall thinke either, well done,
	A noble recompence.

PALAMON	Then I shall quit you.

ARCITE	Defy me in these faire termes, and you show
	More then a Mistris to me, no more anger
	As you love any thing that's honourable:
	We were not bred to talke, man; when we are arm'd
	And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
	Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us,
	And then to whom the birthright of this Beauty
	Truely pertaines (without obbraidings, scornes,
	Dispisings of our persons, and such powtings,
	Fitter for Girles and Schooleboyes) will be seene
	And quickly, yours, or mine: wilt please you arme, Sir,
	Or if you feele your selfe not fitting yet
	And furnishd with your old strength, I&rsquo;ll stay, Cosen,
	And ev'ry day discourse you into health,
	As I am spard: your person I am friends with,
	And I could wish I had not saide I lov'd her,
	Though I had dide; But loving such a Lady
	And justifying my Love, I must not fly from't.

PALAMON	Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy,
	That no man but thy Cosen's fit to kill thee:
	I am well and lusty, choose your Armes.

ARCITE	Choose you, Sir.

PALAMON	Wilt thou exceede in all, or do'st thou doe it
	To make me spare thee?

ARCITE	If you thinke so, Cosen,
	You are deceived, for as I am a Soldier,
	I will not spare you.

PALAMON	That's well said.

ARCITE	You'l finde it.

PALAMON	Then, as I am an honest man and love
	With all the justice of affection,
	I'll pay thee soundly. This I&rsquo;ll take.

ARCITE	That's mine, then;
	I'll arme you first.

PALAMON	Do: pray thee, tell me, Cosen,
	Where gotst thou this good Armour?

ARCITE	Tis the Dukes,
	And to say true, I stole it; doe I pinch you?

PALAMON	Noe.

ARCITE	Is't not too heavie?

PALAMON	I have worne a lighter,
	But I shall make it serve.

ARCITE	I'll buckl't close.

PALAMON	By any meanes.

ARCITE	You care not for a Grand guard?

PALAMON	No, no; wee'l use no horses: I perceave
	You would faine be at that Fight.

ARCITE	I am indifferent.

PALAMON	Faith, so am I: good Cosen, thrust the buckle
	Through far enough.

ARCITE	I warrant you.

PALAMON	My Caske now.

ARCITE	Will you fight bare-armd?

PALAMON	We shall be the nimbler.

ARCITE	But use your Gauntlets though; those are o'th least,
	Prethee take mine, good Cosen.

PALAMON	Thanke you, Arcite.
	How doe I looke? am I falne much away?

ARCITE	Faith, very little; love has usd you kindly.

PALAMON	I'll warrant thee, I'll strike home.

ARCITE	Doe, and spare not;
	I'll give you cause, sweet Cosen.

PALAMON	Now to you, Sir:
	Me thinkes this Armor's very like that, Arcite,
	Thou wore'st the day the three Kings fell, but lighter.

ARCITE	That was a very good one; and that day,
	I well remember, you outdid me, Cosen.
	I never saw such valour: when you chargd
	Vpon the left wing of the Enemie,
	I spurd hard to come up, and under me
	I had a right good horse.

PALAMON	You had indeede; a bright Bay, I remember.

ARCITE	Yes, but all
	Was vainely labour'd in me; you outwent me,
	Nor could my wishes reach you; yet a little
	I did by imitation.

PALAMON	More by vertue;
	You are modest, Cosen.

ARCITE	When I saw you charge first,
	Me thought I heard a dreadfull clap of Thunder
	Breake from the Troope.

PALAMON	But still before that flew
	The lightning of your valour. Stay a little,
	Is not this peece too streight?

ARCITE	No, no, tis well.

PALAMON	I would have nothing hurt thee but my Sword,
	A bruise would be dishonour.

ARCITE	Now I am perfect.

PALAMON	Stand off, then.

ARCITE	Take my Sword, I hold it better.

PALAMON	I thanke ye: No, keepe it; your life lyes on it.
	Here's one; if it but hold, I aske no more
	For all my hopes: My Cause and honour guard me!
	[They bow severall wayes: then advance and stand]

ARCITE	And me my love!  Is there ought else to say?

PALAMON	This onely, and no more: Thou art mine Aunts Son,
	And that blood we desire to shed is mutuall;
	In me, thine, and in thee, mine. My Sword
	Is in my hand, and if thou killst me,
	The gods and I forgive thee; If there be
	A place prepar'd for those that sleepe in honour,
	I wish his wearie soule that falls may win it:
	Fight bravely, Cosen; give me thy noble hand.

ARCITE	Here, Palamon: This hand shall never more
	Come neare thee with such friendship.

PALAMON	I commend thee.

ARCITE	If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward,
	For none but such dare die in these just Tryalls.
	Once more farewell, my Cosen.

PALAMON	Farewell, Arcite. [Fight]

	[Hornes within: they stand]

ARCITE	Loe, Cosen, loe, our Folly has undon us.

PALAMON	Why?

ARCITE	This is the Duke, a hunting as I told you.
	If we be found, we are wretched. O retire
	For honours sake, and safety presently
	Into your Bush agen; Sir, we shall finde
	Too many howres to dye in: gentle Cosen,
	If you be seene you perish instantly
	For breaking prison, and I, if you reveale me,
	For my contempt. Then all the world will scorne us,
	And say we had a noble difference,
	But base disposers of it.

PALAMON	No, no, Cosen,
	I will no more be hidden, nor put off
	This great adventure to a second Tryall:
	I know your cunning, and I know your cause;
	He that faints now, shame take him: put thy selfe
	Vpon thy present guard &ndash;

ARCITE	You are not mad?

PALAMON	Or I will make th'advantage of this howre
	Mine owne, and what to come shall threaten me,
	I feare lesse then my fortune: know, weake Cosen,
	I love Emilia, and in that I&rsquo;ll bury
	Thee, and all crosses else.

ARCITE	Then, come what can come,
	Thou shalt know, Palamon, I dare as well
	Die, as discourse, or sleepe: Onely this feares me,
	The law will have the honour of our ends.
	Have at thy life.

PALAMON	Looke to thine owne well, Arcite. [Fight againe. Hornes]

	[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Perithous and traine]

THESEUS	What ignorant and mad malicious Traitors,
	Are you, That gainst the tenor of my Lawes
	Are making Battaile, thus like Knights appointed,
	Without my leave, and Officers of Armes?
	By Castor, both shall dye.

PALAMON	Hold thy word, Theseus.
	We are certainly both Traitors, both despisers
	Of thee and of thy goodnesse: I am Palamon,
	That cannot love thee, he that broke thy Prison;
	Thinke well what that deserves: and this is Arcite,
	A bolder Traytor never trod thy ground,
	A Falser neu'r seem'd friend: This is the man
	Was begd and banish'd; this is he contemnes thee
	And what thou dar'st doe, and in this disguise
	Against thy owne Edict followes thy Sister,
	That fortunate bright Star, the faire Emilia,
	Whose servant, (if there be a right in seeing,
	And first bequeathing of the soule to) justly
	I am, and, which is more, dares thinke her his.
	This treacherie, like a most trusty Lover,
	I call'd him now to answer; if thou bee'st,
	As thou art spoken, great and vertuous,
	The true descider of all injuries,
	Say, 'Fight againe,' and thou shalt see me, Theseus,
	Doe such a justice, thou thy selfe wilt envie.
	Then take my life; I'll wooe thee too't.

PERITHOUS	O heaven,
	What more then man is this!

THESEUS	I have sworne.

ARCITE	We seeke not
	Thy breath of mercy, Theseus. Tis to me
	A thing as soone to dye, as thee to say it,
	And no more mov'd: where this man calls me Traitor,
	Let me say thus much: if in love be Treason,
	In service of so excellent a Beutie,
	As I love most, and in that faith will perish,
	As I have brought my life here to confirme it,
	As I have serv'd her truest, worthiest,
	As I dare kill this Cosen, that denies it,
	So let me be most Traitor, and ye please me.
	For scorning thy Edict, Duke, aske that Lady
	Why she is faire, and why her eyes command me
	Stay here to love her; and if she say 'Traytor,'
	I am a villaine fit to lye unburied.

PALAMON	Thou shalt have pitty of us both, o Theseus,
	If unto neither thou shew mercy; stop
	(As thou art just) thy noble eare against us.
	As thou art valiant, for thy Cosens soule
	Whose twelve strong labours crowne his memory,
	Lets die together, at one instant, Duke,
	Onely a little let him fall before me,
	That I may tell my Soule he shall not have her.

THESEUS	I grant your wish, for, to say true, your Cosen
	Has ten times more offended; for I gave him
	More mercy then you found, Sir, your offenses
	Being no more then his. None here speake for 'em,
	For, ere the Sun set, both shall sleepe for ever.

HIPPOLITA	Alas the pitty! now or never, Sister,
	Speake, not to be denide; That face of yours
	Will beare the curses else of after ages
	For these lost Cosens.

EMILIA	In my face, deare Sister,
	I finde no anger to 'em, nor no ruyn;
	The misadventure of their owne eyes kill 'em;
	Yet that I will be woman, and have pitty,
	My knees shall grow to'th ground but I'll get mercie.
	Helpe me, deare Sister; in a deede so vertuous
	The powers of all women will be with us.
	Most royall Brother &ndash;

HIPPOLITA	Sir, by our tye of Marriage &ndash;

EMILIA	By your owne spotlesse honour &ndash;

HIPPOLITA	By that faith,
	That faire hand, and that honest heart you gave me.

EMILIA	By that you would have pitty in another,
	By your owne vertues infinite.

HIPPOLITA	By valour,
	By all the chaste nights I have ever pleasd you.

THESEUS	These are strange Conjurings.

PERITHOUS	Nay, then, I'll in too:
	By all our friendship, Sir, by all our dangers,
	By all you love most: warres and this sweet Lady.

EMILIA	By that you would have trembled to deny,
	A blushing Maide.

HIPPOLITA	By your owne eyes: By strength,
	In which you swore I went beyond all women,
	Almost all men, and yet I yeelded, Theseus.

PERITHOUS	To crowne all this: By your most noble soule,
	Which cannot want due mercie, I beg first.

HIPPOLITA	Next, heare my prayers.

EMILIA	Last, let me intreate, Sir.

PERITHOUS	For mercy.

HIPPOLITA	Mercy.

EMILIA	Mercy on these Princes.

THESEUS	Ye make my faith reele: Say I felt
	Compassion to'em both, how would you place it?

EMILIA	Vpon their lives: But with their banishments.

THESEUS	You are a right woman, Sister; you have pitty,
	But want the vnderstanding where to use it.
	If you desire their lives, invent a way
	Safer then banishment: Can these two live
	And have the agony of love about 'em,
	And not kill one another?  Every day
	They'ld fight about you; howrely bring your honour
	In publique question with their Swords. Be wise, then,
	And here forget 'em; it concernes your credit
	And my oth equally: I have said they die;
	Better they fall by'th law, then one another.
	Bow not my honor.

EMILIA	O my noble Brother,
	That oth was rashly made, and in your anger,
	Your reason will not hold it; if such vowes
	Stand for expresse will, all the world must perish.
	Beside, I have another oth gainst yours,
	Of more authority, I am sure more love,
	Not made in passion neither, but good heede.

THESEUS	What is it, Sister?

PERITHOUS	Vrge it home, brave Lady.

EMILIA	That you would nev'r deny me any thing
	Fit for my modest suit, and your free granting:
	I tye you to your word now; if ye fall in't,
	Thinke how you maime your honour,
	(For now I am set a begging, Sir, I am deafe
	To all but your compassion.)  How, their lives
	Might breed the ruine of my name, Opinion!
	Shall any thing that loves me perish for me?
	That were a cruell wisedome; doe men proyne
	The straight yong Bowes that blush with thousand Blossoms,
	Because they may be rotten?  O Duke Theseus,
	The goodly Mothers that have groand for these,
	And all the longing Maides that ever lov'd,
	If your vow stand, shall curse me and my Beauty,
	And in their funerall songs for these two Cosens
	Despise my crueltie, and cry woe worth me,
	Till I am nothing but the scorne of women;
	For heavens sake save their lives, and banish 'em.

THESEUS	On what conditions?

EMILIA	Sweare'em never more
	To make me their Contention, or to know me,
	To tread upon thy Dukedome; and to be,
	Where ever they shall travel, ever strangers
	To one another.

PALAMON	I'll be cut a peeces
	Before I take this oth: forget I love her?
	O all ye gods dispise me, then!  Thy Banishment
	I not mislike, so we may fairely carry
	Our Swords and cause along: else, never trifle,
	But take our lives, Duke: I must love and will,
	And for that love must and dare kill this Cosen
	On any peece the earth has.

THESEUS	Will you, Arcite,
	Take these conditions?

PALAMON	He's a villaine, then.

PERITHOUS	These are men.

ARCITE	No, never, Duke: Tis worse to me than begging
	To take my life so basely; though I thinke
	I never shall enjoy her, yet I&rsquo;ll preserve
	The honour of affection, and dye for her,
	Make death a Devill.

THESEUS	What may be done? for now I feele compassion.

PERITHOUS	Let it not fall agen, Sir.

THESEUS	Say, Emilia,
	If one of them were dead, as one must, are you
	Content to take th'other to your husband?
	They cannot both enjoy you; They are Princes
	As goodly as your owne eyes, and as noble
	As ever fame yet spoke of; looke upon 'em,
	And if you can love, end this difference.
	I give consent; are you content too, Princes?

Both	With all our soules.

THESEUS	He that she refuses
	Must dye, then.

Both	Any death thou canst invent, Duke.

PALAMON	If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favour,
	And Lovers yet unborne shall blesse my ashes.

ARCITE	If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me,
	And Souldiers sing my Epitaph.

THESEUS	Make choice, then.

EMILIA	I cannot, Sir, they are both too excellent:
	For me, a hayre shall never fall of these men.

HIPPOLITA	What will become of 'em?

THESEUS	Thus I ordaine it;
	And by mine honor, once againe, it stands,
	Or both shall dye: &ndash; You shall both to your Countrey,
	And each within this moneth, accompanied
	With three faire Knights, appeare againe in this place,
	In which I'll plant a Pyramid; and whether,
	Before us that are here, can force his Cosen
	By fayre and knightly strength to touch the Pillar,
	He shall enjoy her: the other loose his head,
	And all his friends; Nor shall he grudge to fall,
	Nor thinke he dies with interest in this Lady:
	Will this content yee?

PALAMON	Yes: here, Cosen Arcite,
	I am friends againe, till that howre.

ARCITE	I embrace ye.

THESEUS	Are you content, Sister?

EMILIA	Yes, I must, Sir,
	Els both miscarry.

THESEUS	Come, shake hands againe, then;
	And take heede, as you are Gentlemen, this Quarrell
	Sleepe till the howre prefixt; and hold your course.

PALAMON	We dare not faile thee, Theseus.

THESEUS	Come, I'll give ye
	Now usage like to Princes, and to Friends:
	When ye returne, who wins, I'll settle heere;
	Who looses, yet I'll weepe upon his Beere. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT IV


SCENE I	Athens. A room in the prison


	[Enter Jailor and his friend]

JAILOR	Heare you no more? was nothing saide of me
	Concerning the escape of Palamon?
	Good Sir, remember.

FRIEND 1	Nothing that I heard,
	For I came home before the busines
	Was fully ended: Yet I might perceive,
	Ere I departed, a great likelihood
	Of both their pardons: For Hipolita,
	And faire-eyd Emilie, upon their knees
	Begd with such hansom pitty, that the Duke
	Me thought stood staggering, whether he should follow
	His rash oth, or the sweet compassion
	Of those two Ladies; and to second them,
	That truely noble Prince Perithous,
	Halfe his owne heart, set in too, that I hope
	All shall be well: Neither heard I one question
	Of your name or his scape.

	[Enter FRIEND 2]

JAILOR	Pray heaven it hold so.

FRIEND 2	Be of good comfort, man; I bring you newes,
	Good newes.

JAILOR	They are welcome,

FRIEND 2	Palamon has cleerd you,
	And got your pardon, and discoverd how
	And by whose meanes he escapt, which was your Daughters,
	Whose pardon is procurd too; and the Prisoner,
	Not to be held ungratefull to her goodnes,
	Has given a summe of money to her Marriage,
	A large one, I&rsquo;ll assure you.

JAILOR	Ye are a good man
	And ever bring good newes.

FRIEND 1	How was it ended?

FRIEND 2	Why, as it should be; they that nev'r begd
	But they prevaild, had their suites fairely granted,
	The prisoners have their lives.

FRIEND 1	I knew t'would be so.

FRIEND 2	But there be new conditions, which you'l heare of
	At better time.

JAILOR	I hope they are good.

FRIEND 2	They are honourable,
	How good they'l prove, I know not.

	[Enter Wooer]

FRIEND 1	T'will be knowne.

WOOER	Alas, Sir, wher's your Daughter?

JAILOR	Why doe you aske?

WOOER	O, Sir, when did you see her?

FRIEND 2	How he lookes?

JAILOR	This morning.

WOOER	Was she well? was she in health, Sir?
	When did she sleepe?

FRIEND 1	These are strange Questions.

JAILOR	I doe not thinke she was very well, for now
	You make me minde her, but this very day
	I ask'd her questions, and she answered me
	So farre from what she was, so childishly,
	So sillily, as if she were a foole,
	An Inocent, and I was very angry.
	But what of her, Sir?

WOOER	Nothing but my pitty;
	But you must know it, and as good by me
	As by an other that lesse loves her &ndash;

JAILOR	Well, Sir.

FRIEND 1	Not right?

FRIEND 2	Not well?

WOOER	No, Sir, not well.
	Tis too true, she is mad.

FRIEND 1	It cannot be.

WOOER	Beleeve, you'l finde it so.

JAILOR	I halfe suspected
	What you (have) told me: the gods comfort her:
	Either this was her love to Palamon,
	Or feare of my miscarrying on his scape,
	Or both.

WOOER	Tis likely.

JAILOR	But why all this haste, Sir?

WOOER	I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling
	In the great Lake that lies behind the Pallace,
	From the far shore, thicke set with reedes and Sedges,
	As patiently I was attending sport,
	I heard a voyce, a shrill one, and attentive
	I gave my eare, when I might well perceive
	T'was one that sung, and by the smallnesse of it
	A boy or woman. I then left my angle
	To his owne skill, came neere, but yet perceivd not
	Who made the sound, the rushes and the Reeds
	Had so encompast it: I laide me downe
	And listned to the words she sung, for then,
	Through a small glade cut by the Fisher men,
	I saw it was your Daughter.

JAILOR	Pray, goe on, Sir?

WOOER	She sung much, but no sence; onely I heard her
	Repeat this often: 'Palamon is gone,
	Is gone to'th wood to gather Mulberies;
	I'll finde him out to morrow.'

FRIEND 1	Pretty soule.

WOOER	'His shackles will betray him, hee'l be taken,
	And what shall I doe then?  I'll bring a beavy,
	A hundred blacke eyd Maides, that love as I doe,
	With Chaplets on their heads of Daffadillies,
	With cherry-lips, and cheekes of Damaske Roses,
	And all wee'l daunce an Antique fore the Duke,
	And beg his pardon.'  Then she talk'd of you, Sir;
	That you must loose your head to morrow morning,
	And she must gather flowers to bury you,
	And see the house made handsome: then she sung
	Nothing but 'Willow, willow, willow,' and betweene
	Ever was, 'Palamon, faire Palamon,'
	And 'Palamon was a tall yong man.'  The place
	Was knee deepe where she sat; her careles Tresses
	A wreathe of bull-rush rounded; about her stucke
	Thousand fresh water flowers of severall cullors,
	That me thought she appeard like the faire Nimph
	That feedes the lake with waters, or as Iris
	Newly dropt downe from heaven; Rings she made
	Of rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke
	The prettiest posies: 'Thus our true love's tide,'
	'This you may loose, not me,' and many a one:
	And then she wept, and sung againe, and sigh'd,
	And with the same breath smil'd, and kist her hand.

FRIEND 2	Alas, what pitty it is!

WOOER	I made in to her.
	She saw me, and straight sought the flood; I sav'd her,
	And set her safe to land: when presently
	She slipt away, and to the Citty made,
	With such a cry and swiftnes, that, beleeve me,
	Shee left me farre behinde her; three or foure
	I saw from farre off crosse her, one of 'em
	I knew to be your brother; where she staid,
	And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her,
	[Enter Brother, Daughter, and others]
	And hether came to tell you. Here they are.

DAUGHTER	[Sings] May you never more enjoy the light, &amp;c.

	Is not this a fine Song?

BROTHER	O, a very fine one.

DAUGHTER	I can sing twenty more.

BROTHER	I thinke you can.

DAUGHTER	Yes, truely, can I; I can sing the Broome,
	And Bony Robin. Are not you a tailour?

BROTHER	Yes.

DAUGHTER	Wher's my wedding Gowne?

BROTHER	I'll bring it to morrow.

DAUGHTER	Doe, very rarely; I must be abroad else
	To call the Maides, and pay the Minstrels,
	For I must loose my Maydenhead by cock-light;
	Twill never thrive else.
	[Singes]  O faire, oh sweete, &amp;c.

BROTHER	You must ev'n take it patiently.

JAILOR	Tis true.

DAUGHTER	Good ev'n, good men; pray, did you ever heare
	Of one yong Palamon?

JAILOR	Yes, wench, we know him.

DAUGHTER	Is't not a fine yong Gentleman?

JAILOR	Tis Love.

BROTHER	By no meane crosse her; she is then distemperd
	Far worse then now she showes.

FRIEND 1	Yes, he's a fine man.

DAUGHTER	O, is he so? you have a Sister?

FRIEND 1	Yes.

DAUGHTER	But she shall never have him, tell her so,
	For a tricke that I know; y'had best looke to her,
	For if she see him once, she's gone, she's done,
	And undon in an howre. All the young Maydes
	Of our Towne are in love with him, but I laugh at 'em
	And let 'em all alone; Is't not a wise course?

FRIEND 1	Yes.

DAUGHTER	There is at least two hundred now with child by him &ndash;
	There must be fowre; yet I keepe close for all this,
	Close as a Cockle; and all these must be Boyes,
	He has the tricke on't, and at ten yeares old
	They must be all gelt for Musitians,
	And sing the wars of Theseus.

FRIEND 2	This is strange.

DAUGHTER	As ever you heard, but say nothing.

FRIEND 1	No.

DAUGHTER	They come from all parts of the Dukedome to him;
	I'll warrant ye, he had not so few last night
	As twenty to dispatch: hee'l tickl't up
	In two howres, if his hand be in.

JAILOR	She's lost
	Past all cure.

BROTHER	Heaven forbid, man.

DAUGHTER	Come hither, you are a wise man.

FRIEND 1	Do's she know him?

FRIEND 2	No, would she did.

DAUGHTER	You are master of a Ship?

JAILOR	Yes.

DAUGHTER	Wher's your Compasse?

JAILOR	Heere.

DAUGHTER	Set it too'th North.
	And now direct your course to'th wood, wher Palamon
	Lyes longing for me; For the Tackling
	Let me alone; Come, waygh, my hearts, cheerely!

All	Owgh, owgh, owgh, tis up, the wind's faire,
	Top the Bowling, out with the maine saile;
	Wher's your Whistle, Master?

BROTHER	Lets get her in.

JAILOR	Vp to the top, Boy.

BROTHER	Wher's the Pilot?

FRIEND 1	Heere.

DAUGHTER	What ken'st thou?

FRIEND 2	A faire wood.

DAUGHTER	Beare for it, master: take about!  [Singes]
	When Cinthia with her borrowed light, &amp;c. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT IV


SCENE II	A Room in the Palace


	[Enter Emilia alone, with two Pictures]

EMILIA	Yet I may binde those wounds up, that must open
	And bleed to death for my sake else; I'll choose,
	And end their strife: Two such yong hansom men
	Shall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,
	Following the dead cold ashes of their Sonnes,
	Shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven,
	What a sweet face has Arcite! if wise nature,
	With all her best endowments, all those beuties
	She sowes into the birthes of noble bodies,
	Were here a mortall woman, and had in her
	The coy denialls of yong Maydes, yet doubtles,
	She would run mad for this man: what an eye,
	Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetnes,
	Has this yong Prince!  Here Love himselfe sits smyling,
	Iust such another wanton Ganimead
	Set Jove a fire with, and enforcd the god
	Snatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by him
	A shining constellation: What a brow,
	Of what a spacious Majesty, he carries!
	Arch'd like the great eyd Juno's, but far sweeter,
	Smoother then Pelops Shoulder!  Fame and honour,
	Me thinks, from hence, as from a Promontory
	Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and sing
	To all the under world the Loves and Fights
	Of gods, and such men neere 'em. Palamon
	Is but his foyle, to him a meere dull shadow:
	Hee's swarth and meagre, of an eye as heavy
	As if he had lost his mother; a still temper,
	No stirring in him, no alacrity,
	Of all this sprightly sharpenes not a smile;
	Yet these that we count errours may become him:
	Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly: &ndash;
	Oh who can finde the bent of womans fancy?
	I am a Foole, my reason is lost in me;
	I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdly
	That women ought to beate me. On my knees
	I aske thy pardon, Palamon; thou art alone,
	And only beutifull, and these the eyes,
	These the bright lamps of beauty, that command
	And threaten Love, and what yong Mayd dare crosse 'em?
	What a bold gravity, and yet inviting,
	Has this browne manly face!  O Love, this only
	From this howre is Complexion: Lye there, Arcite,
	Thou art a changling to him, a meere Gipsey,
	And this the noble Bodie. I am sotted,
	Vtterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me;
	For if my brother but even now had ask'd me
	Whether I lov'd, I had run mad for Arcite;
	Now, if my Sister, More for Palamon.
	Stand both together: Now, come aske me, Brother. &ndash;
	Alas, I know not!  Aske me now, sweet Sister; &ndash;
	I may goe looke. What a meere child is Fancie,
	That, having two faire gawdes of equall sweetnesse,
	Cannot distinguish, but must crie for both.

	[Enter a Gentleman]

EMILIA	How now, Sir?

GENTLEMAN	From the Noble Duke your Brother,
	Madam, I bring you newes: The Knights are come.

EMILIA	To end the quarrell?

GENTLEMAN	Yes.

EMILIA	Would I might end first:
	What sinnes have I committed, chast Diana,
	That my unspotted youth must now be soyld
	With blood of Princes? and my Chastitie
	Be made the Altar, where the lives of Lovers
	(Two greater and two better never yet
	Made mothers joy) must be the sacrifice
	To my unhappy Beautie?

	[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous and attendants]

THESEUS	Bring 'em in
	Quickly, By any meanes; I long to see 'em. &ndash;
	Your two contending Lovers are return'd,
	And with them their faire Knights: Now, my faire Sister,
	You must love one of them.

EMILIA	I had rather both,
	So neither for my sake should fall untimely.

	[Enter Messenger. (Curtis.)]

THESEUS	Who saw 'em?

PERITHOUS	I, a while.

GENTLEMAN	And I.

THESEUS	From whence come you, Sir?

MESSENGER	From the Knights.

THESEUS	Pray, speake,
	You that have seene them, what they are.

MESSENGER	I will, Sir,
	And truly what I thinke: Six braver spirits
	Then these they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)
	I never saw, nor read of. He that stands
	In the first place with Arcite, by his seeming,
	Should be a stout man, by his face a Prince,
	(His very lookes so say him) his complexion,
	Nearer a browne, than blacke, sterne, and yet noble,
	Which shewes him hardy, fearelesse, proud of dangers:
	The circles of his eyes show fire within him,
	And as a heated Lyon, so he lookes;
	His haire hangs long behind him, blacke and shining
	Like Ravens wings: his shoulders broad and strong,
	Armd long and round, and on his Thigh a Sword
	Hung by a curious Bauldricke, when he frownes
	To seale his will with: better, o'my conscience
	Was never Souldiers friend.

THESEUS	Thou ha'st well describde him.

PERITHOUS	Yet a great deale short,
	Me thinkes, of him that's first with Palamon.

THESEUS	Pray, speake him, friend.

PERITHOUS	I ghesse he is a Prince too,
	And, if it may be, greater; for his show
	Has all the ornament of honour in't:
	Hee's somewhat bigger, then the Knight he spoke of,
	But of a face far sweeter; His complexion
	Is (as a ripe grape) ruddy: he has felt,
	Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apter
	To make this cause his owne: In's face appeares
	All the faire hopes of what he undertakes,
	And when he's angry, then a setled valour
	(Not tainted with extreames) runs through his body,
	And guides his arme to brave things: Feare he cannot,
	He shewes no such soft temper; his head's yellow,
	Hard hayr'd, and curld, thicke twind like Ivy tods,
	Not to undoe with thunder; In his face
	The liverie of the warlike Maide appeares,
	Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him.
	And in his rowling eyes sits victory,
	As if she ever ment to court his valour:
	His Nose stands high, a Character of honour.
	His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.

EMILIA	Must these men die too?

PERITHOUS	When he speakes, his tongue
	Sounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneaments
	Are as a man would wish 'em, strong and cleane,
	He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold;
	His age some five and twenty.

MESSENGER	Ther's another,
	A little man, but of a tough soule, seeming
	As great as any: fairer promises
	In such a Body yet I never look'd on.

PERITHOUS	O, he that's freckle fac'd?

MESSENGER	The same, my Lord;
	Are they not sweet ones?

PERITHOUS	Yes, they are well.

MESSENGER	Me thinkes,
	Being so few, and well disposd, they show
	Great, and fine art in nature: he's white hair'd,
	Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
	Next to an auburn; tough, and nimble set,
	Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny,
	Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peece
	Gently they swell, like women new conceav'd,
	Which speakes him prone to labour, never fainting
	Vnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still,
	But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's gray eyd,
	Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpe
	To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em,
	He's swift to make 'em his: He do's no wrongs,
	Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles
	He showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier:
	About his head he weares the winners oke,
	And in it stucke the favour of his Lady:
	His age, some six and thirtie. In his hand
	He beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.

THESEUS	Are they all thus?

PERITHOUS	They are all the sonnes of honour.

THESEUS	Now, as I have a soule, I long to see'em.
	Lady, you shall see men fight now.

HIPPOLITA	I wish it,
	But not the cause, my Lord; They would show
	Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes;
	Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous:
	O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you?
	Weepe not, till they weepe blood, Wench; it must be.

THESEUS	You have steel'd 'em with your Beautie. &ndash; Honord Friend,
	To you I give the field; pray, order it
	Fitting the persons that must use it.

PERITHOUS	Yes, Sir.

THESEUS	Come, I'll goe visit 'em: I cannot stay,
	Their fame has fir'd me so; Till they appeare.
	Good Friend, be royall.

PERITHOUS	There shall want no bravery.

EMILIA	Poore wench, goe weepe, for whosoever wins,
	Looses a noble Cosen for thy sins. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT IV


SCENE III	A room in the prison


	[Enter Jailor, Wooer, Doctor]

DOCTOR	Her distraction is more at some time of the Moone, then at other
some, is it not?

JAILOR	She is continually in a harmelesse distemper, sleepes little,
altogether without appetite, save often drinking, dreaming of
another world, and a better; and what broken peece of matter
so'ere she's about, the name Palamon lardes it, that she farces
ev'ry busines withall, fyts it to every question. &ndash;

	[Enter Daughter]

	Looke where shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.

DAUGHTER	I have forgot it quite; The burden on't, was <i>downe a, downe a</i>,
and pend by no worse man, then Giraldo, Emilias Schoolemaster;
he's as Fantasticall too, as ever he may goe upon's legs, &ndash; for
in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and then will she be
out of love with Eneas.

DOCTOR	What stuff's here? pore soule!

JAILOR	Ev'n thus all day long.

DAUGHTER	Now for this Charme, that I told you of: you must bring a peece
of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be
your chance to come where the blessed spirits, as ther's a sight
now &ndash; we maids that have our Lyvers perish'd, crakt to peeces with
Love, we shall come there, and doe nothing all day long but picke
flowers with Proserpine; then will I make Palamon a Nosegay; then
let him marke me, &ndash; then &ndash;

DOCTOR	How prettily she's amisse? note her a little further.

DAUGHTER	Faith, I&rsquo;ll tell you, sometime we goe to Barly breake, we of the
blessed; alas, tis a sore life they have i'th other place, such
burning, frying, boyling, hissing, howling, chattring, cursing,
oh they have shrowd measure! take heede; if one be mad, or hang
or drowne themselves, thither they goe, Jupiter blesse us, and
there shall we be put in a Caldron of lead, and Vsurers grease,
amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boyle like a
Gamon of Bacon that will never be enough. [Exit]

DOCTOR	How her braine coynes!

DAUGHTER	Lords and Courtiers, that have got maids with Child, they are in
this place: they shall stand in fire up to the Nav'le, and in yce
up to'th hart, and there th'offending part burnes, and the
deceaving part freezes; in troth, a very greevous punishment, as
one would thinke, for such a Trifle; beleve me, one would marry a
leaprous witch, to be rid on't, I'll assure you.

DOCTOR	How she continues this fancie!  Tis not an engraffed Madnesse,
but a most thicke, and profound mellencholly.

DAUGHTER	To heare there a proud Lady, and a proud Citty wiffe, howle
together! I were a beast and il'd call it good sport: one cries,
'O this smoake!' another, 'this fire!'  One cries, 'O, that ever
I did it behind the arras!' and then howles; th'other curses a
suing fellow and her garden house. [Sings]  I will be true, my
stars, my fate, &amp;c. [Exit Daugh]

JAILOR	What thinke you of her, Sir?

DOCTOR	I thinke she has a perturbed minde, which I cannot minister to.

JAILOR	Alas, what then?

DOCTOR	Vnderstand you, she ever affected any man, ere she beheld
	Palamon?

JAILOR	I was once, Sir, in great hope she had fixd her liking on this
gentleman, my friend.

WOOER	I did thinke so too, and would account I had a great pen-worth
on't, to give halfe my state, that both she and I at this present
stood unfainedly on the same tearmes.

DOCTOR	That intemprat surfeit of her eye hath distemperd the other sences:
they may returne and settle againe to execute their preordaind
faculties, but they are now in a most extravagant vagary. This
you must doe: Confine her to a place, where the light may rather
seeme to steale in, then be permitted; take vpon you (yong Sir,
her friend) the name of Palamon; say you come to eate with her,
and to commune of Love; this will catch her attention, for this
her minde beates upon; other objects that are inserted tweene her
minde and eye become the prankes and friskins of her madnes; Sing
to her such greene songs of Love, as she sayes Palamon hath sung
in prison; Come to her, stucke in as sweet flowers as the season
is mistres of, and thereto make an addition of som other compounded
odours, which are grateful to the sence: all this shall become
Palamon, for Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet, and ev'ry
good thing: desire to eate with her, carve her, drinke to her,
and still among, intermingle your petition of grace and acceptance
into her favour: Learne what Maides have beene her companions and
play-pheeres, and let them repaire to her with Palamon in their
mouthes, and appeare with tokens, as if they suggested for him.
It is a falsehood she is in, which is with falsehood to be combated.
This may bring her to eate, to sleepe, and reduce what's now out
of square in her, into their former law, and regiment; I have seene
it approved, how many times I know not, but to make the number more,
I have great hope in this. I will, betweene the passages of this
project, come in with my applyance: Let us put it in execution,
and hasten the successe, which, doubt not, will bring forth
comfort. [Florish. Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT V


SCENE I	Before the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana


	[Enter Thesius, Perithous, Hipolita, attendants]

THESEUS	Now let'em enter, and before the gods
	Tender their holy prayers: Let the Temples
	Burne bright with sacred fires, and the Altars
	In hallowed clouds commend their swelling Incense
	To those above us: Let no due be wanting;  [Florish of Cornets]
	They have a noble worke in hand, will honour
	The very powers that love 'em.

	[Enter Palamon and Arcite, and their Knights]

PERITHOUS	Sir, they enter.

THESEUS	You valiant and strong harted Enemies,
	You royall German foes, that this day come
	To blow that furnesse out that flames betweene ye:
	Lay by your anger for an houre, and dove-like,
	Before the holy Altars of your helpers,
	(The all feard gods) bow downe your stubborne bodies.
	Your ire is more than mortall; So your helpe be,
	And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice;
	I'll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye
	I part my wishes.

PERITHOUS	Honour crowne the worthiest. [Exit Theseus, and his traine]

PALAMON	The glasse is running now that cannot finish
	Till one of us expire: Thinke you but thus,
	That were there ought in me which strove to show
	Mine enemy in this businesse, wer't one eye
	Against another, Arme opprest by Arme,
	I would destroy th'offender, Coz, I would,
	Though parcell of my selfe: Then from this gather
	How I should tender you.

ARCITE	I am in labour
	To push your name, your auncient love, our kindred
	Out of my memory; and i'th selfe same place
	To seate something I would confound: So hoyst we
	The sayles, that must these vessells port even where
	The heavenly Lymiter pleases.

PALAMON	You speake well;
	Before I turne, Let me embrace thee, Cosen:
	This I shall never doe agen.

ARCITE	One farewell.

PALAMON	Why, let it be so: Farewell, Coz. [Exeunt Palamon and his Knights]

ARCITE	Farewell, Sir. &ndash;
	Knights, Kinsemen, Lovers, yea, my Sacrifices,
	True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
	Expells the seedes of feare, and th'apprehension
	Which still is farther off it, Goe with me
	Before the god of our profession: There
	Require of him the hearts of Lyons, and
	The breath of Tigers, yea, the fearcenesse too,
	Yea, the speed also, &ndash; to goe on, I meane,
	Else wish we to be Snayles: you know my prize
	Must be drag'd out of blood; force and great feate
	Must put my Garland on, where she stickes
	The Queene of Flowers: our intercession then
	Must be to him that makes the Campe a Cestron
	Brymd with the blood of men: give me your aide
	And bend your spirits towards him. [They kneele]
	Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turnd
	Greene Neptune into purple, (whose Approach)
	Comets prewarne, whose havocke in vaste field
	Vnearthed skulls proclaime, whose breath blowes downe,
	The teeming Ceres foyzon, who doth plucke
	With hand armypotent from forth blew clowdes
	The masond Turrets, that both mak'st and break'st
	The stony girthes of Citties: me thy puple,
	Yongest follower of thy Drom, instruct this day
	With military skill, that to thy lawde
	I may advance my Streamer, and by thee,
	Be stil'd the Lord o'th day: give me, great Mars,
	Some token of thy pleasure.

	[Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard
	clanging of Armor, with a short Thunder as the burst of a
	Battaile,
	whereupon they all rise and bow to the Altar]

	O Great Corrector of enormous times,
	Shaker of ore-rank States, thou grand decider
	Of dustie and old tytles, that healst with blood
	The earth when it is sicke, and curst the world
	O'th pluresie of people; I doe take
	Thy signes auspiciously, and in thy name
	To my designe march boldly. Let us goe. [Exeunt]

	[Enter Palamon and his Knights, with the former observance]

PALAMON	Our stars must glister with new fire, or be
	To daie extinct; our argument is love,
	Which if the goddesse of it grant, she gives
	Victory too: then blend your spirits with mine,
	You, whose free noblenesse doe make my cause
	Your personall hazard; to the goddesse Venus
	Commend we our proceeding, and implore
	Her power unto our partie. [Here they kneele as formerly]
	Haile, Soveraigne Queene of secrets, who hast power
	To call the feircest Tyrant from his rage,
	And weepe unto a Girle; that ha'st the might,
	Even with an ey-glance, to choke Marsis Drom
	And turne th'allarme to whispers; that canst make
	A Criple florish with his Crutch, and cure him
	Before Apollo; that may'st force the King
	To be his subjects vassaile, and induce
	Stale gravitie to daunce; the pould Bachelour &ndash;
	Whose youth, like wonton Boyes through Bonfyres,
	Have skipt thy flame &ndash; at seaventy thou canst catch
	And make him, to the scorne of his hoarse throate,
	Abuse yong laies of love: what godlike power
	Hast thou not power upon?  To Phoebus thou
	Add'st flames hotter then his; the heavenly fyres
	Did scortch his mortall Son, thine him; the huntresse
	All moyst and cold, some say, began to throw
	Her Bow away, and sigh. Take to thy grace
	Me, thy vowd Souldier, who doe beare thy yoke
	As t'wer a wreath of Roses, yet is heavier
	Then Lead it selfe, stings more than Nettles.
	I have never beene foule mouthd against thy law,
	Nev'r reveald secret, for I knew none &ndash; would not,
	Had I kend all that were; I never practised
	Vpon mans wife, nor would the Libells reade
	Of liberall wits; I never at great feastes
	Sought to betray a Beautie, but have blush'd
	At simpring Sirs that did; I have beene harsh
	To large Confessors, and have hotly ask'd them
	If they had Mothers: I had one, a woman,
	And women t'wer they wrong'd. I knew a man
	Of eightie winters, this I told them, who
	A Lasse of foureteene brided; twas thy power
	To put life into dust; the aged Crampe
	Had screw'd his square foote round,
	The Gout had knit his fingers into knots,
	Torturing Convulsions from his globie eyes,
	Had almost drawne their spheeres, that what was life
	In him seem'd torture: this Anatomie
	Had by his yong faire pheare a Boy, and I
	Beleev'd it was him, for she swore it was,
	And who would not beleeve her? briefe, I am
	To those that prate and have done no Companion;
	To those that boast and have not a defyer;
	To those that would and cannot a Rejoycer.
	Yea, him I doe not love, that tells close offices
	The fowlest way, nor names concealements in
	The boldest language: such a one I am,
	And vow that lover never yet made sigh
	Truer then I. O, then, most soft, sweet goddesse,
	Give me the victory of this question, which
	Is true loves merit, and blesse me with a signe
	Of thy great pleasure.

	[Here Musicke is heard, Doves are seene to flutter;
	they fall againe upon their faces, then on their knees]

PALAMON	O thou, that from eleven to ninetie raign'st
	In mortall bosomes, whose chase is this world,
	And we in heards thy game: I give thee thankes
	For this faire Token, which, being layd unto
	Mine innocent true heart, armes in assurance  [They bow]
	My body to this businesse. Let us rise
	And bow before the goddesse: Time comes on. [Exeunt]

	[Still music of recorders]

	[Enter Emilia in white, her haire about her shoulders, (wearing) a
	wheaten wreath: One in white holding up her traine, her haire stucke
	with flowers: One before her carrying a silver Hynde, in which is
	conveyd Incense and sweet odours, which being set upon the Altar
	(of Diana) her maides standing a loofe, she sets fire to it; then
	they curtsey and kneele]

EMILIA	O sacred, shadowie, cold and constant Queene,
	Abandoner of Revells, mute, contemplative,
	Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
	As windefand Snow, who to thy femall knights
	Alow'st no more blood than will make a blush,
	Which is their orders robe: I heere, thy Priest,
	Am humbled fore thine Altar; O vouchsafe,
	With that thy rare greene eye, which never yet
	Beheld thing maculate, looke on thy virgin;
	And, sacred silver Mistris, lend thine eare
	(Which nev'r heard scurrill terme, into whose port
	Ne're entred wanton found) to my petition
	Seasond with holy feare: This is my last
	Of vestall office; I am bride habited,
	But mayden harted, a husband I have pointed,
	But doe not know him; out of two I should
	Choose one and pray for his successe, but I
	Am guiltlesse of election: of mine eyes,
	Were I to loose one, they are equall precious,
	I could doombe neither, that which perish'd should
	Goe too't unsentenc'd: Therefore, most modest Queene,
	He of the two Pretenders, that best loves me
	And has the truest title in't, Let him
	Take off my wheaten Gerland, or else grant
	The fyle and qualitie I hold, I may
	Continue in thy Band.

	[Here the Hynde vanishes under the Altar: and in the
	place ascends a Rose Tree, having one Rose upon it]

	See what our Generall of Ebbs and Flowes
	Out from the bowells of her holy Altar
	With sacred act advances!  But one Rose:
	If well inspird, this Battaile shal confound
	Both these brave Knights, and I, a virgin flowre
	Must grow alone unpluck'd.

	[Here is heard a sodaine twang of Instruments,
	and the Rose falls from the Tree (which vanishes under the altar)]

	The flowre is falne, the Tree descends: O, Mistris,
	Thou here dischargest me; I shall be gather'd:
	I thinke so, but I know not thine owne will;
	Vnclaspe thy Misterie. &ndash; I hope she's pleas'd,
	Her Signes were gratious. [They curtsey and Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT V


SCENE II	A darkened Room in the Prison


	[Enter Doctor, Jailor and Wooer, in habite of Palamon]

DOCTOR	Has this advice I told you, done any good upon her?

WOOER	O very much; The maids that kept her company
	Have halfe perswaded her that I am Palamon;
	Within this halfe houre she came smiling to me,
	And asked me what I would eate, and when I would kisse her:
	I told her presently, and kist her twice.

DOCTOR	Twas well done; twentie times had bin far better,
	For there the cure lies mainely.

WOOER	Then she told me
	She would watch with me to night, for well she knew
	What houre my fit would take me.

DOCTOR	Let her doe so,
	And when your fit comes, fit her home,
	And presently.

WOOER	She would have me sing.

DOCTOR	You did so?

WOOER	No.

DOCTOR	Twas very ill done, then;
	You should observe her ev'ry way.

WOOER	Alas,
	I have no voice, Sir, to confirme her that way.

DOCTOR	That's all one, if yee make a noyse;
	If she intreate againe, doe any thing, &ndash;
	Lye with her, if she aske you.

JAILOR	Hoa, there, Doctor!

DOCTOR	Yes, in the waie of cure.

JAILOR	But first, by your leave,
	I'th way of honestie.

DOCTOR	That's but a nicenesse,
	Nev'r cast your child away for honestie;
	Cure her first this way, then if shee will be honest,
	She has the path before her.

JAILOR	Thanke yee, Doctor.

DOCTOR	Pray, bring her in,
	And let's see how shee is.

JAILOR	I will, and tell her
	Her Palamon staies for her: But, Doctor,
	Me thinkes you are i'th wrong still. [Exit Jailor]

DOCTOR	Goe, goe:
	You Fathers are fine Fooles: her honesty?
	And we should give her physicke till we finde that &ndash;

WOOER	Why, doe you thinke she is not honest, Sir?

DOCTOR	How old is she?

WOOER	She's eighteene.

DOCTOR	She may be,
	But that's all one; tis nothing to our purpose.
	What ere her Father saies, if you perceave
	Her moode inclining that way that I spoke of,
	Videlicet, the way of flesh &ndash; you have me?

WOOER	Yet, very well, Sir.

DOCTOR	Please her appetite,
	And doe it home; it cures her, ipso facto,
	The mellencholly humour that infects her.

WOOER	I am of your minde, Doctor.

	[Enter Jailor, Daughter, Maide]

DOCTOR	You'l finde it so; she comes, pray humour her.

JAILOR	Come, your Love Palamon staies for you, childe,
	And has done this long houre, to visite you.

DAUGHTER	I thanke him for his gentle patience;
	He's a kind Gentleman, and I am much bound to him.
	Did you nev'r see the horse he gave me?

JAILOR	Yes.

DAUGHTER	How doe you like him?

JAILOR	He's a very faire one.

DAUGHTER	You never saw him dance?

JAILOR	No.

DAUGHTER	I have often.
	He daunces very finely, very comely,
	And for a jigge, come cut and long taile to him,
	He turnes ye like a Top.

JAILOR	That's fine, indeede.

DAUGHTER	He'll dance the Morris twenty mile an houre,
	And that will founder the best hobby-horse
	(If I have any skill) in all the parish,
	And gallops to the turne of <i>Light a' Love</i>:
	What thinke you of this horse?

JAILOR	Having these vertues,
	I thinke he might be broght to play at Tennis.

DAUGHTER	Alas, that's nothing.

JAILOR	Can he write and reade too?

DAUGHTER	A very faire hand, and casts himselfe th'accounts
	Of all his hay and provender: That Hostler
	Must rise betime that cozens him. You know
	The Chestnut Mare the Duke has?

JAILOR	Very well.

DAUGHTER	She is horribly in love with him, poore beast,
	But he is like his master, coy and scornefull.

JAILOR	What dowry has she?

DAUGHTER	Some two hundred Bottles,
	And twenty strike of Oates; but hee'l ne're have her;
	He lispes in's neighing, able to entice
	A Millars Mare: Hee'l be the death of her.

DOCTOR	What stuffe she utters!

JAILOR	Make curtsie; here your love comes.

WOOER	Pretty soule,
	How doe ye? that's a fine maide, ther's a curtsie!

DAUGHTER	Yours to command ith way of honestie.
	How far is't now to'th end o'th world, my Masters?

DOCTOR	Why, a day&rsquo;s journey, wench.

DAUGHTER	Will you goe with me?

WOOER	What shall we doe there, wench?

DAUGHTER	Why, play at stoole ball:
	What is there else to doe?

WOOER	I am content,
	If we shall keepe our wedding there.

DAUGHTER	Tis true:
	For there, I will assure you, we shall finde
	Some blind Priest for the purpose, that will venture
	To marry us, for here they are nice, and foolish;
	Besides, my father must be hang'd to morrow
	And that would be a blot i'th businesse.
	Are not you Palamon?

WOOER	Doe not you know me?

DAUGHTER	Yes, but you care not for me; I have nothing
	But this pore petticoate, and too corse Smockes.

WOOER	That's all one; I will have you.

DAUGHTER	Will you surely?

WOOER	Yes, by this faire hand, will I.

DAUGHTER	Wee'l to bed, then.

WOOER	Ev'n when you will. [Kisses her]

DAUGHTER	O Sir, you would faine be nibling.

WOOER	Why doe you rub my kisse off?

DAUGHTER	Tis a sweet one,
	And will perfume me finely against the wedding.
	Is not this your Cosen Arcite?

DOCTOR	Yes, sweet heart,
	And I am glad my Cosen Palamon
	Has made so faire a choice.

DAUGHTER	Doe you thinke hee'l have me?

DOCTOR	Yes, without doubt.

DAUGHTER	Doe you thinke so too?

JAILOR	Yes.

DAUGHTER	We shall have many children: &ndash; Lord, how y'ar growne!
	My Palamon, I hope, will grow, too, finely,
	Now he's at liberty: Alas, poore Chicken,
	He was kept downe with hard meate and ill lodging,
	But I&rsquo;ll kisse him up againe.

	[Enter a Messenger]

MESSENGER	What doe you here? you'l loose the noblest sight
	That ev'r was seene.

JAILOR	Are they i'th Field?

MESSENGER	They are.
	You beare a charge there too.

JAILOR	I'll away straight.
	I must ev'n leave you here.

DOCTOR	Nay, wee'l goe with you;
	I will not loose the Fight.

JAILOR	How did you like her?

DOCTOR	I'll warrant you, within these three or four daies
	I'll make her right againe. You must not from her,
	But still preserve her in this way.

WOOER	I will.

DOCTOR	Lets get her in.

WOOER	Come, sweete, wee'l goe to dinner;
	And then weele play at Cardes.

DAUGHTER	And shall we kisse too?

WOOER	A hundred times.

DAUGHTER	And twenty.

WOOER	I, and twenty.

DAUGHTER	And then wee'l sleepe together.

DOCTOR	Take her offer.

WOOER	Yes, marry, will we.

DAUGHTER	But you shall not hurt me.

WOOER	I will not, sweete.

DAUGHTER	If you doe, Love, I&rsquo;ll cry. [Florish. Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT V


SCENE III	A Place near the Lists


	[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Perithous: and some Attendants, (T. Tucke: Curtis.)]

EMILIA	I'll no step further.

PERITHOUS	Will you loose this sight?

EMILIA	I had rather see a wren hawke at a fly
	Then this decision; ev'ry blow that falls
	Threats a brave life, each stroake laments
	The place whereon it fals, and sounds more like
	A Bell then blade: I will stay here;
	It is enough my hearing shall be punishd
	With what shall happen &ndash; gainst the which there is
	No deaffing, but to heare &ndash; not taint mine eye
	With dread sights, it may shun.

PERITHOUS	Sir, my good Lord,
	Your Sister will no further.

THESEUS	Oh, she must.
	She shall see deeds of honour in their kinde,
	Which sometime show well, pencild. Nature now
	Shall make and act the Story, the beleife
	Both seald with eye and eare; you must be present,
	You are the victours meede, the price, and garlond
	To crowne the Questions title.

EMILIA	Pardon me;
	If I were there, I'ld winke.

THESEUS	You must be there;
	This Tryall is as t'wer i'th night, and you
	The onely star to shine.

EMILIA	I am extinct;
	There is but envy in that light, which showes
	The one the other: darkenes, which ever was
	The dam of horrour, who do's stand accurst
	Of many mortall Millions, may even now,
	By casting her blacke mantle over both,
	That neither coulde finde other, get her selfe
	Some part of a good name, and many a murther
	Set off wherto she's guilty.

HIPPOLITA	You must goe.

EMILIA	In faith, I will not.

THESEUS	Why, the knights must kindle
	Their valour at your eye: know, of this war
	You are the Treasure, and must needes be by
	To give the Service pay.

EMILIA	Sir, pardon me;
	The tytle of a kingdome may be tride
	Out of it selfe.

THESEUS	Well, well, then, at your pleasure;
	Those that remaine with you could wish their office
	To any of their Enemies.

HIPPOLITA	Farewell, Sister;
	I am like to know your husband fore your selfe
	By some small start of time: he whom the gods
	Doe of the two know best, I pray them he
	Be made your Lot.

	[Exeunt Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous, &amp;c]

EMILIA	Arcite is gently visagd; yet his eye
	Is like an Engyn bent, or a sharpe weapon
	In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage
	Are bedfellowes in his visage. Palamon
	Has a most menacing aspect: his brow
	Is grav'd, and seemes to bury what it frownes on;
	Yet sometime tis not so, but alters to
	The quallity of his thoughts; long time his eye
	Will dwell upon his object. Mellencholly
	Becomes him nobly; So do's Arcites mirth,
	But Palamons sadnes is a kinde of mirth,
	So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad,
	And sadnes, merry; those darker humours that
	Sticke misbecomingly on others, on them
	Live in faire dwelling. [Cornets. Trompets sound as to a charge]
	Harke, how yon spurs to spirit doe incite
	The Princes to their proofe! Arcite may win me,
	And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to
	The spoyling of his figure. O, what pitty
	Enough for such a chance; if I were by,
	I might doe hurt, for they would glance their eies
	Toward my Seat, and in that motion might
	Omit a ward, or forfeit an offence
	Which crav'd that very time: it is much better
	I am not there; oh better never borne
	Then minister to such harme.
	[Cornets. A great cry and noice within, crying 'a Palamon']
	What is the chance?

	[Enter Servant]

SERVANT	The Crie's 'a Palamon'.

EMILIA	Then he has won!  Twas ever likely;
	He lookd all grace and successe, and he is
	Doubtlesse the prim'st of men: I pre'thee, run
	And tell me how it goes.
[Showt, and Cornets: Crying, 'a Palamon.']

SERVANT	Still Palamon.

EMILIA	Run and enquire. Poore Servant, thou hast lost;
	Vpon my right side still I wore thy picture,
	Palamons on the left: why so, I know not;
	I had no end in't else, chance would have it so.
	On the sinister side the heart lyes; Palamon
	Had the best boding chance.
[Another cry, and showt within, and Cornets]
This burst of clamour
	Is sure th'end o'th Combat.

	[Enter Servant]

SERVANT	They saide that Palamon had Arcites body
	Within an inch o'th Pyramid, that the cry
	Was generall 'a Palamon': But, anon,
	Th'Assistants made a brave redemption, and
	The two bold Tytlers, at this instant are
	Hand to hand at it.

EMILIA	Were they metamorphisd
	Both into one! oh why? there were no woman
	Worth so composd a Man: their single share,
	Their noblenes peculier to them, gives
	The prejudice of disparity, values shortnes,
	[Cornets. Cry within, Arcite, Arcite]
	To any Lady breathing &ndash; More exulting?
	Palamon still?

SERVANT	Nay, now the sound is Arcite.

EMILIA	I pre'thee, lay attention to the Cry,
	[Cornets. A great showt and cry, 'Arcite, victory!']
	Set both thine eares to'th busines.

SERVANT	The cry is
	'Arcite', and 'victory', harke: 'Arcite, victory!'
	The Combats consummation is proclaim'd
	By the wind Instruments.

EMILIA	Halfe sights saw
	That Arcite was no babe; god's lyd, his richnes
	And costlines of spirit look't through him, it could
	No more be hid in him then fire in flax,
	Then humble banckes can goe to law with waters,
	That drift windes force to raging: I did thinke
	Good Palamon would miscarry; yet I knew not
	Why I did thinke so; Our reasons are not prophets,
	When oft our fancies are. They are comming off:
	Alas, poore Palamon!  [Cornets]

	[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Arcite as victor, and attendants, &amp;c]

THESEUS	Lo, where our Sister is in expectation,
	Yet quaking, and unsetled. &ndash; Fairest Emily,
	The gods by their divine arbitrament
	Have given you this Knight; he is a good one
	As ever strooke at head. Give me your hands;
	Receive you her, you him; be plighted with
	A love that growes, as you decay.

ARCITE	Emily,
	To buy you, I have lost what's deerest to me,
	Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheapely,
	As I doe rate your value.

THESEUS	O loved Sister,
	He speakes now of as brave a Knight as ere
	Did spur a noble Steed: Surely, the gods
	Would have him die a Batchelour, least his race
	Should shew i'th world too godlike: His behaviour
	So charmed me, that me thought Alcides was
	To him a sow of lead: if I could praise
	Each part of him to'th all I have spoke, your Arcite
	Did not loose by't; For he that was thus good
	Encountred yet his Better. I have heard
	Two emulous Philomels beate the eare o'th night
	With their contentious throates, now one the higher,
	Anon the other, then againe the first,
	And by and by out breasted, that the sence
	Could not be judge betweene 'em: So it far'd
	Good space betweene these kinesmen; till heavens did
	Make hardly one the winner. Weare the Girlond
	With joy that you have won: For the subdude,
	Give them our present justice, since I know
	Their lives but pinch 'em; Let it here be done.
	The Sceane's not for our seeing, goe we hence,
	Right joyfull, with some sorrow. &ndash; Arme your prize,
	I know you will not loose her. &ndash; Hipolita,
	I see one eye of yours conceives a teare
	The which it will deliver. [Florish]

EMILIA	Is this wynning?
	Oh all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy?
	But that your wils have saide it must be so,
	And charge me live to comfort this unfriended,
	This miserable Prince, that cuts away
	A life more worthy from him then all women,
	I should, and would, die too.

HIPPOLITA	Infinite pitty,
	That fowre such eies should be so fixd on one
	That two must needes be blinde fort.

THESEUS	So it is. [Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


ACT V


SCENE IV	The same; a Block prepared


	[Enter Palamon and his Knightes pyniond: Jailor, Executioner, &amp;c. Gard]

PALAMON	Ther's many a man alive that hath out liv'd
	The love o'th people; yea, i'th selfesame state
	Stands many a Father with his childe; some comfort
	We have by so considering: we expire
	And not without mens pitty. To live still,
	Have their good wishes; we prevent
	The loathsome misery of age, beguile
	The Gowt and Rheume, that in lag howres attend
	For grey approachers; we come towards the gods
	Yong and unwapper'd, not halting under Crymes
	Many and stale: that sure shall please the gods,
	Sooner than such, to give us Nectar with 'em,
	For we are more cleare Spirits. My deare kinesmen,
	Whose lives (for this poore comfort) are laid downe,
	You have sould 'em too too cheape.

KNIGHT 1	What ending could be
	Of more content? ore us the victors have
	Fortune, whose title is as momentary,
	As to us death is certaine: A graine of honour
	They not ore'-weigh us.

KNIGHT 2	Let us bid farewell;
	And with our patience anger tottring Fortune,
	Who at her certain'st reeles.

KNIGHT 3	Come; who begins?

PALAMON	Ev'n he that led you to this Banket shall
	Taste to you all. &ndash; Ah ha, my Friend, my Friend,
	Your gentle daughter gave me freedome once;
	You'l see't done now for ever: pray, how do'es she?
	I heard she was not well; her kind of ill
	Gave me some sorrow.

JAILOR	Sir, she's well restor'd,
	And to be marryed shortly.

PALAMON	By my short life,
	I am most glad on't; Tis the latest thing
	I shall be glad of; pre'thee tell her so:
	Commend me to her, and to peece her portion,
	Tender her this. [Gives purse]

KNIGHT 1	Nay lets be offerers all.

KNIGHT 2	Is it a maide?

PALAMON	Verily, I thinke so,
	A right good creature, more to me deserving
	Then I can quight or speake of.

All KNIGHTS	Commend us to her. [They give their purses]

JAILOR	The gods requight you all,
	And make her thankefull.

PALAMON	Adiew; and let my life be now as short,
	As my leave taking. [Lies on the Blocke]

KNIGHT 1	Leade, couragious Cosin.

KNIGHT 2	Wee'l follow cheerefully.

	[A great noise within crying, 'run, save, hold!']

	[Enter in hast a Messenger]

MESSENGER	Hold, hold!  O hold, hold, hold!

	[Enter Pirithous in haste]

PERITHOUS	Hold! hoa!  It is a cursed hast you made,
	If you have done so quickly. Noble Palamon,
	The gods will shew their glory in a life,
	That thou art yet to leade.

PALAMON	Can that be,
	When Venus, I have said, is false?  How doe things fare?

PERITHOUS	Arise, great Sir, and give the tydings eare
	That are most dearly sweet and bitter.

PALAMON	What
	Hath wakt us from our dreame?

PERITHOUS	List then: your Cosen,
	Mounted upon a Steed that Emily
	Did first bestow on him, a blacke one, owing
	Not a hayre worth of white &ndash; which some will say
	Weakens his price, and many will not buy
	His goodnesse with this note: Which superstition
	Heere findes allowance &ndash; On this horse is Arcite
	Trotting the stones of Athens, which the Calkins
	Did rather tell then trample; for the horse
	Would make his length a mile, if't pleas'd his Rider
	To put pride in him: as he thus went counting
	The flinty pavement, dancing, as t'wer, to'th Musicke
	His owne hoofes made; (for as they say from iron
	Came Musickes origen) what envious Flint,
	Cold as old Saturne, and like him possest
	With fire malevolent, darted a Sparke,
	Or what feirce sulphur else, to this end made,
	I comment not; &ndash; the hot horse, hot as fire,
	Tooke Toy at this, and fell to what disorder
	His power could give his will; bounds, comes on end,
	Forgets schoole dooing, being therein traind,
	And of kind mannadge; pig-like he whines
	At the sharpe Rowell, which he freats at rather
	Then any jot obaies; seekes all foule meanes
	Of boystrous and rough jadrie, to dis-seate
	His Lord, that kept it bravely: when nought serv'd,
	When neither Curb would cracke, girth breake nor diffring plunges
	Dis-roote his Rider whence he grew, but that
	He kept him tweene his legges, on his hind hoofes on end he stands,
	That Arcites leggs, being higher then his head,
	Seem'd with strange art to hand: His victors wreath
	Even then fell off his head: and presently
	Backeward the jade comes ore, and his full poyze
	Becomes the Riders loade: yet is he living,
	But such a vessell tis, that floates but for
	The surge that next approaches: he much desires
	To have some speech with you: Loe he appeares.

	[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Arcite in a chaire]

PALAMON	O miserable end of our alliance!
	The gods are mightie, Arcite: if thy heart,
	Thy worthie, manly heart, be yet unbroken,
	Give me thy last words; I am Palamon,
	One that yet loves thee dying.

ARCITE	Take Emilia
	And with her all the worlds joy: Reach thy hand:
	Farewell: I have told my last houre. I was false,
	Yet never treacherous: Forgive me, Cosen: &ndash;
	One kisse from faire Emilia: Tis done:
	Take her: I die.

PALAMON	Thy brave soule seeke Elizium.

EMILIA	I'll close thine eyes, Prince; blessed soules be with thee!
	Thou art a right good man, and while I live,
	This day I give to teares.

PALAMON	And I to honour.

THESEUS	In this place first you fought: ev'n very here
	I sundred you: acknowledge to the gods
	Our thankes that you are living.
	His part is playd, and though it were too short,
	He did it well: your day is lengthned, and
	The blissefull dew of heaven do's arowze you.
	The powerfull Venus well hath grac'd her Altar,
	And given you your love: Our Master Mars
	Hath vouch'd his Oracle, and to Arcite gave
	The grace of the Contention: So the Deities
	Have shewd due justice: Beare this hence.

PALAMON	O Cosen,
	That we should things desire, which doe cost us
	The losse of our desire!  That nought could buy
	Deare love, but losse of deare love!

THESEUS	Never Fortune
	Did play a subtler Game: The conquerd triumphes,
	The victor has the Losse: yet in the passage
	The gods have beene most equall: Palamon,
	Your kinseman hath confest the right o'th Lady
	Did lye in you, for you first saw her, and
	Even then proclaimd your fancie: He restord her
	As your stolne jewel, and desir'd your spirit
	To send him hence forgiven; The gods my justice
	Take from my hand, and they themselves become
	The Executioners: Leade your Lady off;
	And call your Lovers from the stage of death,
	Whom I adopt my Frinds. A day or two
	Let us looke sadly, and give grace unto
	The Funerall of Arcite; in whose end
	The visages of Bridegroomes weele put on
	And smile with Palamon; for whom an houre,
	But one houre, since, I was as dearely sorry,
	As glad of Arcite: and am now as glad,
	As for him sorry. O you heavenly Charmers,
	What things you make of us!  For what we lacke
	We laugh, for what we have, are sorry: still
	Are children in some kind. Let us be thankefull
	For that which is, and with you leave dispute
	That are above our question. Let's goe off,
	And beare us like the time. [Florish. Exeunt]


	The Two Noble Kinsmen


EPILOGUE


	[Enter Epilogue]

Epilogue	I would now aske ye how ye like the Play,
	But, as it is with Schoole Boyes, cannot say,
	I am cruell fearefull: pray, yet stay a while,
	And let me looke upon ye: No man smile?
	Then it goes hard, I see; He that has
	Lov'd a yong hansome wench, then, show his face &ndash;
	Tis strange if none be heere &ndash; and if he will
	Against his Conscience, let him hisse, and kill
	Our Market: Tis in vaine, I see, to stay yee;
	Have at the worst can come, then!  Now what say ye?
	And yet mistake me not: I am not bold;
	We have no such cause. If the tale we have told
	(For tis no other) any way content ye
	(For to that honest purpose it was ment ye)
	We have our end; and ye shall have ere long,
	I dare say, many a better, to prolong
	Your old loves to us: we, and all our might
	Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night. [Florish]


	The Changeling


Dramatis person&aelig;

	ALSEMERO

	This text derived from https://tech.org/~cleary/change.html


	The Changeling


ACT I


SCENE I	A street near the harbour of Alicant


	[Enter Alsemero]

ALSEMERO	'Twas in the temple where I first beheld her,
	And now again the same; what omen yet
	Follows of that? None but imaginary.
	Why should my hopes or fate be timorous?
	The place is holy, so is my intent:
	I love her beauties to the holy purpose,
	And that methinks admits comparison
	With man's first creation, the place blest,
	And is his right home back, if he achieve it.
	The church hath first begun our interview
	And that's the place must join us into one,
	So there's beginning and perfection too.

	[Enter Jasperino]

JASPERINO	O sir, are you here? Come, the wind's fair with you;
	Y'are like to have a swift and pleasant passage.

ALSEMERO	Sure y'are deceived, friend; 'tis contrary
	In my best judgment.

JASPERINO	What, for Malta?
	If you could buy a gale amongst the witches,
	They could not serve you such a lucky pennyworth
	As comes a' God's name.

ALSEMERO	Even now I observ'd
	The temple's vane to turn full in my face;
	I know 'tis against me.

JASPERINO	Against you?
	Then you know not where you are.

ALSEMERO	Not well indeed.

JASPERINO	Are you not well, sir?

ALSEMERO	Yes, Jasperino,
	Unless there be some hidden malady
	Within me that I understand not.

JASPERINO	And that
	I begin to doubt, sir; I never knew
	Your inclinations to travels at a pause
	With any cause to hinder it till now.
	Ashore you were wont to call your servants up,
	And help to trap your horses for the speed.
	At sea I have seen you weigh the anchor with 'em,
	Hoist sails for fear to lose the foremost breath,
	Be in continual prayers for fair winds;
	And have you chang'd your orisons?

ALSEMERO	No, friend,
	I keep the same church, same devotion.

JASPERINO	Lover I'm sure y'are none: the stoic
	Was found in you long ago; your mother
	Nor best friends, who have set snares of beauty,
	Ay, and choice ones too, could never trap you that way.
	What might be the cause?

ALSEMERO	Lord, how violent
	Thou art: I was but meditating of
	Somewhat I heard within the temple.

JASPERINO	Is this violence? 'Tis but idleness
	Compar'd with your haste yesterday.

ALSEMERO	I'm all this while a-going, man.

	[Enter Two Servants to Alsemero]

JASPERINO	Backwards, I think, sir. Look, your servants.

FIRST SERVANT	The seamen call; shall we board your trunks?

ALSEMERO	No, not today.

JASPERINO	'Tis the critical day,
	It seems, and the sign in Aquarius.

SECOND SERVANT	We must not to sea today; this smoke will bring forth fire.

ALSEMERO	Keep all on shore; I do not know the end,
	Which needs I must do, of an affair in hand
	Ere I can go to sea.

FIRST SERVANT	Well, your pleasure.

SECOND SERVANT	[Aside to First Servant] Let him e'en take his leisure too; we are safer on land.

	[Exeunt Alsemero's Servants. Enter Beatrice, Diaphanta, and Servants. Alsemero bows to Beatrice and kisses her]

JASPERINO	[Aside] How now! The laws of the Medes are chang'd sure: salute a woman! He kisses too: wonderful! Where learnt he this?  And does it perfectly too; in my conscience he ne'er rehears'd it before. Nay, go on, this will be stranger and better news at Valencia than if he had ransom'd half Greece from the Turk!

BEATRICE	You are a scholar, sir.

ALSEMERO	A weak one, lady.

BEATRICE	Which of the sciences is this love you speak of?

ALSEMERO	From your tongue I take it to be music.

BEATRICE	You are skillful in't, can sing at first sight.

ALSEMERO	And I have show'd you all my skill at once.
	I want more words to express me further
	And must be forc'd to repetition:
	I love you dearly.

BEATRICE	Be better advis'd, sir:
	Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgments,
	And should give certain judgment what they see;
	But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders
	Of common things, which when our judgments find,
	They can then check the eyes, and call them blind.

ALSEMERO	But I am further, lady; yesterday
	Was mine eyes' employment, and hither now
	They brought my judgment, where are both agreed.
	Both houses then consenting, 'tis agreed,
	Only there wants the confirmation
	By the hand royal; that's your part, lady.

BEATRICE	Oh, there's one above me, sir. [Aside] For five days past
	To be recall'd! Sure, mine eyes were mistaken;
	This was the man was meant me. That he should come
	So near his time, and miss it!

JASPERINO	[Aside] We might have come by the carriers from Valencia, I see, and sav'd all our sea-provision: we are at farthest sure.  Methinks I should do something too; I meant to be a venturer in this voyage. Yonder's another vessel: I'll board her; if she be lawful prize, down goes her topsail!

	[Enter Deflores]

DEFLORES	Lady, your father--

BEATRICE	Is in health, I hope.

DEFLORES	Your eye shall instantly instruct you, lady.
	He's coming hitherward.

BEATRICE	What needed then
	Your duteous preface? I had rather
	He had come unexpected; you must stall
	A good presence with unnecessary blabbing:
	And how welcome for your part you are,
	I'm sure you know.

DEFLORES	[Aside] Will't never mend, this scorn,
	One side nor other? Must I be enjoin'd
	To follow still whilst she flies from me? Well,
	Fates do your worst, I'll please myself with sight
	Of her, at all opportunities,
	If but to spite her anger. I know she had
	Rather see me dead than living, and yet
	She knows no cause for't but a peevish will.

ALSEMERO	You seem'd displeas'd, lady, on the sudden.

BEATRICE	Your pardon, sir, 'tis my infirmity,
	Nor can I other reason render you
	Than his or hers, of some particular thing
	They must abandon as a deadly poison,
	Which to a thousand other tastes were wholesome;
	Such to mine eyes is that same fellow there,
	The same that report speaks of the basilisk.

ALSEMERO	This is a frequent frailty in our nature;
	There's scarce a man amongst a thousand sound
	But hath his imperfection: one distastes
	The scent of roses, which to infinites
	Most pleasing is and odoriferous.
	One oil, the enemy of poison,
	Another wine, the cheerer of the heart,
	And lively refresher of the countenance.
	Indeed this fault, if so it be, is general:
	There's scarce a thing but is both lov'd and loath'd;
	Myself, I must confess, have the same frailty.

BEATRICE	And what may be your poison, sir? I am bold with you.

ALSEMERO	What might be your desire perhaps, a cherry.

BEATRICE	I am no enemy to any creature
	My memory has but yon gentleman.

ALSEMERO	He does ill to tempt your sight, if he knew it.

BEATRICE	He cannot be ignorant of that, sir;
	I have not spar'd to tell him so, and I want
	To help myself, since he's a gentleman
	In good respect with my father and follows him.

ALSEMERO	He's out of his place then now.

JASPERINO	I am a mad wag, wench.

DIAPHANTA	So methinks; but for your comfort I can tell you we have a doctor in the city that undertakes the cure of such.

JASPERINO	Tush, I know what physic is best for the state of mine own body.

DIAPHANTA	'Tis scarce a well-govern'd state, I believe.

JASPERINO	I could show thee such a thing with an ingredient that we two would compound together, and if it did not tame the maddest blood i' th' town for two hours after, I'll ne'er profess physic again.

DIAPHANTA	A little poppy, sir, were good to cause you sleep.

JASPERINO	Poppy! I'll give thee a pop i' th' lips for that first, and begin there. [He kisses her] Poppy is one simple indeed, and  cuckoo, what you call't, another: I'll discover no more now; another time I'll show thee all.

	[Enter Vermandero and Servants]

BEATRICE	My father, sir.

VERMANDERO	Oh, Joanna, I came to meet thee.
	Your devotion's ended?

BEATRICE	For this time, sir.
	[Aside] I shall change my saint, I fear me: I find
	A giddy turning in me.--Sir, this while
	I am beholding to this gentleman
	Who left his own way to keep me company,
	And in discourse I find him much desirous
	To see your castle: he hath deserv'd it, sir,
	If ye please to grant it.

VERMANDERO	With all my heart, sir.
	Yet there's an article between: I must know
	Your country. We use not to give survey
	Of our chief strengths to strangers; our citadels
	Are plac'd conspicuous to outward view
	On promonts' tops, but within are secrets.

ALSEMERO	A Valencian, sir.

VERMANDERO	A Valencian?
	That's native, sir; of what name, I beseech you?

ALSEMERO	Alsemero, sir.

VERMANDERO	Alsemero? Not the son
	Of John de Alsemero?

ALSEMERO	The same, sir.

VERMANDERO	My best love bids you welcome.

BEATRICE	[Aside] He was wont
	To call me so, and then he speaks a most
	Unfeigned truth.

VERMANDERO	Oh, sir, I knew your father.
	We two were in acquaintance long ago
	Before our chins were worth iulan down,
	And so continued till the stamp of time
	Had coin'd us into silver. Well, he's gone;
	A good soldier went with him.

ALSEMERO	You went together in that, sir.

VERMANDERO	No, by Saint Jaques, I came behind him;
	Yet I have done somewhat too. An unhappy day
	Swallowed him at last at Gibraltar
	In fight with those rebellious Hollanders,
	Was it not so?

ALSEMERO	Whose death I had reveng'd,
	Or followed him in fate, had not the late league
	Prevented me.

VERMANDERO	Ay, ay, 'twas time to breath.
	Oh, Joanna, I should ha' told thee news:
	I saw Piracquo lately.

BEATRICE	[Aside] That's ill news.

VERMANDERO	He's hot preparing for this day of triumph;
	Thou must be a bride within this sevennight.

ALSEMERO	[Aside] Ha!

BEATRICE	Nay, good sir, be not so violent; with speed
	I cannot render satisfaction
	Unto the dear companion of my soul,
	Virginity, whom I thus long have liv'd with,
	And part with it so rude and suddenly,
	Can such friends divide never to meet again
	Without a solemn farewell?

VERMANDERO	Tush, tush, there's a toy.

ALSEMERO	[Aside] I must now part, and never meet again
	With any joy on earth.--Sir, your pardon,
	My affairs call on me.

VERMANDERO	How, sir? By no means;
	Not chang'd so soon, I hope? You must see my castle
	And her best entertainment ere we part;
	I shall think myself unkindly us'd else.
	Come, come, let's on; I had good hope your stay
	Had been a while with us in Alicant;
	I might have bid you to my daughter's wedding.

ALSEMERO	[Aside] He means to feast me, and poisons me beforehand.--
	I should be dearly glad to be there, sir,
	Did my occasions suit as I could wish.

BEATRICE	I shall be sorry if you be not there
	When it is done, sir, but not so suddenly.

VERMANDERO	I tell you, sir, the gentleman's complete,
	A courtier and a gallant, enrich'd
	With many fair and noble ornaments;
	I would not change him for a son-in-law
	For any he in Spain, the proudest he,
	And we have great ones, that you know.

ALSEMERO	He's much
	Bound to you, sir.

VERMANDERO	He shall be bound to me,
	As fast as this tie can hold him; I'll want
	My will else.

BEATRICE	[Aside] I shall want mine if you do it.

VERMANDERO	But come, by the way I'll tell you more of him.

ALSEMERO	[Aside] How shall I dare to venture in his castle
	When he discharges murderers at the gate?
	But I must on, for back I cannot go.

BEATRICE	[Aside] Not this serpent gone yet?

VERMANDERO	Look, girl, thy glove's fall'n;
	Stay, stay, Deflores, help a little.

DEFLORES	Here, lady.

	[He hands Beatrice her glove]

BEATRICE	Mischief on your officious forwardness;
	Who bade you stoop? They touch my hand no more:
	There, for t'other's sake I part with this;
	Take 'em and draw thine own skin off with 'em.

	[Exeunt. Manet Deflores]

DEFLORES	Here's a favour come with a mischief: now
	I know she had rather wear my pelt tann'd
	In a pair of dancing pumps than I should
	Thrust my fingers into her sockets here.
	I know she hates me, yet cannot choose but love her:
	No matter, if but to vex her, I'll haunt her still;
	Though I get nothing else, I'll have my will.

	[Exit]


	The Changeling


ACT I


SCENE II	A room in Alibius's house in Alicant


	[Enter Alibius and Lollio]

ALIBIUS	Lollio, I must trust thee with a secret,
	But thou must keep it.

LOLLIO	I was ever close to a secret, sir.

ALIBIUS	The diligence that I have found in thee,
	The care and industry already past,
	Assures me of thy good continuance.
	Lollio, I have a wife.

LOLLIO	Fie, sir, 'tis too late to keep her secret; she's known to be married all the town and country over.

ALIBIUS	Thou goest too fast, my Lollio: that knowledge
	I allow no man can be barr'd it;
	But there is a knowledge which is nearer,
	Deeper and sweeter, Lollio.

LOLLIO	Well, sir, let us handle that between you and I.

ALIBIUS	'Tis that I go about man; Lollio,
	My wife is young.

LOLLIO	So much the worse to be kept secret, sir.

ALIBIUS	Why, now thou meet'st the substance of the point:
	I am old, Lollio.

LOLLIO	No, sir, 'tis I am old Lollio.

ALIBIUS	Yet why may not this concord and sympathize?
	Old trees and young plants often grow together,
	Well enough agreeing.

LOLLIO	Ay, sir, but the old trees raise themselves higher and broader than the young plants.

ALIBIUS	Shrewd application: there's the fear, man.
	I would wear my ring on my own finger;
	Whilst it is borrowed it is none of mine,
	But his that useth it.

LOLLIO	You must keep it on still then; if it but lie by, one or other will be thrusting into't.

ALIBIUS	Thou conceiv'st me, Lollio; here thy watchful eye
	Must have employment. I cannot always be at home.

LOLLIO	I dare swear you cannot.

ALIBIUS	I must look out.

LOLLIO	I know't, you must look out, 'tis every man's case.

ALIBIUS	Here I do say must thy employment be.
	To watch her treadings, and in my absence
	Supply my place.

LOLLIO	I'll do my best, sir; yet surely I cannot see who you should have cause to be jealous of.

ALIBIUS	Thy reason for that, Lollio? 'Tis a comfortable question.

LOLLIO	We have but two sorts of people in the house, and both under the whip, that's fools and madmen; the one has not wit enough to be knaves, and the other not knavery enough to be fools.

ALIBIUS	Ay, those are all my patients, Lollio.
	I do profess the cure of either sort:
	My trade, my living 'tis, I thrive by it.
	But here's the care that mixes with my thrift:
	The daily visitants that come to see
	My brainsick patients I would not have
	To see my wife. Gallants I do observe
	Of quick, enticing eyes, rich in habits,
	Of stature and proportion very comely:
	These are most shrewd temptations, Lollio.

LOLLIO	They may be easily answered, sir. If they come to see the fools and madmen, you and I may serve the turn, and let my mistress alone; she's of neither sort.

ALIBIUS	'Tis a good ward. Indeed, come they to see
	Our madmen or our fools; let 'em see no more
	Than what they come for. By that consequent
	They must not see her. I'm sure she's no fool.

LOLLIO	And I'm sure she's no madman.

ALIBIUS	Hold that buckler fast, Lollio; my trust
	Is on thee, and I account it firm and strong.
	What hour is't, Lollio?

LOLLIO	Towards belly hour, sir.

ALIBIUS	Dinner time? Thou mean'st twelve a' clock.

LOLLIO	Yes, sir, for every part has his hour. We wake at six and look about us, that's eye hour; at seven we should pray, that's knee hour; at eight walk, that's leg hour; at nine gather flowers, and pluck a rose, that's nose hour; at ten we drink, that's mouth hour; at eleven lay about us for victuals, that's hand hour; at twelve go to dinner, that's belly hour.

ALIBIUS	Profoundly, Lollio; it will be long
	Ere all thy scholars learn this lesson, and
	I did look to have a new one entered. Stay,
	I think my expectation is come home.

	[Enter Pedro and Antonio like an idiot]

PEDRO	Save you, sir, my business speaks itself;
	This sight takes off the labour of my tongue.

ALIBIUS	Ay, ay, sir,
	'Tis plain enough, you mean him for my patient.

PEDRO	[Giving Alibius money] And if your pains prove but commodious,
	To give but some little strength to his sick
	And weak part of nature in him, these are
	But patterns to show you of the whole pieces
	That will follow to you, beside the charge
	Of diet, washing, and other necessaries
	Fully defrayed.

ALIBIUS	Believe it, sir, there shall no care be wanting.

LOLLIO	Sir, an officer in this place may deserve something; the trouble will pass through my hands.

PEDRO	[Giving Lollio money] 'Tis fit something should come to your hands then, sir.

LOLLIO	Yes, sir, 'tis I must keep him sweet, and read to him; what is his name?

PEDRO	His name is Antonio; marry, we use but half to him, only Tony.

LOLLIO	Tony, Tony, 'tis enough, and a very good name for a fool. What's your name, Tony?

ANTONIO	He, he, he; well, I thank you, cousin, he, he, he.

LOLLIO	Good boy, hold up your head. He can laugh; I perceive by that he is no beast.

PEDRO	Well, sir,
	If you can raise him but to any height,
	Any degree of wit, might he attain,
	As I might say, to creep but on all four
	Towards the chair of wit or walk on crutches,
	'Twould add an honour to your worthy pains,
	And a great family might pray for you,
	To which he should be heir had he discretion
	To claim and guide his own; assure you, sir,
	He is a gentleman.

LOLLIO	Nay, there's nobody doubted that. At first sight I knew him for a gentleman; he looks no other yet.

PEDRO	Let him have good attendance and sweet lodging.

LOLLIO	As good as my mistress lies in, sir, and as you allow us time and means, we can raise him to the higher degree of discretion.

PEDRO	Nay, there shall no cost want, sir.

LOLLIO	He will hardly be stretch'd up to the wit of a magnifico.

PEDRO	Oh, no, that's not to be expected; far shorter will be enough.

LOLLIO	I warrant you I'll make him fit to bear office in five weeks; I'll undertake to wind him up to the wit of constable.

PEDRO	If it be lower than that, it might serve turn.

LOLLIO	No, fie, to level him with a headborough, beadle, or watchman, were but little better then he is; constable I'll able him: if he do come to be a justice afterwards, let him thank the keeper.  Or I'll go further with you; say I do bring him up to my own  pitch, say I make him as wise as myself.

PEDRO	Why, there I would have it.

LOLLIO	Well, go to, either I'll be as arrant a fool as he, or he shall be as wise as I, and then I think 'twill serve his turn.

PEDRO	Nay, I do like thy wit passing well.

LOLLIO	Yes, you may; yet if I had not been a fool, I had had more wit than I have too. Remember what state you find me in.

PEDRO	I will, and so leave you: your best cares, I beseech you.

ALIBIUS	Take you none with you; leave 'em all with us.

	[Exit Pedro]

ANTONIO	Oh, my cousin's gone; cousin, cousin, oh!

LOLLIO	Peace, peace, Tony: you must not cry, child; you must be whipp'd if you do. Your cousin is here still; I am your cousin, Tony.

ANTONIO	He, he, then I'll not cry, if thou beest my cousin, he, he, he.

LOLLIO	I were best try his wit a little, that I may know what form to place him in.

ALIBIUS	Ay, do, Lollio, do.

LOLLIO	I must ask him easy questions at first. Tony, how many true fingers has a tailor on his right hand?

ANTONIO	As many as on his left, cousin.

LOLLIO	Good, and how many on both?

ANTONIO	Two less than a deuce, cousin.

LOLLIO	Very well answered; I come to you again, cousin Tony: how many fools goes to a wise man?

ANTONIO	Forty in a day sometimes, cousin.

LOLLIO	Forty in a day? How prove you that?

ANTONIO	All that fall out amongst themselves, and go to a lawyer to be made friends.

LOLLIO	A parlous fool; he must sit in the fourth form at least, I perceive that. I come again, Tony: how many knaves make an honest man?

ANTONIO	I know not that, cousin.

LOLLIO	No, the question is too hard for you: I'll tell you, cousin. There's three knaves may make an honest man, a sergeant, a jailer, and a beadle: the sergeant catches him, the jailer holds him, and the beadle lashes him; and if he be not honest then, the hangman must cure him.

ANTONIO	Ha, ha, ha, that's fine sport, cousin.

ALIBIUS	This was too deep a question for the fool, Lollio.

LOLLIO	Yes, this might have serv'd yourself, though I say't; once more and you shall go play, Tony.

ANTONIO	Ay, play at push-pin cousin, ha, he.

LOLLIO	So thou shalt; say how many fools are here.

ANTONIO	Two, cousin, thou and I.

LOLLIO	Nay, y'are too forward there, Tony; mark my question: how many fools and knaves are here? A fool before a knave, a fool behind a knave, between every two fools a knave, how many fools, how many knaves?

ANTONIO	I never learnt so far, cousin.

ALIBIUS	Thou putt'st too hard questions to him, Lollio.

LOLLIO	I'll make him understand it easily. Cousin, stand there.

ANTONIO	Ay, cousin.

LOLLIO	Master, stand you next the fool.

ALIBIUS	Well, Lollio.

LOLLIO	Here's my place. Mark now, Tony: there a fool before a knave.

ANTONIO	That's I, cousin.

LOLLIO	Here's a fool behind a knave, that's I, and between us two fools there is a knave, that's my master; 'tis but we three, that's all.

ANTONIO	We three, we three, cousin.

	[Madmen shout from within]

FIRST MADMAN	Put's head i' th' pillory, the bread's too little!

SECOND MADMAN	Fly, fly, and he catches the swallow!

THIRD MADMAN	Give her more onion, or the devil put the rope about her crag!

LOLLIO	You may hear what time of day it is: the chimes of Bedlam goes.

ALIBIUS	Peace, peace, or the wire comes!

FIRST MADMAN	Cat whore, cat whore, her parmasant, her parmasant!

ALIBIUS	Peace, I say! Their hour's come, they must be fed, Lollio.

LOLLIO	There's no hope of recovery of that Welsh madman: was undone by a mouse that spoil'd him a parmasant; lost his wits for't.

ALIBIUS	Go to your charge, Lollio, I'll to mine.

LOLLIO	Go you to your madmen's ward, let me alone with your fools.

ALIBIUS	And remember my last charge, Lollio.

LOLLIO	Of which your patients do you think I am?

	[Exit Alibius]

	Come, Tony, you must amongst your school-fellows now; there's pretty scholars amongst 'em, I can tell you: there's some of 'em at <i>stultus</i>, <i>stulta</i>, <i>stultum</i>.

ANTONIO	I would see the madmen, cousin, if they would not bite me.

LOLLIO	No, they shall not bite thee, Tony.

ANTONIO	They bite when they are at dinner, do they not, coz?

LOLLIO	They bite at dinner indeed, Tony. Well, I hope to get credit by thee; I like thee the best of all the scholars that ever I brought up, and thou shalt prove a wise man, or I'll prove a fool myself.

	[Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT II


SCENE I	A chamber in Alicant Castle


	[Enter Beatrice and Jasperino severally]

BEATRICE	Oh, sir, I'm ready now for that fair service
	Which makes the name of friend sit glorious on you.
	Good angels and this conduct be your guide;
	Fitness of time and place is there set down, sir.

	[She hands him a paper]

JASPERINO	The joy I shall return rewards my service.

	[Exit]

BEATRICE	How wise is Alsemero in his friend!
	It is a sign he makes his choice with judgment.
	Then I appear in nothing more approv'd
	Than making choice of him;
	For 'tis a principle, he that can choose
	That bosom well, who of his thoughts partakes,
	Proves most discreet in every choice he makes.
	Methinks I love now with the eyes of judgment
	And see the way to merit, clearly see it.
	A true deserver like a diamond sparkles:
	In darkness you may see him, that's in absence,
	Which is the greatest darkness falls on love;
	Yet is he best discern'd then
	With intellectual eyesight. What's Piracquo
	My father spends his breath for? And his blessing
	Is only mine as I regard his name,
	Else it goes from me, and turns head against me,
	Transform'd into a curse. Some speedy way
	Must be remembered; he's so forward too,
	So urgent that way, scarce allows me breath
	To speak to my new comforts.

	[Enter Deflores]

DEFLORES	[Aside] Yonder's she.
	What ever ails me? Now alate especially
	I can as well be hang'd as refrain seeing her;
	Some twenty times a day, nay, not so little,
	Do I force errands, frame ways and excuses
	To come into her sight, and I have small reason for't,
	And less encouragement; for she baits me still
	Every time worse than other, does profess herself
	The cruelest enemy to my face in town,
	At no hand can abide the sight of me,
	As if danger, or ill luck, hung in my looks.
	I must confess my face is bad enough,
	But I know far worse has better fortune,
	And not endur'd alone, but doted on;
	And yet such pick-hair'd faces, chins like witches',
	Here and there five hairs whispering in a corner,
	As if they grew in fear one of another,
	Wrinkles like troughs, where swine deformity swills
	The tears of perjury that lie there like wash,
	Fallen from the slimy and dishonest eye.
	Yet such a one plucks sweets without restraint,
	And has the grace of beauty to his sweet.
	Though my hard fate has thrust me out to servitude,
	I tumbled into th' world a gentleman.
	She turns her blessed eye upon me now,
	And I'll endure all storms before I part with 't.

BEATRICE	Again!
	[Aside] This ominous ill-fac'd fellow more disturbs me
	Than all my other passions!

DEFLORES	[Aside] Now 't begins again;
	I'll stand this storm of hail though the stones pelt me.

BEATRICE	Thy business? What's thy business?

DEFLORES	[Aside] Soft and fair,
	I cannot part so soon now.

BEATRICE	[Aside] The villain's fix'd.--
	Thou standing toad-pool!

DEFLORES	[Aside] The shower falls amain now.

BEATRICE	Who sent thee? What's thy errand? Leave my sight!

DEFLORES	My lord your father charg'd me to deliver
	A message to you.

BEATRICE	What, another since?
	Do't and be hang'd then, let me be rid of thee!

DEFLORES	True service merits mercy.

BEATRICE	What's thy message?

DEFLORES	Let beauty settle but in patience,
	You shall hear all.

BEATRICE	A dallying, trifling torment!

DEFLORES	Signior Alonzo de Piracquo, lady,
	Sole brother to Tomazo de Piracquo--

BEATRICE	Slave, when wilt make an end?

DEFLORES	Too soon I shall.

BEATRICE	What all this while of him?

DEFLORES	The said Alonzo,
	With the foresaid Tomazo--

BEATRICE	Yet again!

DEFLORES	Is new alighted.

BEATRICE	Vengeance strike the news!
	Thou thing most loath'd, what cause was there in this
	To bring thee to my sight?

DEFLORES	My lord your father
	Charg'd me to seek you out.

BEATRICE	Is there no other
	To send his errand by?

DEFLORES	It seems 'tis my luck
	To be i' th' way still.

BEATRICE	Get thee from me.

DEFLORES	So.
	[Aside] Why, am not I an ass to devise ways
	Thus to be rail'd at? I must see her still;
	I shall have a mad qualm within this hour again,
	I know't, and like a common Garden bull,
	I do but take breath to be lugg'd again.
	What this may bode I know not; I'll despair the less
	Because there's daily precedents of bad faces
	Belov'd beyond all reason. These foul chops
	May come into favour one day 'mongst his fellows:
	Wrangling has prov'd the mistress of good pastime;
	As children cry themselves asleep, I ha' seen
	Women have chid themselves abed to men.

	[Exit Deflores]

BEATRICE	I never see this fellow but I think
	Of some harm towards me: danger's in my mind still;
	I scarce leave trembling of an hour after.
	The next good mood I find my father in
	I'll get him quite discarded. Oh, I was
	Lost in this small disturbance and forgot
	Affliction's fiercer torrent that now comes,
	To bear down all my comforts!

	[Enter Vermandero, Alonzo, Tomazo]

VERMANDERO	Y'are both welcome,
	But an especial one belongs to you, sir,
	To whose most noble name our love presents
	The addition of a son, our son Alonzo.

ALONZO	The treasury of honour cannot bring forth
	A title I should more rejoice in, sir.

VERMANDERO	You have improv'd it well. Daughter, prepare;
	The day will steal upon thee suddenly.

BEATRICE	[Aside] Howe'er, I will be sure to keep the night,
	If it should come so near me.

	[Vermandero and Beatrice talk apart]

TOMAZO	Alonzo.

ALONZO	Brother.

TOMAZO	In troth I see small welcome in her eye.

ALONZO	Fie, you are too severe a censurer
	Of love in all points; there's no bringing on you.
	If lovers should mark everything a fault,
	Affection would be like an ill-set book,
	Whose faults might prove as big as half the volume.

BEATRICE	That's all I do entreat.

VERMANDERO	It is but reasonable;
	I'll see what my son says to't. Son Alonzo,
	Here's a motion made but to reprieve
	A maidenhead three days longer; the request
	Is not far out of reason, for indeed
	The former time is pinching.

ALONZO	Though my joys
	Be set back so much time as I could wish
	They had been forward, yet since she desires it,
	The time is set as pleasing as before,
	I find no gladness wanting.

VERMANDERO	May I ever
	Meet it in that point still. Y'are nobly welcome, sirs.

	[Exeunt Vermandero and Beatrice]

TOMAZO	So, did you mark the dullness of her parting now?

ALONZO	What dullness? Thou art so exceptious still.

TOMAZO	Why, let it go then; I am but a fool
	To mark your harms so heedfully.

ALONZO	Where's the oversight?

TOMAZO	Come, your faith's cozened in her, strongly cozened;
	Unsettle your affection with all speed
	Wisdom can bring it to, your peace is ruin'd else.
	Think what a torment 'tis to marry one
	Whose heart is leapt into another's bosom:
	If ever pleasure she receive from thee,
	It comes not in thy name, or of thy gift.
	She lies but with another in thine arms,
	He the half-father unto all thy children
	In the conception; if he get 'em not,
	She helps to get 'em for him in his passions,
	And how dangerous
	And shameful her restraint may go in time to,
	It is not to be thought on without sufferings.

ALONZO	You speak as if she lov'd some other then.

TOMAZO	Do you apprehend so slowly?

ALONZO	Nay, and that
	Be your fear only, I am safe enough;
	Preserve your friendship and your counsel, brother,
	For times of more distress. I should depart
	An enemy, a dangerous, deadly one
	To any but thyself that should but think
	She knew the meaning of inconstancy,
	Much less the use and practice; yet w'are friends.
	Pray let no more be urg'd; I can endure
	Much till I meet an injury to her,
	Then I am not myself. Farewell, sweet brother;
	How much w'are bound to heaven to depart lovingly!

	[Exit]

TOMAZO	Why, here is love's tame madness! Thus a man
	Quickly steals into his vexation.

	[Exit]


	The Changeling


ACT II


SCENE II	Another chamber


	[Enter Diaphanta and Alsemero].


DIAPHANTA	The place is my charge; you have kept your hour,
	And the reward of a just meeting bless you.
	I hear my lady coming; complete gentleman,
	I dare not be too busy with my praises,
	Th'are dangerous things to deal with.

	[Exit]

ALSEMERO	This goes well.
	These women are the ladies' cabinets;
	Things of most precious trust are lock'd into 'em.

	[Enter Beatrice]

BEATRICE	I have within mine eye all my desires;
	Requests that holy prayers ascend heaven for
	And brings 'em down to furnish our defects
	Come not more sweet to our necessities
	Than thou unto my wishes.

ALSEMERO	W'are so like
	In our expressions, lady, that unless I borrow
	The same words, I shall never find their equals.

BEATRICE	How happy were this meeting, this embrace,
	If it were free from envy! This poor kiss,
	It has an enemy, a hateful one
	That wishes poison to't. How well were I now
	If there were none such name known as Piracquo,
	Nor no such tie as the command of parents!
	I should be but too much blessed.

ALSEMERO	One good service
	Would strike off both your fears, and I'll go near it too,
	Since you are so distress'd: remove the cause,
	The command ceases; so there's two fears blown out
	With one and the same blast.

BEATRICE	Pray let me find you, sir.
	What might that service be so strangely happy?

ALSEMERO	The honourablest peace 'bout man, valour.
	I'll send a challenge to Piracquo instantly.

BEATRICE	How? Call you that extinguishing of fear
	When 'tis the only way to keep it flaming?
	Are not you ventured in the action
	That's all my joys and comforts? Pray no more, sir.
	Say you prevail'd, you're danger's and not mine then:
	The law would claim you from me, or obscurity
	Be made the grave to bury you alive.
	I'm glad these thoughts come forth; oh, keep not one
	Of this condition, sir! Here was a course
	Found to bring sorrow on her way to death:
	The tears would ne'er 'a' dried till dust had chok'd 'em.
	Blood-guiltiness becomes a fouler visage,
	And now I think on one-- [Aside] I was too blame:
	I ha' marr'd so good a market with my scorn.
	'T had been done questionless. The ugliest creature
	Creation fram'd for some use, yet to see
	I could not mark so much where it should be.

ALSEMERO	Lady.

BEATRICE	[Aside] Why, men of art make much of poison,
	Keep one to expel another; where was my art?

ALSEMERO	Lady, you hear not me.

BEATRICE	I do especially, sir;
	The present times are not so sure of our side
	As those hereafter may be; we must use 'em then
	As thrifty folks their wealth, sparingly now
	Till the time opens.

ALSEMERO	You teach wisdom, lady.

BEATRICE	Within there, Diaphanta!

	[Enter Diaphanta]

DIAPHANTA	Do you call, madam?

BEATRICE	Perfect your service, and conduct this gentleman
	The private way you brought him.

DIAPHANTA	I shall, madam.

ALSEMERO	My love's as firm as love e'er built upon.

	[Exeunt Diaphanta and Alsemero. Enter Deflores]

DEFLORES	[Aside] I have watch'd this meeting, and do wonder much
	What shall become of t'other; I'm sure both
	Cannot be serv'd unless she transgress. Happily
	Then I'll put in for one: for if a woman
	Fly from one point, from him she makes a husband,
	She spreads and mounts then like arithmetic,
	One, ten, one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand,
	Proves in time sutler to an army royal.
	Now do I look to be most richly rail'd at,
	Yet I must see her.

BEATRICE	[Aside] Why, put case I loath'd him
	As much as youth and beauty hates a sepulcher,
	Must I needs show it? Cannot I keep that secret,
	And serve my turn upon him? See, he's here.--
	Deflores.

DEFLORES	[Aside] Ha, I shall run mad with joy!
	She call'd me fairly by my name, Deflores,
	And neither rogue nor rascal.

BEATRICE	What ha' you done
	To your face alate? Y'ave met with some good physician;
	Y'ave prun'd yourself, methinks: you were not wont
	To look so amorously.

DEFLORES	[Aside] Not I;
	'Tis the same physnomy to a hair and pimple
	Which she call'd scurvy scarce an hour ago:
	How is this?

BEATRICE	Come hither, nearer, man.

DEFLORES	[Aside] I'm up to the chin in heaven!

BEATRICE	Turn, let me see.
	Fah! 'Tis but the heat of the liver, I perceive 't.
	I thought it had been worse.

DEFLORES	[Aside] Her fingers touch'd me;
	She smells all amber.

BEATRICE	I'll make a water, for you shall cleanse this
	Within a fortnight.

DEFLORES	With your own hands, lady?

BEATRICE	Yes, mine own, sir; in a work of cure,
	I'll trust no other.

DEFLORES	[Aside] 'Tis half an act of pleasure
	To hear her talk thus to me.

BEATRICE	When w'are us'd
	To a hard face, 'tis not so unpleasing;
	It mends still in opinion, hourly mends:
	I see it by experience.

DEFLORES	[Aside] I was blest
	To light upon this minute; I'll make use on't.

BEATRICE	Hardness becomes the visage of a man well;
	It argues service, resolution, manhood,
	If cause were of employment.

DEFLORES	'Twould be soon seen,
	If e'er your ladyship had cause to use it.
	I would but wish the honour of a service
	So happy as that mounts to.

BEATRICE	[Aside] We shall try you.--
	Oh, my Deflores!

DEFLORES	[Aside] How's that?
	She calls me hers already, my Deflores!--
	You were about to sigh out somewhat, madam.

BEATRICE	No, was I? I forgot. Oh!

DEFLORES	There 'tis again,
	The very fellow on't!

BEATRICE	You are too quick, sir.

DEFLORES	There's no excuse for't, now I heard it twice, madam:
	That sigh would fain have utterance. Take pity on't
	And lend it a free word; 'las, how it labours
	For liberty! I hear the murmur yet
	Beat at your bosom.

BEATRICE	Would creation--

DEFLORES	Ay, well said, that's it.

BEATRICE	Had form'd me man.

DEFLORES	Nay, that's not it.

BEATRICE	Oh, 'tis the soul of freedom!
	I should not then be forc'd to marry one
	I hate beyond all depths; I should have power
	Then to oppose my loathings, nay, remove 'em
	Forever from my sight.

DEFLORES	Oh, blest occasion!
	[Kneeling] Without change to your sex, you have your wishes.
	Claim so much man in me.

BEATRICE	In thee, Deflores?
	There's small cause for that.

DEFLORES	Put it not from me;
	It's a service that I kneel for to you.

BEATRICE	You are too violent to mean faithfully;
	There's horror in my service, blood and danger:
	Can those be things to sue for?

DEFLORES	If you knew
	How sweet it were to me to be employed
	In any act of yours, you would say then
	I fail'd and us'd not reverence enough
	When I receive the charge on't.

BEATRICE	[Aside] This is much,
	Methinks; belike his wants are greedy, and
	To such gold tastes like angels' food.--Rise.

DEFLORES	I'll have the work first.

BEATRICE	[Aside] Possible his need
	Is strong upon him. [Offering him money] There's to encourage thee;
	As thou art forward and thy service dangerous,
	Thy reward shall be precious.

DEFLORES	That I have thought on;
	I have assur'd myself of that beforehand,
	And know it will be precious: the thought ravishes!

BEATRICE	Then take him to thy fury.

DEFLORES	I thirst for him.

BEATRICE	Alonzo de Piracquo.

DEFLORES	[Rises] His end's upon him; he shall be seen no more.

BEATRICE	How lovely now dost thou appear to me!
	Never was man dearlier rewarded.

DEFLORES	I do think of that.

BEATRICE	Be wondrous careful in the execution.

DEFLORES	Why, are not both our lives upon the cast?

BEATRICE	Then I throw all my fears upon thy service.

DEFLORES	They ne'er shall rise to hurt you.

BEATRICE	When the deed's done,
	I'll furnish thee with all things for thy flight;
	Thou may'st live bravely in another country.

DEFLORES	Ay, ay, we'll talk of that hereafter.

BEATRICE	[Aside] I shall rid myself of two inveterate loathings
	At one time: Piracquo and his dog-face.

	[Exit]

DEFLORES	Oh, my blood! Methinks I feel her in mine arms already,
	Her wanton fingers combing out this beard,
	And being pleased, praising this bad face!
	Hunger and pleasure, they'll commend sometimes
	Slovenly dishes and feed heartily on 'em,
	Nay, which is stranger, refuse daintier for 'em.
	Some women are odd feeders. I'm too loud.
	Here comes the man goes supperless to bed,
	Yet shall not rise tomorrow to his dinner.

	[Enter Alonzo]

ALONZO	Deflores.

DEFLORES	My kind, honorable lord.

ALONZO	I am glad I ha' met with thee.

DEFLORES	Sir.

ALONZO	Thou canst show me the full strength of the castle?

DEFLORES	That I can, sir.

ALONZO	I much desire it.

DEFLORES	And if the ways and straits of some of the passages
	Be not too tedious for you, I will assure
	You worth your time and sight, my lord.

ALONZO	Puh, that
	Shall be no hinderance.

DEFLORES	I'm your servant then.
	'Tis now near dinner time; 'gainst your lordship's rising
	I'll have the keys about me.

ALONZO	Thanks, kind Deflores.

DEFLORES	[Aside] He's safely thrust upon me beyond hopes.

	[Exeunt. In the act-time Deflores hides a naked rapier]


	The Changeling


ACT III


SCENE I	A narrow passage


	[Enter Alonzo and Deflores]

DEFLORES	Yes, here are all the keys; I was afraid, my lord,
	I'd wanted for the postern: this is it.
	I've all, I've all, my lord: this for the sconce.

ALONZO	'Tis a most spacious and impregnable fort.

DEFLORES	You'll tell me more, my lord. This descent
	Is somewhat narrow: we shall never pass
	Well with our weapons; they'll but trouble us.

ALONZO	Thou sayst true.

DEFLORES	Pray let me help your lordship.

ALONZO	'Tis done. Thanks, kind Deflores.

DEFLORES	Here are hooks, my lord,
	To hang such things on purpose.

ALONZO	Lead, I'll follow thee.

	[Exit at one door and enter at the other]


	The Changeling


ACT III


SCENE II	A vault


DEFLORES	All this is nothing; you shall see anon
	A place you little dream on.

ALONZO	I am glad
	I have this leisure: all your master's house
	Imagine I ha' taken a gondola.

DEFLORES	All but myself, sir, [aside] which makes up my safety.--
	My lord, I'll place you at a casement here,
	Will show you the full strength of all the castle.
	Look, spend your eye a while upon that object.

ALONZO	Here's rich variety, Deflores.

DEFLORES	Yes, sir.

ALONZO	Goodly munition.

DEFLORES	Ay, there's ordnance, sir;
	No bastard metal will ring you a peal like bells
	At great men's funerals. Keep your eye straight, my lord;
	Take special notice of that sconce before you,
	There you may dwell awhile.

ALONZO	I am upon't.

DEFLORES	And so am I. [Stabs him]

ALONZO	Deflores, oh, Deflores,
	Whose malice hast thou put on?

DEFLORES	Do you question
	A work of secrecy? I must silence you. [Stabs him]

ALONZO	Oh, oh, oh!

DEFLORES	I must silence you. [Stabs him; Alonzo dies]
	So, here's an undertaking well accomplish'd.
	This vault serves to good use now. Ha! What's that
	Threw sparkles in my eye? Oh, 'tis a diamond
	He wears upon his finger: it was well found,
	This will approve the work.

	[He tries to take the ring off]

	What, so fast on?
	Not part in death? I'll take a speedy course then:
	Finger and all shall off. [Cuts off his finger] So, now I'll clear
	The passages from all suspect or fear.

	[Exit with body]


	The Changeling


ACT III


SCENE III	A room in Alibius's house


	[Enter Isabella and Lollio]

ISABELLA	Why, sirrah? Whence have you commission
	To fetter the doors against me? If you
	Keep me in a cage, pray whistle to me,
	Let me be doing something.

LOLLIO	You shall be doing, if it please you; I'll whistle to you if you'll  pipe after.

ISABELLA	Is it your master's pleasure, or your own,
	To keep me in this pinfold?

LOLLIO	'Tis for my masters pleasure, lest being taken in another man's corn, you might be pounded in another place.

ISABELLA	'Tis very well, and he'll prove very wise.

LOLLIO	He says you have company enough in the house, if you please to be sociable, of all sorts of people.

ISABELLA	Of all sorts? Why, here's none but fools and madmen.

LOLLIO	Very well: and where will you find any other, if you should go  abroad? There's my master, and I to boot too.

ISABELLA	Of either sort one, a madman and a fool.

LOLLIO	I would ev'n participate of both then if I were as you. I know y'are half mad already; be half foolish too.

ISABELLA	Y'are a brave, saucy rascal! Come on, sir,
	Afford me then the pleasure of your bedlam;
	You were commending once today to me
	Your last come lunatic: what a proper
	Body there was without brains to guide it,
	And what a pitiful delight appear'd
	In that defect, as if your wisdom had found
	A mirth in madness. Pray, sir, let me partake
	If there be such a pleasure.

LOLLIO	If I do not show you the handsomest, discreetest madman, one that I may call the understanding madman, then say I am a fool.

ISABELLA	Well, a match, I will say so.

LOLLIO	When you have a taste of the madman, you shall, if you please, see Fools' College o' th' side. I seldom lock there; 'tis but  shooting a bolt or two, and you are amongst 'em.

	[Exit]

	[Within] Come on, sir, let me see how handsomely you'll behave yourself now.


	[Enter Lollio, Franciscus]

FRANCISCUS	How sweetly she looks! Oh, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy. Anacreon, drink to my mistress' health; I'll pledge it. Stay, stay, there's a spider in the cup! No, 'tis but a grape-stone: swallow it, fear nothing, poet; so, so, lift higher.

ISABELLA	Alack, alack, 'tis too full of pity
	To be laugh'd at! How fell he mad? Canst thou tell?

LOLLIO	For love, mistress. He was a pretty poet too, and that set him forwards first; the Muses then forsook him, he ran mad for a chambermaid, yet she was but a dwarf neither.

FRANCISCUS	Hail bright Titania!
	Why stand'st thou idle on these flowery banks?
	Oberon is dancing with his dryads.
	I'll gather daisies, primrose, violets,
	And bind them in a verse of poesy.

LOLLIO	[Showing him a whip] Not too near, you see your danger.

FRANCISCUS	Oh, hold thy hand, great Diomed!
	Thou feed'st thy horses well, they shall obey thee.
	Get up; Bucephalus kneels. [Gets down on all fours]

LOLLIO	You see how I awe my flock? A shepherd has not his dog at more obedience.

ISABELLA	His conscience is unquiet; sure that was
	The cause of this. A proper gentleman.

FRANCISCUS	Come hither, Aesculapius, hide the poison.

LOLLIO	[Hiding his whip] Well, 'tis hid.

FRANCISCUS	[Rising] Didst thou never hear of one Tiresias, a famous poet?

LOLLIO	Yes, that kept tame wild-geese.

FRANCISCUS	That's he; I am the man.

LOLLIO	No.

FRANCISCUS	Yes, but make no words on't; I was a man seven years ago,

LOLLIO	A stripling, I think you might.

FRANCISCUS	Now I'm a woman, all feminine.

LOLLIO	I would I might see that.

FRANCISCUS	Juno struck me blind.

LOLLIO	I'll ne'er believe that; for a woman, they say, has an eye more than a man.

FRANCISCUS	I say she struck me blind.

LOLLIO	And Luna made you mad; you have two trades to beg with.

FRANCISCUS	Luna is now big-bellied, and there's room
	For both of us to ride with Hecate;
	I'll drag thee up into her silver sphere,
	And there we'll kick the dog, and beat the bush
	That barks against the witches of the night.
	The swift lycanthropi that walks the round,
	We'll tear their wolvish skins, and save the sheep.

	[Beats Lollio]

LOLLIO	Is't come to this? Nay, then, my poison comes forth again! Mad slave, indeed, abuse your keeper? [Shows him the whip]

ISABELLA	I prithee hence with him, now he grows dangerous.

FRANCISCUS	[Singing] Sweet love pity me, give me leave to lie with thee.

LOLLIO	No, I'll see you wiser first. To your own kennel.

FRANCISCUS	No noise, she sleeps, draw all the curtains round;
	Let no soft sound molest the pretty soul
	But love, and love creeps in at a mouse-hole.

LOLLIO	I would you would get into your hole.

	[Exit Franciscus]

	Now, mistress, I will bring you another sort; you shall be fool'd another while. Tony, come hither, Tony, look who's yonder, Tony.

	[Enter Antonio]

ANTONIO	Cousin, is it not my aunt?

LOLLIO	Yes, 'tis one of 'em, Tony.

ANTONIO	He, he, how do you, uncle?

LOLLIO	Fear him not, mistress, 'tis a gentle nidget; you may play with him, as safely with him as with his bauble.

ISABELLA	How long hast thou been a fool?

ANTONIO	Ever since I came hither, cousin.

ISABELLA	Cousin? I'm none of thy cousins, fool.

LOLLIO	Oh, mistress, fools have always so much wit as to claim their kindred.

MADMAN	[within] Bounce, bounce, he falls, he falls!

ISABELLA	Hark you, your scholars in the upper room are out of order.

LOLLIO	Must I come amongst you there? Keep you the fool, mistress; I'll go up and play left-handed Orlando amongst the madmen.

	[Exit]

ISABELLA	Well, sir.

ANTONIO	'Tis opportuneful now, sweet lady! Nay,
	Cast no amazing eye upon this change.

ISABELLA	Ha!

ANTONIO	This shape of folly shrouds your dearest love,
	The truest servant to your powerful beauties,
	Whose magic had this force thus to transform me.

ISABELLA	You are a fine fool indeed.

ANTONIO	Oh, 'tis not strange.
	Love has an intellect that runs through all
	The scrutinous sciences and, like
	A cunning poet, catches a quantity
	Of every knowledge, yet brings all home
	Into one mystery, into one secret
	That he proceeds in.

ISABELLA	Y'are a parlous fool.

ANTONIO	No danger in me: I bring naught but love
	And his soft, wounding shafts to strike you with.
	Try but one arrow; if it hurt you,
	I'll stand you twenty back in recompense.

ISABELLA	A forward fool, too.

ANTONIO	This was love's teaching;
	A thousand ways he fashion'd out my way,
	And this I found the safest and nearest
	To tread the galaxia to my star.

ISABELLA	Profound withal. Certain you dream'd of this;
	Love never taught it waking.

ANTONIO	Take no acquaintance
	Of these outward follies; there is within
	A gentleman that loves you.

ISABELLA	When I see him,
	I'll speak with him; so in the meantime
	Keep your habit, it becomes you well enough.
	As you are a gentleman, I'll not discover you;
	That's all the favour that you must expect.
	When you are weary, you may leave the school;
	For all this while you have but play'd the fool.

	[Enter Lollio]

ANTONIO	And must again. He, he, I thank you, cousin;
	I'll be your valentine tomorrow morning.

LOLLIO	How do you like the fool, mistress?

ISABELLA	Passing well, sir.

LOLLIO	Is he not witty, pretty well for a fool?

ISABELLA	If he hold on as he begins, he is like to come to something!

LOLLIO	Ay, thank a good tutor. You may put him to't; he begins to answer pretty hard questions. Tony, how many is five times six?

ANTONIO	Five times six is six times five.

LOLLIO	What arithmetician could have answer'd better? How many is one hundred and seven?

ANTONIO	One hundred and seven is seven hundred and one, cousin.

LOLLIO	This is no wit to speak on. Will you be rid of the fool now?

ISABELLA	By no means; let him stay a little.

MADMAN	[within] Catch there, catch the last couple in hell!

LOLLIO	Again? Must I come amongst you? Would my master were come home! I am not able to govern both these wards together.

	[Exit]

ANTONIO	Why should a minute of love's hour be lost?

ISABELLA	Fie, out again! I had rather you kept
	Your other posture: you become not your tongue
	When you speak from your clothes.

ANTONIO	How can he freeze
	Lives near so sweet a warmth? Shall I alone
	Walk through the orchard of the Hesperides.
	And cowardly not dare to pull an apple?
	This with the red cheeks I must venture for.

	[Enter Lollio above]

ISABELLA	Take heed, there's giants keep 'em.

	[Antonio kisses her]

LOLLIO	How now, fool, are you good at that? Have you read Lipsius? He's past <i>Ars Amandi</i>; I believe I must put harder questions to him, I perceive that.

ISABELLA	You are bold without fear, too.

ANTONIO	What should I fear,
	Having all joys about me? Do you smile,
	And love shall play the wanton on your lip,
	Meet and retire, retire and meet again:
	Look you but cheerfully, and in your eyes
	I shall behold mine own deformity,
	And dress myself up fairer; I know this shape
	Becomes me not, but in those bright mirrors
	I shall array me handsomely.

LOLLIO	[Aside] Cuckoo, cuckoo!

	[Exit. Enter Madmen above, some as birds, others as beasts. Exit Madmen]

ANTONIO	What are these?

ISABELLA	Of fear enough to part us,
	Yet are they but our schools of lunatics,
	That act their fantasies in any shapes
	Suiting their present thoughts: if sad, they cry;
	If mirth be their conceit, they laugh again.
	Sometimes they imitate the beasts and birds,
	Singing or howling, braying, barking; all
	As their wild fancies prompt 'em.

	[Enter Lollio]

ANTONIO	These are no fears.

ISABELLA	But here's a large one, my man.

ANTONIO	Ha, he, that's fine sport indeed, cousin.

LOLLIO	I would my master were come home; 'tis too much for one shepherd to govern two of these flocks. Nor can I believe that one churchman can instruct two benefices at once: there will be some incurable mad of the one side and very fools on the other. Come, Tony.

ANTONIO	Prithee, cousin, let me stay here still.

LOLLIO	No, you must to your book now you have play'd sufficiently.

ISABELLA	Your fool is grown wondrous witty.

LOLLIO	Well, I'll say nothing; but I do not think but he will put you down one of these days.

	[Exeunt Lollio and Antonio]

ISABELLA	Here the restrained current might make breach,
	Spite of the watchful bankers. Would a woman stray,
	She need not gad abroad to seek her sin;
	It would be brought home one ways or other:
	The needle's point will to the fixed north,
	Such drawing arctics women's beauties are.

	[Enter Lollio]

LOLLIO	How dost thou, sweet rogue?

ISABELLA	How now?

LOLLIO	Come, there are degrees; one fool may be better than another.

ISABELLA	What's the matter?

LOLLIO	Nay, if thou giv'st thy mind to fools, flesh, have at thee!

	[Tries to kiss her]

ISABELLA	You bold slave, you!

LOLLIO	I could follow now as t'other fool did:
	[Imitating Antonio] &ldquo;What should I fear,
	Having all joys about me? Do you smile,
	And love shall play the wanton on your lip,
	Meet and retire, retire and meet again:
	Look you but cheerfully, and in your eyes
	I shall behold mine own deformity,
	And dress myself up fairer; I know this shape
	Becomes me not--&rdquo;
	And so as it follows. But is not this the more foolish way? Come, sweet rogue, kiss me, my little Lacedemonian. Let me feel how thy pulses beat; thou hast a thing about thee would do a man pleasure, I'll lay my hand on't.

ISABELLA	Sirrah, no more! I see you have discovered
	This love's knight-errant, who hath made adventure
	For purchase of my love; be silent, mute,
	Mute as a statue, or his injunction
	For me enjoying shall be to cut thy throat.
	I'll do it, though for no other purpose,
	And be sure he'll not refuse it.

LOLLIO	My share, that's all; I'll have my fool's part with you.

ISABELLA	No more: your master!

	[Enter Alibius]

ALIBIUS	Sweet, how dost thou?

ISABELLA	Your bounden servant, sir.

ALIBIUS	Fie, fie, sweetheart,
	No more of that.

ISABELLA	You were best lock me up.

ALIBIUS	In my arms and bosom, my sweet Isabella,
	I'll lock thee up most nearly. Lollio,
	We have employment, we have task in hand;
	At noble Vermandero's, our castle-captain,
	There is a nuptial to be solemnis'd,
	Beatrice Joanna his fair daughter, bride,
	For which the gentleman hath bespoke our pains:
	A mixture of our madmen and our fools
	To finish, as it were, and make the fag
	Of all the revels, the third night from the first.
	Only an unexpected passage over,
	To make a frightful pleasure, that is all,
	But not the all I aim at. Could we so act it,
	To teach it in a wild, distracted measure,
	Though out of form and figure, breaking time's head,
	It were no matter: 'twould be heal'd again
	In one age or other, if not in this.
	This, this, Lollio: there's a good reward begun,
	And will beget a bounty, be it known.

LOLLIO	This is easy, sir, I'll warrant you. You have about you fools and madmen that can dance very well, and 'tis no wonder your best dancers are not the wisest men: the reason is, with often jumping they jolt their brains down into their feet, that their wits lie more in their heels than in their heads.

ALIBIUS	Honest Lollio, thou giv'st me a good reason
	And a comfort in it.

ISABELLA	Y'ave a fine trade on't;
	Madmen and fools are a staple commodity.

ALIBIUS	Oh, wife, we must eat, wear clothes, and live:
	Just at the lawyer's haven we arrive,
	By madmen and by fools we both do thrive.

	[Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT III


SCENE IV	A chamber in the castle


	[Enter Vermandero, Alsemero, Jasperino, and Beatrice]

VERMANDERO	Valencia speaks so nobly of you, sir,
	I wish I had a daughter now for you.

ALSEMERO	The fellow of this creature were a partner
	For a king's love.

VERMANDERO	I had her fellow once, sir,
	But heaven has married her to joys eternal;
	'Twere sin to wish her in this vale again.
	Come, sir, your friend and you shall see the pleasures
	Which my health chiefly joys in.

ALSEMERO	I hear the beauty of this seat largely.

VERMANDERO	It falls much short of that.

	[Exeunt. Manet Beatrice]

BEATRICE	So, here's one step
	Into my father's favour; time will fix him.
	I have got him now the liberty of the house;
	So wisdom by degrees works out her freedom.
	And if that eye be darkened that offends me--
	I wait but that eclipse--this gentleman
	Shall soon shine glorious in my father's liking,
	Through the refulgent virtue of my love.

	[Enter Deflores]

DEFLORES	[Aside] My thoughts are at a banquet for the deed:
	I feel no weight in't; 'tis but light and cheap
	For the sweet recompense that I set down for't.

BEATRICE	Deflores.

DEFLORES	Lady.

BEATRICE	Thy looks promise cheerfully.

DEFLORES	All things are answerable: time, circumstance,
	Your wishes and my service.

BEATRICE	Is it done then?

DEFLORES	Piracquo is no more.

BEATRICE	My joys start at mine eyes; our sweet'st delights
	Are evermore born weeping.

DEFLORES	I've a token for you.

BEATRICE	For me?

DEFLORES	But it was sent somewhat unwillingly:
	I could not get the ring without the finger.

BEATRICE	Bless me! What hast thou done?

DEFLORES	Why, is that more
	Than killing the whole man? I cut his heart strings.
	A greedy hand thrust in a dish at court
	In a mistake hath had as much as this.

BEATRICE	'Tis the first token my father made me send him.

DEFLORES	And I made him send it back again
	For his last token. I was loathe to leave it,
	And I'm sure dead men have no use of jewels;
	He was as loath to part with't, for it stuck
	As if the flesh and it were both one substance.

BEATRICE	At the stag's fall the keeper has his fees;
	'Tis soon apply'd: all dead men's fees are yours, sir.
	I pray bury the finger, but the stone
	You may make use on shortly; the true value,
	Take't of my truth, is near three hundred ducats.

DEFLORES	'Twill hardly buy a capcase for one's conscience, though,
	To keep it from the worm, as fine as 'tis.
	Well, being my fees I'll take it;
	Great men have taught me that, or else my merit
	Would scorn the way on't.

BEATRICE	It might justly, sir.
	Why, thou mistak'st, Deflores: 'tis not given
	In state of recompense.

DEFLORES	No, I hope so, lady;
	You should soon witness my contempt to't then.

BEATRICE	Prithee, thou look'st as if thou wert offended.

DEFLORES	That were strange, lady; 'tis not possible
	My service should draw such a cause from you.
	Offended? Could you think so? That were much
	For one of my performance, and so warm
	Yet in my service.

BEATRICE	'Twere misery in me to give you cause, sir.

DEFLORES	I know so much; it were so, misery
	In her most sharp condition.

BEATRICE	'Tis resolv'd then.
	Look you, sir, here's three thousand golden florins;
	I have not meanly thought upon thy merit.

DEFLORES	What, salary? Now you move me!

BEATRICE	How, Deflores?

DEFLORES	Do you place me in the rank of verminous fellows
	To destroy things for wages? Offer gold?
	The lifeblood of man! Is anything
	Valued too precious for my recompense?

BEATRICE	I understand thee not.

DEFLORES	I could ha' hir'd
	A journeyman in murder at this rate,
	And mine own conscience might have slept at ease
	And have had the work brought home!

BEATRICE	[Aside] I'm in a labyrinth;
	What will content him? I would fain be rid of him.--
	I'll double the sum, sir.

DEFLORES	You take a course
	To double my vexation, that's the good you do.

BEATRICE	[Aside] Bless me! I am now in worse plight than I was;
	I know not what will please him.--For my fear's sake,
	I prithee make away with all speed possible.
	And if thou be'st so modest not to name
	The sum that will content thee, paper blushes not:
	Send thy demand in writing, it shall follow thee;
	But prithee take thy flight.

DEFLORES	You must fly too then.

BEATRICE	I?

DEFLORES	I'll not stir a foot else.

BEATRICE	What's your meaning?

DEFLORES	Why, are not you as guilty, in, I'm sure,
	As deep as I? And we should stick together.
	Come, your fears counsel you but ill: my absence
	Would draw suspect upon you instantly;
	There were no rescue for you.

BEATRICE	[Aside] He speaks home.

DEFLORES	Nor is it fit we two engag'd so jointly
	Should part and live asunder.

	[He tries to kiss her]

BEATRICE	How now, sir?
	This shows not well.

DEFLORES	What makes your lip so strange?
	This must not be 'twixt us.

BEATRICE	[Aside] The man talks wildly.

DEFLORES	Come, kiss me with a zeal now!

BEATRICE	[Aside] Heaven, I doubt him!

DEFLORES	I will not stand so long to beg 'em shortly.

BEATRICE	Take heed, Deflores, of forgetfulness;
	'Twill soon betray us.

DEFLORES	Take you heed first;
	Faith, y'are grown much forgetful: y'are too blame in't.

BEATRICE	[Aside] He's bold, and I am blam'd for't.

DEFLORES	I have eas'd
	You of your trouble; think on't: I'm in pain
	And must be eas'd of you; 'tis a charity.
	Justice invites your blood to understand me.

BEATRICE	I dare not.

DEFLORES	Quickly.

BEATRICE	Oh, I never shall!
	Speak it yet further off that I may lose
	What has been spoken, and no sound remain on't!
	I would not hear so much offence again
	For such another deed.

DEFLORES	Soft, lady, soft;
	The last is not yet paid for. Oh, this act
	Has put me into spirit; I was as greedy on't
	As the parch'd earth of moisture when the clouds weep.
	Did you not mark I wrought myself into't?
	Nay, sued and kneel'd for't? Why was all that pains took?
	You see I have thrown contempt upon your gold;
	Not that I want it not, for I do piteously:
	In order I will come unto't and make use on't.
	But 'twas not held so precious to begin with,
	For I place wealth after the heels of pleasure,
	And were I not resolv'd in my belief
	That thy virginity were perfect in thee,
	I should but take my recompense with grudging,
	As if I had but half my hopes I agreed for.

BEATRICE	Why, 'tis impossible thou canst be so wicked,
	Or shelter such a cunning cruelty,
	To make his death the murderer of my honour!
	Thy language is so bold and vicious,
	I cannot see which way I can forgive it
	With any modesty.

DEFLORES	Push, you forget yourself:
	A woman dipp'd in blood and talk of modesty!

BEATRICE	Oh, misery of sin! Would I had been bound
	Perpetually unto my living hate
	In that Piracquo than to hear these words!
	Think but upon the distance that creation
	Set 'twixt thy blood and mine, and keep thee there.

DEFLORES	Look but into your conscience, read me there:
	'Tis a true book; you'll find me there your equal.
	Push, fly not to your birth, but settle you
	In what the act has made you; y'are no more now.
	You must forget your parentage to me;
	Y'are the deeds creature: by that name
	You lost your first condition, and I challenge you,
	As peace and innocency has turn'd you out
	And made you one with me.

BEATRICE	With thee, foul villain?

DEFLORES	Yes, my fair murderess. Do you urge me?
	Though thou writ'st maid, thou whore in thy affection,
	'Twas chang'd from thy first love, and that's a kind
	Of whoredom in thy heart; and he's chang'd now
	To bring thy second on, thy Alsemero,
	Whom, by all sweets that ever darkness tasted,
	If I enjoy thee not, thou ne'er enjoy'st.
	I'll blast the hopes and joys of marriage;
	I'll confess all, my life I rate at nothing.

BEATRICE	Deflores.

DEFLORES	I shall rest from all lovers' plagues then;
	I live in pain now: that shooting eye
	Will burn my heart to cinders.

BEATRICE	Oh, sir, hear me!

DEFLORES	She that in life and love refuses me,
	In death and shame my partner she shall be.

BEATRICE	Stay, hear me once for all: I make thee master
	Of all the wealth I have in gold and jewels;
	Let me go poor unto my bed with honour
	And I am rich in all things.

DEFLORES	Let this silence thee:
	The wealth of all Valencia shall not buy
	My pleasure from me.
	Can you weep fate from its determin'd purpose?
	So soon may you weep me.

BEATRICE	Vengeance begins;
	Murder, I see, is followed by more sins.
	Was my creation in the womb so curs'd
	It must engender with a viper first?

DEFLORES	Come, rise and shroud your blushes in my bosom;
	Silence is one of pleasure's best receipts:
	Thy peace is wrought forever in this yielding.
	'Las, how the turtle pants! Thou'lt love anon
	What thou so fear'st and faint'st to venture on.

	[Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT IV


PROLOGUE	Dumb Show


	[Enter Gentlemen, Vermandero meeting them with action of wonderment at the flight of
	Alonzo de Piracquo. Enter Alsemero with Jasperino and Gallants; Vermandero points to him,
	the Gentlemen seeming to applaud the choice.
	Exeunt Vermandero, Alsemero, Jasperino, and Gentlemen and Gallants; enter Beatrice the bride,
	following in great state, accompanied with Diaphanta, Isabella, and other Gentlewomen.
	Enter Deflores after all, smiling at the accident; Alonzo's Ghost appears to
	Deflores in the midst of his smile, startles him, showing him the hand whose finger he had
	cut off. They pass over in great solemnity]


	The Changeling


ACT IV


SCENE I	Alsemero's chamber


	[Enter Beatrice]

BEATRICE	This fellow has undone me endlessly;
	Never was bride so fearfully distress'd.
	The more I think upon th' ensuing night,
	And whom I am to cope with in embraces--
	One who's ennobled both in blood and mind,
	So clear in understanding, that's my plague now,
	Before whose judgment will my fault appear
	Like malefactors' crimes before tribunals,
	There is no hiding on't--the more I dive
	Into my own distress. How a wise man
	Stands for a great calamity! There's no venturing
	Into his bed, what course soe'er I light upon,
	Without my shame, which may grow up to danger.
	He cannot but in justice strangle me
	As I lie by him, as a cheater use me;
	'Tis a precious craft to play with a false die
	Before a cunning gamester. Here's his closet,
	The key left in't, and he abroad i' th' park.
	Sure 'twas forgot; I'll be so bold as look in't.
	Bless me! A right physician's closet 'tis,
	Set round with vials, every one her mark too.
	Sure he does practice physic for his own use,
	Which may be safely call'd your great man's wisdom.
	What manuscript lies here? [The Book of Experiment,]
	[Call'd Secrets in Nature]: so 'tis, 'tis so.
	[Reading] &ldquo;How to know whether a woman be with child or no.&rdquo;
	I hope I am not yet; if he should try, though--
	Let me see, folio forty-five. Here 'tis,
	The leaf tuck'd down upon't, the place suspicious.
	[Reading] &ldquo;If you would know whether a woman be with child or not, give her two spoonfuls of the white water in glass C.&rdquo;
	Where's that glass C? Oh, yonder I see't now.
	[Reading] &ldquo;And if she be with child, she sleeps full twelve hours after; if not, not.&rdquo;
	None of that water comes into my belly.
	I'll know you from a hundred; I could break you now
	Or turn you into milk, and so beguile
	The master of the mystery, but I'll look to you.
	Ha! That which is next, is ten times worse.
	[Reading] &ldquo;How to know whether a woman be a maid or not.&rdquo;
	If that should be apply'd, what would become of me?
	Belike he has a strong faith of my purity,
	That never yet made proof; but this he calls
	[Reading] &ldquo;A merry slight but true experiment,
	The author, Antonius Mizaldus.
	Give the party you suspect the quantity of a spoonful of the water in the glass M, which upon her that is a maid makes three several effects: 'twill make her incontinently gape, then fall into a sudden sneezing, last into a violent laughing; else dull, heavy, and lumpish.&rdquo;
	Where had I been?
	I fear it, yet 'tis seven hours to bedtime.

	[Enter Diaphanta]

DIAPHANTA	Cuds, madam, are you here?

BEATRICE	[Aside] Seeing that wench now,
	A trick comes in my mind; 'tis a nice piece
	Gold cannot purchase.--I come hither, wench,
	To look my lord.

DIAPHANTA	[Aside] Would I had such a cause
	To look him too.--Why, he's i' th' park, madam.

BEATRICE	There let him be.

DIAPHANTA	Ay, madam, let him compass
	Whole parks and forests, as great rangers do;
	At roosting time a little lodge can hold 'em.
	Earth-conquering Alexander, that thought the world
	Too narrow for him, in the end had but his pit-hole.

BEATRICE	I fear thou art not modest, Diaphanta.

DIAPHANTA	Your thoughts are so unwilling to be known, madam;
	'Tis ever the bride's fashion towards bedtime
	To set light by her joys, as if she ow'd 'em not.

BEATRICE	Her joys? Her fears, thou wouldst say.

DIAPHANTA	Fear of what?

BEATRICE	Art thou a maid, and talk'st so to a maid?
	You leave a blushing business behind,
	Beshrew your heart for't.

DIAPHANTA	Do you mean good sooth, madam?

BEATRICE	Well, if I'd thought upon the fear at first,
	Man should have been unknown.

DIAPHANTA	Is't possible?

BEATRICE	I will give a thousand ducats to that woman
	Would try what my fear were, and tell me true
	Tomorrow when she gets from 't: as she likes
	I might perhaps be drawn to 't.

DIAPHANTA	Are you in earnest?

BEATRICE	Do you get the woman, then challenge me,
	And see if I'll fly from 't; but I must tell you
	This by the way, she must be a true maid,
	Else there's no trial, my fears are not hers else.

DIAPHANTA	Nay, she that I would put into your hands, madam,
	Shall be a maid.

BEATRICE	You know I should be sham'd else,
	Because she lies for me.

DIAPHANTA	'Tis a strange humour:
	But are you serious still? Would you resign
	Your first night's pleasure and give money too?

BEATRICE	As willingly as live. [Aside] Alas, the gold
	Is but a by-bet to wedge in the honour.

DIAPHANTA	I do not know how the world goes abroad
	For faith or honesty; there's both requir'd in this.
	Madam, what say you to me, and stray no further?
	I've a good mind, in troth, to earn your money.

BEATRICE	Y'are too quick, I fear, to be a maid.

DIAPHANTA	How? Not a maid? Nay, then, you urge me, madam,
	Your honourable self is not a truer
	With all your fears upon you--

BEATRICE	[Aside] Bad enough then.

DIAPHANTA	Then I with all my lightsome joys about me.

BEATRICE	I'm glad to hear 't; then you dare put your honesty
	Upon an easy trial.

DIAPHANTA	Easy? Anything.

BEATRICE	[Going to the closet] I'll come to you straight.

DIAPHANTA	[Aside] She will not search me, will she,
	Like the forewoman of a female jury?

BEATRICE	Glass M. Ay, this is it. Look, Diaphanta,
	You take no worse than I do.

	[She drinks and hands Diaphanta the glass]

DIAPHANTA	And in so doing
	I will not question what 'tis, but take it.

	[She drinks]

BEATRICE	[Aside] Now if the experiment be true, 'twill praise itself,
	And give me noble ease. [Diaphanta gapes] Begins already,
	There's the first symptom. [Diaphanta sneezes] And what haste it makes
	To fall into the second, there by this time:
	Most admirable secret! On the contrary,
	It stirs not me a whit, which most concerns it.

DIAPHANTA	Ha, ha, ha!

BEATRICE	[Aside] Just in all things and in order,
	As if 'twere circumscrib'd, one accident
	Gives way unto another.

DIAPHANTA	Ha, ha, ha!

BEATRICE	How now, wench?

DIAPHANTA	Ha, ha, ha, I am so, so light
	At heart, ha, ha, ha. so pleasurable!
	But one swig more, sweet madam.

BEATRICE	Ay, tomorrow;
	We shall have time to sit by 't.

DIAPHANTA	Now I'm sad again.

BEATRICE	[Aside] It lays itself so gently too.--Come, wench,
	Most honest Diaphanta I dare call thee now.

DIAPHANTA	Pray tell me, madam, what trick call you this?

BEATRICE	I'll tell thee all hereafter; we must study
	The carriage of this business.

DIAPHANTA	I shall carry 't well
	Because I love the burthen.

BEATRICE	About midnight
	You must not fail to steal forth gently
	That I may use the place.

DIAPHANTA	Oh, fear not, madam;
	I shall be cool by that time. The bride's place,
	And with a thousand ducats! I'm for a justice now:
	I bring a portion with me; I scorn small fools!

	[Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT IV


SCENE II	A chamber in the castle


	[Enter Vermandero and Servant]

VERMANDERO	I tell thee, knave, mine honour is in question,
	A thing till now free from suspicion,
	Nor ever was there cause. Who of my gentlemen are absent?
	Tell me and truly how many and who.

SERVANT	Antonio, sir, and Franciscus.

VERMANDERO	When did they leave the castle?

SERVANT	Some ten days since, sir, the one intending to Briamata, th'other for Valencia.

VERMANDERO	The time accuses 'um: a charge of murder
	Is brought within my castle gate, Piracquo's murder;
	I dare not answer faithfully their absence.
	A strict command of apprehension
	Shall pursue 'um suddenly, and either wipe
	The stain off clear or openly discover it.
	Provide me winged warrants for the purpose.

	[Enter Tomazo]

	See, I am set on again.

	[Exit Servant]

TOMAZO	I claim a brother of you.

VERMANDERO	Y'are too hot;
	Seek him not here.

TOMAZO	Yes, 'mongst your dearest bloods;
	If my peace find no fairer satisfaction,
	This is the place must yield account for him,
	For here I left him, and the hasty tie
	Of this snatch'd marriage gives strong testimony
	Of his most certain ruin.

VERMANDERO	Certain falsehood!
	This is the place indeed; his breach of faith
	Has too much marr'd both my abused love,
	The honourable love I reserv'd for him,
	And mock'd my daughter's joy. The prepar'd morning
	Blush'd at his infidelity; he left
	Contempt and scorn to throw upon those friends
	Whose belief hurt 'em: oh, 'twas most ignoble
	To take his flight so unexpectedly
	And throw such public wrongs on those that lov'd him!

TOMAZO	Then this is all your answer?

VERMANDERO	'Tis too fair
	For one of his alliance, and I warn you
	That this place no more see you.

	[Exit. Enter Deflores]

TOMAZO	The best is,
	There is more ground to meet a man's revenge on.
	Honest Deflores.

DEFLORES	That's my name indeed.
	Saw you the bride? Good sweet sir, which way took she?

TOMAZO	I have blest mine eyes from seeing such a false one.

DEFLORES	[Aside] I'd fain get off; this man's not for my company:
	I smell his brother's blood when I come near him.

TOMAZO	Come hither, kind and true one; I remember
	My brother lov'd thee well.

DEFLORES	Oh, purely, dear sir!
	[Aside] Methinks I am now again a-killing on him,
	He brings it so fresh to me.

TOMAZO	Thou canst guess, sirrah,
	One honest friend has an instinct of jealousy
	At some foul guilty person.

DEFLORES	'Las, sir,
	I am so charitable, I think none
	Worse than myself. You did not see the bride then?

TOMAZO	I prithee name her not. Is she not wicked?

DEFLORES	No, no, a pretty, easy, round-pack'd sinner,
	As your most ladies are, else you might think
	I flatter'd her; but, sir, at no hand wicked
	Till th'are so old their sins and vices meet,
	And they salute witches. I am call'd, I think, sir.
	[Aside] His company ev'n o'erlays my conscience.

	[Exit]

TOMAZO	That Deflores has a wondrous honest heart.
	He'll bring it out in time, I'm assur'd on't.

	[Enter Alsemero]

	[Aside] Oh, here's the glorious master of the day's joy.

	'Twill not be long till he and I do reckon.--Sir.

ALSEMERO	You are most welcome.

TOMAZO	You may call that word back;
	I do not think I am, nor wish to be.

ALSEMERO	'Tis strange you found the way to this house then.

TOMAZO	Would I'd ne'er known the cause. I'm none of those, sir,
	That come to give you joy and swill your wine;
	'Tis a more precious liquor that must lay
	The fiery thirst I bring.

ALSEMERO	Your words and you
	Appear to me great strangers.

TOMAZO	Time and our swords
	May make us more acquainted; this the business:
	I should have a brother in your place;
	How treachery and malice have dispos'd of him,
	I'm bound to enquire of him which holds his right,
	Which never could come fairly.

ALSEMERO	You must look
	To answer for that word, sir.

TOMAZO	Fear you not;
	I'll have it ready drawn at our next meeting.
	Keep your day solemn. Farewell, I disturb it not;
	I'll bear the smart with patience for a time.

	[Exit]

ALSEMERO	'Tis somewhat ominous, this, a quarrel entered
	Upon this day; my innocence relieves me,
	I should be wondrous sad else.

	[Enter Jasperino]

	Jasperino,
	I have news to tell thee, strange news.

JASPERINO	I ha' some too,
	I think as strange as yours; would I might keep
	Mine, so my faith and friendship might be kept in't.
	Faith, sir, dispense a little with my zeal,
	And let it cool in this.

ALSEMERO	This puts me on,
	And blames thee for thy slowness.

JASPERINO	All may prove nothing,
	Only a friendly fear that leapt from me, sir.

ALSEMERO	No question it may prove nothing; let's partake it, though.

JASPERINO	'Twas Diaphanta's chance--for to that wench
	I pretend honest love, and she deserves it--
	To leave me in a back part of the house,
	A place we chose for private conference;
	She was no sooner gone, but instantly
	I heard your bride's voice in the next room to me
	And, lending more attention, found Deflores
	Louder then she.

ALSEMERO	Deflores? Thou art out now.

JASPERINO	You'll tell me more anon.

ALSEMERO	Still I'll prevent thee:
	The very sight of him is poison to her.

JASPERINO	That made me stagger too, but Diaphanta
	At her return confirm'd it.

ALSEMERO	Diaphanta!

JASPERINO	Then fell we both to listen, and words pass'd
	Like those that challenge interest in a woman.

ALSEMERO	Peace, quench thy zeal; 'tis dangerous to thy bosom

JASPERINO	Then truth is full of peril.

ALSEMERO	Such truths are.
	Oh, were she the sole glory of the earth,
	Had eyes that could shoot fire into kings' breasts,
	And touch'd, she sleeps not here; yet I have time,
	Though night be near, to be resolv'd hereof,
	And prithee do not weigh me by my passions.

JASPERINO	I never weigh'd friend so.

ALSEMERO	Done charitably.
	[Giving him a key] That key will lead thee to a pretty secret
	By a Chaldean taught me, and I've made
	My study upon some; bring from my closet
	A glass inscrib'd there with the letter M,
	And question not my purpose.

JASPERINO	It shall be done, sir.

	[Exit]

ALSEMERO	How can this hang together? Not an hour since
	Her woman came pleading her lady's fears,
	Deliver'd her for the most timorous virgin
	That ever shrunk at man's name, and so modest
	She charg'd her weep out her request to me
	That she might come obscurely to my bosom.

	[Enter Beatrice]

BEATRICE	[Aside] All things go well; my woman's preparing yonder
	For her sweet voyage, which grieves me to lose:
	Necessity compels it; I lose all else.

ALSEMERO	[Aside] Push, modesty's shrine is set in yonder forehead.
	I cannot be too sure though.--My Joanna.

BEATRICE	Sir, I was bold to weep a message to you;
	Pardon my modest fears.

ALSEMERO	[Aside] The dove's not meeker.
	She's abus'd, questionless.

	[Enter Jasperino]

	Oh, are you come, sir?

BEATRICE	[Aside] The glass, upon my life! I see the letter.

JASPERINO	Sir, this is M.

ALSEMERO	'Tis it.

BEATRICE	[Aside] I am suspected.

ALSEMERO	How fitly our bride comes to partake with us!

BEATRICE	What is't, my lord?

ALSEMERO	No hurt.

BEATRICE	Sir, pardon me,
	I seldom taste of any composition.

ALSEMERO	But this upon my warrant you shall venture on.

BEATRICE	I fear 'twill make me ill.

ALSEMERO	Heaven forbid that.

BEATRICE	[Aside] I'm put now to my cunning; th' effects I know,
	If I can now but feign 'em handsomely.

ALSEMERO	[Aside to Jasperino] It has that secret virtue it ne'er miss'd, sir,
	Upon a virgin.

JASPERINO	[Aside to Alsemero] Treble qualitied.

	[Beatrice gapes, then sneezes]

ALSEMERO	[Aside to Jasperino] By all that's virtuous, it takes there, proceeds!

JASPERINO	[Aside to Alsemero] This is the strangest trick to know a maid by.

BEATRICE	Ha, ha, ha!
	You have given me joy of heart to drink, my lord.

ALSEMERO	No, thou hast given me such joy of heart
	That never can be blasted.

BEATRICE	What's the matter, sir?

ALSEMERO	[Aside to Jasperino] See, now 'tis settled in a melancholy,
	Keeps both the time and method.--My Joanna,
	Chaste as the breath of heaven or morning's womb
	That brings the day forth, thus my love encloses thee.

	[He embraces her. Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT IV


SCENE III	A room in Alibius's house


	[Enter Isabella and Lollio]

ISABELLA	Oh heaven! Is this the waiting moon?
	Does love turn fool, run mad, and all at once?
	Sirrah, here's a madman akin to the fool too,
	A lunatic lover.

LOLLIO	No, no, not he I brought the letter from.

ISABELLA	Compare his inside with his out and tell me.

LOLLIO	The out's mad, I'm sure of that; I had a taste on't. [Reading] &ldquo;To the bright Andromeda, chief chambermaid to the knight of the sun, at the sign of Scorpio, in the middle region, sent by the bellows-mender of &AElig;olus. Pay the post.&rdquo; This is stark madness.

ISABELLA	Now mark the inside. [He opens the letter and she reads over his shoulder] &ldquo;Sweet lady, having now cast off this counterfeit cover of a madman, I appear to your best judgment a true and faithful lover of your beauty.&rdquo;

LOLLIO	He is mad still.

ISABELLA	[Reading] &ldquo;If any fault you find, chide those perfections in you which have made me imperfect; 'tis the same sun that causeth to grow and enforceth to wither&rdquo;--

LOLLIO	Oh, rogue!

ISABELLA	[Reading] &ldquo;Shapes and transhapes, destroys and builds again. I come in winter to you dismantled of my proper ornaments; by the sweet splendour of your cheerful smiles, I spring and live a lover.&rdquo;

LOLLIO	Mad rascal still.

ISABELLA	[Reading] &ldquo;Tread him not under foot that shall appear an honour to your bounties. I remain, mad till I speak with you, from whom I expect my cure, yours all, or one beside himself, Franciscus.&rdquo;

LOLLIO	You are like to have a fine time on't. My master and I may give over our professions; I do not think but you can cure fools and madmen faster than we, with little pains too.

ISABELLA	Very likely.

LOLLIO	One thing I must tell you, mistress: you perceive that I am privy to your skill; if I find you minister once and set up the trade, I put in for my thirds. I shall be mad or fool else.

ISABELLA	The first place is thine, believe it, Lollio;
	If I do fall--

LOLLIO	I fall upon you.

ISABELLA	So.

LOLLIO	Well, I stand to my venture.

ISABELLA	But thy counsel now: how shall I deal with 'um?

LOLLIO	Why, do you mean to deal with 'um?

ISABELLA	Nay, the fair understanding: how to use 'um.

LOLLIO	Abuse 'um: that's the way to mad the fool and make a fool of the madman, and then you use 'um kindly.

ISABELLA	'Tis easy. I'll practise; do thou observe it:
	The key of thy wardrobe.

	[He gives her the key]

LOLLIO	There; fit yourself for 'um, and I'll fit 'um both for you.

ISABELLA	Take thou no further notice than the outside.

	[Exit]

LOLLIO	Not an inch; I'll put you to the inside.

	[Enter Alibius]

ALIBIUS	Lollio, art there? Will all be perfect, think'st thou?
	Tomorrow night, as if to close up the solemnity,
	Vermandero expects us.

LOLLIO	I mistrust the madmen most; the fools will do well enough:
	I have taken pains with them.

ALIBIUS	Tush, they cannot miss; the more absurdity,
	The more commends it, so no rough behaviours
	Affright the ladies: they are nice things, thou know'st.

LOLLIO	You need not fear, sir; so long as we are there with our commanding  pizzles, they'll be as tame as the ladies themselves.

ALIBIUS	I will see them once more rehearse before they go.

LOLLIO	I was about it, sir; look you to the madmen's morris, and let me alone with the other. There is one or two that I mistrust their fooling; I'll instruct them, and then they shall rehearse the whole measure.

ALIBIUS	Do so; I'll see the music prepar'd: but, Lollio,
	By the way, how does my wife brook her restraint?
	Does she not grudge at it?

LOLLIO	So, so. She takes some pleasure in the house; she would abroad else. You must allow her a little more length; she's kept too short.

ALIBIUS	She shall along to Vermandero's with us;
	That will serve her for a month's liberty.

LOLLIO	What's that on your face, sir?

ALIBIUS	Where, Lollio? I see nothing.

LOLLIO	Cry you mercy, sir, 'tis your nose! It show'd like the trunk of a young elephant.

ALIBIUS	Away, rascal: I'll prepare the music, Lollio.

	[Exit Alibius]

LOLLIO	Do, sir; and I'll dance the whilst. Tony, where art thou, Tony?

	[Enter Antonio]

ANTONIO	Here, cousin. Where art thou?

LOLLIO	Come, Tony, the footmanship I taught you.

ANTONIO	I had rather ride, cousin.

LOLLIO	Ay, a whip take you, but I'll keep you out. Vault in; look you, Tony: [dancing] fa, la la la la.

ANTONIO	[Dancing] Fa, la la la la.

LOLLIO	There, an honour.

ANTONIO	Is this an honour, coz? [Bows]

LOLLIO	Yes, and it please your worship.

ANTONIO	Does honour bend in the hams, coz?

LOLLIO	Marry, does it, as low as worship, squireship, nay, yeomanry itself sometimes, from whence it first stiffened. There rise a caper.

ANTONIO	Caper after an honour, coz?

LOLLIO	Very proper, for honour is but a caper, rises as fast and high, has a knee or two, and falls to th' ground again. You can remember your figure, Tony?

	[Exit]

ANTONIO	Yes, cousin, when I see thy figure, I can remember mine.

	[Enter Isabella dressed as a madwoman. Antonio resumes dancing]

ISABELLA	Hey, how he treads the air!
	Shoo, shoo, t'other way: he burns his wings else;
	Here's wax enough below, Icarus, more
	Than will be canceled these eighteen moons.
	He's down, he's down; what a terrible fall he had!
	 Stand up, thou son of Cretan Dedalus,
	And let us tread the lower labyrinth;
	I'll bring thee to the clue.

ANTONIO	Prithee, coz, let me alone.

ISABELLA	Art thou not drown'd?
	About thy head I saw a heap of clouds
	Wrapp'd like a Turkish turban on thy back,
	A crook'd chameleon-colour'd rainbow hung
	Like a tiara down unto thy hams.
	Let me suck out those billows in thy belly;
	Hark how they roar and rumble in the straits!
	Bless thee from the pirates.

	[Attempts to kiss him]

ANTONIO	Pox upon you, let me alone!

ISABELLA	Why shouldst thou mount so high as Mercury
	Unless thou hadst reversion of his place?
	Stay in the moon with me, Endymion,
	And we will rule these wild rebellious waves
	That would have drown'd my love.

ANTONIO	I'll kick thee if again thou touch me,
	Thou wild unshapen antic; I am no fool,
	You bedlam!

ISABELLA	But you are as sure as I am, mad.
	Have I put on this habit of a frantic
	With love as full of fury to beguile
	The nimble eye of watchful jealousy,
	And am I thus rewarded?

ANTONIO	Ha, dearest beauty!

ISABELLA	No, I have no beauty now,
	Nor never had, but what was in my garments.
	You a quick-sighted lover? Come not near me.
	Keep your caparisons, y'are aptly clad;
	I came a feigner to return stark mad.

	[Exit. Enter Lollio]

ANTONIO	Stay, or I shall change condition
	And become as you are.

LOLLIO	Why, Tony, whither now? Why, fool!

ANTONIO	Whose fool, usher of idiots? You coxcomb!
	I have fool'd too much.

LOLLIO	You were best be mad another while then.

ANTONIO	So I am, stark mad, I have cause enough;
	And I could throw the full effects on thee,
	And beat thee like a fury.

LOLLIO	Do not, do not! I shall not forbear the gentleman under the fool, if you do. Alas, I saw through your fox-skin before now. Come, I can give you comfort: my mistress loves you, and there is as arrant a madman i' th' house as you are a fool, your rival, whom she loves not. If after the masque we can rid her of him, you earn her love, she says, and the fool shall ride her.

ANTONIO	May I believe thee?

LOLLIO	Yes, or you may choose whether you will or no.

ANTONIO	She's eas'd of him; I have a good quarrel on't.

LOLLIO	Well, keep your old station yet, and be quiet.

ANTONIO	Tell her I will deserve her love.

LOLLIO	And you are like to have your desire.

	[Exit Antonio. Enter Franciscus]

FRANCISCUS	Down, down, down a-down a-down, and then with a horse-trick
	To kick Latona's forehead and break her bow string.

LOLLIO	[Aside] This is t'other counterfeit; I'll put him out of his humour. [Reading] &ldquo;Sweet lady, having now cast this counterfeit cover of a madman, I appear to your best judgment a true and faithful lover of your beauty.&rdquo; This is pretty well for a madman.

FRANCISCUS	Ha! What's that?

LOLLIO	[Reading] &ldquo;Chide those perfections in you which made me imperfect.&rdquo;

FRANCISCUS	I am discover'd to the fool.

LOLLIO	[Aside] I hope to discover the fool in you ere I have done with you. [Reading] &ldquo;Yours all, or one beside himself, Franciscus.&rdquo; [Aside] This madman will mend sure.

FRANCISCUS	What do you read, sirrah?

LOLLIO	Your destiny, sir; you'll be hang'd for this trick and another that I know.

FRANCISCUS	Art thou of counsel with thy mistress?

LOLLIO	Next her apron strings.

FRANCISCUS	Give me thy hand.

LOLLIO	Stay, let me put yours in my pocket first. [Puts the letter in his pocket] Your hand is true, is it not? It will not  pick? I partly fear it, because I think it does lie.

FRANCISCUS	Not in a syllable.

LOLLIO	So, if you love my mistress so well as you have handled the matter here, you are like to be cur'd of your madness.

FRANCISCUS	And none but she can cure it.

LOLLIO	Well, I'll give you over then, and she shall cast your water next.

FRANCISCUS	[Giving him money] Take for thy pains past.

LOLLIO	I shall deserve more, sir, I hope; my mistress loves you, but must have some proof of your love to her.

FRANCISCUS	There I meet my wishes.

LOLLIO	That will not serve; you must meet her enemy and yours.

FRANCISCUS	He's dead already.

LOLLIO	Will you tell me that, and I parted but now with him?

FRANCISCUS	Show me the man.

LOLLIO	Ay, that's a right course now: see him before you kill him, in any case; and yet it needs not go so far neither: 'tis but a fool that haunts the house, and my mistress in the shape of an idiot.  Bang but his fools' coat well-favouredly, and 'tis well.

FRANCISCUS	Soundly, soundly.

LOLLIO	Only reserve him till the masque be past; and if you find him not now in the dance yourself, I'll show you. In, in: my master!

	[Enter Alibius]

FRANCISCUS	[Dancing] He handles him like a feather. Hey!

	[Exit]

ALIBIUS	Well said! In a readiness, Lollio?

LOLLIO	Yes, sir.

ALIBIUS	Away then, and guide them in, Lollio;
	Entreat your mistress to see this sight.
	Hark, is there not one incurable fool
	That might be begg'd? I have friends.

LOLLIO	I have him for you, one that shall deserve it too.

ALIBIUS	Good boy, Lollio.

	[Lollio brings on the Madmen and Fools. The Madmen and Fools dance]

	'Tis perfect: well fit but once these strains,
	We shall have coin and credit for our pains.

	[Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT V


SCENE I	A gallery in the castle


	[Enter Beatrice. A clock strikes one]

BEATRICE	One struck, and yet she lies by't. Oh, my fears,
	This strumpet serves her own ends, 'tis apparent now,
	Devours the pleasure with a greedy appetite,
	And never minds my honour or my peace,
	Makes havoc of my right; but she pays dearly for't:
	No trusting of her life with such a secret,
	That cannot rule her blood to keep her promise.
	Beside, I have some suspicion of her faith to me,
	Because I was suspected of my lord,
	And it must come from her. Hark, by my horrors,
	Another clock strikes two.

	[Strike two. Enter Deflores]

DEFLORES	Pist, where are you?

BEATRICE	Deflores?

DEFLORES	Ay. Is she not come from him yet?

BEATRICE	As I am a living soul, not.

DEFLORES	Sure the devil
	Hath sow'd his itch within her; who'd trust
	A waiting-woman?

BEATRICE	I must trust somebody.

DEFLORES	Push, they are termagants.
	Especially when they fall upon their masters
	And have their ladies' first fruits, th'are mad whelps;
	You cannot stave 'em off from game royal then.
	You are so harsh and hardy, ask no counsel;
	And I could have help'd you to an apothecary's daughter
	Would have fall'n off before eleven, and thank'd you too.

BEATRICE	Oh me, not yet? This whore forgets herself.

DEFLORES	The rascal fares so well. Look, y'are undone:
	The day-star, by this hand; see Phosphorus plain yonder.

BEATRICE	Advise me now to fall upon some ruin;
	There is no counsel safe else.

DEFLORES	Peace, I ha't now:
	For we must force a rising; there's no remedy.

BEATRICE	How? Take heed of that.

DEFLORES	Tush, be you quiet
	Or else give over all.

BEATRICE	Prithee, I ha' done then.

DEFLORES	This is my reach: I'll set some part afire
	Of Diaphanta's chamber.

BEATRICE	How? Fire, sir?
	That may endanger the whole house.

DEFLORES	You talk of danger when your fame's on fire?

BEATRICE	That's true. Do what thou wilt now.

DEFLORES	Push, I aim
	At a most rich success, strikes all dead sure.
	The chimney being afire, and some light parcels
	Of the least danger in her chamber only,
	If Diaphanta should be met by chance then
	Far from her lodging, which is now suspicious,
	It would be thought her fears and affright then
	Drove her to seek for succour; if not seen
	Or met at all, as that's the likeliest,
	For her own shame she'll hasten towards her lodging.
	I will be ready with a piece high-charg'd,
	As 'twere to cleanse the chimney: there, 'tis proper now,
	But she shall be the mark.

BEATRICE	I'm forc'd to love thee now,
	'Cause thou provid'st so carefully for my honour.

DEFLORES	'Slid, it concerns the safety of us both,
	Our pleasure and continuance.

BEATRICE	One word now,
	Prithee: how for the servants?

DEFLORES	I'll dispatch them,
	Some one way, some another, in the hurry
	For buckets, hooks, ladders. Fear not you;
	The deed shall find its time, and I've thought since
	Upon a safe conveyance for the body too.
	How this fire purifies wit! Watch you your minute.

BEATRICE	Fear keeps my soul upon't; I cannot stray from't.

	[Enter Alonzo's Ghost]

DEFLORES	Ha! What art thou that tak'st away the light
	'Twixt that star and me? I dread thee not!
	'Twas but a mist of conscience. All's clear again.

	[Exit Deflores]

BEATRICE	Who's that, Deflores? Bless me! It slides by.

	[Exit Ghost]

	Some ill thing haunts the house; 't has left behind it
	A shivering sweat upon me: I'm afraid now.
	This night hath been so tedious. Oh, this strumpet!
	Had she a thousand lives, he should not leave her
	Till he had destroy'd the last.

	[Strikes three a' clock]

	List! Oh, my terrors,
	Three struck by St. Sebastian's!

VOICES	[Within] Fire, fire, fire!

BEATRICE	Already! How rare is that man's speed!
	How heartily he serves me! His face loathes one,
	But look upon his care, who would not love him?
	The east is not more beauteous than his service.

VOICES	[Within] Fire, fire, fire!

	[Enter Deflores. Servants pass over, ring a bell]

DEFLORES	Away, dispatch!
	Hooks, buckets, ladders; that's well said!
	The fire bell rings, the chimney works, my charge:
	The piece is ready.

	[Exit]

BEATRICE	Here's a man worth loving!
	Oh, y'are a jewel!

	[Enter Diaphanta]

DIAPHANTA	Pardon frailty, madam;
	In troth, I was so well, I ev'n forgot myself.

BEATRICE	Y'have made trim work.

DIAPHANTA	What?

BEATRICE	Hie quickly to your chamber;
	Your reward follows you.

DIAPHANTA	I never made
	So sweet a bargain.

	[Exit. Enter Alsemero]

ALSEMERO	Oh, my dear Joanna!
	Alas, art thou risen too? I was coming,
	My absolute treasure.

BEATRICE	When I miss'd you,
	I could not choose but follow.

ALSEMERO	Th'art all sweetness.
	The fire is not so dangerous.

BEATRICE	Think you so, sir?

ALSEMERO	I prithee, tremble not: believe me, 'tis not.

	[Enter Vermandero, Jasperino]

VERMANDERO	Oh, bless my house and me!

ALSEMERO	My lord your father.

	[Enter Deflores with a piece]

VERMANDERO	Knave, whither goes that piece?

DEFLORES	To scour the chimney,

	[Exit]

VERMANDERO	Oh, well said, well said;
	That fellow's good on all occasions.

BEATRICE	A wondrous necessary man, my lord.

VERMANDERO	He hath a ready wit; he's worth 'em all, sir:
	Dog at a house on fire; I ha' seen him sing'd ere now.

	[The piece goes off]

	Ha, there he goes!

BEATRICE	'Tis done.

ALSEMERO	Come, sweet, to bed now;
	Thou wilt get cold.

BEATRICE	Alas, the fear keeps that out:
	My heart will find no quiet till I hear
	How Diaphanta, my poor woman, fares;
	It is her chamber, sir, her lodging chamber.

VERMANDERO	How should the fire come there?

BEATRICE	As good a soul as ever lady countenanc'd,
	But in her chamber negligent and heavy.
	She scap'd a mine twice.

VERMANDERO	Twice?

BEATRICE	Strangely twice, sir.

VERMANDERO	Those sleepy sluts are dangerous in a house,
	And they be ne'er so good.

	[Enter Deflores]

DEFLORES	Oh, poor virginity!
	Thou hast paid dearly for't.

VERMANDERO	Bless us! What's that?

DEFLORES	A thing you all knew once: Diaphanta's burnt.

BEATRICE	My woman, oh, my woman!

DEFLORES	Now the flames are
	Greedy of her; burnt, burnt, burnt to death, sir.

BEATRICE	Oh, my presaging soul!

ALSEMERO	Not a tear more,
	I charge you by the last embrace I gave you
	In bed before this rais'd us.

BEATRICE	Now you tie me;
	Were it my sister now she gets no more.

	[Enter Servant]

VERMANDERO	How now?

SERVANT	All danger's past; you may now take
	Your rests, my lords: the fire is throughly quench'd.
	Ah, poor gentlewoman, how soon was she stifled!

BEATRICE	Deflores, what is left of her inter,
	And we as mourners all will follow her:
	I will entreat that honour to my servant,
	Ev'n of my lord himself.

ALSEMERO	Command it, sweetness.

BEATRICE	Which of you spied the fire first?

DEFLORES	'Twas I, madam.

BEATRICE	And took such pains in't too? A double goodness!
	'Twere well he were rewarded.

VERMANDERO	He shall be.
	Deflores, call upon me.

ALSEMERO	And upon me, sir.

	[Exeunt. Manet Deflores]

DEFLORES	Rewarded? Precious, here's a trick beyond me;
	I see in all bouts both of sport and wit
	Always a woman strives for the last hit.

	[Exit]


	The Changeling


ACT V


SCENE II	A chamber


	[Enter Tomazo]

TOMAZO	I cannot taste the benefits of life
	With the same relish I was wont to do.
	Man I grow weary of, and hold his fellowship
	A treacherous, bloody friendship, and because
	I am ignorant in whom my wrath should settle,
	I must think all men villains; and the next
	I meet, whoe'er he be, the murderer
	Of my most worthy brother.

	[Enter Deflores, passes over the stage]

	Ha! What's he?
	Oh, the fellow that some call honest Deflores;
	But methinks honesty was hard bested
	To come there for a lodging, as if a queen
	Should make her palace of a pest-house.
	I find a contrariety in nature
	Betwixt that face and me. The least occasion
	Would give me game upon him; yet he's so foul
	One would scarce touch him with a sword he loved
	And made account of. So most deadly venomous,
	He would go near to poison any weapon
	That should draw blood on him; one must resolve
	Never to use that sword again in fight
	In way of honest manhood that strikes him.
	Some river must devour 't; 'twere not fit
	That any man should find it.

	[Enter Deflores]

	What, again?
	He walks a' purpose by, sure, to choke me up,
	To infect my blood.

DEFLORES	My worthy noble lord.

TOMAZO	Dost offer to come near and breath upon me?

	[Strikes him]

DEFLORES	A blow.

	[Deflores draws his weapon]

TOMAZO	Yea, are you so prepar'd?
	I'll rather like a soldier die by th' sword
	Then like a politician by thy poison.

DEFLORES	Hold, my lord, as you are honourable.

TOMAZO	All slaves that kill by poison are still cowards.

DEFLORES	[Aside] I cannot strike: I see his brother's wounds
	Fresh bleeding in his eye, as in a crystal.--
	I will not question this; I know y'are noble.
	I take my injury with thanks given, sir,
	Like a wise lawyer, and as a favour,
	Will wear it for the worthy hand that gave it.
	[Aside] Why this from him that yesterday appear'd
	So strangely loving to me? Oh, but instinct
	Is of a subtler strain; guilt must not walk
	So near his lodge again: he came near me now.

	[Exit]

TOMAZO	All league with mankind I renounce forever
	Till I find this murderer. Not so much
	As common courtesy but I'll lock up,
	For in the state of ignorance I live in,
	A brother may salute his brother's murderer,
	And wish good speed to th' villain in a greeting.

	[Enter Vermandero, Alibius and Isabella]

VERMANDERO	Noble Piracquo.

TOMAZO	Pray keep on your way, sir,
	I've nothing to say to you.

VERMANDERO	Comforts bless you, sir.

TOMAZO	I have forsworn complement, in troth I have, sir;
	As you are merely man, I have not left
	A good wish for you, nor any here.

VERMANDERO	Unless you be so far in love with grief
	You will not part from't upon any terms,
	We bring that news will make a welcome for us.

TOMAZO	What news can that be?

VERMANDERO	Throw no scornful smile
	Upon the zeal I bring you, tis worth more, sir:
	Two of the chiefest men I kept about me
	I hide not from the law or your just vengeance.

TOMAZO	Ha!

VERMANDERO	To give your peace more ample satisfaction,
	Thank these discoverers.

TOMAZO	If you bring that calm,
	Name but the manner I shall ask forgiveness in
	For that contemptuous smile upon you:
	I'll perfect it with reverence that belongs
	Unto a sacred altar.

	[Kneels]

VERMANDERO	[Raising him] Good sir, rise,
	Why, now you over-do as much a' this hand
	As you fell short a' t'other. Speak, Alibius.

ALIBIUS	'Twas my wife's fortune, as she is most lucky
	At a discovery to find out lately
	Within our hospital of fools and madmen
	Two counterfeits slipp'd into these disguises,
	Their names, Franciscus and Antonio.

VERMANDERO	Both mine, sir, and I ask no favour for 'em.

ALIBIUS	Now that which draws suspicion to their habits,
	The time of their disguisings agrees justly
	With the day of the murder.

TOMAZO	Oh, blest revelation!

VERMANDERO	Nay more, nay more, sir, I'll not spare mine own
	In way of justice: they both feign'd a journey
	To Briamata, and so wrought out their leaves;
	My love was so abus'd in't.

TOMAZO	Time's too precious
	To run in waste now; you have brought a peace
	The riches of five kingdoms could not purchase.
	Be my most happy conduct. I thirst for 'em:
	Like subtle lightning will I wind about 'em
	And melt their marrow in 'em.

	[Exeunt]


	The Changeling


ACT V


SCENE III	Alsemero's chamber


	[Enter Alsemero and Jasperino]

JASPERINO	Your confidence, I'm sure, is now of proof.
	The prospect from the garden has show'd
	Enough for deep suspicion.

ALSEMERO	The black mask
	That so continually was worn upon't
	Condemns the face for ugly ere 't be seen,
	Her despite to him, and so seeming bottomless.

JASPERINO	Touch it home then; 'tis not a shallow probe
	Can search this ulcer soundly: I fear you'll find it
	Full of corruption. 'Tis fit I leave you.
	She meets you opportunely from that walk;
	She took the back door at his parting with her.

	[Exit Jasperino]

ALSEMERO	Did my fate wait for this unhappy stroke
	At my first sight of woman?

	[Enter Beatrice]

	She's here.

BEATRICE	Alsemero!

ALSEMERO	How do you?

BEATRICE	How do I?
	Alas! How do you? You look not well.

ALSEMERO	You read me well enough; I am not well.

BEATRICE	Not well, sir? Is't in my power to better you?

ALSEMERO	Yes.

BEATRICE	Nay, then y'are cur'd again.

ALSEMERO	Pray resolve me one question, lady.

BEATRICE	If I can.

ALSEMERO	None can so sure. Are you honest?

BEATRICE	Ha, ha, ha, that's a broad question, my lord.

ALSEMERO	But that's not a modest answer, my lady:
	Do you laugh? My doubts are strong upon me

BEATRICE	'Tis innocence that smiles, and no rough brow
	Can take away the dimple in her cheek.
	Say I should strain a tear to fill the vault,
	Which would you give the better faith to?

ALSEMERO	'Twere but hypocrisy of a sadder colour,
	But the same stuff; neither your smiles nor tears
	Shall move or flatter me from my belief:
	You are a whore.

BEATRICE	What a horrid sound it hath!
	It blasts a beauty to deformity;
	Upon what face soever that breath falls,
	It strikes it ugly: oh, you have ruin'd
	What you can ne'er repair again!

ALSEMERO	I'll all demolish and seek out truth within you,
	If there be any left: let your sweet tongue
	Prevent your heart's rifling; there I'll ransack
	And tear out my suspicion.

BEATRICE	You may, sir,
	'Tis an easy passage; yet if you please,
	Show me the ground whereon you lost your love.
	My spotless virtue may but tread on that
	Before I perish.

ALSEMERO	Unanswerable;
	A ground you cannot stand on: you fall down
	Beneath all grace and goodness when you set
	Your ticklish heel on't. There was a visor
	O'er that cunning face, and that became you;
	Now impudence in triumph rides upon't.
	How comes this tender reconcilement else
	'Twixt you and your despite, your rancourous loathing,
	Deflores? He that your eye was sore at sight of,
	He's now become your arms' supporter, your
	Lips' saint.

BEATRICE	Is there the cause?

ALSEMERO	Worse: your lust's devil,
	Your adultery.

BEATRICE	Would any but yourself say that,
	'Twould turn him to a villain.

ALSEMERO	'Twas witness'd
	By the counsel of your bosom, Diaphanta.

BEATRICE	Is your witness dead then?

ALSEMERO	'Tis to be fear'd
	It was the wages of her knowledge, poor soul;
	She liv'd not long after the discovery.

BEATRICE	Then hear a story of not much less horror
	Than this your false suspicion is beguil'd with.
	To your bed's scandal I stand up innocence,
	Which even the guilt of one black other deed
	Will stand for proof of: your love has made me
	A cruel murderess.

ALSEMERO	Ha!

BEATRICE	A bloody one.
	I have kiss'd poison for't, strok'd a serpent,
	That thing of hate, worthy in my esteem
	Of no better employment, and him most worthy
	To be so employ'd I caus'd to murder
	That innocent Piracquo, having no
	Better means than that worst, to assure
	Yourself to me.

ALSEMERO	Oh, the place itself e'er since
	Has crying been for vengeance, the temple
	Where blood and beauty first unlawfully
	Fir'd their devotion and quench'd the right one.
	'Twas in my fears at first: 'twill have it now.
	Oh, thou art all deform'd!

BEATRICE	Forget not, sir,
	It for your sake was done: shall greater dangers
	Make the less welcome?

ALSEMERO	Oh, thou shouldst have gone
	A thousand leagues about to have avoided
	This dangerous bridge of blood; here we are lost.

BEATRICE	Remember I am true unto your bed.

ALSEMERO	The bed itself's a charnel, the sheets shrouds
	For murdered carcasses; it must ask pause
	What I must do in this. Meantime you shall
	Be my prisoner only; enter my closet.

	[Exit Beatrice]

	I'll be your keeper yet. Oh, in what part
	Of this sad story shall I first begin?

	[Enter Deflores]

	Ha! This same fellow has put me in - Deflores.

DEFLORES	Noble Alsemero!

ALSEMERO	I can tell you
	News, sir: my wife has her commended to you.

DEFLORES	That's news indeed, my lord; I think she would
	Commend me to the gallows if she could,
	She ever lov'd me so well. I thank her.

ALSEMERO	What's this blood upon your band, Deflores?

DEFLORES	Blood? No, sure 'twas wash'd since.

ALSEMERO	Since when, man?

DEFLORES	Since t'other day I got a knock
	In a sword and dagger school; I think 'tis out.

ALSEMERO	Yes, 'tis almost out, but 'tis perceiv'd, though.
	I had forgot my message; this it is:
	What price goes murder?

DEFLORES	How, sir?

ALSEMERO	I ask you, sir:
	My wife's behindhand with you, she tells me,
	For a brave, bloody blow you gave for her sake
	Upon Piracquo.

DEFLORES	Upon? 'Twas quite through him, sure.
	Has she confess'd it?

ALSEMERO	As sure as death to both of you,
	And much more than that.

DEFLORES	It could not be much more;
	'Twas but one thing, and that she's a whore.

ALSEMERO	It could not choose but follow. Oh, cunning devils!
	How should blind men know you from fair-fac'd saints?

BEATRICE	[within] He lies, the villain does belie me!

DEFLORES	Let me go to her, sir.

ALSEMERO	Nay, you shall to her.
	Peace, crying crocodile, your sounds are heard;
	Take your prey to you! Get you into her, sir.

	[Exit Deflores]

	I'll be your pander now; rehearse again
	Your scene of lust, that you may be perfect
	When you shall come to act it to the black audience
	Where howls and gnashings shall be music to you.
	Clip your adulteress freely; 'tis the pilot
	Will guide you to the <i>Mare Mortuum</i>,
	Where you shall sink to fathoms bottomless.

	[Enter Vermandero, Alibius, Isabella, Tomazo, Franciscus, and Antonio]

VERMANDERO	Oh, Alsemero. I have a wonder for you.

ALSEMERO	No, sir, 'tis I, I have a wonder for you.

VERMANDERO	I have suspicion near as proof itself
	For Piracquo's murder.

ALSEMERO	Sir, I have proof
	Beyond suspicion for Piracquo's murder.

VERMANDERO	Beseech you hear me: these two have been disguis'd
	E'er since the deed was done.

ALSEMERO	I have two other
	That were more close disguis'd then your two could be,
	E'er since the deed was done.

VERMANDERO	You'll hear me: these mine own servants--

ALSEMERO	Hear me: those nearer than your servants
	That shall acquit them and prove them guiltless.

FRANCISCUS	That may be done with easy truth, sir.

TOMAZO	How is my cause bandied through your delays!
	'Tis urgent in blood, and calls for haste;
	Give me a brother alive or dead:
	Alive, a wife with him; if dead, for both
	A recompense for murder and adultery.

BEATRICE	[within] Oh, oh, oh!

ALSEMERO	Hark, 'tis coming to you.

DEFLORES	[within] Nay, I'll along for company.

BEATRICE	[within] Oh, oh!

VERMANDERO	What horrid sounds are these?

ALSEMERO	Come forth, you twins of mischief.

	[Enter Deflores bringing in Beatrice wounded]

DEFLORES	Here we are; if you have any more
	To say to us, speak quickly. I shall not
	Give you the hearing else; I am so stout yet,
	And so, I think, that broken rib of mankind.

VERMANDERO	An host of enemies entered my citadel
	Could not amaze like this. Joanna, Beatrice Joanna!

BEATRICE	Oh, come not near me, sir; I shall defile you.
	I am that of your blood was taken from you
	For your better health; look no more upon't,
	But cast it to the ground regardlessly:
	Let the common sewer take it from distinction.
	Beneath the stars, upon yon meteor
	Ever hung my fate, 'mongst things corruptible;
	I ne'er could pluck it from him. My loathing
	Was prophet to the rest but ne'er believ'd;
	Mine honour fell with him, and now my life.
	Alsemero, I am a stranger to your bed;
	Your bed was coz'ned on the nuptial night,
	For which your false bride died.

ALSEMERO	Diaphanta!

DEFLORES	Yes, and the while I coupled with your mate
	At barley-break; now we are left in hell.

VERMANDERO	We are all there; it circumscribes us here.

DEFLORES	I lov'd this woman in spite of her heart;
	Her love I earn'd out of Piracquo's murder.

TOMAZO	Ha, my brother's murderer!

DEFLORES	Yes, and her honour's prize
	Was my reward; I thank life for nothing
	But that pleasure: it was so sweet to me
	That I have drunk up all, left none behind
	For any man to pledge me.

VERMANDERO	Horrid villain!
	Keep life in him for further tortures.

DEFLORES	No,
	I can prevent you; here's my penknife still.
	It is but one thread more, [stabbing himself] and now 'tis cut.
	Make haste, Joanna, by that token to thee:
	Canst not forget, so lately put in mind,
	I would not go to leave thee far behind.

	[Dies]

BEATRICE	Forgive me, Alsemero, all forgive;
	'Tis time to die when 'tis a shame to live.

	[Dies]

VERMANDERO	Oh, my name is entered now in that record
	Where till this fatal hour 'twas never read!

ALSEMERO	Let it be blotted out; let your heart lose it,
	And it can never look you in the face,
	Nor tell a tale behind the back of life
	To your dishonour. Justice hath so right
	The guilty hit, that innocence is quit
	By proclamation, and may joy again.
	Sir, you are sensible of what truth hath done;
	'Tis the best comfort that your grief can find.

TOMAZO	Sir, I am satisfied; my injuries
	Lie dead before me. I can exact no more,
	Unless my soul were loose and could o'ertake
	Those black fugitives that are fled from thence
	To take a second vengeance; but there are wraths
	Deeper than mine, 'tis to be fear'd, about 'em.

ALSEMERO	What an opacous body had that moon
	That last chang'd on us! Here's beauty chang'd
	To ugly whoredom, here servant obedience
	To a master sin, imperious murder.
	I, a suppos'd husband, chang'd embraces
	With wantonness, but that was paid before;
	Your change is come too, from an ignorant wrath
	To knowing friendship. Are there any more on's?

ANTONIO	Yes, sir, I was chang'd too, from a little ass as I was to a great fool as I am; and had like to ha' been chang'd to the gallows but that you know my innocence always excuses me.

FRANCISCUS	I was chang'd from a little wit to be stark mad, almost for the same purpose.

ISABELLA	[To Alibius] Your change is still behind,
	But deserve best your transformation.
	You are a jealous coxcomb, keep schools of folly,
	And teach your scholars how to break your own head.

ALIBIUS	I see all apparent, wife, and will change now
	Into a better husband, and never keep scholars
	That shall be wiser then myself.

ALSEMERO	Sir, you have yet a son's duty living;
	Please you accept it. Let that your sorrow,
	As it goes from your eye, go from your heart;
	Man and his sorrow at the grave must part.


	The Changeling


EPILOGUE


	[Enter Alsemero]

ALSEMERO	All we can do to comfort one another,
	To stay a brother's sorrow for a brother,
	To dry a child from the kind father's eyes,
	Is to no purpose; it rather multiplies.
	Your only smiles have power to cause relive
	The dead again, or in their rooms to give
	Brother a new brother, father a child:
	If these appear, all griefs are reconcil'd.

	[Exeunt omnes]


	GLOSSARY


ABATE	to shorten
	filler
	filler