CVPIDS REVENGE.

As it hath beene diuers times Acted by the Children of her Maiesties Reuels.

¶ By Iohn Fletcher.

LONDON Printed by Thomas Creede for Iohas Harison, and are to bee solde at the Golden Anker in Pater-Noster-Row. 1615.

The Printer to the Reader.

IT is a custome vsed by some Writers in this Age to Dedicate their Playes to worthy persons, as well as their other works; and there is reason for it, because they are the best Mineruaes of their braine, and expresse more puritie of conceit in the ingenious circle of an Actor Scaene, then is to be found in the vast circumference of larger Volumnes; and therefore worthy an answerable Mecoenas, to honour and bee ho­noured by them. But not bauing any such Epistle from the Authour (in regard I am not acquainted with him) I haue made bilde my selfe, without his consent to dedicate this Play to the Iuditious in generall, of what degree soeuer; not insinuating herein with any, he they neuer so great, that want iudgement, for to them it belongs not, though they pay for it, more then in this respect, that like AEsops Cocke, hauing met with a precious Stone by accident, they knew not the true vse thereof, but had rather haue a Barlie-corne to their humour, then a perfect Diamond. But lea­uing them to their ignorance, I once againe dedicate this Booke to the Iuditious, some where of I haue heard commend it to be excellent, who, because they saw it Acted, and knew what they spake, are the better to be beleeued: and for my part I censure it thus, That I neuer red a better

CVPIDS REVENG.

¶ Act. pri. Sceana. pri.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus.
Agenor.

TRust me my Lord Dorialus, I had mist of this if you had not call'd me, I thought the Princesses birth day had beene to morrow.

Nisus.

Why, did your Lord­ship sleepe out the day?

Dor.

I maruell what the Duke meant to make such an idle vow.

Nis.

Idle, why?

Dor.

Is't not idle, to sweare to graunt his Daugh­ter any thing she shall aske on her byrth day? she may aske an impossible thing: and I pray heauen she doe not aske an vnfit thing at one time or other; tis dan­gerous trusting a mans vow vpon the discretion on's daughter.

Age.

I wonder most at the Marquesse her brother, who is alwaies vehemently forward to haue her de­sires graunted.

Dor.
Hee's acquainted with 'em before.
Age.
Shee's doubtlesse very chaste and vertuous.
Dor.
So is Leucippus her Brother.
Nis.
Shee's twenty yeere old, I wonder
She aske not a Husband.
Dor.
That were a folly in her, hauing refus'd all the
Great Princes in one part of the world:
Sheele dye a Maide.
Age.
Shee may aske but one, may she?
Nis.
A hundred times this day if shee will;
And indeed, euery day is such a day, for though
The Duke has vow'd it onely on this day,
He keepes it euery day: he can deny
Her nothing.
Cornets.
Enter Hidaspes, Leucippus, Leontius, Timantus, Tellamon.
Leon.
Come fayre Hidaspes, thou art
Dutchesse to day,
Art thou prepard to aske, thou knowest
My oath will force performance.
And Leucippus, if she now aske ought that shall,
Or would haue performance
After my death, when by the helpe of heauen,
This Land is thine, accursed be thy race,
May cuery one forget thou art my sonne,
And so their owne obedience.
Leuci.
Mightie Sir,
I doe not wish to know that fatall houre,
That is to make me King, but if I doe,
I shall most hastily (and like a sonne)
Performe your graunts to all, chiefely to her:
Remember that you aske what wee
Agreed vpon.
Leon.
Are you prepard? then speake.
Hida.
Most Royall Sir, I am prepard,
Nor shall my will exceede a Virgins bounds,
What I request shall both at once bring
Me a full content.
Leon.
So it euer does:
Thou onely comfort of my feeble age,
Make knowne thy good desire,
For I dare sweare thou lou'st me.
Hidas.
This is it I begge,
And on my knees. The people of your Land,
The Lycians, are through all the Nations
That know their name, noted to haue in vse
A vaine and fruitlesse Superstition;
So much more hatefull, that it beares the shew
Of true Religion, and is nothing else
But a selfe-pleasing bold lasciuiousnes.
Leon.
What is it?
Hidas.
Many Ages before this,
When euery man got to himselfe a Trade,
And was laborious in that chosen course,
Hating an idle life, farre worse then death:
Some one that gaue himselfe to wine and sloth,
Which breed lasciuious thoughts;
And found himselfe conioynd
For that by euery painefull man,
To take his staine away, framde to himselfe
A god, whom he pretented to obey,
In being thus dishonest, for a name
He call'd him Cupid. This created god,
Mans nature being euer credulous
Of any vice that takes part with his blood,
Had ready followers enow: and since
In euery age they grew, especially
Amongst your Subiects, who doe yet remaine
Adorers of that drowsie Deitie:
Which drinke inuented: and the winged Boy,
(For so they call him) has his sacrifices.
These loose naked statutes through the Land,
And in euery Village, nay the palace
Is not free from'em. This is my request,
That these erected obsceane Images
May be pluckt downe and burnt: and euery man
That offers to'em any sacrifice, may lose his life.
Leon.
But be aduis'd my fayrest daughter, if he be
A god, he will expresse it vpon thee my childe:
Which heauen auert.
Leucip.
There is no such power:
But the opinion of him fills the Land
With lustfull sinnes: euery young man and mayd
That feele the least desire to one another,
Dare not suppresse it, for they thinke it is
Blinde Cupids motion: and he is a god.
Leon.
This makes our youth vnchaste. I am resolu'd:
Nephew Ismenus, breake the Statues downe
Here in the palace, and command the Citie
Doe the like, let proclamations
Be drawne, and hastily sent through the Land
To the same purpose.
Ismen.
Sir, I will breake downe none my selfe,
But I will deliuer your command:
Hand I will haue none int, for I like it not.
Leon.
Goe and command it. Pleasure of my life,
Wouldst thou ought else? Make many thousand suits,
They must and shall be graunted.
Hid.
Nothing else.
Ezit Ismenus.
Leon.
But goe and meditate on other suites,
Some sixe daies hence Ile giue thee audience againe,
And by a new oath binde my selfe to keepe it:
Aske largely for thy selfe, dearer then life
In whom I may be bold to call my selfe,
More fortunate then any in my age,
I will deny thee nothing.
Leu.
Twas well done Sister.
Exeunt all but these three Lords.
Nis.
How like you this request my Lords?
Dor.
I know not yet I am so full of wonder,
We shall be gods our selues shortly,
And we pull'em out of heauen o'this fashion.
Age.
We shall haue wenches now when we can
Catch'em, and we transgresse thus.
Nis.
And we abuse the gods once, tis a Iustice
We should be held at hard meate: for my part,
Ile eene make ready for mine owne affection,
I know the god incenst, must send a hardnes
Through all good womens hearts, and then we haue
Brought our eggs and muskadine to a faire market:
Would I had gin an 100. poun for a tolleration,
That I might but vse my conscience in mine
Owne house.
Dor.
The Duke hee's old and past it, he would
Neuer haue brought such a plague vpon the land else,
Tis worse then Sword and Famine:
Yet to say truth, we haue deseru'd it, we haue liu'd
So wickedly, euery man at his liuery, and wou'd that
Wou'd haue suffis'd vs: we murmurd at this
Blessing, that was nothing; and cryde out to the
God for endlesse pleasures, he heard vs,
And supplyed vs, and our women were new still
As we need'em: yet we like beasts still cryde,
Poore men can number their woers, giue vs
Abundance: we had it, and this curse with all.
Age.
Berlady we are like to haue a long Lent out,
Flesh will be flesh: now Gentlemen I had rather
Haue angred all the gods then that blinde Gunner.
I remember once the people did but flight him
In a sacrifice: and what followed?
Women kept their houses, grew good huswiues,
Honest forsooth, was not that fine?
Wore their owne faces,
Though they weare gay cloathes without suruaying:
And which was most lamentable,
They lou'd their husbands.
Nis.
I doe remember it to my griefe,
Young Mayds were as cold as Cowcumbors,
And much of that complexion:
Bawds were abolisht: and to which misery
It must come againe.
There were no Cuckolds.
Well, wee had neede pray to keepe these
Diuels from vs,
The times grow mischieuous.
There he goes, Lord!
Enter one with an Image.
This is a sacriledge I haue not heard of:
Would I were gelt, that I might not
Feele what followes.
Age.
And I too. You shall see within these
Few yeeres a fine confusion i'the countrey, marke it:
Nay, and we grow for to depose the Powers,
And set vp Chastitie againe, well I ha done.
A fine new Goddesse certainely, whose blessings
Are hunger and hard bedds.
Nis.
This comes of fulnes, a sin too frequent with vs;
I beleeue now we shall finde shorter commons.
Dor.
Would I were married, som what has some sauour
The race of Gentry will quite run out now,
Tis onely left to husbands: if younger sisters
Take not the greater charitie tis lawfull.
Age.
Well, let come what will come,
I am but one, and as the plague falles,
Ile shape my selfe: If women will be honest, Ile be
Sound, if the god be not too vnmercifull,
Ile take a little still where I can get it,
And thanke him, and say nothing.
Nis.
This ill winde yet may blow the Citie good,
And let them (if they can) get their owne children,
They haue hung long enough in doubt: but howsoe­uer, the old way was the surer, then they had'em.
Dor.
Farewell my Lords, Ile eene take vp what
Rent I can before the day, I feare the yeere will fall out ill.
Age.
Weele with you Sir: And Loue so fauour vs,
As we are still thy seruants. Come my Lords,
Lets to the Duke, and tell him to what folly
His doting now has brought him.
Exeunt.
Priest of Cupid, with foure young men and Maydes.
Priest.
Come my children, let your feete,
In an euen Measure meete:
And your cheerefull voyces rise,
For to present this Sacrifice
Lo great Cupid, in whose name,
I his Priest begin the same.
Yong men take your Loues and kisse,
Thus our Cupid honourd is.
Kisse againe, and in your kissing,
Let no promises be missing:
Nor let any May den here,
Dare to turne away her eare,
Vnto the whisper of her Loue,
But giue Bracelet, Ring, or Gloue,
As a token to her sweeting,
Of an after secret meeting:
Now boy sing, to st [...]cke our hearts
Fuller of great Cupids darts.
[Page]

Song.

Louers reioyce, your paines shall be rewarded,
The god of loue himselfe grieues at your crying;
No more shall frozen honour be rewarded,
Nor the coy faces of a maid denying.
No more shall Virgins sigh, and say we dare not,
For men are false, and what they doe they care not.
All shall be well againe, then doe not greeue,
Men shall be true, and women shall beleeue.
Louers reioyce, what you shall say henceforth,
When you haue caught your Sweet-hearts in your armes,
It shall be accounted Oracle, and worth:
No more faint-hearted Gyrles shall dreame of harmes,
And cry they are too young: the god hath said,
Fifteene shall make a Mother of a Mayd:
Then wise men, pull your Roses yet vnblowne,
Loue hates the too ripe fruite that falles alone.
The Measure.
After the Measure Enter Nilo and others.
Nilo.
No more of this: here breake your Rights for euer
The Duke commands it so; Priest doe not stare,
I must deface your temple, though vnwilling,
And your god Cupid here must make a Scarcrow
For any thing I know, or at the best,
A dorne a Chimney-peece.
Priest.
O Sacriledge vnheard of!
Nilo.
This will not helpe it, take downe the Images
And away with'em.
Priest change your coat you had best, all seruice now
Is giuen to men: prayers aboue their hearing
Will prooue but bablings; learne to lye, and thriue,
Twill prooue your best profession: for the gods,
He that liues by'em now, must be a begger.
There's better holinesse on earth they say,
Pray God it aske not greater sacrifice. Goe home,
And if your god be not deafe as well as blinde,
He will some smoake for it.
Gent.
Sir —
Nilo.
Gentlemen there is no talking,
This must be done, and speedily;
I haue Commission that I must not breake.
Gent.
We are gone, to wonder what shall follow.
Nilo.
On to the next Temple.
Exeunt.
Cornets. Desceudit Cupid.
Cupid.
Am I then scornd? is my all-doing will
And power, that knowes no limit, nor admits none,
Now look't into by lesse then gods? and weakned
Am I, whose Bow strooke terror through the earth,
No lesse then Thunder, and in this, exceeding
Euen gods themselues; whose knees before my Altars
Now shooke off; and contemd by such, whose liues
Are but my recreation! anger rise,
My sufferance and my selfe are made the subiect
Of sinnes against vs. Goe thou out displeasure,
Displeasure of a great god, flying thy selfe
Through all this Kingdome: so we what euer euills
Proud flesh is taking of, amongst these Rebels;
And on the first heart that despise my Greatnesse,
Lay a strange miscry, that all may know
Cupids reuenge is mightie; with his arrow,
Hotter then plagues or mine owne anger, will I
Now Nobly right my selfe: nor shall the prayers
Nor sweete smokes on my Altars hold my hand,
Till I haue left this a most wretched Land,
Exit.
Enter Hidaspes, and Cleophila.
Hidas.
Cleophila, what was he that went hence?
Cleo.
Meanes your Grace now?
Hidas.
I meane that hansome man,
That something more then man I met at dore.
Cleo.
Here was no hansome man.
Hidas.
Come, hee's some one
You would preserue in priuate, but you want
Cunning to doe it, and my eyes are sharper
Then yours, and can with one neglecting glaunce,
See all the graces of a man. Who was't?
Cleo.
That went hence now?
Hidas.
That went hence now: I he.
Cl.
Faith here was no such one as your Grace thinks,
Zoylus your Brothers Dwarfe went out but now.
Hidas.
I thinke twas he: how brauely he past by:
Is he not growne a goodly Gentleman?
Cleo.
A goodly Gentleman Madame?
He is the most deformed fellow i'the Land.
Hidas.
O blasphemy! he may perhaps to thee
Appeare deform'd, for he is indeed
Vnlike a man: his shape and colours are
Beyond the Art of Painting; he is like
Nothing that we haue seene, yet doth resemble
Apollo, as I oft haue fancied him,
When rising from his bedde he sturres himselfe,
And shakes day from his hayre.
Cleo.
He resembles Apollos Recorder.
Exit Cleo.
Hidas.
Cleophila, goe send a page for him,
And thou shalt see thy error, and repent.
Alas what doe I feele, my blood rebells,
And I am one of those I vs'd to scorne,
My mayden-thoughts are fledde against my selfe,
I harbour Traytors in my Virginitie,
That from my child-hood kept me company,
Is heauier then I can endure to beare:
Forgiue me Cupid, for thou art a god,
And I a wretched creature; I haue sinn'd,
But be thou mercifull, and graunt that yet
I may enioy what thou wilt haue me, Loue.
Enter Cle. Enter Zoy.
Cleo.
Zoylus is heere Madame.
Hida.
Hee's there indeed.
Now be thine owne Iudge; see thou worse then mad,
Is he deformed? looke vpon those eyes,
That let all pleasure out into the world,
Vnhappy that they cannot see themselues.
Looke on his hayre, that like so many beames,
Streaking the East, shoore light ore halfe the world.
Looke on him all together, who is made
As if two Natures had contention
About their skill, and one had brought foorth him.
Zoyl.
Ha, ha, ha: Madame, though Nature
Hath not giuen mee so much
As others in my outward shew;
I beare a heart as loyall vnto you
In this vnsightly body (which you please
To make your myrth) as many others doe
That are farre more be friended in their births:
Yet I could wish my selfe much more deformed
Then yet I am, so I might make your Grace
More merry then you are, ha, ha, ha.
Hidas.
Beshrew me then if I be merry;
But I am content whilst thou art with me:
Thou that art my Saint,
By hope of whose milde fauour I doe liue
To tell thee so: I pray thee scorne me not;
Alas, what can it adde vnto thy worth
To tryumph ouer me, that am a Mayd?
Without deceit, whose heart does guide her tongue,
Drownd in my passions, yet I will take leaue.
To call it reason that I dore on thee.
Cleo.
The Princesse is besides her Grace I thinke,
To talke thus with a fellow that will hardly
Serue i'th' darke when one is drunke.
Hidas.
What answere wilt thou giue me?
Zoy.
If it pleafe your Grace to iest on, I can abide it.
Hidas.
If it be iest, not to esteeme my life,
Compard with thee: If it be iest in me,
To hang a thousand kisses in an houre
Vpon those lippes, and take 'em off againe:
If it be iest for me to marry thee,
And take obedience on me whilst I liue:
Then all I say is iest:
For euery part of this, I sweare by those
That see my thoughts, I am resolu'd to doe.
And I beseech thee, by thine owne white hand,
(Which pardon me, that I am bold to kisse
With so vnworthy lippes) that thou wilt sweare
To marry me, as I doe here to thee,
Before the face of heauen.
Zoy.
Marry you! ha, ha, ha.
Hida.
Kill me or graunt: wilt thou not speake at all?
Zoy.
Why I will doe your will for euer.
Hidas.
I aske no more: but let me kisse that mouth
That is so mercifull, that is my will:
Next, goe with me before the King in hast,
That is my will, where I will make our Peeres
Know, that thou art their better.
Zoy.
Ha, ha, ha, that is fine, ha, ha, ha.
Cleo.
Madam, what meanes your Grace?
Consider for the loue of heauen to what
You runne madly; will you take this Viper
Into your bed?
Hidas.
Away, hold off thy hands:
Strike her sweete Zoylous, for it is my will,
Which thou hast sworne to doe.
Zoy.
Away for shame
Know you no manners: ha, ha, ha.
Exit.
Cle.
Thou knowst none I feare,
This is iust Cupids Anger, Uenus looke downe mildely on vs: And commaund thy Sonne to spare this Ladie once, and let me be in loue with all: and none in loue with mee.
Exit.
Enter Ismenus: and Timantus.
Tima.
Is your Lordship for the warres this sommer?
Ismen:
Timantus wilt thou goe with mee?
Tima:
If I had a companie my Lord
Ism:
Of Fidlers: Thou a Companie?
No, no, keepe thy company at home, & cause cuckolds,
The warres will hurt thy face, theres no semsters,
Shoemakers, nor Taylors, nor almon milkith morning,
Nor poacht egges to keepe your worship soluble,
No man to warme your shyrt, and blow your roses:
Nor none to reuerence your round lace breeches:
If thou wilt needes goe, and goe thus,
Get a case for thy Captain-ship, a shower will spoyle thee else. Thus much for thee.
Tim.
Your Lordships wondrous witty, very plea­sant, beleeue't.
Exit.
Enter Telamon, Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus, Leonti.
Leon.
No newes yet my Sonne?
Telam.
Syr, there be diuers out in search:
No doubt theyl bring the truth where hee is,
Or the occasion that ledde him hence.
Tim.
They haue good eyes then.
Leon.
The Gods goe with them:
Who be those that wayte there?
Telam.
The Lord Ismenus, your Generall, for his dispatch.
Leon.
On [...]ph [...]n Wee haue no vse to imploy your
Vertue in our warre: now the prouince is well setled:
Heare you ought of the Marquis?
Ism.
No Syr,
Leon:
Tis strange hee should be gone thus:
This 5. dayes hee was not seene.
Tim.
Ile hold my life, I could boult him in an houre:
Leon:
Wher's my Daughter?
Dori.
About the purging of the Temples, Syr.
Leon:
Shees chast and vertuous; Fetch her to mee,
And tell her I am pleasd to graunt her now
Her last request, without repenting mee.
Be it what it will: shee is wise Dorialus,
And will not presse me farther then a Father.
Exit Nis.
Dori:
I pray the best may follow: yet if your grace
Had taken the opinions of your people,
At least of such, whose wisedomes euer wake
About your safety, I may say it Syr,
Vnder your noble pardon: that this change
Either had bene more honour to the Gods,
Or I thinke not at all. Syr the princesse.
Enter Hidaspis and Nisus.
Leon.
O my Daughter, my health!
And did I say my soule, I lyde not;
Thou art so neere mee, speake, and haue what euer
Thy wise will leades thee too: had I a Heauen,
It were too poore a place for such a goodnes.
Dori:
Whats heere?
Agener.
An Apes skin stufft I thinke, tis so plumpe.
Hida.
Syr, you haue past your word,
Still be a prince, and hold you to it.
Wonder not I presse you, my life lyes in your word,
If you break that, you haue broke my hart, I must aske
Thats my shame, and your will must not deny mee:
Now for Heauen be not for sworne.
Leon:
By the Gods I will not,
I cannot, were there no other power,
Then my loue calld to a witnes of it.
Dori:
They haue much reason to trust,
You haue for sworn one of em out oth coutrey already.
Hida:
Then this is my request: This Gent:
Bee not ashamd, Syr:
You are worth a Kingdome.
Leon:
In what?
Hida:
In way of marriage.
Leon:
How?
Hidas.
In way of Marriage, it must be so.
Your Oath is tyde to heauen: as my loue to him,
Leon.
I know thou doest but trie my Age,
Come aske againe.
Hidas:
If I should aske all my life time, this is all still.
Syr I am serious, I must haue this worthy man with­out enquyring why; and suddenly, and freely:
Doe not looke for reason or obedience in my words:
My Loue admits no wisedome:
Onely hast, and hope hangs on my furie.
Speake Syr, speake, but not as a Father,
I am deafe and dull to counsell: my inflamed bloud
Heares nothing but my will,
For Gods sake speake.
Dori:
Heres a braue alteration.
Nis:
This comes of Chastitie.
Hida:
Will not you speake Syr?
Age.
The God begins his vengeance; what a sweet youth he has sent vs here, with a pudding ins belly?
Leon.
O let me neuer speake,
Or with my words let me speake out my life;
Thou power abusde great Loue, whose vengence now we feele and feare, haue mercie on this Land.
Nis:
How does your Grace?
Leon.
Sicke, very sicke I hope.
Dori:
Gods comfort you.
Hida.
Will not you speake? Is this your royall word?
Doe not pull periurie vpon your soule.
Syr, you are olde, and neere your punishment; re­member.
Leon.
Away base woman.
Hida.
Then be no more my Father, but a plague,
I am bound to pray against: bee any sinne
May force mee to dispaire, and hang my selfe,
Bee thy name neuer more remembred King
But in example of a broken Faith,
And curst euen to forgetfulnes:
May thy Land bring forth such Monsters as thy daughter is?
I am weary of my rage. I pray forgiue mee,
And let mee haue him, will you Noble Syr?
Leon.
Mercie, mercie heauen:
Thou heire of all dishonour, shamest thou not to draw
This little moysture left for life, thus rudely from mee?
Carry that Slaue to death.
Zoilus.
For Heauens sake Syr, it is no fault of mine,
That shee will loue mee.
Leon.
To death with him, I say.
Hida:
Then make hast Tyrant, or Ile be for him;
This is the way to Hell.
Leon.
Hold fast, I charge you away with him.
Hida.
Alas old man, Death hath more dores thē one,
And will meete him.
Exit Hidas.
Leon.
Dorialus, Pray see her in her Chamber,
And lay a guard about her:
The greatest curse the Gods lay on our frailties,
Is will and disobedience in our Issues,
Which wee beget as well as them to plague vs,
With our fond loues; Beasts you are onely blest
That haue that happy dulnesse to forget
What you haue made, your young ones grieue not you
They wander where they list, and haue theyr wayes
Without dishonor to you; and their ends,
Fall on em without sorrow of their parents,
Or after ill remembrance: Oh this Woman
Would I had made my selfe a Sepulcher,
When I made her: Nephew where is the prince?
Pray God hee haue not more part of her basenesse
Then of her bloud about him,
Gent: where is hee?
Ism.
I know not Syr.
Has his wayes by him selfe, is too wise for my com­panie.
Leon.
I doe not like this hiding of him selfe,
From such societie as his person:
Some of it yee needs must know.
Ismenus.
I am sure not I: nor haue knowne twice this ten dayes, which if I were as proude as some of em I should take scuruily, but hee is a young man:
Let him haue his swinge, twill make him.
Timantus whispers to the Duke.
Theres some good matter now in hand:
How the slaue geers and grinnes: the Duke is pleasde.
Theres a newe paire of Scarlet Hose now, and as much
Money to spare, as will fetch the old from pawne, a Hat and a Cloake to goe out to morrow:
Garters and stockings come by nature.
Leon.
Bee sure of this.
Tima.
I durst not speake else Syr.

Actus secundus. Scoena prima.

Cornetts. discend Cupid.
Cupid.
Leucippus thou art shot through with a shaft
That will not rankle long, yet sharpe enough
To sowe a world of helpelesse miserie
In this happie Kingdome, doest thou thinke
Because thou art a prince, to make a part
Against my power, but it is all the fault
Of thy old Father, who belieues his Age
Is colde enough to quench my burning Darts,
But hee shall know ere long, that my smart loose,
Can thawe Ice, and inflame the witherd hart,
Of Nestor, thou thy selfe art lightly stroke,
But his madde loue, shall publish that the rage
Of Cupid, has the power to conquer Age.
Exit.
Enter Bacha, & Leucippus, Bacha, A handkercheffe.
Leu.
Why, whats the matter?
Bach.
Haue you got the spoyle
You thirsted for. O tyrannie of men! Lenc. I pray thee leaue.
Bach.
Your enuie is Heauen knowes,
Beyond the reach of all our feeble Sexe:
What paine alas could it haue bene to you,
If I had kept mine honour? you might still
Haue bene a prince, and still this Countreyes Heyre,
That innocent Guard, which I till now had kept,
For my defence, my vertue, did it seeme
So dangerous in a State, that your selfe came to suppresse it.
Leuc.
Drie thine eyes again, Ile kisse thy teares away,
This is but follic, tis past all helpe.
Bac.
Now you haue wonne the treasure,
Tis my request that you would leaue mee thus:
And neuer see these empty walles againe,
I know you will doe so, and well you may:
For there is nothing in em thats worth
A glaunce, I loath my selfe, and am become
Another woman; One me thinkes with whome
I want acquaintance.
Leu.
If I doe offend thee; I can be gone,
And though I loue thy sight, so highly do I prize thine owne content, that I will leaue thee.
Leu.
Nay, you may stay now;
You should haue gone before: I know not now
Why I should feare you: All I should haue kept.
Is stolne: Nor is it in the power of man
To robbe me farther: if you can inuent
Spare not; No naked man feares robbing lesse
Then you doe: now you may for euer stay.
Leuc.
Why, I could doe thee farther wrong.
Bac.
You haue a deeper reach in euill then I:
Tis past my thought.
Leu.
And past my will to act: but trust mee I could doe it.
Bac.
Good Syr doe, that I may knowe there is a
Wrong beyond what you haue done mee.
Leuc.
I could tell the world what thou hast done.
Bac:
Yes you may tell the world
And doe you thinke I am so vaine to hope
You will not: you can tell the world but this,
That I am a widdow, full of teares in shewe,
My Husband dead: And one that lou'd mee so
Hardly, a weeke forgot my modestie,
And caught with youth and greatnesse,
Gaue my selfe to liue in sinne with you:
This you may tell: And this I doe deserue.
Leuc.
Why doest thou thinke mee so base to tell?
These limmes of mine shall part
From one another on a wracke,
Ere I disclose; But thou doest vtter words
That much asflict mee: you did seeme as ready
Sweete Bacha as my selfe.
Bac.
You are right a man: when they haue witcht vs into miserie, poore innocent soules,
They lay the fault on vs:
But bee it so- For prince Leucippus sake
I will beare anything.
Leu.
Come weepeno more.
I wrought thee to it, it was my fault:
Nay, see if thou wilt leaue? Here, take this pearle,
Kisse me sweete Bacha, and receiuet this purse.
Bac.
What should I doe with these? they will not decke my minde.
Leu
Why keepe em to remember mee.
I must be gone, I haue bene absent long:
I know the Duke my Father is in rage,
But I will see thee suddenly againe.
Farewell my Bacha.
Bach
Gods keepe you: Do you heare Syr: pray giue me a point to weare.
Leuc.
Alas good Bacha, take one, I pray thee where thou wilt.
Bac.

Comming from you: This point is of as high Esteeme with mee, as all pearle and golde: nothing but good bee euer with or neere you.

Leuc.
Fare thee well mine owne good Bacha;
I will make all haste.
Exit.
Bac.
Iust as you are a Dosen I esteeme you:
No more, does he thinke I would prostitute
My selfe for loue: it was the loue of these pearles
And golde that wanne mee, I confesse
I lust more after him then anyother,
And would at any rate if I had store,
Purchase his fellowship: but being poore,
Ile both enjoy his bodie and his purse,
And hee a Prince, nere thinke my selfe the worse.
Enter Leontius, Leucippus, Ismenus, Timantus.
Leon.
Nay, you must backe and shew vs what it is,
That witches you out of your Honour thus.
Bac.
Whose that?
Tima.
Looke there Syr.
Leon.
Lady, neuer flye you are betrayde.
Bach.
Leaue mee my teares a while,
And to my iust rage giue a little place:
What saucy man are you, that without leaue,
Enter vpon a Widdowes mournefull house?
You hinder a dead man from many teares.
Who did deserue more then the world can shed,
Though they should weepe themselues to Images:
If not for of mee, yet of your selfe
A way, for you can bring no comfort to mee.
But you may carry hence, you know not what.
Nay sorrow is infectious.
Leon.
Thou thy selfe
Art growne infectious: woulst thou know my name?
I am the Duke, father to this young man
Whom thou corruptst.
Bach.
Has he then told him all.
Leuc.
You doe her wrong Sir.
Bach.
O he has not told. Sir I beseech you pardon
My wild tongue, directed by a weak distempord head, madded with griefe: Alas I did not know
You were my Soueraigne; but now you may
Command my poore vnworthy life,
Which will be none I hope ere long.
Le.
All thy dissembling will neuer hide thy shame:
And wert not more respecting Woman-hood in
Generall, then any thing in thee, thou shouldst
Be made such an example, that posteritie,
When they wou'd speake most bitterly, should say,
Thou art as impudent as Bacha was.
Bach.
Sir, though you be my King, whom I will
Serue in all iust causes: yet when wrongfully
You seeke to take mine Honour, I will rise
Thus and defie you; for it is a Iewell
Dearer then you can giue, which whilst I keepe,
(Though in this lowly house) I shall esteeme
My selfe aboue the Princes of the earth
That are without it. If the Prince your sonne,
Whom you accuse me with, know how to speake
Dishonour of me, if he doe not doe it,
The plagues of hell light on him, may he neuer
Gouerne this Kingdome: here I chalenge him
Before the face of heauen, my Liege, and these,
To speake the worst he can: if he will lye,
To lose a womans fame, Ile say he is
Like you (I thinke I cannot call him worse.)
Hee's dead, that with his life would haue defended
My reputation, and I forc't to play
(That which I am) the foolish woman,
And vse my liberall tongue.
Leu.
Is't possible! we men are children in our
Carriages, compard with women: wake thy felfe
For shame, and leaue not her whose honour thou
Shou'dst keepe safe as thine own, alone to free her self:
But I am prest I know not how, with guilt,
And feele my conscience (neuer vs'd to lye)
Loth to allow my tongue to adde a lye
To that too much I did: but it is lawfull
To defend her, that onely for my loue lou'd euill.
Leon.
Tell me, why did you
Leuc.
stay here so long?
Leuc.
If I can vrge ought from me but a truth, hell
Take me.
Leon.
Whats the matter, why speake you not?
Tima.
Alas good Sir, forbeare
To vrge the Prince, you see his shamefastnes.
Bac.
What does he say Sir? if you be a Prince
Shew it, and tell the truth.
Isme.
If you haue layne with her tell your Father,
No doubt he has done as ill before now:
The Gentlewoman will be proud ont.
Bac.
For Gods sake speake.
Leu.
Haue you done prating yet?
Isme.
Who prates?
Leu
Thou knowst I do not speake to thee Ismenus:
But what said you Tima. concerning my shamefastnes?
Tima.
Nothing I hope that might displease your
Highnes.
Leu.
If any of thy great, Great-grandmothers
This thousand yeeres, had beene as chaste as she,
It wou'd haue made thee honester. I stayd
To heare what you wou'd say: she is by heauen
Of the most strict and blamelesse chastitie
That euer woman was: (good gods forgiue me)
Had Tarquin met with her, she had beene kild
With a Slaue by her ere she had agreed:
I lye with her! wou'd I might perish then.
Our Mothers, whom we all must reuerence,
Could nere exceede her for her chastitie,
Vpon my soule: for by this light shee's
A most obstinate modest creature.
Leon.
What did you with her then so long Leucip?
Leu.
Ile tell you Sir: You see shee's beautifull.
Leon.
I see it well.
Leu.
Moou'd by her face,
I came with lustfull thoughts,
Which was a fault in me:
But telling ttuth, something more pardonable,
(And for the world I will not lye to you:)
Proud of my selfe, I thought a Princes name
Had power to blow'em downe flat of their backs;
But here I found a Rocke not to be shooke:
For as I hope for good Sir, all the battery
That I could lay to her, or of my person,
My greatnes, or gold, could nothing mooue her.
Leon.
Tis very strange, being so young and fayre.
Leu.
Shee's almost thirtie Sir.
Leon.
How doe you know her age so iust?
Leu.
She told it me her selfe
Once when she went about to shew by reason
I should leaue wooing her.
Leon.
She staines the ripest Virgins of the age.
Leu.
If I had sinn'd with her, I would be loth
To publish her disgrace: but by my life
I would haue told it you, because I thinke
You would haue pardond me the rather:
And I will tell you father: By this light Sir,
(But that I neuer will bestow my selfe
But to your liking) it she now would haue me,
I now would marry her.
Leon.
How's that Leucippus!
Leu.
Sir, will you pardon me one fault, which yet
I haue not done, but had a will to doe, and I will tel it?
Leon.
Bee't what it will, I pardon thee.
Leu.
I offerd marriage to her.
Leon.
Did she refuse it?
Leu.
With that earnestnes, and almost scorne
To thinke of any other after her lost Mate, that she
Made me thinke my selfe vnworthy of her.
Leon.
You haue stayd too long Leucippus.
Leu.
Yes Sir, forgiue me heauen, what multitudes
Of oathes haue I bestowd on lyes, and yet they were officious lyes, there was no malice in 'em.
Leon.
She is the fayrest creature that euer I beheld;
And then so chaste, tis wonderfull! the more I looke
On her, the more I am amaz'd.
I haue long thought of a wife, and one I would haue
Had, but that I was afraid to meete a woman
That might abuse my age: but here she is
Whom I may trust too; of a chastitie
Impregnable, and approued so by my sonne:
The meanes of her byrth will still preserue her
In due obedience; and her beauty is
Of force enough to pull me backe to youth.
My sonne once sent away, whose riuall-shippe
I haue iust cause to feare, if power, or gold,
Or wit, can win her to me, she is mine.
Nephew Ismenus, I haue new intelligence,
Your Prouince is vnquiet still.
Ismen.
Ime glad ont.
Leon.
And so dangerously, that I must send the
Pirnce in person with you.
Isme.
Ime glad of that too: Sir will you dispatch
Vs, we shall wither heere for euer.
Leon.
You shall be dispacht within this houre,
Leucippus, neuer wonder nor aske, it must be thus.
Lady I aske your pardon, whose vertue I haue
Slubberd with my tongue, and you shall euer be
Chaste in my memory hereafter;
But we old men often dote: to make amends for
My great fault, receiue that Ring:
Ime sorry for your griefe, may it soone leaue you.
Come my Lords lets goe.
Exeunt.
Bac.
Heauen blesse your Grace.
One that had but so much modestie left, as to blush,
Or shrinke a little at his first encounter,
Had beene vndone; where I come off with honour,
And gayne too: they that neuer wou'd be trackt
In any course, by the most suttle sense,
Must beare it through with frontlets impudence.
Exit.
Enter Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus.
Dor.
Gentlemen, this is a strange peece of Iustice,
To put the wretched Dwarfe to death because
She doted on him; Is she not a woman, and
Subiect to those mad figaries her whole Sexe
Is infected with? Had she lou'd you, or you, or I,
Or all on's, (as indeed the more the merryer still
With them) must we therefore haue our heads par'd
With a Hatchet? So she may loue all the Nobility
Out ath Duke dome in a month, and let the raskals in.
Nis.
You will not, or you doe not see the neede
That makes this iust to the world?
Dor.
I cannot tell, I would be loth to feele it:
But the best is, she loues not proper men, we three
Were in wise cases else: but make me know this need.
Nis.

Why yes: Hee being taken away, this base incontinence dyes presently, and shee must see her shame and sorrow for it.

Dor.

Pray God she doe: but was the Sprat behea­ded, or did they swing him about like a chickin, and so breake his necke.

Agen.

Yes, he was beheaded, and a solemne iustice made of it.

Dor.
That might haue beene deducted.
Agen.
Why how would you haue had him dide?
Dor.

Faith I would haue had him rosted like a war­den in a browne paper, and no more talke ont: or a teather stucke in's head, like a Quaile: or a hangd him in a Dog-coller: what should hee be beheaded? wee shall haue it grow so base shortly, Gentlemen will be out of loue with it.

Nis.

I wonder from whence this of the Dwarfes first sprung?

Dor.

From an olde leacherous payre of breeches that lay vpon a wench to keepe her warme: for cer­tainely they are no mans worke: and I am sure a Mon­key would get one of the guard to this fellow, he was no bigger then a small Portmantu, and much about that making, if t'ad legs.

Agen.
But Gentlemen, what say you to the Prince?
N.
I, concerning his being sent I know not whither.
Dor.

Why then hee will come home I know not when: you shall pardon me, Ile talke no more of this subiect, but say gods be with him where ere he is, and sende him well home againe: For why, hee is gone, or when he will returne, let them know that directed him: Onely this, there's mad Moriscoes in the state; but what they are, Ile tell you when I know. Come, lets goe, heare all, and say nothing.

Agen.
Content.
Exeunt.
Enter Timantus and Telamon.
Tela.
Timantus, is the Duke ready yet?
Tima.
Almost.
Tela.
What ayles him?
Tela.

Faith I know not, I thinke he has dreamt he's but eighteene: has been worse since he sent you forth for the frizling-yron.

Tel.

That cannot be, he lay in Gloues all night, and this morning I brought him a new Periwig with a locke at it, and knockt vp a swinge in's chamber.

Tim.

O but since, his Taylor came, and they haue fallen out about the fashion on's cloathes: and yon­ders a fellow come, has board a hole in's eare; and he has bespake a Vauting-horse, you shall see him come foorth presently: hee lookes like Winter, stucke here and there with fresh flowers.

Tela.
Will he not Tilt thinke you?
Tim.
I thinke he will.
Tela.
What does he meane to doe?
Tim.

I know not: but by this light I thinke hee is in loue; he wou'd ha bin shau'd but for me.

Tela.
In loue, with whome?
Tim.

I could guesse, but you shall pardon me: hee will take me along with him some whither.

Tel.

I ouer-heard him aske your opinion of some bodies beautie.

Tima.

Yes, there it goes that makes him so youth­full, and has layd by his Crutch, and halts now with a leading staffe.

Enter Leontine with a staffe and a looking-glasse.
Leon.
Timantus.
Tim.
Sir.
Leon.
This Feather is not large enough.
Tim.
Yes faith, tis such a one as the rest of the yong
Gallants weare.
Leon.
Telamon, does it doe well?
Tela.

Sir, it becomes you, or you become it, the rareliest —

Leon.
Away, dost thinke so?
Tela.

Thinke sir? I know it. Sir, the Princesse is past all hope of life since the Dwarfe was put to death.

Leo.

Let her be so, I haue other matters in hand: but this same Taylor angers me, he has made my dublet so wide: and see, the knaue has put no points at my arme.

Tima.

Those will be put too quickly Sir, vpon any occasion.

Leon.
Telamon, haue you bid this Dauncer come a mornings?
Tela.
Yes Sir.
Leon.

Timantus, let me see the glasse againe: looke you how carelesse you are growne, is this tooth well put in?

Tima.
Which Sir?
Leon.
This Sir.
Tima.
It shall be.
Tela.

Me thinks that tooth should put him in mind on's yeeres: and Timantus stands as if (seeing the Duke in such a youthfull habite) he were looking in's mouth how olde he were.

Leon.
So, fo.
Tela.
Will you haue your Gowne sir?
Leon.

My Gowne? why, am I sicke? bring mee my Sword.

Exit Tela.
Timantus,

Let a couple of the great horses be brought out for vs.

Tima.
Heele kill himselfe. Why, will you ride sir?
Leon.
Ride? Doft thou thinke I cannot ride?
Timan.

O yes sir, I know it: but as I conceiue your iourney, you wou'd haue it priuate; and then you were better take a Coach.

Leon.

These Coaches make mee sicke: yet tis no matter, let it be so.

Enter Telamon with a sword.
Tel.
Sir, heere's your sword.
Leon.

O well sed: let me see it, I could me thinkes. Why Telamon, bring me another: what, thinkst thou I will weare a sword in vaine?

Tela.

He has not strenghth enough to draw it, a yoake of Fleas tyde to a hayre would haue drawne it. Tis out sir now, the Scabbert is broke.

Leon.

O put it vp againe, and on with it; me thinks I am not drest till I feele my sword on.

Leon.
Telamon, if any of my counsell aske for mee,
Say I am gone to take the ayre.
Tim.

He has not bene drest this twenty yeares then, If this vaine holde but a weeke, hee will learne to play oth base violl and sing too't: Hees poeticall alreadie; For I haue spyde a Sonnet ons making lye by's beddes side, Ile be so vnmannerly to reade it.

Exit.
Enter Hidaspes: Cleophila, and Hero, Hidaspes in a Bedde.
Hees dead, hees dead, and I am following.
Cleo.
Aske Cupid mercie Madame.
Hida.
O my hart!
Cleo.
Helpe! stirre her:
Hero: Hida:
ô, ô.
Cleo.
Shees going, wretched women that wee are:
Looke to her, and Ile pray the while.
Hero.
Why Maddame?
Shee kneeles.
Cleo:
Cupid pardon what is past,
And forgiue our sinnes at last,
Then we will be coye no more,
But thy Deitie Adore,
Troths at fifteene wee will plight,
And will tread a Dance each night,
In the Fields, or by the Fire,
With the youths that haue desire.

How does shee yet?

Hero.
O ill:
Cleo.
Giuen Eare-rings we will weare,
Bracelets of our Louers haire,
Which they on our Armes shall twist,
With theyr Names caru'd on wrist,
All the Money that wee owe,
Wee in Tokens will bestowe:
And learne to write, that when tis sent,
Onely our Loues know what it meant:
O then pardon what is past,
And forgiue our sinnes at last.

What, Minds shee?

Hero.
Nothing, you do it not want only, you shuld sing
Hero.
Leaue, leaue, tis now too late:
Cleo.
Why Shee is dead:
Hero.
Her last is breathed.
Cleo.
What shall wedoe.
Hero.
Goe runne,
And tell the Duke; And whilst Ile close her eyes.
Thus I shutte thy faded light,
And put it in eternall night.
Where is shee can boldly say
Though shee be as fresh as May:
She shall not by this Corps be laid,
Ere to morrowes light doe fade.
Let vs all now liuing bee,
Warnd by thy strict Chastitie.
And marry all fast as we can,
Till then we keepe a piece of man,
Wrongfully from them that owe it
Soone may euery Maide bestow it.
Enter Bacha and a Maide.
Bac.
Who is it?
Maid.
Forsooth theres a gallant Coach at the dore,
And the braue old man int, that you said was the Duke.
Bac.
Cupid graunt hee may be taken.
Away.
Maid.

Hee is comming vp, and lookes the swag­geriugst, & has such glorious cloathes. Bac: Let all the house see me sad, and see all handsome.

Enter Leontius & Timantus, a Iewell, & a Ring.
Leon.

Nay widdow flie not back, we come not now to chide, stand vp and bidde me welcome.

Bac.
To a poore widdows house that knowes no end
Of her ill fortune: your Highnes is most welcome.
Leon.

Come kisse me then, this is but manners wid­dow: Nere fling your head aside, I haue more cause of griefe then you: my Daughters dead: but what? Tis nothing, is the rough French horse brought to the dore? They say he is a high goer, I shall soone try his mettall.

Tim.

Hee will be sir, and the gray Barbary, they are fiery both.

Leon.

They are the better: Before the gods I am lightsome, very lightsome: How doest thou like mee Widdowe?

Bac.
As a person in whome all graces are,
Leon.

Come, Come, yee flatter: Ile clappe your cheeke for that, and you shall not be angry.

Hast no Musicke? Now could I cutte three times with ease, and doe a crosse point, should shame all your gallants.

Bach:

I doe belieue you, and your selfe too: Lorde what a fine olde Zany my Loue has made him? Is' mine, I am sure: Heauen make mee thankfull for him.

Leu:
Tell mee how olde thou art, my pretty sweet heart?
Timant.
Your Grace will not buye her, shee may trippe Syr?
Bac:
My sorrowe showes mee Elder then I am by many yeares?
Leon.
Thou art so witty I must kisse agen.
Tim.

In deed her Age lyes not in her mouth: nere looke it there Syr she has a better register, if it be not burnt.

Leon.
I will kisse thee, I am a fire Timanthus.
Timanth.

Can you chuse Syr, hauing such heauenly Fire before you?

Lern.
Widdow, guesse why I come, I prethee doe.
Bac.

I cannot Syr, vnles you bee pleasde to make a myrth out of my rudenesse: and that I hope your pit­tie will not let yee, the subiect is so barren: Bite King Bite, Ile let you play a while.

Leon:

Now as I am an honest man, Ile tell thee tru­ly, how many foote did I iump yesterday Timanthus?

Tim.
Fourteen of your owne, & some three fingers.
Bach.
This Fellow lyes as lightly, as if hee were in cutte Taffata.
Alas good Almanacke get thee to Bedde, and tell what weather wee shall haue to morrow.
Leon.
Widdow I am come in short to be a Suiter.
Bach:
For whome?
Leon:

Why by my troth, I come to woo thee wench: And winne thee for my selfe: Nay, looke vpon mee: I haue about mee that will doe it.

Bac:

Now Heauen defend mee, your whore shall neuer: I thanke the Gods, I haue a little left mee to keepe me warme, and honest: if your grace take not that, I seeke no more.

Leon.
I am so farre from taking any thing, Ile adde vnto thee.
Bach:

Such Additions may bee for your ease Syr, Not my honestie: I am well in being single, good Syr seeke another, I am no meate for money.

Leon.
Shall I fight for thee?
This Sword shall cut his throte, that dares lay clayme
But to a Finger of thee, but to a looke, I would
See such a fellow.
Bac:
It would bee but a cold sight to you:
This is the father of S. George a foote-backe,
Can such drie Mumming talke.
Tim.
Before the gods, your grace looks like AEncaes.
Bac.
Hee lookes like his olde father vpon his backe,
Crying to get Aboord.
Leon.
How shall I win thy loue, I pray thee tell me?
Ile marry thee if thou desirest that: That is an honest
Course, I am in good earnest, and presently within this houre, I am madde for thee: prethee deny me not,
For as I liue Ile pine thee, but Ile haue thee.
Bac:
Now hees in the Toyle, ile hold him fast.
Tim.
You doe not know what tis to be a Queene,
Goe to your Maide, else what the olde man falls short of, theres others can eech out, when you please to call on em.
Bac:
I vnderstand you not, Loue I adore thee,
Syr, on my knees I giue you harty thanks, for so much
Honouring your humble Handmayd aboue her byrth:
Farre more her weake deseruings. I dare-not trust the
Enuiou: tongues of all that must repine at my vnwor­thy rising.
Beside, you haue many fayre ones in your kingdome
Borne to such woorth: ô turne your selfe about
And make a Noble choyse.
Leon.
If I doe, let me famish: I will haue thee,
Or breake vp house, and boord heere.
Bac.

Sir, you may command an vnwilling woman to obey vee: but heauen knowes —

Leon.

No more: these halfe a dozen kisses, and this Iewell, and euery thing I haue, and away with me, and clappe it vp; and haue a boy by the morning Timan­tus. Let one be sent post for my sonne againe: and for Ismenus, they are scarce twentie mile on their way yet, by that time weele be married.

Tima.
There shall Sir.
Exeunt.
Finis Act. secundi.

Actus tertij. Scoen. pri.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus.
Nisus.
Is not this a fine mariage?
Age.
Yes, yes, let it alone.
Dor.

I, I, the King may marry whom's list, lets talke of other matters.

Nis.
Is the Prince comming home certainely?
Dor.

Yes, yes, hee was sent post for yesterday, lets make haste, weele see how his new Mother-in-law will entertaine him.

Nis.

Why well I warrant you: did you not marke how humbly she carryed her selfe to vs on her mariage day, acknowledging her owne vnworthynesse, and [Page] that she would be our seruant.

Dor.
But marke whats done. Nis. regard not shew
Age.

O God! I knew her when I haue beene offred her to be brought to my bed for fiue pound: whether it could haue beene performd or no, I know not.

Nis.
Her daughters a pretty Lady.
Dor.

Yes: and hauing had but meane bringing vp, it talks the pretlest and innocentlest, the Queene wilbe so angry to heare her betray her breeding by her lan­guage: but I am perswaded shee's well dispos'd.

Age.
I thinke better then her mother.
Nis.
Come, we stay too long.
Exeunt.
Enter Leucippus and Ismenus.
Isme.
How now man, strooke dead with a tale?
Leu.
No, but with a truth.
Isme.

Stand of your selfe: can you endure blowes, and shrinke at words?

Leu.
Thou knowst I haue told thee all.
Ism.
But that all's nothing to make you thus: your
Sisters dead.
Leu.
Thats much, but not the most.
Isme.

Why, for the other let her marry and hang, tis no purpos'd fault of yours: and if your father will needes haue your cast whore, you shall shew the duty of a childe better in being contented, and bidding much good doe his good old heart with her, then in repining thus at it: let her goe: what, there are more wenches man, weele haue another.

L.
O thou art vaine, thou knowst I do not loue her:
What shall I doe? I would my tongue had led me
To any other thing, but Blasphemy,
So I had mist commending of this woman,
Whom I must reuerence now, she is my mother;
My finne Ismenus has wrought all this ill:
And I beseech thee, to be warnd by me,
And doe not lye, if any man should aske thee
But How thou dost, or, What a clocke tis now,
Be sure thou doe not lye, make no excuse
For him that is most neere thee: neuer let
The most officious falsehood scape thy tongue,
For they aboue (that are intirely truth)
Will make that seede, which thou hait fowne
Of lyes, yeeld miseries a thousand sold
Vpon thine head, as they haue done of mine.
Enter Timantus.
Tim.

Sir, your Highnes is welcome home, the Duke and Queene will presently come foorth to you.

Leu.
Ile waight on them.
Tima.

Worthy Ismenus, I pray how haue you sped in your warres?

Isme.

This Rogue mocks me. Well Timantus, 'pray how haue you sped here at home at shouelboord?

Tim.

Faith reasonable. How many Townes haue you taken in this Summer?

Isme.

How many Stagges haue you beene at the death of this grasse?

Tim.
A number. 'pray how is the prouince setled?
Isme.
Prethee how does the dunne Nagge?
Tim.
I thinke you mocke me my Lord.
Isme.

Mocke thee? Yes by my troth doe I: why what wouldst thou haue me doe with thee? Art good for any thing else?

Enter Leontius, Bacha, Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus, Telamon.
Leu.
My good Ismenus, hold me by the wrist:
And if thou see'st me fainting, wring me hard,
For I shall soone againe else —
Kneeles.
Leon.
Welcome my sonne; rise, I did send for thee
Backe from the Prouince, by thy Mothers counsell,
Thy good Mother here, who loues thee well:
She would not let me venture all my Ioy
Amongst my enemies: I thanke thee for her,
And none but thee, I tooke her on thy word.
Leuc.
Pinch harder.
Leon.
And she shall bid thee welcome: I haue now
Some neere affayres, but I will drinke a Health
To thee a non: Come Telamon, Ime growne
Lustier, I thanke thee for't, since I marryed;
I can stand now alone, why Telamon,
And neuer stagger.
Exit Leontius, Telamon.
Bac.
Welcome most noble sir, whose fame is come
Hither before you: out alas you scorne me,
And teach me what to doe.
Leu.
No, you are my Mother.
Bac.
Farre vnworthy of that name God knowes:
But trust me, here before these Lords,
I am no more but Nurse vnto the Duke;
Nor will I breede a faction in the State,
It is too much for me that I am rays'd
Vnto his bed, and will remaine the seruant
Of you that did it.
Leu.
Madame I will serue you
As shall become me. O dissembling woman!
Whom I must reuerence though Take from thy
Quiuer, suer-aymd Apollo, one of thy swift darts,
Headed with thy consuming golden beames,
And let it melt this body into mist,
That none may finde it.
Bac.
Shall I begge my Lords
This Roome in priuate for the Prince and me?
Exeunt all but Leu. and Bach.
Leu.
What will she say now?
Bach.
I must still enioy him:
Yet there is still left in me a sparke of woman,
That wishes hee would moue it, but he stands,
As if hee grewe there with his eyes on earth,
Syr, you and I when we were last together
Kept not this distance as we were afraide
Of blasting by our selues.
Leu:
Madame tis true, Heauen pardon it.
Bac:
Amen Syr.
You may thinke that I haue done you wrong in this strange marriage,
Leu:
Tis past now.
Bac:
But it was no fault of mine:
The world had calld me madde, had I refusde
The King: nor layde I any traine to catch him,
It was your owne Oathes did it.
Leuc:
Tis a truth: that takes my sleepe away, but
Woud to Heauen, if it had so beene pleasde, you had
Refusde him, though I had gratifide that courtesie
With hauing you my selfe: But since tis thus,
I doe beseech you that you will bee honest
From henceforth, and not abuse his credulous Age,
Which you may easily doe. As for my selfe
What I can say you know alas too well
Is tyde within me, here it will sit like lead,
But shall offend no other, it will plucke mee
Backe from my entrance into any myrth,
As if a seruant came, and whisperd with mee
Of some Friends death, but I will beare my selfe,
To you, with all the due obedience
A sonne owes to a Mother: more then this,
Is not in mee, but I must leaue the rest to the
Iust gods: who in their blessed time,
When they haue giuen me punishment enough,
For my rash sinne, will mercifully finde
As vnexpected meanes to ease my griefe
As they did now to bring it.
Bac:
Growne so godly: this must not bee. And
I wilbe to you, no other then a natural Mother ought:
And for my honestie, so you will sweare
Neuer to vrge me, I shall keep it safe from any other.
Leu.
Blesse mee I should vrge you?
Bac.
Nay but sweare then that I may be at peace,
For I doe feele a weaknesse in my selfe,
That can denie you nothing, if you tempt me,
I shall embrace finne as it were a frend, and runne to meet it
Leu.
If you know how farre
It were from mee, you would not vrge an Oath,
But for your satistaction, when I tempt you.
Bac:
Sweare not: I cannot moue him, this sad talke
Of things past helpe, does not become vs well.
Shall I send one for my Musitions and weele daunce?
Leu.
Dance Madame.
Bac.
Yes, Alaualta.
Leu.
I canot dance Madam.
Bac.
Then lets be mery
Leu.
I am as my Fortunes bidde me.
Doe not you see mee sowre?
Leu.
Yes.
And why thinke you I smile?
Leu.
I am so farre from any ioy my selfe,
I cannot fancie a cause of myrth.
Bac.
He tell you, we are alone:
Leu.
Alone. Bac. Yes.
Leu.
Tis true, what then?
Bac.
What then? you make my smiling now
Break into laughter: what think you is to be don then?
Leu.
We should pray to Heauen for mercie.
Bac.
Pray, that were a way indeede
To passe the time, but I will make you blush,
To see a bashfull woman teach a man
What wee should doe alone, trye againe
If you can finde it out.
Leu.
I dare not thinke I vnderstand you.
Ba.
I must teach you then; Come, kisse me.
Leu.
Kisse you?
Bac.
Yes, be not ashamde:
You did it not your selfe, I will forgiue you.
Leue.
Keepe you displeased gods, the due respect
I ought to beare vnto this wicked woman,
As shee is now my Mother, Hast within mee,
Least I adde sins to sinnes, till no repentance will cure mee.
Bac.
Leaue these melancholly moodes,
That I may sweare thee welcome on thy lippes
A thousand times.
Leuc.
Pray leaue this wicked talke,
You doe not knowe to what my Fathers wrong
May vrge mee.
Bac.
I me carelesse, and doe weigh
The world, my life, and all my after hopes
Nothing without thy Loue, mistake me not:
Thy Loue, as I haue had it, free and open
As wedlock is, within it selfe, what say you?
Leu.
No-thing.
Bac.
Pitty me, beholde a Duchesse
Kneeles for thy mercie, and I sweare to you,
Though I should iye with you, it is no Lust,
For it desires no change, I could with you
Content my selfe: what answere will you giue?
Leuc.
They that can answere must be lesse amazde,
Then I am now: you see my teares deliuer
My meaning to you.
Bac.
Shall I be contemd? thou art a beast, worse thē a sauage beast,
To let a Lady kneele, to begge that thing
Which a right man would offer.
Leu.
Tis your will Heauen: but let me beare me like
My selfe, how euer shee does.
Ba.
Were you made an Eunuch, since you went hēce? yet they haue more desire then I can finde in you:
How fond was I to beg thy loue? He force thee to my will
Doest thou not know that I can make the King
Dote as my list? yeeld quickly, or by Heauen
Ile haue thee kept in prison for my purpose,
Where I will make thee serue my turne, and haue thee fed
With such meates as best shall sit my endes
And not thy health, why doest not speake to mee?
And when thou doest displease mee, and art growne
Lesse able to performe; then I will haue thee
Kill'd and forgotten: Are you striken dumbe?
Leu.
All you haue nam'de, but making of me sinne
With you, you may commaund, but neuer that;
Say what you will, Ile heare you as becomes me,
If you speake, I will not follow your counsell,
Neither will I tell the world to your disgrace,
But giue you the iust honour
That is due from me to my Fathers wife.
Bac:
Lord how full of wise formality you are grown
Of late: but you were telling mee
You could haue wisht that I had marry'd you,
If you will sweare so yet, Ile make away the King.
Leuc.
You are a strumpet.
Bach.
Nay, I care not
For all your Raylings: They will Batter walls
And take in Townes, as soone as trouble mee
Tell him, I care not, I shall vndoe you only, which is no matter.
Leuc:
I appeale to you still, and for euer, that are
And cannot be other, Madame I see tis in your power
To worke your will on him: And I desire you
To lay what traines you will for my wished death,
But suffer him to finde his quiet graue
In peace; Alas he neuer did you wrong,
And further I beseech you pardon mee,
For the ill word I gaue you, for how euer
You may deserue, it became not mee
To call you so, but passion vrges mee
I know not whether my heart breake now, & ease mee euer.
Bac.
Pray you get you hence
With your goodly humor, I am weary of you extreamly.
Leuc.
Trust mee, so am I of my selfe too:
Madame, Ile take my leaue; gods set all right.
Bac.
A men, Syr get you gone;
Am I denyde? it does not trouble mee
That I haue mou'd, but that I am refusde:
I haue lost my patience: I will make him know
Lust is not Loue, for Lust will finde a mate
While there are men, and so will I: & more
Enter Timantus.
Then one, or twenty: yonder is Timantus,
A fellow voyde of any worth, to raise himselse
And therfore like to catch at any euill
That will but plucke him vppe, him will I make
Mine owne: Timantus.
Timantus.
Maddame?
Bac:
Thou knowest well
Thou wert, by chance a meanes of this my raising:
Brought the Duke to me, and though t'were but chace
I must reward thee.
Tim.
I shall bend my seruice vnto your Highnes.
Baca.
But doe it then entirely, and in euery thing,
And'tell mee, Couldst thou nowe thinke that thing
Thou wouldst not doe for mee?
Timant.
Noc by my soule Maddame.
Baca.
Then thou art right.
Goe to my Lodging, and Ile follow thee
Exit Timantus.
With my instruction I doe see allready,
This prin ce that did but now contemne mee, dead:
Yet will I neuer speake an euill word
Vnto his Father of him till I haue wonnc
A beliefe I loue him, but Ile make
His vertues his vndoing, and my praises
Shall be so many swords against his brest,
Which once performde, Ile make Urania
My Daughter, the Kings heyre, aud plant my Issue,
In this large Throne: Nor shall it bee withstood,
They that begin in Lust, must end in blood.
Exit.
Enter Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus.
Doria.
Wee liue to knowe a fine time, Gentl.
Nus.
And a fine Duke, that through his doting age
Suffers him to be a childe againe
Vnder his Wiues tuition.
Agen.

All the Land holds in that tenor too: in wo­mans seruice? sure we shall learne to spinne.

Dor.
No, thats too honest: we shall haue other
Liberall Sciences taught vs too soone;
Lying, and Flattering, those are the studies now:
And Murther shortly I know, wil be humanity Gent.
If we liue here we must be knaues, beleeue it.
Nis.
I cannot tell my Lord Dorialus, though my
Owne nature hate it, if all determine to be knaues,
Ile try what I can doe vpon my selfe, thats certaine,
I will not haue my throat cut for my goodnes,
The vertue will not quit the paine.
Age.
But pray you tell mee,
Why is the Prince, now ripe and full experient,
Not made a dore in the State?
Nis.
Because he is honest.
Enter Timantus.
Tim.
Goodnes attend your Honours.
Dor.
You must not be amongst vs then.
Tim.

The Dutchesse, whose humble Seruant I am prou'de to be, would speake with you.

Age.
Sir we are pleas'd to wayte: when is it?
Tim.

An houre hence my good Lords, and so I leaue my seruice.

Dor.

This is one of her Ferrets that shee bolts bu­sinesse out withall: this fellow, if hee were well ript, has all the linings of a knaue within him: how slye he lookes?

Nis.

Haue we nothing about our cloathes that he may catch at?

Agenor.

O' my conscience there's no treason in my dublet, if there bee, my elboes will discouer it, they are out.

Dor.

Faith, and all the harme that I can finde in mine is, that they are not payd for, let him make what [Page] he can of that, so he discharge that. Come, lets goe.

(Exeunt.
Enter Bach, Leontius, Tella.
Bac.

And you shall finde sir what a blessing heauen gaue you in such a sonne.

L.
Pray gods I may. Lets walk & change out subiect.
B.

O sir, can any thing come sweeter to you, or strike a deeper ioy into your heart then your sons vertue?

L.

I allow his vertues: but tis not hansome thus to feed my self with such moderate praises of mine own.

Bac.

The subiect of our commendations is it selfe growne so infinite in goodnes, that all the glory wee can lay vpon it, though we should open volumes of his praises, is a meere modesty in his expression, and shewes him lame still, like an ill wrought peece wan­ting proportion.

Leo.

Yet still he is a man, and subiect still to more inordinate vices, then our loue can giue him blessing.

Bac.

Else hee were a god: yet so neere as he is, hee comes to heauen, that we may see so farre as flesh can poynt vs things onely worthy them, and onely these in all his actions.

Leon.
This is too much my Queene.
Bach.

Had the gods lou'd mee, that my vnworthy wombe had bred this braue man.

Leon.
Still you runne wrong.
Bac.

A would haue liu'd vpon the comfort of him, fed on his growing hopes.

Leo.

This touches me.

Bac.
I know no friends, nor being, but his vertues.
L.
You haue layd out words inough vpō a subiect.
Bac.

But words cannot expresse him sir: why what a shape Heauen has conceiu'd him in, oh Nature made him vp!

Leon.

I wonder Dutches.

Bac.

So you must: for lesse then admiration loses this god-like man.

Leon.

Haue you done with him?

Bach.

Done with? ô good gods what frailties this passe by vs without reuerence!

Leon.
I see no such perfection.
Bac:
O deere Syr: you are a father, and those i oyes
To you speake in your heart, not in your tongue.
Lco.
This leaues a tast behind it worse then physick.
Baca.
Then for all his wisedome, valour,
Good Fortune, and all those Friends of honour,
They are in him as free and naturall as passions
In a Woman.
Leon.
You make me blush at all these yeares
To see how blindely you haue flung your praises
Vpon a Boye, a very childe, and worthlesse,
Whilst I liue of these Honours.
Bac.
I would not haue my loue Syr: Make my toung
Show me so much a woman: as to praise
Or dispraise, where my will is, without reason
Or generall allowance of the people.
Leon.
Allowance of the people, what allow they
Bac.
Al, I haue seed for truth, and they must doe it,
And dote vpon him: loue him, and admire him.
Leon:
Howes that?
Bac.
For in this youth and noble frowardnes
All things are bound together that are kingly
A fitnesse to beare rule
Leon.
No more
Bac.
And soueraintie, not made to know command
Leon.
I haue sed no more.
Bac.
I haue done Syr though vnwilling, and pardon me.
Leon.
I doe, not a word more
Baca.
I haue gin thee poyson
Of more infection then the Dragons tooth
Or the grosse Ayre ore heated.
Leon.
Timantus when saw you the prince?
Tim,
I left him now Syr.
Leon.

Tell me truely, out of your free opinion with­out courting, How you like him:

Tim,
How I like him?
Leon.

Yes, for you in conuersation may see more [Page] then a Father.

Bac:
It workes.
Timantus.
Your grace has chosen out an ill obseruer.
Leon.
Yes I meane of his Ill: you take rightly.
Tim.
But you take me wrong: All I know by him
I dare deliuer boldly: He is the store-house
And head of vertue: your great selfe excepted
That feeds the Kingdome.
Leon.

These are flatteries: speake me his vices there you doe a seruice worth a Fathers thankes.

Tim.

Syr, I cannot, If there bee any, sure they are the times which I could wish lesse dangerous. But pardon me, I am too bolde.

Leon.
You are not, forward and open what these dangers are.
Tima
Nay, good Syr.
Leon.
Nay fall not off againe,
I will haue all.
Timan.
Alas Syr, what am I, you should belieue
My eyes or eares, so suttle to obserue
Faults in a State, all my maine busines
Is seruice to your Grace, and necessaries
For my poore life.
Leon.
Doc not displease me Syrrha,
But that you know tell mee, and presently.
Timan.
Since your Grace will haue it
Ile speake it freely: Alwayes my obedience
And Loue preseru'd vnto the Prince.
Timan.
Prethee to the matter.
Tim.
For Syr if you consider
How like a Sunne in all his great employments,
How full of heate.
Leon.
Make me vnderstand what I desire.
Tim.
And then at his returne
Leon.
Doe not anger mee.
Timan:
Then thus Syr, All mislike yee,
As they would do the gods, if they did dwell with em.
Loon.
What?
Tim.

Talke and prate, as their ignoant rages [Page] leades em, without Allegeance or Religion. For Heauens sake haue a care of your owne person, I cannot tell, theyr wickednes may leade Farther then I dare thinke yet.

Leo.
O base people.
Tim.
Yet the prince, for who this is pretended may
Perswadeem, &c no doubt will, vertue is euer watchfull
But be you still secur'de and comforted.
Leon.
Heauen you haue I offended, that this rod
So heauy and vnnaturall, should fall vpon mee
When I am olde and helplesse.
Tim.

Braue Gentl: that such a madding loue shuld sollow thee, to robbe thee of a Father: All the Court is full of dangerous whispers.

Leon.

I perceiue it, and spight of all they, strengths will make my safetie: Ile cut him shorter.

Leon.
Ile cut him shorter first, then let him rule.
Bac:
What a fowle Age is this, when Vertue is
Made a sworde to smite the vertuous? Alas, alas!
Leon.
Ile teach him to flye lower.
Tim.
By no means Syr, rather make more your loue,
And hold your fauour to him: for tis now
Impossible to yoke him, if his thoughts,
As I must nere belieue, run with their rages,
Hee neuer was so innocent, but what reason
His grace has to with draw his loue from mee
And other good men that are neert your person
I cannot yet finde out: I know my duety
Has euer bene attending.
Leon.
Tis too plaine: He meanes to play the villaine,
Ile preuent him, not a word more of this, be priuate.
Exit Leontuss.
Tim.
Madame ti's done.
Bac.
He cannot escape mee. Haue you spoken with the noble men?
Tim.

Yes Madame they are heere: I waite a fur­ther seruice.

Bac.

Till yet be the prince, you neede no more instructions.

Tim.

No I haue it.

Exit Timantus.
Enter Dorialus, Nisus, Agenor.
Bac.
That foole that willingly prouokes a woman,
Has made him selfe another euill Angell,
And a newe Hell, to which all other torments
Are but meere pastime: Now my Noble Lordes
You must excuse mee that vnmannerly
Wee haue broke your priuate businesse.
Agen.
Your good grace may command vs, & that.
Bac.
Faith my Lord Agenor: Tis so good a cause
I am confident, you cannot loose by it.
Dorialus.
Which way does shee Fish now?
The Diuell is but a Foole to a right woman.
Nisus.
Madame wee must needes winne in doing
Seruice to such a gratious Ladie.
Bac.
I thanke you, and will let you know the busi­nesse: So I may haue your helpes, neuer be doubtfull,
For tis so iust a cause, and will to you
Vpon the knowledge, seeme so honourable,
That I assure my selfe your willing harts
Will strait bee for mee in it.
Age.
If she should proue good now, what wert like?
Dorial.
Thunder in Ianuarie, or a good woman,
Thats stranger then all Affricke.
Baca.
It shall not neede your wonder, this it is;
The Duke you know is olde, and rather subiect
To ease and prayers now, then all those troubles,
Cares, and continuall watchings, that attend
A Kingdomes safetie, therefore to preuent
The fall of such a flourishing Estate
As this has euer bene, and to put off
The murmure of the people that increase
Against my gouernment, which the gods knowes
I onely feele the trouble of: I present
The prince vnto your loues, a Gent.
In whome all Excellencies are knit together,
All peeces of a true man, let your prayers
Winne from the Duke halfe his Vexation,
That he may vndertake it, whose discretion
I must confesse, though it be from the Father,
Yet now is stronger, and more apte to gouerne.
Tis not my owne desire, but all the Lands
I know the weaknesse of it.
Nisus.
Madam, this noble care and loue has won vs
For euer to your liues, weele to the King,
And since your Grace has put it in our mouthes,
Wecle winne him with the cunningst words we can.
Dorial:
I was neuer cousend in a woman before,
For commonly they are like Apples: If once they bruse
They will growe rotten through, and serue for no­thing but to asswage swellings.
Bac.
Good Lords delay no time since tis your good
Pleasures to thinke my counsell good, & by no meanes
Let the prince knowe it, whose affections
Will stirre mainely against it; besides his Father,
May hold him dangerous, if it be not carryed
So that his forward will apreare not in it,
Goe, and be happie.
Dorial:
Well, I would not bee Chronikled as thou
Wilt be for a good woman, for all the world.
Nisus.
Madame, wee kisse your hands, and so inspire
Nothing but hapinesse can crowne our prayers.
Exeūt.

Actus quarti. Coena prima.

Enter Leucippus, Ismenus.
Leu.
And thus she has vsd me, ist not a good mother?
Ismenus.
Why killed you her not?
Leuc.
The Gods forbid it.
Ismenus.
S'light, if all the women ithe world were
Barren, shee had dyde.
Leuc:
But tis not reason directs thee thus.
Ismen.
Then gaue I none at all, for all I haue in mee
Directs mee: Your Father's in a pretty Rage.
Leucippus.
Why.
Ismenus.

Nay, tis well, if hee knowe himselfe, but some of the Nobilitie haue deliuered a petition to him: whats int, I know not, but it has put him to his trumps: hee has taken a months time to answere it and chafes like himfelfe.

Enter Leontius, Bacha, and Tellamon.
Leu.
Hee's here Ismenus.
Leon.
Set me downe Tellamon. Leucippus.
Leu.
Sir.
Bach.

Nay good sir bee at peace, I dare sweare hee knew not of it.

Leon.
You are foolish: peace.
Bach.

All will goe ill, deny it boldly sir, trust me he cannot prooue it by you.

Leu.
What!
Bach.
Youle make all worse too with your facing it.
Leuc.
What is the matter!
Leon.
Knowst thou that petition?
Looke on it well: wouldst thou be ioynd with mee
(Vnnaturall childe to be weary of me)
Ere Fate esteeme me fit for other worlds.
Bac.
May be he knowes not of it.
Leuc.
O strange carriages!
Sir, As I haue hope that there is any thing
To reward doing well, my vsages
Which hane beene (but tis no matter what)
Haue put me so farre from the thought of Greatnes,
That I should welcome it like a disease
That grew vpon me, and I could not cure.
They are my enemies that gaue you this,
And yet they call me friend, and are themselues
I feare abus'd. I am weary of my life,
For Gods sake take it from me: it creates
More mischiefe in the State then it is worth.
The vsage I haue had, I know would make
Wisedome her selfe run frantick through the streetes.
And Patience quarrell with her shaddow.
Sir, this sword —
Bac.
Alas: helpe for the loue of heauen,
Make way through me first, for he is your father,
Leon.
What, would he kill me?
Bac.
No sir, no.
Leo.
Thou alwaies mak'st the best ont: but I feare--
Leu.
Why doe you vse me thus? who ist can thinke
That I would kill my father, that can yet
For beare to kill you? Here sir is my sword,
I dare not touch it, lest she say againe
I would haue kild you: let me not haue mercy
When I most neede it, if I would not change
Place with my meanest seruant. Let these faults
Be mended Madame: if you saw how ill
They did become you, you would part with them.
Bac.
I told the Duke as much before.
Leuc.
What? what did you tell him?
Bac.
That it was onely an ambition,
Nurst in you by your youth, prouokt you thus,
Which age would take away.
Leon.
It was his doing then: come hither Loue.
Bac.
No indeed sir.
Leu.
How am I made; that I can beare all this?
If any one had vs'd a friend of mine nere this,
My hand had carryed death about it.
Leon.
Lead me hence Tellamon: come my deare
Bacha,
I shall finde time for this.
Ism.
Madame, you know I dare not speake before
The King; but you know well, if not I le tell it you,
You are the most wickedst, and most murderous
Strumpet that euer was call'd Woman.
Bac.

My Lord, what I can do for him he shall com­mand me.

Leon.
I know thou art too kinde; away I say.
Exit Leon. Bac. Tima. Tella.
Isme.
Sir, I am sure we dreame this cannot be.
Leu.
O that we did my wickednes has brought
All this to passe, else I should beare my selfe.
Enter Urania.
Isme.

Looke, doe you see whose there? your ver­tuous Mothers issue: kill her, yet take some little pid­ling reuenge.

Leuc.

Away, the whole Court calles her vertuous; for they say, she is vnlike her mother and if so she can haue no vice.

Is.
I le trust none of em that come of such a breed.
Leu.
But I haue found
A kinde of loue in her to me: alas,
Thinke of her death; I dare be sworne for her,
She is as free from any hate to me
As her bad mothers full. She was brought vp
7th Country, as her tongue will let you know
If you but talke with her, with a poore Vnkle,
Such as her mother had.
Ent. V.
Isme.
Shees come againe.
Vra.

I would fene speake to the good Marquesse my brother, if I but thought he could abaid me.

Leuc.
Sister, how doe you.
Vra.
Very well I thanke you.
Isme.
How does your good mother?
Leuc.

Fye, fye, Ismenus for shame, mocke such an innocent soule as this.

Vra.
Feth a she be no good, God may her so.
Le.

I know you wish it with your heart dear sister, but she is good I hope.

Isme.
Are you so simple, to make so much of this,
Doe you not know,
That all her wicked mother labours for, is but to rayse
Her to your right, and leaue her this Duked ome.
Ura.
I, but nere sir be afred;
For though she take th'vngainst weas she can,
Ile nere hat fro you.
Leuc.
I should hate my selfe Ismenus;
If I should thinke of her simplicity,
Ought but extreamely well.
Isme.
Nay as you will.
Ura.
And though she be my Mother,
If she take any caurse to doe you wrong,
If I can seet, youst quickly heare ont sir:
And so Ile take my leaue.
Leu.
Farewell good Sister, I thanke you.
Exit Urania.
Ismen.
You belieue all this:
Leu.
Yes;
Enter Timantus.
Ismen.
A good faith doth well, but mee thinkes
It were no harde matter now, for her Mother to send
Her: yonder's one you may trust if you will too.
Leu.
So I will, if he can shew me as apparant signes
Of truth as shee did; Does he weepe Ismenus?
Ism.

Yes, I think so: some goods happend I war­rant; Doe you heare you? What honest man has scapd miserie, that you are crying thus?

Timantus.
Noble Ismenus, wheres the Prince?
Ismen.
Why there; hast wept thine eyes out?
Timantus.
Syr, I beseech you heare mee.
Leuc.
Well speake on.
Ismenus.
Why will you heare him?
Leu.
Yes Ismenus, why?
Ismenus.
I would heare blasphemy as willingly.
Leu.
You are to blame:
Tim.
No Syr: Hee is not to blame;
If I were as I was.
Ismen.
Nor as thou art, y faith a whit to blame,
Leuc.
Whats your busines?
Tim.
Faith Syr, I am ashamed to speake before you,
My conscience tells me I haue iniurd you,
And by the earnest instigation,
Of others haue not done you to the King
All wayes the best and friendliest offices,
Which pardon mee, or I will neuer speake.
Ismen.
Neuer pardon him and silence a knaue.
Leu.
I pardon thee.
Tim
Your mother sure is naught
Leuc.
Why shouldst thou thinke so?
Tim.
O noble Syr, your honest eyes perceiue not
The dangers you are led to shame vpon her,
And what fell miseries the gods can thinke on
Shewe downe vpon her wicked head, she has plotted,
I know too well your death: would my poore life
Or thousand such as mine is might be offered
Like sacrifices vp for your presuming,
What free oblations would she haue to glut her,
But shee is mercilesse, and bent to ruine,
If Heauen and good men steppe not to your reskue,
And timely, very timely, O this Duke dome!
I weepe, I weepe for the poore Orphanes ith Countrey
Left with but Friends; or parents.
Leuc.
Now Ismenus, what thinke you of this fellow?
This was a lying knaue, a flatterer,
Does not this loue still shew him so.
Ismen.
This loue, this halter: if he proue not yet
The cunningst, ranckest Rogue that euer Canted,
Ile neuer see man againe, I know him to bring,
And can interpret euery new face he makes,
Looke how he wrings like a good stoole for a teare,
Take heede, Children and Fooles
First feele the smart: Then weepe.
Leac.
A way, away, such an vnkinde distrust,
Is wosse then a dissembling, if it be one,
And sooner leades to mischiefe I belieue it,
And him an honest man: he could not carry
Vnder an euill cause so true a sorrow.
Ismenus.
Take heede, this is your Mothers scorpion,
That carries stings euen in his teares,
Whose soule is a rancke poyson through: Touch
Not at him, if you doe you are gone, if you had twenty
Liues: I knewe him from a Roguish boy, when
Hee would poyson Dogges, and keepe tame Toades,
Hee lay with his Mother, and infected her, and now
Shee begges ith Hospitall, with a patch of veluet,
Where her Nose stood: like the queene of spades.
And all her Teeth in her purse, the Diuell and this
Fellow are so neere, Tis not yet knowne which is the euiller Angell.
Leu.

Nay then I see tis spite: Come hether frend. Hast thou not heard the cause yet that incēsd my mo­ther to my death, for I protest I feele none in my selfe?

Timantus.
Her will Syr, and ambition, as I thinke
Are the prouokers of it as in women
Those two are euer powerfull to destruction,
Beside a hate of your still growing vertues,
Shee being onely wicked.
Leu.
Heauens defend me as I am innocent,
And euer haue bin from all immoderate thoughts and
Actions, that carrie such rewards along with em.
Tima.
Syr all I know, my duety must reueale
My country and my loue commaund it from mee,
For whom Ile lay my life downe, this night comming.
A Counsell is appointed by the Duke,
To sit about your apprehension:
If you dare trust my faith: which by all good things
Shall euer watch about you: Goe along,
And to a place Ile guide you: where no word,
Shall scape without your hearing, Nor, no plot.
Without discouering to you, which once known, you [Page] haue your answers and preuention.
Is.

You are not so mad to go; shift of this fellow, you shall bee rul'd once by a wise man: rats bane get you gone, or —

L.

Peace, peace for shame, thy loue is too suspitious, tis away offered to preserue my life, and I will take it: be my Guide Timantus, and doe not minde this angry man, thou knowst him: I may liue to requite thee.

Ti.

Sir, this seruice is done for vertues sake, not for reward, how euer he may hold me.

Is.

The great pox on you: but thou hast that curse so much, twill grow a blessing in thee shortly. Sir, for wisdomes sake court not your death, I am your friend and subiect, and I shall lose in both: if I lou'd you not, I would laugh at you, and see you run your neck into the noose, and cry a Woodcocke.

Leu.

So much of man, and so much fearefull; fye, prethee haue peace within thee: I shall liue yet many a golden day to hold thee heere deerest and neerest to me: Goe on Timantus. I charge you by your loue no more, no more.

Exeunt Leuc. Tim.
Is.
Goe, and let your owne rod whip you:
I pity you, And dog, if he miscarry thou shalt pay fort,
Ile study for thy punishment, and it shall last
Longer and sharper then a tedious Winter,
Till thou blasphemst, and then thou diest and dambst.
Exit.
Enter Leontius and Tellamon.
Leon.
I wonder the Dutchesse comes not.
Tet.
She has hard sir your will to speake with her:
But there is some thing leaden at her heart
(Pray God it be not mortall) that euen keepes her
From conuersation with her selfe.
Enter the Dutchesse.
B.
O whither will yee me crosse affections pull me?
Fortune, Fate, & you whose powers direct our actions,
And dwell within vs: you that are Angells
Guiding to vertue, wherefore haue you giuen
So strong a hand to cuill? wherefore sufferd
A Temple of your owne, you Deities
Where your faire selues dwelt onely, & your goodnes
Thus to be soyld with sinne?
Leon.
Heauen blesse vs all.
From whence coms this distemper? speak my faire one.
Bac.
And haue you none, loue and obedience,
You euer faithfull Seruants to imploy
In this strange story of impietie,
But mee a Mother, Must I bee your strumpet?
To lay blacke treason vpon and in him,
In whome all sweetnes was: in whom my loue
Was proud'de, to haue a being, in whome Iustice,
And all the gods for our imaginations
Can worke into a man, were more then vertues,
Ambition downe to Hell, where thou wert fosterd
Thou hast poysond the best soule, the purest, whitest,
And meerest innocentst it selfe that euer
Mens greedy hopes gaue life to.
Leon.
This is still stranger: lay this treason,
Open to my correction.
Bac.
O what a combat duety and affection
Breedes in my bloud.
Leon.
If thou concealst him may
Beside my death the curses of the Countrey,
Troubles of conscience, and a wretched ende,
Bring thee vnto a poore forgotten graue.
Bach.
My being: for another tongue to tell it,
Cease, a mother! some good man that dares
Speake for his King and Countrey: I am full
Of too much womans pittie: yet ô Heauen,
Since it concernes the safety of my soueraigne
Let it not be a cruelty in mee
Nor draw a Mothers name in question,
Amongst vnborne people, to giue vp that man:
To law and Iustice that vnrighteously
Has sought his sathers death: be dease, be dease Syr,
Your Sonne is the Offendor, Now haue you all,
Would I might neuer speake againe.
Leon.
My Sonne? Heauen helpe mee.
No more I thought it: and since
His life is growne so dangerous: Let them that
Gaue him, take him: Hee shall dye,
And with him all my feares.
Bac.
O vse your mercie: you haue a braue subiect
To bestowe it on, Ile forgiue him Syr: and for his
Wrong to mee, Ile be before yee.
Leon.
Durst his villenie extend to thee?
Bac.
Nothing but heates of youth Syr.
Leon.
Vppon my life hee sought my Bed.
Bach.
I must confesse he loued mee:
Somewhat beyond a Sonne, and still pursude it
With such a Lust: I will not say Ambition,
That cleane sorgetting all obedience,
And onely following his first heate vnto mee,
Hee hotely fought your death, and me in Marriage.
Leon.
O Villaine!
Bac.
But I forget all: and am halfe ashamde
To presse a man so farre.
Enter Timantus.
Where is the Duke? for Gods sake bring me to him.
Leon.
Here I am; Each corner of the Dukedome
Sends new affrights forth: what wouldst thou speake?
Timantus.
I cannot Sir, my feare tyes vp my tongue.
Leon.
Why, whats the matter? Take thy courage
To thee; and boldly speake, where are the Guard?
In the Gods name, cut with it:
Tim.
Treason, treason.
Leon.
In whome?
Bac.
Double the Guard.
Timantus.
There is a fellow Syr.
Leon.
Leaue shaking man.
Timant.
'Tis not for feare, but wonder. Leon. Well.
Timant.
There is a fellow Syr, close ith Lobby:
You othe Guarde, looke to the dore there.
Leon.
But let me knowe the businesse.
Tima.
O that the hearts of men shuld be so hardned
Against so good a Duke, for Gods sake Syr,
Seeke meanes to saue your selfe, This wretched slaue
Has his sword in his hand, I knowe his heart:
Oh it hath almost killd mee with the thought of it.
Leon.
Where is hee?
Enter the Guard, and bring him in.
Timant.
The Lobby Syr, close in a corner:
Looke to your selues, for Heauens sake,
Mee thinkes hee is here already.
Fellowes of the Guard be valiant.
Leon.
Goe sirs, and apprehend him; Treason shall
Neuer dare mee in mine owne Gates.
Tim.
Tis done.
There they bring the Prince in.
Bac:
And thou shalt finde it to thy best content.
Lesn.
Are these the comforts of my Age?
Theyre happy that ende theyr dayes Contented
With a little, and liue aloofe from dangers, to a King
Euery coutent doth a newe; perill bring.
O let mee liue no longer, shame of Nature,
Bastard to Honour: Traytor, Murderer,
Diuell in a humane shape, A way with him,
Hee shall not breath his hote infection here.
Leuc.
Syr heare mee.
Leon.
Am I or hee your Duke? away with im
To a close prison: your Highnes now shall know,
Such branches must be cropt before they growe,
Leuc.
What euer Fortune comes, I bid it welcome,
My innocencie is my Armor: Gods preserue you.
Exit.
Bac.
Fare thee well. I shal neuer see so braue a Gētl:
Would I could weepe out his offences.
Tim.
Or I would weeepe out mine eyes.
Leon.
Come Gentlemen, weele determine presently
About his death: wee cannot be too forward in our
Safety: I am very sick, leade me vnto my Bed.
Exeūt. Enter Cittizen and his Boye.
Cittizen.

Syrrha, go fetch my Foxe from the Cutlers: Theres money for the scowring: Tell him, I stoppe a Grote since the last great Muster: Hee had in store Pitch for the bruze. He tooke with the Recoyling of his Gunne.

Boye.
Yes Syr.
Cittiz.

And doe you heare? when yu come, Take downe my Buckler, and sweepe the Copwebs off: and Grinde the picke out, and fetch a Naile or two: and Tacke on bracers: your Mistris made a potlid ont, I thanke her at her Mayds wedding, and burnt off the Handle.

Boye,
I will Syr.
Exit.
Cittiz.

Whoes within heere, hoe Neighbour, not styrring yet?

2. Cittiz.
O God morrow, god morrowe: what
Newes, what newes?
1, Cittiz.
It holdes, he dyes this morning.
2. Cittiz:
Then happy man be his fortune, I am resolude,
1. Cittiz:
And so am I, and 40. more good fellowes
That wil not giue their heads for the washing, I take it.
2. Cittiz.

Sfoote man, who would not hang in such Good companie, and such a cause? A Fire a Wife and Children, Tis such a Iest that men should looke be­hinde em to the world: And let theyr honours, their honours Neighbour slip.

1. Cittiz.
Ile giue thee a pinte of Bastard and a rolle For that bare word,
2. Cittiz.
They say that we Taylors, are things that
Laye one another, and our Geese hatche vs: Ile make some of vm feele they are Geefe ath game then,
Ifack take down my Bill, tis ten to one I vse it, Take a
Good heart man, all the low ward is ours, with a wett
Finger.
And lay my Cut-fingred Gantlet ready for mee,
That that I vsed to worke in, when the Gentl: were
Vp against vs, a beaten out of towne, and almost out a
Debt to, for a plague on vm, they neuer paid wel since,
And take heede sirrah: your mistris heares not of this
Businesse, shees neere her time: yet if shee doe,
I care not, shee may long for Rebellion,
For shee has a diuellish spirite,
1. Cittiz.
Come, lets call vp the new Ircmonger, is as
Tough as steele, & has a fine wit in these resurrections:
Are you stirring Neighbour?
3. Within.
O Good morrowe Neighbours,
Ile come to you presently.
2.
Go too, this is his Mothers doing: shees a Polecat.
1.
As any is in the world.
2.

Then say I haue hit it, and a vengeance on her, let her be what she will.

1.

Amen say I, shee has brought things to a fine passe with her wisedome, doe you marke it?

2.

One thing I am sure she has, the good old Duke she giues him pappe againe they say, and dandles him, and hangs a corrall and bells about his necke, and makes him beleeue his teeth will come agen; which if they did, and I he, I would worry her as neuer curre was worried: I would neighbour till my teeth met I know where, but thats counsell.

Enter third Citizen.
3.

Good morrow neighbours: heare you the sadde newes?

1.
Yes, would we knew as well how to preuent it.
3.

I cannot tell, me thinks twere no great matter, if men were men: but —

2.
You do not twit me with my calling neighbor?
3.

No surely: for I know your spirit to be tall, pray be not vext.

1.

Pray forward with your counsell: [Page] I am what I am, and they that proue me, shall finde me to their cost: do you marke mee neighbour, to their cost I say.

1.
Nay looke how soone you are angry.
2.
They shall neighbours: yes, I say they shall.
3.
I doe beleeue they shall.
1.
I know they shall.
2.
Whether you doe or no I care not two-pence,
I am no beast, I know mine owne strength neighbors;
God blesse the King, your companies is fayre.
1.

Nay neighbour now yee erre, I must tell you so and yee were twentie neighbours,

3.
You had best goe peach, doe, peach.
2.
Peach, I scorne the motion.
3.

Doe, and see what followes: Ile spend an hun­dred pound, and be two I care not, but Ile vndo thee.

2.

Peach, ô disgrace: peach in thy face, and doe the worst thou canst: I am a true man, and a free-man peach!

1.
Nay looke, you will spoyle all.
2.
Peach!
1.

Whilst you two brawle together, the Prince will lose his life.

3.

Come, giue me your hand, I loue you well, are you for the action.

2.
Yes: but peach prouokes me, tis a cold fruit,
I feele it cold in my stomacke still.
3.
No more, Ile giue you cake to disgest it.
Enter the fourth.
4.

Shut vp my shop, and bee ready at a call boyes, and one of you runne ouer my olde tucke with a few ashes, tis growne odious with tosting cheese: and burne a little giniper in my murrin, the maide made it her chamber-pot, an houre hence Ile come againe; and as you here from me, send me a cleane shirt.

3.
The Chandler by the wharfe, and it be thy will.
2.
Gossip good morrow.
4.

O good morrow Gossip: good morrow all, I see wee of one minde you cleaue so close together: come tis time, I haue prepared a hundred if they stand.

1.
Tis well done: shall we seuer, and about it?
3.

First lets to the Tauerne, and a pynt a peece will make vs Dragons.

2.
I will haue no mercy, come what will of it.
4.

If my tucke hold Ile spit the Guard like Larks with sage betweene em.

2.

I haue a foolish bil to reckon with em, wil make some of their hearts ake, and Ile lay it on: now shall I fight, twill doe you good to see me.

3.

Come Ile do something for the Towne to talke of when I am rotten: pray God there bee enough to kill, thats all.

Exeunt.
Enter Dorialus, Nifus, Agenor.
Age.
How blacke the day begins!
Dor.

Can you blame it, and looke vpon such a deed as shall be done this morning?

Nis.
Does the Prince suffer to day?
Dor.
Within this houre they say.
Agen.

Well, they that are most wicked are most safe: twill be a strange Iustice and a lamentable, gods keepe vs from the too soone feeling of it.

Dor.

I care not if my throat were next: for to liue still, and liue heere, were but to growe fat for the Shambles.

Nis.

Yet we must doe it, and thanke em too, that our liues may be accepted.

Age.

Faith Ile go starue my selfe, or grow diseas'd to shame the hangman; for I am sure hee shall be my Herald, and quarter me.

Dor.

I a plague on him, hee's too excellent at annes.

Nisus.

Will you goe see this sadde sight my Lord Agenor?

Age.
Ile make a mourner.
Dor.

If I could doe him any good I would goe, The bare sight else will but afflict my spirit, my prayers shall be as neere him as your eyes: As you finde him setled, remember my loue and ser­uice ro his Grace.

Nis.
We will weepe for ioy sir, farewell.
Exit.
Dor.
Farewel to all our happinesse, a long farewel.
Thou angry power, whether of heauen or hell,
That layst this sharpe correction on our Kingdome
For our offences, infinite and mighty,
O heare me, and at length be pleas'd, be pleas'd
With pitty to draw backe thy vengeance,
Too heauy for our weaknesse; and accept,
(Since it is your discretion, heauenly Wisedomes,
To haue it so) this sacrifice for all,
That now is flying to your happinesse,
Onely for you most fit: let all our sinnes suffer in him.
A shute within.
Gods, whats the matter! I hope tis ioy.
How now my Lords?
Enter Agenor and Nisus.
Nis.
Ile tell you with that little breath I haue;
More ioy then you dare thinke, The Prince is safe from
Danger.
Dor.
How!
Age.
Tis true, and thus it was; His houre was come
To lose his life, he ready for the stroke,
Nobly, and full of Saint-like patience,
Went with his Guard: which when the people saw,
Compassion first went out, mingled with teares,
That bred desires, and whispers to each other,
To doe some worthy kindnes for the Prince.
And ere they vnderstood well how to doe,
Fury stept in, and taught them what to doe,
Thrusting on euery hand to rescue him,
As a white innocent: then flew the rore
Through all the streetes, of Saue him, saue him, saue him;
And as they cryde, they did for catching vp
Such sudden weapons as their madnesse shew them.
In short, they beat the Guard, & tooke him from em,
And now march with him like a royall Army.
Dor.
Heauen, heauen I thanke thee,
What a slaue was I to haue my hand so farre from
This braue rescue, 'tad beene a thing to bragge on
When I was olde. Shall we runne for a wager to the
Next Temple and giue thanks?
Nis.
As fast as wishes.
Enter Leucippus and Ismenus: the people within stoppes.
Leu.

Good friends goe home againe, there's not a man shall goe with me.

Isme.
Will you not take reuenge? I le call them on.
Leuc.
All that loue me depart:
I thanke you, and will serue you for your loues:
But I will thanke you more to suffer me
To gouerne em once: more, I doe beg yee,
For my sake to your houses.
All within.
Gods preserue you.
Isme.
And what house will you goe too?
Leu.

Ismenus I will take the wariest courses that I can thinke of to defend my selfe, but not offend.

Isme.

You may kill your mother, and neuer offend your father an honest man.

Leu.

Thou knowst I can scape now, thats all I looke for: Ile leaue.

Isme.

Tima. a pox take him, would I had him here, I would kill him at his owne weapon single sithes wee [Page] haue built inough on him: plague ont, Ime out of all patience: discharge such an Army as this, that would haue followed you without paying, ô gods!

Leu.
To what end should keepe em? I am free.
Is.

Yes, free o'th Traytors, for you are proclay­med one.

Leu.
Should I therefore make my selse one?
Isme.
This is one of your morall Philosophy is it?
Heauen blesse me from subtilties to vndo my self with;
But I know if, reason her selfe were here,
She would not part with her owne safetie.
Leu.
Well, pardon Ismenus, for I know
My courses are most iust; nor will I staine em
With one bad action: for thy selfe, thou knowst,
That though I may command thee, I shall be
A ready seruant to thee if thou needst: and so Ile
Take my leaue.
Isme.
of whome?
Leu.
Of thee.
Isme.
Heart, you shall take no leaue of me.
Leu.
Shall I not?
Isme.

No by the gods shall you not: nay if you haue no more wit but to goe obsolutely alone, Ile bee in a little.

Leu.
Nay prethee good Ismenus part with me.
Isme.

I wonnoty faith, neuer moue it any more; for by this good light I wonnot.

Leu.
This is an ill time to be thus vnruly:
Ismenus you must leaue me.
Isme.

Yes if you can beat me away: else, the gods resuse me if I will leaue you till I see more reason; you sha'nt vndoe your selfe.

Leu.
But why wilt not leaue me?
Isme.

Why Ile tell you, Because when you are gone, then — life, if I haue not forgot my reason— heele take mee: you put mee out of patience so: O! [Page] marry when you are gone, then will your Mother: a pox confound her, she neuer comes in my head but she spoiles my memory to: there are a hūdred reasons.

Leu.
But shew me one.
Isme.

Shew you, what a stirre here is, why I will shew you: Doe you thinke; well, well, I know what I know, I pray come, come. Tis in vaine: but I am sure. Diuels take em, what doe I meddle with em? You know your selfe. Soule, I thinke I am: is there any man ith world? as if you knew not this already better then I. Pish, pish, I le giue no reason.

Le.
But I will tell thee one why thou shouldst stay:
I haue not one friend in the Court but thou,
On whom I may be bold to trust to send mee
Any intelligence: and if thou lou'st me
Thou wilt doe this, thou needst not feare to stay,
For there are new-come Proclamations out;
Where all are pardoned but my selfe.
Isme.

Tis true, and in the same Proclamation your fine sister Vrania, whome you vs'd so kindly, is pre­claymd heyre apparant to the Crowne.

Le.

What though, thou mayst stay at home with­out danger.

Isme.

Danger, hang danger, what tell you mee of danger?

Leu.

Why if thou wilt not do't, I think thou dar'st not.

Isme.

I dare not: if you speake it in earnest, you are a boy.

Leu.
Well fir, if you dare, let me see you do't.
Isme.
Why so you shall, I will stay.
Leu.
Why God a mercy.
Ism.
You know I loue you but too well.
Leu.

Now take these few directions: farewell, send to me by the wariest wayes thou canst: I haue a soule tells me we shall meete often. The gods protect thee.

Isme.

Poxe o'me selfe for an Asse, I me crying now, God be with you, if I neuer see you againe: why then pray get you gone, for griefe and anger wonnot let me know what I say. Ile to the Court as fast as I can, and see the new heyre apparant.

Exeunt.
Finis Actus quartus.

Actus Quintus. Scoeni Primi.

Enter Vrania and her woman.
Vran.
What hast thou sound him?
Wo.
Madame he is comming in.
Vran.
Gods blesse my brother where so ere he is:
And I be seech you keepe me fro the bed
Of any naughtie Tyrant whom my mother
Would ha me haue to wrong him.
Enter Ismenus.
Isme.
What would her new Grace haue with me?
Vra.
Leaue vs a while. My Lord Ismenus,
Exit M.
I pray for the loue of heauen and God,
That you would tell me one thing, which I know
You can doe weele.
Ism.
Wheres her faine Grace?
V.
You know me weel inough, but that you mock,
I am she my sen.
Isme.

God blesse him that shall bee thy husband, if thou wearst breeches thus soone, thoult bee as im­pudent as thy mother.

Vra.
But will you tell me this one thing?
Ism.

What ist? if it be no great matter whether I doe or no, perhaps I will.

Vra.
Yes faith tis matter.
Ism.
And what ist?
Vra.
I pray you let we know whaire the Prince my brother is.
Ism.

I faith you shan be hangd first, is your mother so foolish to thinke yonr good Grace can sift it out of me?

Vrania.

If you haue any mercy left i'you to a poore wench tell me.

Isme.

Why wouldst not thou haue thy braines beat out for this, to follow thy mothers steps so young?

Vra.
But beleeue me, she knowes none of this.
Isme.

Beleeue you? why do you thinke I neuer had wits? or that I am runne out of them? how should it belong to you to know, If I could tell?

Vra.
Why I will tell you: and if I speake false
Let the Diuell ha me, Yonders a bad man,
Come from a Tayrant to my mother, and what name
They ha for him, good faith I cannot tell.
Isme.
An Embassador.
Vra.
Thats it: but he would carry me away,
And haue me marry his Master; and Ile day
Ere I will ha him.
Is.
But whats this to knowing where the Prince is?
Vra.
Yes, for you know all my mother does:
Agen the Prince is but to ma me great.
Isme.
Pray, I know that too well, what ten?
Vra.
Why I would goe to the good Marquesse my
Brother, and put my selfe into his hands, that so
He may preserue himselfe.
Isme.

O that thou hadst no seede of thy Mother in thee, and couldst meane this now.

Vra.

Why feth I do, wou'd I might nere stirre more if I doe not.

Ism.

I shall proue a ridiculous foole, Ile be damnd else: hang me if I doe not halfe beleeue thee.

Vra.
By my troth you may.
Isme.
By my troth I doe: I know Ime an Asse fort,
But I cannot helpe it.
Ura.
And won you tell me then?
Ism.
Yes faith will I, or any thing else ith world, for
I think thou art as good a creature as euer was borne.
Vra.
But aile goe i'this ladst reparrell:
But you mun helpe me to Siluer.
Ismenus.

Helpe thee: why the Poxe take him that will not helpe thee to any thing ith world; Ile helpe thee to Mony, and Ile doe't presently to, and yet soule, If you should play the scuruie Harlotrie little pockie baggage now and couzen mee, what then?

Ura.
Why, an I do, woud I might nere see day agen.
Ism.
Nay by this light I do not thinke thou wilt:
Ile presently prouide thee mony and a letter.
Exit Is.
Ura.
I but Ile nere deliuer it.
When I haue found my Brother, I will begge
To serue him; but he shall neuer kno who I am;
For he must hate me then for my badde mother:
Ile say I am a countrey Lad that want a seruice,
And haue streid on him by chance, lest he discouer me;
I know I must not liue long, but that taime
I ha to spend, shall be in seruing him.
And though my Mother seeke to take his life away,
In ai day my brother shall be taught that I was
Euer good, though she were naught.
Exit.
Enter Bacha and Timantus: Bacha reading a Letter.
Bach.
Runne away, the diuell be her guide.
Tim.

Faith shees gone: theres a Letter I found it in her pocket, would I were with her, shees a hansome Lady, a plague vpon my bashfulnes, I had bobd her longagoe else.

Bac.
What a base Whore is this, that after all
My wayes for her aduancement, should so poorely make vertue her vndoer, and choose this time,
The King being deadly sicke: and I intending
A present marriage with some forraigne Prince,
To strengthen and secure my selfe. She writes here
Like a wise Gentle woman; She will not stay:
And the example of her deare brother, makes her
Feare her selfe, to whome shee meanes to flye.
Timan.
Why, who can helpe it?
Bac.

Now pouertie and Leacherie which is thy end, rot thee, where ere to goest with all thy goodnes.

Timan.

Berlady theyle bruze her: and shee weare a brasse. I am sure theyle breake stone walles: I hane had experience of them both, and they haue made me desperate: but theres a Messenger Madam come from the Prince with a Letter to Ismenus, who by him re­turnes an answere.

Bac.

This comes as pat as wishes: thou shalt pre­sently away Timantus.

Tim.
Whither Madame?
Ba.
To the Prince, and take the Messenger for guide.
Tim.

What shall I doe there? I haue done too much mischiefe to be beleeued againe, or indeede, to scape with my head on my backe if I be once knowne.

Bac.

Thou art a weake shallow foole: get thee a disguise, and withall, when thou comst before him, haue a Letter faind to deliuer him; and then, as thou hast euer hope of goodnes by me, or after me, strike one home stroke that shall not neede another: dar'st thou speake, dar'st thou? if thou fal'st off, goe bee a Rogue a againe, and lye and Pander to procure thy meate: darst thou speake to me.

Tim.

Sure I shall neuer walke when I am dead. I haue no spirit Madame, Ile bee drunke but Ile doe it, thats all my refuge.

Exit.
Bac.

Away, no more, then Ile rayse an Army whilst the King yet liues, if all the meanes and power I haue can doe it I cannot tell.

Enter Ismenus and 3. Lords.
Is.
Are you inuenting still? weele ease your studies.
Bac.
Why how now sawcy Lords?
Ism.
Nay Ile shake yee, yes diuell, I will shake yee.
Bac.
Doe not you know me Lords?
Nis.
Yes deadly sin we know ye, would we did not.
Ism.

Doe you heare Whore, a plague a God vpon thee, the Duke is dead.

Bash.
Dead!
Ism.

I, wild-fire and brimstone take thee: good man hee is dead, and past those miseries which thou, salt infection-like, like a disease, flungst vpon his head. Doft thou heare, and twere not more respect in Wo­man-hood in generall then thee, because I had a Mo­ther, who I will not say shee was good, shee liu'd so neere thy time, I would haue thee in vengeance of this man, whose peace is made in heauen by this time, tyde to a post, and dryde ith sunne, and after carryed about and shone at fayres for money, with a long sto­rie of the diuell thy father that taught thee to be who­rish, enuious, bloudy.

Bac.
Ha, ha, ha.
Isme.

You fleering harlot, Ile haue a horse to leape thee, and thy base issue shall carry Sumpters. Come Lords, bring her along, weele to the Prince all, where her hell-hood shall waite his censure; and if he spare thee she Goat, may he lye with thee againe; and be­side, mayst thou vpon him some nastle soule dis­ease that hate still followes, and his end, a dry ditch. Leade you corrupted whore, or Ile draw gode shall make you skippe: away to the Prince.

Bac.

Ha, ha, ha, I hope yet I shall come too late to finde him.

Cornets. Cupid from aboue.
Enter Loucippus, Vrana,: Leu, with abloudy handkercher.
Leu.
Alas poore boy, why dost thou follow me?
What canst thou hope for? I am poore as thou art.
Vra.
In good feth I shall be weell and rich enough
If you will loue me, and not put me from you.
L.
Why dost thou choose out me boy to vndo thee?
Alas, for pitty take another Master,
That may be able to deserue thy loue
In breeding thee hereafter: me thou knowst not
More then my misery: and therefore canst not
Looke for rewards at my hands: would I were able,
My pretty knaue, to doe thee any kindnes: truely
Good boy, I would vpon my faith thy harmelesle
Innocense mooues me at heart, wilt thou goe
Saue thy selfe, why doest thou weepe? Alas I doe not chide thee.
Urania.

I cannot tell if I goe from you, Syr I shall nere dawne day more: Pray if you can I will bee true To you: Let mee waite on you: If I were a man, I would fight for you: Sure you haue some ill-willers, I would slay vm.

Leu.

Such harmelesse soules are euer Prophets, well I take thy wish, thou shalt be with mee still: But pri­thee eate, then my good Boy: Thou wilt die my childe If thou fasts one day more. This foure dayes thou hast tasted nothing: Goe into the Caue and eate: Thou shalt finde something for thee, to bring thy bloud a­gen, and thy faire collour.

Ura.
I can not eate God thanke you,
But Ile eate to morrow.
Leuc.
Thow't bee dead by that time.
Ur.
I should be well then, for you will not loue me.
Leu.

Indeed I will. This is the prettiest passion that ere I felt yet: why dost you looke so earnestly vpon me?

Vra.
You haue fayre eyes Master.
Leu.
Sure the Boy dotes: why dost thou sigh my childe?
Vra.

To thinke that such a fine man should liue, and no gay Lady loue him.

Leu.
Thou wilt loue me?
Vra.

Yes sure till I dye, and when I am in heauen Ile eene wish for you.

Leu.

And Ile come to thee Boy. This is a loue I neuer yet heard tell of: come, thou art sleepy childe, goe in; and Ile sit with thee: heauen what portends this?

Vra.

You are sad, but I am not sleepy, woulde I could doe ought to make you merry: shall I sing?

Leu.
If thou wilt good Boy.
Leu.

Alas my boy, that thou shouldst comfort me, and art farre worse then I:

Enter Timantus with a letter disguised.
Vra.
Lawe Master, theres one, looke to your sen.
Leu.
What art thou, that in this dismall place,
Which nothing could finde out but misery,
Thus boldly stept? Comfort was neuer here,
Here is nor foode, nor beds, nor any house
Built by a better Architect then beasts;
And ere you get dwelling from one of them,
You must fight for it: if you conquer him,
He is your meate; if not, you must be his.
Tim.

I come to you (for if I not mistake, you are the Prince) from that most Noble Lord Ismenus with a Letter.

Ura.
Alas, I feare I shall be discouered now.
Leu.
Now I feele my selfe the poorest of all mortall things.
Where is he that reciues such courtesies,
But he has meanes to shew his gratefulnes
Some way or other? I haue none at all:
I know not how to speake so much as well
Of thee but to these trees.
Leucippus opening the Letter, the whilst Timantus runnes at him, and Vrania steppes before.
Tim.
His Letters speake him sir —
Vra.

Gods keepe me but fro knowing him till I dye: aye me, sure I cannot liue a day, ô thou foule Traytor: How doe you Master?

Leu.

How dost thou my childe? alas, looke on his, it may make thee repentant, to behold those innocent drops that thou hast drawne from thence.

Vra.
Tis nothing sir and you be well.
Tim.
O pardon me, know you me now sir?
Leu.
How couldst thou finde me out?
Tima.

We intercepted a Letter from Ismenus, and [Page] the bearer directed me.

Leu.
Stand vp Timantus boldly,
The world conceiues that thou art guilty
Of diuers treasons to the State and me:
But ô farre be it from the innocence
Of a iust man to giue a traytor death
Without a tryall: here thy Country is not
To purge thee or condemne thee; therefore
A nobler tryall then thou dost deserue,
Rather then none at all, here I accuse thee
Before the face of heauen, to be a traytor
Both to the Duke my father and to me, and the
Whole Land: speake, is it so or no?
Tim.
Tis true sir, pardon me.
Leu.

Take heed Timantus how thou dost cast away thy selfe, I must proceede to execution hastily if thou confesse it: speake once againe, ist so or no?

Tim.
I am not guilty sir.
Fight here: the Prince gets his sword and giues it him.
Leu.
Gods and thy sword acquit thee, here it is.
Timantus.
I will not vse any violence against your Highnesse.
Leu.

At thy perill then, for this must be thy tryall: and from hence forth looke to thy selfe.

Timantus drawes his sword, and runnes at him when he turnes aside.
Tim.
I doe beseech you sir let me not fight.
Leu.
Vp, vp againe Timantus,
There is no way but this beleeue me.
Now if — Fye, fie Timantus, is there no
Vsage can recouer thee from basenesse? wert thou
Longer to conuerse with men, I would haue chidde
Thee for this: be all thy faults for giuen.
Tim.
O spare me sir, I am not fit for death.
Leu.

I thinke thou art not; yet trust me, fitter then [Page] for life: Yet tell mee ere my breath be gone, knowst of any other plots against me?

Tim.
Of none.
Leu.

What course wouldst thou haue taken when thou hadst kild me?

Tim.
I would hane tane your Page, and maried her.
Leu.
What Page?
Tim.
Your boy there. — Dyes.
Urania sounds.
Leu.
Is he falne mad in death, what does he meane?
Some good God help me at the worst: how dost thou?
Let not thy misery vexe me, thou shalt haue
What thy poore heart can wish: I am a Prince.
And I will keepe thee in the gayest cloathes,
And the finest things, that euer pretty boy had giuen him.
Vra.
I know you well enough,
Feth I am dying, and now you know all too.
Le.
But stir vp thy selfe; looke what a Iewell here is,
See how it glisters: what a pretty shew
Will this make in thy little eare? ha, speake,
Eate but a bit, and take it.
Vra.
Doe you not know me?
Leu.

I prethee minde thy health: why thats well sayd my good boy, smile still.

Vra.
I shall smile till death an I see you.
I am Vrania your sister-in-law.
Leu.
How!
Vra.
I am Vrania.
Leu.
Dulnesse did ceaze me, now I know thee well;
Alas why camst thou hither?
Vra.

Feth for loue, I would not let you know till I was dying; for you could not loue mee, my Mother was so naught.

Leu.
I will loue thee, or any thing: what? wilt
Thou leaue me as soone as I know thee?
Speake one word to me: alas shees past it,
She will nere speake more.
What noyse is that? it is no matter who
Enter Ismenus, with the Lords.
Comes on me now. What worse then mad are you
That seeke out sorrowes? if you loue delights
Be gone from hence.
Isme.

Syr, for you we come, as Souldiers to reuenge the wrongs you haue suffered vnder this naughtie Creature: what shall bee done with her? say, I am ready.

Leu.

Leaue her to heauen braue Cousen, they shall tell her how she has sind against em, my hand shall ne­uer be staind with such base bloud: liue wicked Mo­ther, that reuerent title bee your pardon, for I will vse no extremitie against you, but leaue you to heauen.

Bac.
Hell take you all, if there be a place
Of torment that exceedes that, get you thither:
And till the diuels haue you, may your liues
Be one continued plague, and such a one,
That knowes no friends nor ending.
May all ages that shall succeede curse you as I doe:
And if it be possible, I aske it heauen,
That your base issues may be euer Monsters,
That must for shame of nature and succession,
Be drownd like dogs
Would I had breath to please you.
Leu.
Would you had loue within you, and such
Griefe as might become a Mother: looke you there,
Know you that face, that was Vrania:
These are the fruits of those vnhappy Mothers,
That labour with such horrid byrths as you doe:
If you can weepe, theres cause; poore innocent,
Your wickednes has kild her: Ile weepe for you.
Isme.
Monstrous woman,
Mars would weepe at this, and yet she cannot.
Leu.
Here lies your Minion too, slaine by my hand,
I will not say you are the cause: yet certaine,
I know you were too blame, the Gods forgiue you.
Isme.
See, she stands as if she were inuenting
Some new destruction for the world.
Leu.

Ismenus, thou art welcome yet to my sad com­panie.

Isme.
I come to make you somewhat sadder sir.
Leu.
You cannot, I am at the height already.
Isme.
Your Fathers dead.
Leu.

I thought so, heauen be with him: ô woman, woman, weepe now or neuer, thou hast made more sorrowes then we haue eyes to vtter.

Bac.

Now let heauen fall, I am at the worst of euils, a thing so miserable wretched, that euery thing, the last of humane comforts hath left me: I will not bee so base and colde, to liue and wayte the mercies of these men I hate: no, tis iust I dye, since Fortune hath left me my step discent attends me: hand, strike thou home, I haue soule enough to guide; and let all know, as I stood a Queene, the same Ile fall, and one with me.

She stabs the Prince with a knife.
Leu.
Ho.
Isme.
How doe you sir?
Leu.

Neerer my health, then I thinke any here, my tongue begins to faulter: what is man? or who would be one, when he sees a poore weake woman can in an instant make him none.

Dor.
She is dead already.
Isme.

Let her be damnd already as she is: post all for Surgeants.

Leu.
Let not a man sturre, for I am but dead:
I haue some few words which I wold haue you heart,
And am afrayd I shall want breath to speake em:
First to you my Lords, You know Ismenus is
Vndoubtedly heyre of Licia, I doe beseech you all,
When I am dead to shew your duties to him.
Lords.
We vow to do't.
Leu.
I thanke you.
Next to you Couzen Ismenus, that shall be the Duke,
I pray you let the broken Image of Cupid
Be reedified, I know all this is done by him.
Isme.
It shall be so.
Leu.

Last, I beseech you that my Mother-in-Law may haue a buriall acording to — Dyes.

Ism.
To what sir?
Dor.
There is a full point.
Ism.

I will interpret for him; she shal haue buriall according to her owne deserts, with dogs.

Dor.

I would your Maiestie would haste for setling of the people.

Ism.
I am ready.
Agenor, goe and let the Trumpets sound
Some mournefull thing, whilst we conuey the body
Of this vnhappy Prince vnto the Court,
And of that vertuous Virgin to a graue:
But dragge her to a ditch, where let her lye
Accurst, whilst one man has a memory.
Exeunt.
Cupids Speech.
The time now of my Reuenge drawes neere;
Nor shall it lessen, as I am a god,
With all the cryes and prayers that haue beene;
And those that be to come, tho they be infinite,
In neede and number.
FINIS.

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