Act.
I.
Enter
Hartwell
,
Close
,
Servants
.
Hartwell
.
NAy
,
let
's
not
part
so
heavily
.
Clo.
For
mine
owne
part
It
does
not
trouble
me
so
much
,
that
you
Have
broke
up
house
;
for
hospitalitie
Went
out
of
fashion
with
crop-doublets
And
cod-peeces
:
but
I
that
have
worne
out
So
many
liveries
under
the
worshipfull
Old
Gentleman
your
father
.
Hart.
My
father
had
an
office
,
which
brought
in
A
faire
revenew
;
I
inherit
but
His
little
land
,
whose
annuall
profits
wo'not
Encourage
me
to
live
at
the
same
height
:
Yee
may
meet
better
fortunes
,
there
's
enough
Preferment
in
the
world
;
my
love
and
best
Assistance
promise
to
your selves
.
Clo.
I
do
not
Stand
upon
wages
,
Sir
,
I
will
not
leave
you
.
Hart.
How
woot
thou
live
?
Clo.
As
other
mortals
do
;
yet
I
'll
not
play
The
thiefe
,
that
is
a
course
by
which
a
man
May
soone
ascend
the
ladder
of
preferment
:
But
I
ne're
lov'd
these
climbing
trees
.
I
cannot
Cheat
,
though
I
have
heard
there
is
an
art
,
A
devillish
deale
of
knowledge
in
the
dice
;
And
if
men
wonot
part
with
money
,
some
Will
fetch
it
out
o'
th'
bones
:
but
the
best
casting
Is
in
a
Taverne
,
when
the
wine
and
reckoning
Come
up
together
;
some
doe
spin
a
living
by
't
:
And
there
are
many
secret
wayes
for
Serving-men
To
live
,
it
is
not
wages
does
maintaine
All
of
our
Tribe
,
Sir
;
and
especially
Those
that
have
Mistresses
.
Hart.
But
I
am
a
Bachelour
.
Clo.
I
pray
let
me
be
one
of
your
buttons
still
then
,
I
am
not
halfe
worne
out
;
you
know
what
mould
I
'm
made
off
,
I
did
ever
honest
service
;
And
though
my
fellow
Vermin
can
forsake
Your
falling
house
,
I
doe
not
feare
the
rafters
;
By
this
hand
,
Sir
,
I
'll
wait
upon
you
,
though
Like
great
mens
servants
,
I
do
live
on
nothing
But
looks
,
and
the
aire
of
commendations
.
Hart.
Well
,
since
you
are
so
resolute
,
attend
me
,
The
rest
I
here
discharge
,
there
's
somewhat
more
,
Not
worth
the
name
of
bountie
,
I
wish
all
A
happier
entertainment
.
2
Serv.
And
there
be
No
remedy
,
heaven
blesse
you
,
Sir
.
Clo.
Pray
give
me
leave
to
wet
my
lips
with
these
My
fellowes
,
sorrow
has
made
but
a
dry
proverb
,
I
must
toth
'
Taverne
,
and
condole
a
quart
.
Hart.
Meet
me
at
Mistresse
Bellamies
then
.
Exit
.
Clo.
I
shall
,
Sir
.
Enter
Playfare
.
Play.
How
now
Masters
.
Clo.
You
speake
not
To
me
,
Sir
,
I
am
a
servant
still
indeed
;
With
them
the
case
is
alter'd
,
they
are
masters
,
For
they
want
services
.
1
Ser.
Oh
,
Master
Playfare
.
2
It
is
not
now
as
when
Andrea
liv'd
,
3
This
place
was
made
for
pleasure
,
not
for
death
.
1
There
was
a
time
when
mortals
whetted
knives
.
2
In
time
of
yore
,
when
men
kill'd
brutish
beasts
.
3
Oh
cruell
Butcher
,
whosoe're
thou
wert
.
Clo.
Do
not
you
know
what
all
this
signifies
?
Play.
Not
I
.
Clo.
My
master
has
given
over
house-keeping
.
1
He
has
committed
Burglarie
,
broke
up
the
cellar
,
And
throwne
the
kitchin
out
at
the
hall
window
.
Clo.
His
house
,
Sir
,
has
a
superscription
,
And
is
directed
to
his
loving
friend
Will
pay
the
rent
,
you
'l
hardly
know
me
now
,
I
have
no
fellow
.
Play.
You
are
verie
merrie
,
Sir
.
2
He
has
some
cause
,
we
are
discharg'd
.
Clo:
For
certaine
,
my
master
only
Belongs
to
me
,
if
you
would
speake
with
him
,
He
's
gone
to
Mistresse
Bellamies
,
Sir
;
In
the
meane
time
,
please
you
to
understand
,
I
Close
follow
my
master
,
and
shall
feed
still
,
Although
my
fellowes
here
are
become
blanks
,
And
do
want
filling
.
Play.
Lads
,
I
have
knowne
you
long
:
Although
you
be
at
losse
,
in
confidence
Of
all
your
future
honesties
,
I
'll
employ
yee
In
a
device
,
which
if
it
hit
,
may
Reward
your
paines
.
Clo.
All
?
Play.
Your
Master
only
,
Sir
,
belongs
to
you
,
Follow
him
still
,
and
if
there
be
occasion
,
I
shall
enquire
for
you
;
you
will
be
faithfull
.
Ser.
omnes
.
Doubt
not
,
M.
Playfaire
.
Play.
I
have
a
project
,
Follow
me
for
instructions
;
farewell
Close
,
Commend
me
to
your
master
.
2
Buoy
Close
,
buoy
honest
Close
,
we
are
blanks
,
blanks
.
Clo.
Roule
up
your selves
in
paper-liveries
,
and
Be
drawne
at
the
next
Lotterie
;
I
wo'not
Forsake
my
certaintie
for
all
your
projects
,
If
it
should
faile
I
shall
find
some
of
you
Sneaking
in
Pauls
behind
a
pillar
,
with
A
zealous
prayer
,
some
Gentleman
would
read
The
bed-roll
of
your
commendation
,
And
pitie
a
verie
serviceable
fellow
,
That
would
faine
wait
on
him
,
but
wants
a
cloake
:
Go
,
prosper
with
your
project
.
Exeunt
.
Enter
Hornet
,
Mistresse
Bellamy
.
Horn.
Widdow
,
be
rul'd
by
me
,
I
know
the
world
,
And
I
have
studied
it
these
fiftie
yeares
:
There
's
no
man
to
be
trusted
.
Bell.
Without
good
.
Securitie
,
you
meane
.
Horn.
No
young
man
,
widdow
,
That
talks
,
and
sayes
he
loves
you
,
writes
you
verses
,
And
sweares
he
shall
goe
hang
himselfe
,
unlesse
You
pitie
him
;
take
me
an
old
man
.
Bell.
So
,
take
you
an
old
man
.
Horn.
Season'd
with
care
and
thrift
,
not
led
away
By
vicious
conversation
,
nor
corrupted
With
pride
and
surfet
,
one
that
knowes
the
use
Of
money
;
Do
yee
mark
the
use
?
Bell.
Yes
,
Sir
:
Use
upon
use
,
you
meane
.
Hor.
And
dares
not
spend
it
prodigally
,
knowing
The
principall
end
it
was
ordain'd
to
,
was
To
releeve
our
necessitie
,
and
lay
up
What
is
above
.
Bell.
To
help
the
poore
.
Horn.
You
may
,
If
you
be
so
dispos'd
,
but
't
is
as
commendable
To
give
it
in
your
will
,
to
build
an
Hospitall
,
And
so
our
charitie
comes
altogether
:
I
would
not
have
your
state
be
eaten
up
By
Catterpillers
,
but
preserv'd
and
made
Greater
,
by
marrying
some
discreet
old
man
.
Bell.
And
such
an
one
you
shew
your selfe
.
Horn.
You
happily
Interpret
me
.
Bell.
I
would
not
tell
you
,
Sir
,
Till
our
next
meeting
,
how
much
you
have
won
,
By
your
good
counsell
,
on
me
.
Horn.
She
inclines
.
'T
is
your
good
nature
,
I
am
plaine
,
and
have
No
tricks
,
I
'll
tell
you
all
my
fault
,
I
am
Addicted
verie
much
to
gather
wealth
;
I
have
no
children
to
devoure
my
state
,
Nor
kinred
,
only
a
Neece
left
to
my
trust
,
One
that
is
never
like
to
marrie
.
Bell.
Why
?
Horn.
She
never
thriv'd
since
she
came
to
mee
.
Bell.
I
easily
beleeve
it
.
Horn.
Melancholly
Will
kill
her
,
and
yet
I
pursue
all
wayes
That
promise
her
delight
:
I
spare
no
cost
Of
Physick
,
what
her
Doctor
sayes
,
is
done
.
Bell.
'T
is
lovingly
perform'd
.
Enter
Hartwell
and
Mistresse
Frances
.
Horn.
What
's
he
?
Bell.
A
Gentleman
that
beares
my
daughter
much
Affection
.
Horn.
Sure
I
have
seene
him
.
Bell.
Master
Hartwell
.
Horn.
Oh
,
he
's
a
beggar
,
or
must
be
verie
shortly
.
Bell.
Have
you
his
lands
in
morgage
?
Horn.
Not
yet
,
not
yet
;
but
he
'll
want
money
,
widdow
.
Bell.
He
has
had
good
breeding
.
Horn.
Hang
breeding
,
't
is
unlucky
,
They
never
keep
their
state
that
have
too
much
on
't
,
Counsell
your
daughter
,
Mistresse
Bellamy
,
To
throw
him
off
betime
.
Bell.
You
direct
well
.
Horn.
When
we
are
married
,
I
'll
provide
a
match
for
her
.
Bell.
You
have
care
on
's
.
Horn.
It
will
become
me
.
Hart.
Is
he
Suitor
to
your
mother
,
Lady
?
Fra.
He
would
be
such
a
thing
:
Were
not
I
blest
In
such
a
jolly
father
in
law
?
Hart.
He
looks
like
some
cast
money-bag
,
that
had
given
up
The
stuffing
,
and
for
want
of
use
growne
mouldy
:
He
dares
not
keep
much
fire
in
's
kitchin
,
lest
Warming
his
hands
,
which
rather
looke
like
gloves
,
So
tann'd
and
thin
,
he
let
em
scorch
,
and
gather
Into
a
heap
.
I
do
not
think
he
ever
Put
off
his
clothes
,
he
would
run-mad
to
see
His
owne
anatomy
,
that
such
a
wretch
Should
have
so
vast
a
wealth
.
Fran.
I
wod
not
be
his
Niece
for
all
his
fortune
.
Hart.
I
presume
Your
mother
is
more
noble
,
than
to
encourage
him
In
his
pretence
,
and
her
estate
would
mix
But
ill
with
his
ill-gotten
wealth
,
extorted
From
widdowes
and
from
orphans
,
nor
will
all
His
plentie
keep
his
soule
one
day
from
famine
:
'T
is
time
ill
spent
to
mention
him
,
let
's
talk
Of
something
else
.
Fran.
Of
what
?
Hart.
Of
love
agen
,
Whose
flame
we
equally
divide
.
Horn.
Your
table
Is
a
devourer
,
and
they
shut
up
doores
First
,
that
keep
open
house
and
entertainments
:
This
Lord
is
feasted
,
and
that
young
Ladies
Sweet
tooth
must
have
a
banquet
;
t'other
old
Madam
with
ne're
a
tooth
must
have
some
marchpane
Corall
to
rub
her
gums
withall
;
these
are
Ridiculous
expences
.
Bell.
Far
from
thrift
.
Horn.
This
roome
has
too
rich
furniture
,
and
worse
Hangings
would
serve
the
turne
;
if
I
may
be
Worthy
to
counsell
,
costly
pictures
are
Superfluous
,
though
of
this
,
or
t'other
masters
Doing
:
Hang
Michael
Angelo
and
his
oyles
.
If
they
be
given
,
y'
are
the
more
excus'd
To
let
'em
shew
;
but
have
a
care
you
let
not
Appeare
,
either
in
Arras
,
or
in
picture
,
The
storie
of
the
Prodigall
,
't
will
fright
Young
Gentlemen
that
come
to
visit
you
From
spending
o'
their
portions
,
whose
riot
May
enrich
you
with
their
forfeited
estates
;
I
have
a
thousand
precepts
more
.
Bell.
But
do
not
Think
all
this
while
of
heaven
.
Horn.
'T
is
in
my
chest
,
And
multiplyed
in
everie
bag
.
Bell.
Or
hell
.
Horn.
A
fable
to
fright
fooles
,
or
children
;
but
I
cannot
stay
,
my
Scrivener
doth
expect
me
,
I
'll
visit
you
another
time
,
sweet
widdow
,
And
give
you
more
instructions
.
Bell.
Spare
your
travell
,
I
sha'not
practise
these
in
haste
,
and
must
Declare
these
precepts
make
not
for
your
welcome
:
My
patience
was
a
vertue
all
this
while
,
If
you
but
think
you
have
a
soule
;
repent
;
Your
rules
I
am
not
covetous
to
follow
,
Good
master
Hornet
.
Horn.
Live
and
be
undone
then
:
You
'l
tell
me
another
tale
hereafter
widdow
.
Exit
.
Enter
Nurse
and
Close
.
Nur.
Letters
from
Master
Startup
,
the
countrey
Gentleman
.
Har.
What
's
he
?
Fran.
A
Sutor
of
my
Nurses
commendations
.
Clo.
Now
heaven
deliver
me
,
what
have
I
seen
?
This
monster
once
was
shewne
i'
th'
faire
,
or
such
Another
furr'd
Baboone
for
all
the
world
,
Do'st
know
him
?
Why
do
I
ask
such
a
question
?
He
's
such
a
thing
the
Devill
would
not
owne
's
Acquaintance
.
Nur.
Master
Hornet
,
the
great
Usurer
.
Clo.
Hornet
?
Nay
then
,
my
wonder
's
over
,
and
the
Devill
be
but
such
another
,
they
May
be
sworne
brothers
;
yes
,
and
divide
hell
Betwixt
em
.
Hart.
Who
is
that
you
talk
on
,
Sir
?
Clo.
The
beast
,
that
Heaven
be
thank'd
,
has
left
you
,
Hornet
;
but
I
ha
newes
for
you
.
Bell.
Frances
.
Hart.
I
'll
heare
it
in
the
garden
.
Exit
Hart.
Close
.
Bell.
Do
you
love
That
Master
Hartwell
?
do
not
blush
,
but
answer
.
Fran.
I
hope
you
move
not
this
,
as
if
you
doubted
;
I
took
him
first
,
upon
your
character
,
Into
my
good
opinion
.
Bell.
But
things
alter
:
What
then
I
thought
,
I
deliver'd
yee
;
Nor
since
hath
he
deserv'd
a
lesse
esteeme
In
his
owne
person
,
but
the
circumstance
Is
not
the
same
,
his
fortune
I
have
examin'd
,
Which
rises
not
to
such
a
value
,
I
Did
apprehend
;
and
it
becomes
my
care
,
Being
at
one
gift
to
depart
with
thee
And
my
estate
,
to
look
for
one
whose
purse
May
carrie
a
proportion
.
Fran.
Make
me
not
Imagine
you
would
wed
me
to
a
heap
Of
shining
dust
,
a
golden
bondage
.
Bell.
Nor
To
penurie
;
his
birth
,
and
education
Are
not
unworthy
,
he
's
a
handsome
man
too
;
But
be
not
govern'd
by
your
eye
too
much
:
Children
and
age
pursue
,
and
many
stormes
Hover
about
our
fraile
conditions
:
All
these
must
be
provided
for
,
they
are
not
Kisses
will
arme
you
against
winter
,
therefore
Confident
of
your
obedience
,
I
propound
Another
to
your
best
thoughts
,
Fran.
Oh
my
unhappinesse
.
Bell.
A
Countrey
Gentleman
of
spreading
fortunes
,
Young
too
,
and
not
uncomely
;
for
his
breeding
,
It
was
not
spun
the
finest
,
but
his
wealth
,
Able
to
guild
deformitie
,
and
make
Even
want
of
wit
a
vertue
,
when
your
life
Renders
it selfe
more
sweet
by
your
command
;
His
name
is
Master
Startup
,
whom
I
expect
Our
guest
to morrow
,
that
's
his
letter
,
read
it
.
This
may
seeme
strange
at
the
first
coming
toward
you
;
But
when
discretion
comes
to
examine
what
A
fruitfull
consequence
attends
it
,
you
Will
thank
me
for
't
.
Fran.
But
with
your
pardon
,
mother
,
Although
I
could
dispence
with
my
owne
thoughts
,
And
frame
them
to
obedience
,
will
this
change
Be
for
my
honour
,
or
my
fame
?
when
such
A
noble
Gentleman
shall
boast
he
had
,
With
your
consent
,
my
love
?
or
pray
admit
That
which
we
gaine
by
riches
of
the
second
,
Seeme
to
authorize
,
and
may
justifie
The
act
with
some
;
how
can
it
cure
the
wound
,
Which
the
poore
heart
,
which
loves
,
shall
find
too
soone
,
When
't
is
neglected
,
and
so
cruelly
,
Where
it
did
hope
for
cherishing
?
Oh
think
How
you
did
love
my
father
first
,
and
be
More
gentle
to
your
daughter
,
your
estate
Is
above
needy
providence
,
or
grafting
Into
a
new
stock
;
it
doth
grow
already
Faire
from
his
owne
root
,
and
doth
want
no
peecing
:
Nor
are
the
meanes
of
Hartwell
so
contemptible
.
Bell.
No
more
:
y'have
consider'd
well
,
you
'l
shape
Another
answer
;
i'
th'
meane
time
dispose
Your
countenance
to
entertaine
this
new
And
able
Lover
:
leave
the
satisfaction
Of
Hartwell
to
my
care
:
He
's
here
,
to
your
chamber
.
Enter
Hartwell
,
Close
.
Clo.
I
know
not
what
's
the
trick
on
't
,
nor
themselves
yet
;
But
he
has
a
project
to
employ
'em
all
.
Hart.
I
wish
it
well
;
but
do
you
work
your selfe
Into
the
opinion
of
her
Nurse
,
she
is
The
Major
Domo
,
and
has
all
the
intelligence
.
Clo.
Let
me
alone
,
I
'll
work
her
Sir
like
wax
,
To
print
what
forme
you
please
upon
her
,
't
is
A
Loving
Crone
already
to
me
,
I
Will
speake
her
faire
,
and
in
my
drink
may
marrie
her
.
Bell.
Master
Hartwell
.
Hart.
About
your
businesse
.
Exit
Close
.
Bell.
There
is
a
matter
,
Sir
,
which
I
must
open
,
And
you
perhaps
will
wonder
at
.
Hart.
You
prepare
my
attention
.
Bell.
You
do
love
my
daughter
,
At
least
I
think
so
.
Hart.
If
you
knew
my
heart
,
You
might
be
confident
,
in
her
I
sum
All
my
desires
on
earth
.
Bell.
Be
not
so
fixt
.
Hart.
How
Lady
?
Bell.
When
you
have
heard
me
out
,
you
'l
find
Your
consent
easie
to
call
back
a
promise
Made
to
your
disadvantage
.
Hart.
I
acknowledge
;
This
makes
me
wonder
,
pray
interpret
Lady
,
And
speake
the
dialect
I
understand
:
I
love
your
daughter
.
Bell.
But
must
never
glorie
In
the
reward
which
you
expect
should
be
,
Her
marriage
.
Hart.
In
the
number
of
my
actions
There
is
not
one
that
's
guiltie
of
so
much
Offence
to
you
,
that
I
should
be
so
soone
Lost
to
your
favour
.
Bell.
Have
no
thought
so
poore
You
can
deserve
lesse
,
my
opinion
Is
richer
laden
with
your
merit
.
Hart.
Now
I
feare
agen
,
this
violent
turne
of
praise
Makes
me
suspect
my
state
;
if
I
be
falne
,
Teach
me
to
know
my
trespasse
.
Bell.
I
ne're
look'd
With
such
cleere
eyes
into
your
worth
,
and
't
were
A
sin
to
generall
goodnesse
,
to
delay
The
free
resigne
of
that
your
worth
may
challenge
.
Hart.
If
this
be
meant
,
pray
pardon
my
mistake
Of
something
went
before
,
love
made
me
feare
;
You
said
I
never
should
enjoy
your
daughter
In
marriage
,
which
your selfe
so
late
enclined
to
.
Bell.
And
must
agen
repeat
,
you
cannot
call
Her
Bride
.
Hart.
Can
you
forbid
this
happinesse
,
And
love
me
?
Bell.
Yes
,
so
deerly
,
Hartwell
,
I
Present
my selfe
to
thy
affection
.
Hart.
You
fright
my
understanding
.
Bell.
Does
the
name
Of
widdow
sound
displeasing
,
I
have
learn'd
Already
to
obey
;
my
yeares
are
not
So
many
,
with
the
thought
,
to
freeze
your
bloud
,
I
weare
no
print
of
time
deep
in
my
brow
:
Have
my
haires
the
innocence
of
age
,
To
speake
me
twice
a
child
?
Gentlemen
active
,
And
of
great
birth
,
have
courted
my
affection
,
And
if
they
flatter
not
,
commend
my
person
.
Adde
unto
this
my
wealth
,
no
narrow
fortune
,
And
without
competition
,
my
daughter
,
Depending
on
my
love
,
whose
portion
must
Flow
from
my
bountie
,
or
be
nothing
;
make
A
sober
apprehension
of
this
tender
,
And
think
I
was
not
able
to
suppresse
My
silent
flame
,
increast
still
by
your
vertues
:
This
minute
give
all
hopes
up
for
my
daughter
,
I
can
admit
no
Rivall
;
't
is
within
Your
election
to
be
happie
,
Sir
:
My
love
accepted
comes
with
faire
attendance
,
Deny'd
,
you
hasten
your
owne
exile
,
think
on
't
,
I
will
expect
your
answer
.
Exit
.
Hart.
I
am
destroy'd
:
Was
it
her
mother
that
spake
all
this
while
?
As
pilgrims
,
by
mistake
of
some
small
path
,
Having
told
many
wearie
steps
,
at
night
,
When
their
hopes
flatter
em
,
they
are
not
far
From
some
kind
entertainment
,
find
themselves
Lost
in
a
wildernesse
;
so
am
I
miserable
:
Thus
love
delights
to
wound
,
and
see
us
bleed
,
He
were
a
gentle
god
to
kill
indeed
.
Exit
.
Act.
II.
Enter
Close
and
Nurse
.
Clo.
A
word
of
thy
mouth
does
it
,
I
am
wearie
Of
these
indentures
,
like
a
foole
,
I
was
In
hope
he
should
have
married
Mistresse
Frances
.
Nur.
A
beggar
,
she
his
wife
;
no
,
Master
Startup
,
Whom
I
preferr'd
,
must
carrie
her
,
he
's
a
man
Of
lands
and
money
;
I
must
tell
you
by
The
way
,
he
is
little
better
than
a
foole
.
Clo.
The
fitter
for
her
husband
,
and
my
master
.
Nur.
Y'
are
in
the
right
,
he
's
innocent
to
your
hands
,
You
may
soone
come
to
manage
his
estate
.
Clo.
Which
if
I
do
,
thou
shalt
have
all
.
Nur.
All
what
?
Clo.
Why
all
that
I
can
beg
,
borrow
,
or
steale
From
him
;
what
should
he
do
with
so
much
riches
?
I
'll
prompt
my
mistresse
,
after
the
first
yeare
,
To
put
him
to
his
pension
;
he
should
pay
For
's
verie
diet
,
and
after
a
moneth
or
two
,
For
everie
time
he
comes
al
oft
.
Nur.
Nay
,
I
would
wish
her
to
begin
betimes
,
If
she
doe
meane
to
rule
the
rost
,
I
can
Give
her
some
documents
;
and
be
you
sure
To
stick
close
to
your
Mistresse
,
there
is
something
To
be
got
that
way
.
Enter
Hartwell
,
Playfaire
.
Clo.
My
most
exquisite
Varges
,
How
I
doe
love
thy
documents
;
but
he
's
here
,
I
'll
not
be
seene
with
thee
,
farewell
,
we
'll
talk
The
rest
at
night
over
a
Sack-posset
.
Exit
Close
.
Nur.
I
will
use
this
advantage
to
oreheare
'em
.
Play.
You
tell
me
strange
things
;
Is
it
possible
The
widdow
her selfe
loves
you
?
Hart.
Would
I
had
But
reason
to
suspect
.
Play.
Possible
!
Turn'd
Colt
againe
?
This
love
will
kill
us
all
:
And
can
she
make
no
choyce
,
but
where
her
daughter
Has
the
same
longing
?
not
her
dancing
dayes
Done
yet
?
why
there
's
no
remedy
,
you
must
love
her
.
Hart.
And
violate
my
faith
made
to
her
daughter
.
Play.
Thou
wot
not
be
so
much
an
Infidell
,
To
think
I
meane
thou
shouldst
forsake
the
wench
;
Tell
me
the
mother
a
fine
tale
of
love
,
Print
kisses
on
her
paper-lip
,
and
hug
Her
reverend
body
;
any
thing
but
lye
with
her
:
Write
sonnets
on
the
ivorie
tooth
afore
,
Sweare
she
does
cough
distinctly
,
get
a
rime
To
blesse
her
when
she
sneezes
,
and
cry
up
The
method
of
her
nose
,
which
sweats
and
fals
So
perpendicular
upon
her
face
:
Admire
the
wart
upon
her
chin
,
and
motion
Of
her
blew
eyes
,
that
look
three
wayes
at
once
:
Praise
her
above
thy
reason
,
or
her
daughter
;
And
then
she
will
beleeve
thou
mayst
be
mad
for
her
.
Hart.
Is
this
the
way
to
doe
me
good
?
she
comes
Too
fast
on
me
already
.
Play.
Let
her
flye
to
thee
,
Thou
mayst
clip
her
wings
the
sooner
,
this
secures
thee
;
Shou'd
you
hold
off
,
and
play
the
modest
creature
;
Nay
,
but
deny
as
Maids
do
when
they
love
it
,
And
bending
of
your
hams
,
cry
,
No
forsooth
;
Professe
with
Coxcomb-like
civilitie
,
You
are
not
worthy
of
her
carnall
favors
:
She
may
beleeve
it
,
and
in
verie
spight
Marrie
her
daughter
to
a
Citizen
:
Or
should
you
be
so
mad
,
to
think
to
win
her
To
your
first
choyse
,
with
howling
out
your
passion
For
Mistresse
Frances
,
plaining
how
Don
Cupid
Hath
scarrified
your
heart
,
you
may
go
hang
your selfe
:
Go
to
the
Barbers
,
let
him
firk
your
haire
up
,
Or
get
a
perriwig
;
wash
your
sullen
face
,
And
starch
your
infant
upper
lip
,
to
look
Like
one
that
would
run
desperate
on
a
widdow
.
Nur.
Precious
conspiracie
.
Play.
This
is
the
way
:
At
leisure
you
may
tell
your
Maiden
Mistresse
,
Like
Iove
you
have
put
another
shape
on
,
To
cheat
the
Beldam
Iuno
.
Nur.
Foule
mouth'd
Rascall
.
Hart.
I
apprehend
:
th'
ast
given
me
good
counsell
,
I
'll
watch
the
first
occasion
,
to
assure
I
have
preferr'd
her
in
my
heart
already
.
Nur.
I
'll
conjure
up
a
crosse
plot
,
and
that
quickly
,
Shall
mar
your
mirth
,
and
pay
your
fine
dissembling
As
it
deserves
,
my
confident
Love-gamester
.
Exit
Nurse
.
Play.
I
'll
take
my
leave
then
,
y'have
no
other
service
To
use
my
stay
?
I
have
a
project
,
Hartwell
,
That
must
not
be
neglected
.
Hart.
May
not
I
communicate
?
Play.
Thou
art
engaged
to
wait
Vpon
thine
owne
affaires
,
or
I
should
trouble
thee
To
be
an
Actor
in
't
;
thou
knowest
old
Hornet
?
Hart.
He
is
a
Sutour
to
the
widdow
,
And
after
the
rate
we
cast
the
plot
,
my
Rivall
.
Play.
I
'll
rivall
him
;
he
smothers
a
poore
Gentlewoman
At
home
with
sea-cole
,
and
allowes
her
no
More
light
than
serves
to
read
in
painted
cloth
The
exposition
of
the
harlots
storie
:
Hartwell
,
I
love
her
,
and
before
her
father
Di'd
we
enterchang'd
our
hearts
;
't
is
here
,
To
free
her
from
that
slaverie
she
lives
in
Vnder
the
iron-hearted
Iaylor
,
else
I
shall
repent
my
aime
,
he
broods
upon
Her
portion
still
;
but
I
have
a
trick
may
spoile
His
hatching
of
young
bags
,
thou
sha't
know
all
Hereafter
;
to
the
Widdow
,
Hartwell
,
I
am
For
state
affaires
,
be
faithfull
and
pray
for
me
;
We
must
be
bold
,
farewell
,
if
something
hit
Wee
'll
laugh
in
spight
of
Dives
and
the
Devill
.
Exit
.
Enter
Startup
,
Mistresse
Bellamy
,
Mistresse
Frances
,
Close
,
Nurse
,
Hartwell
.
Clo.
This
is
the
thing
,
Sir
,
that
must
carrie
away
The
garland
,
they
have
given
him
a
cup
Or
two
of
Sack
,
and
has
the
prettiest
humour
,
He
does
so
whistle
out
his
complement
:
He
weares
his
feather
like
the
Captaine
of
A
Countrey
Teame
,
and
would
become
a
horse-collar
Rarely
;
I
do
not
think
,
but
were
he
put
to
't
,
With
little
switching
,
he
would
draw
the
cart
well
.
Star.
Sweet
Lady
,
I
'm
your
humble
servant
,
't
is
Well
knowne
what
I
am
,
where
I
live
,
my
father
Died
since
I
was
of
age
;
and
left
me
,
thank
him
,
A
younger
brothers
portion
:
Bell.
A
younger
brother
.
Star.
I
know
,
sweet
Lady
,
what
you
'd
say
,
My
father
Had
no
more
children
,
but
I
must
speake
modestly
Of
my
estate
,
I
have
land
I
know
enough
For
two
or
three
wives
;
I
have
a
horse
in
towne
,
Your
daughter
,
if
we
please
,
shall
ride
behind
me
,
Sweet
Lady
,
did
you
ever
see
the
Countrey
?
Fran.
What
Countrey
,
Sir
?
Star.
Why
any
Countrey
living
,
Sweet
Lady
,
I
am
your
humble
servant
,
if
You
affect
hawking
,
hunting
,
or
drinking
,
There
be
good
fellowes
will
beare
you
company
;
but
you
have
better
Sack
,
sweet
Lady
,
is
there
good
Tobacco
in
London
?
Clo.
Virginia
Tobacco
growes
here
,
Sir
.
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
I
am
your
humble
servant
,
you
Seeme
to
be
a
Gentleman
,
will
you
fetch
me
a
pipe
?
There
's
halfe
a
peece
,
and
I
be
not
troublesome
:
Perhaps
,
sweet
Lady
,
't
will
offend
you
,
then
Let
it
alone
.
Clo.
A
verie
precious
Widgin
:
Gramercie
Sack
.
Star.
Ta
la
la
la
lero
,
&c.
Fran.
You
dance
well
,
Sir
.
Nur.
He
has
a
strong
back
,
I
warrant
him
.
Star.
Sweet
Lady
,
is
this
your
daughter
?
Clo.
Ask
that
now
?
Bell.
I
was
her
mother
,
Sir
.
Star.
That
may
be
too
:
what
Gentleman
is
that
?
Sweet
Sir
,
I
am
your
humble
servant
likewise
.
Hart.
You
are
too
humble
,
Sir
,
to
stoop
so
low
,
It
would
become
my
dutie
.
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
't
is
all
one
,
A
leg
or
an
arme
is
not
cast
away
Among
friends
,
I
am
a
Countrey
Gentleman
All
the
world
knowes
,
sweet
Sir
,
I
ha
no
businesse
In
towne
.
Bell.
I
thought
you
came
to
see
my
daughter
.
Star.
That
may
be
too
,
sweet
Lady
,
pray
uncase
me
,
I
honour
your
faire
daughter
;
for
I
know
,
As
well
as
another
,
what
belongs
to
a
Gentlewoman
:
She
's
not
the
first
,
sweet
Lady
,
I'have
lov'd
I'
th'
way
of
matrimony
.
Hart.
Were
you
ever
married
?
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
no
;
all
men
are
not
alike
.
Hart.
For
some
are
fooles
.
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
I
do
confesse
it
:
But
wit
is
neuer
goodwill
it
be
bought
.
They
say
there
are
good
wits
in
towne
,
I
ha
brought
money
a
purpose
wo'
mee
for
it
;
If
any
will
sell
me
a
penny-worth
,
I
'll
Give
him
a
hundred
peeces
,
'cause
I
would
carrie
A
little
downe
into
the
Countrey
.
Hart.
Is
there
A
dearth
,
Sir
,
in
your
Countrey
?
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
no
;
There
's
plentie
.
Clo.
Of
wild
oats
;
I
heard
you
had
much
To
sow
still
.
Star.
My
servants
have
,
sweet
Sir
;
but
't
is
all
one
;
This
Lady
shall
be
Lord
o'
the
Soyle
:
I
wo'not
Give
any
man
six
pence
for
a
bushell
o'
money
;
I
am
a
Gentleman
,
my
father
was
A
Yeoman
;
but
sweet
Lady
,
howsoever
I
'm
yours
,
and
everie
limb
is
at
your
service
;
My
hands
shall
walk
,
my
feet
shall
run
.
Fran.
Away
,
away
.
Star.
By
this
gold
they
shall
.
Clo.
He
keeps
his
oath
.
Star.
Not
run
?
my
Grandfather
was
a
Nobleman
Foot-man
,
and
indeed
he
run
his
countrey
;
my
father
did
out
run
the
Constable
.
Clo.
And
he
,
sweet
Lady
,
being
his
fathers
issue
,
must
run
naturally
.
Star.
If
I
live
.
Clo.
He
'll
run
himselfe
out
of
all
.
Star.
Not
run
,
sweet
Lady
?
If
you
have
occasion
to
use
me
,
I
wo'not
stand
upon
my
feet
.
Fran.
No
,
Sir
.
Star.
Nay
,
I
wo'not
stand
upon
my
head
,
sweet
Lady
,
to
doe
you
courtesie
.
Fran.
That
were
the
cleane
contrarie
way
.
Bell.
Please
you
,
a
sorrie
dinner
stayes
for
you
.
Star.
Sweet
Lady
,
I
am
your
servant
:
will
this
Gentleman
dine
with
us
?
Bell.
I
'll
prevaile
with
Master
Hartwell
.
Clo.
Do
yee
know
what
you
ha
done
?
he
's
you
rivall
,
invite
him
?
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
I
invite
no body
,
if
you
love
any body
here
?
Hart.
What
then
?
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
I
shannot
take
it
kindly
,
I
do
not
use
to
quarrel
.
Clo.
But
when
y'
are
beaten
:
lay
him
o're
the
face
,
hee
sha'not
wrong
you
.
Star.
Sweet
Sir
,
't
is
dinner
time
:
faire
Lady
:
Exeunt
.
Clo.
I
had
a
great
mind
to
have
him
beaten
;
But
he
's
not
valiant
,
but
at
meales
;
would
I
Were
hired
to
beat
him
handsomely
after
dinner
,
And
make
him
thank
me
for
't
;
I
'll
have
a
plot
Upon
your
precious
body
,
my
sweet
Sir
.
Exit
.
Enter
Hornet
,
Playfaires
Cosen
like
a
Doctor
.
Horn.
You
tell
me
wonders
,
Sir
.
Doct.
I
tell
you
truth
:
Alas
,
you
know
I
have
no
ends
of
profit
,
I
practise
not
for
wealth
.
Horn.
Y'
are
vertuous
;
For
that
you
were
commended
,
Sir
,
to
me
:
You
have
a
conscience
,
and
wo'not
take
Fees
for
a
complement
,
nor
make
poore
your
friends
,
To
enrich
Apothecaries
.
Doct.
I
have
cur'd
her
melancholly
;
but
she
's
a
t'other
side
Now
extreme
merrie
,
dance
and
sing
,
all
aire
.
Horn.
'T
is
strange
,
methinks
,
nothing
but
extremities
:
Good
Master
Doctors
could
you
not
ha
par'd
Her
t'other
leaden
humor
.
Doct.
Sir
,
I
could
not
Kill
the
malignitie
of
her
melancholly
Another
way
;
extremities
must
be
cur'd
With
extreme
applications
:
my
next
work
Shall
be
to
abate
this
levitie
of
her
braine
,
And
quallifie
her
spleene
,
Sir
,
by
degrees
;
So
state
her
body
in
that
modest
temper
She
was
possest
of
.
Horn.
I
complain'd
before
Of
quietnesse
,
now
she
's
all
noyse
and
madnesse
,
By
your
description
.
Doct.
You
must
have
patience
A
month
or
so
,
she
is
not
mad
,
but
merrie
,
Some
few
vagaries
;
you
must
understand
I
have
opend
,
Sir
,
her
fancie
,
wherein
lay
All
her
imaginations
confused
,
And
on
a
heap
,
smother'd
for
want
of
vent
;
And
now
the
spirits
that
were
imprison'd
Rush
out
,
which
causes
all
her
faculties
,
Before
opprest
,
to
exercise
so
strangely
,
As
the
agitation
of
her
tongue
will
manifest
:
Shee
's
here
.
Enter
Neece
.
Neece
.
Vncle
,
how
does
your
body
?
you
appeare
As
leane
as
Lent
,
I
've
a
great
mind
to
dance
About
a
May-pole
,
shall
we
?
Horn.
She
is
mad
.
Neece
.
This
Doctor
has
for
tick
led
me
,
I
cannot
chuse
but
laugh
,
ha
,
ha
.
Vnckle
,
if
you
'l
procure
a
dispensation
To
marrie
me
your selfe
,
deduct
the
charge
Out
of
my
portion
,
I
could
love
an
old
man
Rarely
,
An
old
man
with
a
bed
full
of
bones
&c.
Sings
.
Vnckle
,
when
did
you
put
on
a
clean
shirt
?
D'
yee
heare
,
I
dreamt
o'
th'
Devill
last
night
,
They
say
't
is
good
luck
;
doe
you
know
him
,
Vnckle
.
Horn.
I
know
the
Devill
?
Neece
.
He
's
a
fine
old
Gentleman
,
And
something
like
you
,
no
such
Bug-beare
as
The
world
imagines
,
you
an
he
'll
keep
house
Together
one
day
;
but
you
'll
burne
Sea
-
cole
To
save
charges
,
and
stink
the
poore
soules
so
.
Vnckle
,
you
are
not
merrie
,
I
pray
laugh
A
little
:
imagine
y
'had
undone
a
widdow
,
Or
turn'd
an
Orphan
begging
;
ha
,
ha
,
&c.
Faith
how
many
Churches
doe
you
meane
to
build
Before
you
dye
?
six
bels
in
everie
steeple
,
And
let
'em
all
goe
to
the
Citie
tune
,
Turne
agen
Whittington
;
who
,
they
say
,
Grew
rich
,
and
let
his
land
out
for
nine
lives
,
'Cause
all
came
in
by
a
Cat
:
but
let
me
counsell
you
To
dye
at
all
adventures
,
great
men
doe
't
in
policie
.
Horn.
Why
does
she
talk
of
dying
?
she
's
stark
mad
.
Could
you
not
put
into
the
next
receit
Something
to
make
her
sleep
well
?
Opium
In
a
good
quantitie
,
they
say
,
will
do
't
.
Doct.
I
'll
so
proportion
it
,
she
shall
never
wake
:
I
did
it
for
a
Merchants
wife
last
weeke
,
Which
loved
a
Knight
:
a
great
man
,
not
long
since
Was
wearie
of
his
Countesse
,
and
I
cur'd
him
So
artificially
of
his
disease
.
Horn.
She
heares
.
Doct.
But
collects
nothing
;
all
her
senses
are
scatter'd
.
Neece
.
Stay
,
you
shall
give
towards
the
building
of
a
Church
Nothing
,
see
the
money
first
laid
out
,
That
's
given
already
;
it
were
sin
and
pitie
To
abuse
the
dead
:
but
't
is
no
matter
,
Vnckle
,
You
'll
be
as
famous
for
pulling
downe
the
parish
,
The
Church
will
fall
of
it selfe
,
With
ding
dong
bell
.
Sings
.
Why
did
they
put
the
poore
fellow
in
prison
?
Horn.
Whom
?
what
fellow
?
Neece
.
Why
the
Corne-cutter
:
Poore
Gentleman
,
he
meant
no
hurt
to
the
Citie
,
His
feet
were
verie
wearie
,
and
that
made
him
In
everie
street
cry
out
;
Ha
yee
any
cornes
In
your
head
or
toes
?
that
head
spoyl'd
all
.
Enter
Pursevant
.
Purs.
Which
is
Master
Hornet
?
Horn.
Ha
,
with
me
?
Purs.
A
word
,
Sir
.
Neece
.
Prethee
,
what
's
he
?
he
comes
to
borrow
money
On
his
wives
wedding-ring
,
or
his
childs
whistle
:
You
may
see
by
his
nose
he
has
no
laud
,
he
looks
As
a
Hawke
;
what
do
you
dreame
on
?
What
Ladies
timpany
is
your
next
cure
?
Or
whose
stale
body
must
be
rectified
Next
with
a
glister
?
Purs.
There
is
no
disputing
,
I
must
attend
you
.
Horn.
I
am
sent
for
by
a
Pursevant
to
his
Highnesse
;
Alas
,
I
am
undone
,
I
never
saw
him
,
How
should
he
know
me
,
a
poore
wretch
?
Doct.
Is
't
not
some
complaint
,
think
you
?
Horn.
That
's
my
feare
,
there
be
Too
many
knaves
i'
th'
world
,
and
a
man
cannot
Grow
rich
;
but
one
State-Surgeon
or
other
Must
practise
on
his
purse
;
before
this
Judge
A
veine
is
open'd
in
the
other
Court
,
So
many
ounces
he
must
bleed
agen
:
Let
me
see
,
all
the
treason
I
committed
Is
that
I
shifted
houses
;
for
I
took
Delight
to
couzen
him
of
his
subsidies
;
I
alwayes
live
obscurely
,
to
avoyd
Taxations
,
I
never
pay
the
Church
Her
superstitious
tithes
,
nor
come
to
trouble
Sermons
,
for
feare
of
homilies
before
,
That
beg
for
burning
.
Neece
.
Why
how
now
,
Vnckle
,
is
your
Scrivener
broke
,
You
talk
such
lamentation
?
Horn.
I
am
sent
for
the
King
,
Neece
,
&
shall
be
made
a
beggar
As
I
was
borne
;
I
see
my
chattell
ceas'd
,
This
chest
is
ransackt
,
and
that
bag
deflour'd
,
My
doore
seal'd
up
,
and
with
this
hungrie
Messenger
,
I
am
already
marching
to
the
Fleet
.
Neece
.
Nay
,
and
you
be
at
that
ward
,
I
must
leave
you
,
Fare
well
,
pray
do
not
lift
my
Uncle
too
hard
;
And
so
I
leave
you
both
to
the
mercy
of
the
Bear-garden
.
Doct.
Best
make
fast
her
Chamber
.
Horn.
I
,
I
,
cursed
dog
.
Doct.
Wo'
not
some
money
quallifie
your
haste
?
Purs.
Deale
in
your
owne
affairs
;
Will
you
go
sit
?
Horn.
Go
,
I
must
go
.
Doct.
I
'll
take
my
leave
;
Have
comfort
,
sir
,
this
cloud
may
soon
blow
over
.
Exit
.
Horn.
Yes
,
when
I
am
blowne
up
;
I
reade
imprisonment
in
his
very
looks
,
And
all
my
gold
confiscate
.
Exeunt
.
Enter
Nurse
and
Startup
.
Nurs.
I
heard
her
say
she
would
walke
up
to
her
chamber
,
The
trick
was
but
to
teach
him
whither
he
Should
follow
;
who
as
nimbly
apprehended
,
To
acquaint
her
with
his
new
affections
:
I
do
this
for
your
good
,
that
Mistris
Frances
,
Whom
I
'll
send
to
you
presently
,
may
be
Convinced
in
Hartwell's
falshood
,
and
transplant
Her
love
on
you
.
Start.
This
will
be
excellent
;
So
we
shall
strangle
him
in
his
owne
nooze
,
And
he
nere
know
who
hurt
him
.
Nurs.
I
'll
loose
no
time
,
you
know
my
instructions
.
Start.
I
had
almost
forgot
,
there
is
a
cast
of
angels
more
.
Nurs.
They
are
not
cast
away
.
Star.
If
thou
dost
fear
they
'll
drowne
,
Nurse
,
I
can
give
thee
Lighter
,
I
have
some
want
weight
.
Nurs.
If
you
have
an
evill
angel
about
you
,
Your
businesse
will
thrive
better
when
't
is
departed
.
Star.
There
.
Nurs.
Now
all
the
good
ones
wait
upon
your
worship
.
Exit
.
Start.
These
things
that
go
to
and
agen
,
must
have
Their
fees
,
they
'll
never
speak
in
cause
else
.
Save
you
sweet
Lady
.
Enter
Frances
Fran.
Kinde
Mr.
Startup
.
Start.
Yes
,
I
am
kinde
if
you
knew
all
,
but
you
are
Deceiv'd
in
some body
;
love
,
and
love
your
heart
out
,
The
party
does
not
care
a
button
for
you
.
Fran.
What
party
?
Start.
No
,
I
am
a
foole
,
a
countrey
clod
,
sweet
Lady
,
Not
worth
one
of
your
Shooe-tyes
,
no
not
I
;
I
do
not
know
who
makes
an
asse
of
you
.
Fran.
How
sir
?
Start.
A
gull
,
a
coxcomb
,
I
am
asham'd
you
have
So
little
wit
;
Tell
me
,
and
tell
me
truly
,
Who
loves
this
face
of
yours
besides
my selfe
.
Fran.
Although
it
were
immodest
to
commend
it
,
I
must
thus
far
,
in
gratitude
to
nature
,
Acknowledge
it
no
monster
,
I
have
seen
One
more
deform'd
.
Start.
Sweet
Lady
I
know
that
;
A
worse
face
would
become
the
Countrey
,
nay
,
There
are
but
fifteen
women
in
the
parish
I
live
in
,
of
which
,
twelve
are
counted
witches
,
And
wear
beards
:
But
it
troubles
me
,
sweet
Lady
,
You
should
be
such
an
owle
.
Fran.
This
is
course
language
.
Start.
Not
to
see
who
abuses
you
;
Oh
I
could
Now
finde
in
my
heart
to
baste
you
,
baste
you
soundly
:
You
think
Mr.
Hartwell
loves
you
.
Fran.
I
Believe
he
hates
me
not
.
Start.
You
lye
.
Fran.
Good
words
.
Start.
You
lye
most
basely
,
he
affects
your
mother
.
Fran.
My
mother
?
this
fool
's
mad
.
Ztart.
I
would
it
were
The
fashion
for
women
to
weare
swords
.
Fran.
What
then
?
Start.
I
'de
breath
you
into
a
little
understanding
,
I
say
agen
,
and
she
is
the
son
of
darknesse
Denyes
it
;
Mr.
Hartwell
loves
your
mother
.
Fran.
I
hope
he
does
.
Start.
Oh
I
could
kick
your
ignorance
:
He
does
love
her
in
the
way
of
Matrimony
,
And
makes
a
property
of
you
;
I
'll
justifie
it
.
Fran.
It
is
impossible
.
Start.
D'
ee
know
that
couple
?
Enter
Hartwell
and
Bellamy
.
Step
behinde
the
hangings
,
and
you
may
Both
hear
and
see
:
I
say
no
more
,
sweet
Lady
,
I
am
a
rustick
puppy
,
and
know
nothing
.
Hart.
I
have
considered
perfectly
,
and
if
You
will
vouchsafe
me
hearing
,
dare
poure
forth
My
heart
,
which
,
full
of
love
,
tenders
it selfe
To
your
acceptance
;
I
acknowledge
Lady
,
My
passions
are
but
young
,
for
could
I
hope
You
should
with
so
much
favour
look
upon
me
?
Bell.
But
may
I
credit
this
?
Hart.
But
suspect
were
an
injustice
to
my
faith
,
which
lookes
Upon
your
vertue
with
as
much
religion
As
love
is
able
to
receive
;
your
age
Hath
strooke
a
reverence
into
my
eye
;
And
what
you
want
of
youth
and
spring
upon
you
,
Your
wisedome
richly
satisfies
:
Those
characters
Which
time
hath
writ
upon
your
carefull
forehead
,
Are
but
his
vertue
and
your
ornament
,
When
it
shall
come
to
passe
by
your
example
,
That
youth
shall
be
esteemed
an
infancy
,
And
women
never
ripe
for
love
or
Marriage
Without
your
age
upon
'em
;
't
is
a
fault
,
That
men
not
guided
by
the
tract
of
reason
,
But
heat
and
wantonnesse
of
blood
,
run
giddy
To
seale
such
weighty
Covenants
,
better
't
were
The
world
should
end
in
our
virginities
,
Than
spin
it selfe
more
length
by
inconsiderate
And
hasty
marriages
.
Bell.
Have
you
already
Retriv'd
the
affection
that
pursu'd
my
daughter
?
Shall
I
beleeve
no
seed
of
love
remains
,
Which
may
grow
up
and
ripen
,
with
repentance
For
this
exchange
;
I
do
allow
you
,
sir
,
The
consideration
of
my
fortune
,
which
Might
of
it selfe
,
incline
you
to
accept
me
.
Hart.
That
is
but
an
attendant
,
as
you
use
it
,
I
must
confesse
a
welcome
one
;
although
The
minde
is
the
first
beauty
,
which
true
love
Aspires
to
,
when
't
is
waited
on
with
person
And
estate
,
it
comes
with
greater
priviledge
To
win
upon
's
;
I
do
not
wish
you
,
Lady
,
Rashly
beleeve
what
I
professe
,
but
measure
My
service
by
the
triall
;
I
'll
expect
And
write
your
smiles
a
competent
reward
,
Till
time
and
your
command
,
demonstrate
me
;
Although
not
equall
to
your
full
deservings
,
Yet
one
that
has
ambition
to
bethought
Not
too
unworthy
.
Bell.
And
I
ghuesse
ere
long
,
Such
an
occasion
will
present
it selfe
.
Hart.
Till
then
,
have
Hartwell
in
your
loving
memory
,
Who
wishes
no
more
happinesse
of
life
,
Than
to
be
call'd
yours
.
Exit
.
Fran.
What
have
I
understood
?
Start.
Will
you
beleeve
me
another
time
,
sweet
Lady
?
If
I
loved
you
not
,
what
would
become
on
you
?
Fran.
It
is
not
he
,
some
devill
does
but
cozen
us
,
And
mock
our
sense
with
these
phantastick
bodies
,
Hartwell
.
Star.
Nay
't
is
the
man
;
I
hope
you
'll
be
converted
,
And
think
a
Countrey
Gentleman
worth
favour
,
That
brought
you
to
this
knowledge
;
I
deserve
�
Fran.
My
curses
for
this
black
discovery
,
When as
before
't
was
not
impossible
,
In
time
I
might
be
brought
to
pity
thee
;
Henceforth
I
'll
look
upon
thee
as
my
sins
,
And
beg
as
much
forgivenesse
that
I
knew
thee
.
Start.
Nay
d'
ee
but
hear
.
Fran.
Die
quickly
,
and
be
forgotten
.
Start.
This
is
very
fine
ifaith
,
sweet
Lady
.
Fran.
My
mother
,
oh
my
fate
,
see
me
no
more
,
And
I
le
forgive
thee
.
Start.
Thanke
you
,
most
sweet
Lady
,
Is
my
discovery
come
to
this
?
I
'de
better
Ha'
been
tongue-ty'd
;
Curse
me
,
and
call
me
her
sins
,
And
see
her
no
more
?
why
this
is
worse
and
worse
;
I
must
suck
better
counsell
from
the
Nurse
.
Exeunt
.
ACT.
III
.
Enter
Nurse
and
Startup
.
Nurs.
Fye
,
fie
,
I
am
asham'd
of
you
,
a
Gentleman
Of
your
high
promising
,
and
be
put
off
So
slightly
?
Start.
Why
Nurse
,
what
would
you
ha'
me
do
?
Nurs.
Do
?
I
would
have
you
do
something
;
a
man
Of
your
ability
,
and
cannot
turne
And
winde
a
woman
?
Star.
You
wo'd
not
ha'
wish'd
me
To
ha'
put
her
to
't
behinde
the
hangings
?
Nurs.
You
should
ha'
been
round
with
her
.
Start.
I
was
round
with
her
,
I
call'd
her
asse
and
coxcombe
,
And
twenty
more
names
,
unlesse
I
should
Ha'
call'd
her
whore
,
I
could
not
be
more
round
with
her
.
Nurs.
I
do
not
mean
that
way
.
Start.
And
she
call'd
me
,
I
thank
her
.
Nurs.
What
?
Start.
Why
no
worse
than
her
sins
,
heaven
forgive
her
,
She
has
the
more
to
answer
;
nay
she
did
Not
stick
to
bid
me
die
too
,
in
that
desparate
Estate
.
Nurs.
Come
,
you
shall
take
another
course
.
Enter
Close
.
Clo.
What
ayles
my
Masters
sweet-heart
,
she
frighted
?
I
met
and
askt
her
for
my
Master
,
and
She
turn'd
tayle
lik
a
hound
had
lost
the
scent
;
There
's
something
in
the
winde
,
my
three
pil'd
worship
Are
you
there
with
my
Lady
o'
th'
Larder
,
Now
in
that
posture
?
do
not
they
two
look
like
A
fine
Brick
house
and
a
thatched
Barne
in
the
Countrey
,
Laying
their
heads
together
?
they
ha'
spied
me
.
Nurs.
Come
hither
Close
,
nay
he
's
faithfull
,
and
one
that
Has
a
desire
to
serve
you
;
you
may
trust
him
.
Clo.
Your
worship
may
trust
me
a bed
with
�
I
Have
had
a
itch
this
great
while
,
sir
,
a
kinde
Of
longing
to
be
one
of
your
appurtenances
:
I
have
some
faults
,
and
I
'll
confesse
'em
;
I
have
A
humour
now
and
then
,
when
I
am
ask'd
A
question
,
to
tell
true
,
though
I
be
chid
for
't
;
And
I
do
not
love
blowes
;
you
may
sooner
beat
My
braines
out
,
than
a
word
of
flattery
:
I
cannot
batten
upon
commendation
,
Without
my
wages
,
nor
be
valiant
Upon
small
Beere
;
I
am
not
overmuch
Given
to
be
drunke
,
but
I
've
a
tricke
o'
th
Dutchman
,
To
do
your
businesse
as
well
drunke
as
sober
:
I
have
not
impudence
enough
to
pimpe
For
you
,
but
I
have
a
gift
I
can
say
nothing
:
I
was
borne
upon
Shrovetuesday
,
and
shall
be
Now
and
then
given
to
rebellion
:
My
flesh
will
once
a
year
rise
at
a
Chamber-maid
;
If
none
such
take
me
downe
,
I
shall
in
malice
And
deep
revenge
,
fling
out
upon
May-day
,
Among
the
Prentices
,
without
fear
or
wit
.
Star.
I
like
this
humour
.
Nurs.
Nay
he
has
a
scence
,
And
shall
be
of
our
counsell
:
Look
you
Close
,
There
is
a
plot
to
helpe
this
Gentleman
;
At
night
when
they
're
a bed
,
and
if
you
went
To
bed
betimes
,
to
avoid
suspicion
,
'T
were
nere
the
worse
;
I
'll
say
you
are
not
well
:
D'
ee
marke
?
this
honest
,
honest
Gentleman
shall
be
Let
into
Mistris
Francis
Bed-chamber
.
Clos.
Without
her
knowledge
?
Nurs.
You
shall
only
attend
,
To
give
him
notice
from
me
when
to
come
,
And
watch
about
the
house
,
he
may
get
off
Without
discovery
;
this
is
all
.
Clos.
So
,
so
,
I
sha'
not
keep
the
doore
.
Nurs.
I
can
do
that
.
Clos.
Let
me
alone
to
give
you
notice
who
Stirs
about
house
.
Enter
Hartwell
.
Nurs.
Away
,
't
is
Mr.
Hartwell
;
We
'll
not
be
seen
together
.
Clos.
Go
your
wayes
,
A
foolish
Knave
and
Bawd
,
that
do
want
nothing
But
carting
;
I
would
sooner
see
that
triumph
,
Than
all
the
Pageans
,
a
day
after
Symon
And
Iude
,
when
the
fine
City
goes
a
feasting
.
Oh
Sir
,
I
have
newes
;
yes
,
they
are
gone
,
brave
newes
;
Your
Gentlewoman
can
hold
out
no
longer
;
This
night
there
will
be
a
stratagem
:
Old
Madam
Humpe
a
pompe
,
the
Nurse
,
has
promis'd
To
admit
the
Countrey
Gentleman
,
when
all
Are
a bed
,
into
her
chamber
;
yes
,
your
Mistris
:
I
'm
o'
th'
plot
,
to
lye
Perdue
,
and
give
The
word
,
if
any
Fire-lock
approach
The
rest
;
imagine
if
he
have
not
art
to
Perswade
her
to
the
feat
with
him
,
yet
there
Be
tricks
,
and
he
may
be
surprized
in
the
Chamber
,
And
she
may
be
compell'd
to
marry
him
in
Her
owne
defence
;
there
have
been
such
devises
.
Hart.
Does
he
consent
?
Clos.
She
is
betraid
to
't
,
sir
.
Hart.
Then
thou
wo't
be
so
base
?
Clos.
And
I
had
meant
it
,
I
nere
had
told
you
this
:
can
you
make
use
Of
this
intelligence
?
Hart.
Thou
art
my
honest
servant
.
Clos.
I
promis'd
to
be
his
.
Hart.
I
have
it
;
Canst
By
any
meanes
procure
me
but
his
clothes
?
Clos.
With
ease
,
he
'll
go
to
bed
betimes
,
to
avoid
Suspicion
;
that
's
a
part
of
our
designe
.
Hart.
I
could
not
wish
a
happy
opportunity
,
To
try
how
she
affects
this
gaudy
foole
,
And
clear
my
faith
to
her
,
which
her
mothers
watch
Will
not
permit
;
she
has
,
I
feare
,
perceiv'd
My
new
familiarity
with
her
mother
,
Which
I
am
compell'd
too
,
and
must
cleer
this
way
:
Faile
me
not
,
Close
,
and
propound
thy
owne
Reward
.
Clos.
Tell
me
your
purpose
,
and
let
my
wit
Dispose
of
him
.
Hart.
Prosper
me
love
in
this
.
Clos.
And
you
fall
to
prayers
With
good
love
,
look
about
us
,
I
shall
suspect
You
wo'not
thrive
;
you
should
go
to
a
wench
,
As
Gentlemen
to
Oysters
,
without
ceremony
Or
saying
grace
;
devotion
will
spoile
all
.
Exeunt
.
Enter
Playfaire
and
his
Cousen
.
Cous.
Right
as
an
Arrow
Couze
.
Play.
Witty
enginere
;
But
was
she
taken
with
the
plot
?
Cous.
I
was
compell'd
to
frame
the
outside
of
a
reason
,
Lest
our
owne
mirth
should
play
the
Traytor
with
us
,
Her
spleene
was
so
dilated
,
he
beleeved
I
have
made
her
mad
,
which
change
makes
for
us
.
Play.
Excellent
.
Cous.
And
he
that
we
employed
,
the
Pursevant
,
Shewed
such
a
fierie
Raskall
,
the
poore
Usurer
Trembled
,
as
Bawds
beneath
the
lash
.
Play.
He
comes
then
?
Cous.
With
as
much
joy
,
as
to
receive
a
hanging
:
He
would
be
whipt
,
and
say
his
prayers
i'
th'
Church
In
a
white
sheet
.
Play.
That
were
no
pennance
to
him
.
Cous.
Nay
,
he
would
pay
as
much
as
he
should
fine
For
Alderman
,
though
halfe
his
soule
went
with
it
,
For
his
quietnesse
;
he
doth
apprehend
Nothing
but
earth-quakes
.
Enter
three
Lords
.
Play.
How
am
I
rampant
With
the
imagination
?
bid
the
musick
Be
ready
,
they
know
all
their
flourishes
;
But
shift
you
quickly
for
your
other
part
,
My
honourable
Lords
;
How
they
doe
look
like
States-man
,
where
's
your
tooth-pick
?
Excellent
;
beare
your
staffe
handsomely
,
contract
The
brow
,
and
look
more
superciliously
.
1.
I
warrant
you
for
my
part
.
2.
We
came
now
From
practise
.
Play.
Can
ye
do
't
with
confidence
?
3.
These
verie
clothes
have
made
me
proud
already
,
It
was
some
Lords
cast
sute
,
I
'll
lay
my
life
.
Enter
one
with
perfume
.
1.
And
mine
,
it
smels
of
honour
.
Play.
So
,
so
,
how
now
man
?
2.
He
looks
pale
:
My
Lord
,
how
d'
ee
?
1.
Well
,
well
,
I
hope
't
is
but
conceit
it
.
3.
Of
what
?
1.
Will
the
pox
lye
in
clothes
?
I
can
not
tell
,
I
finde
some
alteration
in
my
body
,
Sin
be
I
shifted
.
Play.
'T
is
a
meere
conceit
,
They
were
an
honest
mans
,
upon
my
knowledge
,
A
Captaine
of
the
traine
Band
in
the
Countrey
,
They
were
brought
against
the
generall
Muster
last
;
He
were
'em
that
day
,
and
to
Church
the
Sunday
Following
,
and
most
carefully
sene
'em
up
,
To
taste
our
London
Lavender
.
1.
Sir
,
you
have
satisfied
me
.
Play.
Be
sprightly
;
where
's
this
Prince
?
See
and
attend
him
in
fit
state
.
Enter
Cousen
for
the
King
,
and
Lords
,
Sir
Clement
.
Flourish
.
2.
He
's
here
.
Play.
Now
by
that
sprig
,
a
pretty
Majesty
;
But
wo't
thou
not
be
out
of
thy
Kings
part
?
And
when
the
Wine
is
wanting
at
the
Banquet
,
Call
upon
drawers
,
quarrell
with
your
Nobles
,
Or
when
we
shall
present
our
man
of
morgages
,
Take
him
aside
,
and
borrow
halfe
a
crowne
,
To
give
your
whore
benevolence
,
which
trifled
For
you
last
tilting
,
or
be
drunke
too
soone
,
And
leave
our
project
in
the
dirt
.
Cous.
My
Lords
,
This
fellowes
insolence
must
be
corrected
;
Dispose
him
in
what
prison
you
think
fit
.
Lo.
He
's
mad
,
I
thinke
.
Cous.
To
Bedlam
with
him
then
,
Is
this
a
place
for
fools
or
madmen
,
who
Admitted
him
?
take
him
,
see
you
He
be
well
whipt
,
and
let
him
thanke
our
mercy
,
Bandog
.
Play.
I
quake
already
,
excellent
Warbucks
,
Coole
,
coole
thy
lungs
,
and
whisper
with
some
Lord
,
Thou
wo't
be
a
key
too
high
else
,
good
Sr.
Clement
,
Master
of
the
house
,
at
whose
cost
we
are
entertain'd
.
Sr.
Cle.
My
part
is
rotten
In
my
head
,
doubt
not
.
Enter
Pursevant
.
Play.
Is
he
come
?
Purs.
He
waits
in
the
first
chamber
.
Play.
Let
the
Lutes
Begin
,
and
their
best
voice
,
and
then
admit
him
.
Soft
Musicke
.
Enter
Hornet
.
Horn.
Here
's
revelling
,
my
purse
must
be
squeez'd
for
't
:
That
's
the
King
,
the
rest
are
bare
;
how
supple
they
are
I'
th
hams
,
that
Courtier
has
Oyl'd
his
joynts
,
He
looks
this
way
,
they
point
at
me
;
a
rot
O'th
at
knaves
finger
.
1
Lo.
What
fellow
's
this
?
who
waits
?
Purs.
It
was
his
graces
pleasure
,
he
was
sent
for
,
My
good
Lord
.
1.
Mr.
Hornet
?
Let
me
have
the
honour
to
present
him
.
War.
Is
this
the
man
whom
all
so
much
commend
For
his
ability
.
Horn.
I
smell
no
good
from
that
word
,
ability
.
War.
Discreet
and
read
i'
th'
Commonwealth
,
a
man
Fit
for
employment
in
the
State
.
2.
The
very
same
.
War.
His
countenance
is
promising
.
Sr.
Clem.
If
the
King
of
Spaine
Had
but
his
head
,
that
politick
head
,
I
know
who
might
go
fish
for
the
Low-Countreyes
.
War.
His
garments
are
but
course
.
Sr.
Cle.
His
minde
is
rich
.
Hor.
They
praise
me
,
I
am
a
thousand
pound
the
worse
for
't
.
3.
Wil
t
please
your
Maiesty
?
War.
Kneel
downe
;
Thy
name
?
Horn.
Giles
Hornet
,
your
poore
creature
.
War.
Rise
up
,
Sir
Giles
Hornet
.
Horn.
But
am
I
Knighted
?
Lords
.
We
congratulate
your
honour
.
Horn.
What
must
I
pay
for
it
?
I
'll
sell
it
any
friend
of
yours
againe
,
For
halfe
the
money
.
War.
Some
have
care
to
give
His
body
more
becomming
ornaments
;
He
shall
be
like
himselfe
,
and
then
we
will
confer
More
honors
on
him
.
Exit
Pursevant
.
1
Lo.
Do
you
make
haste
,
his
Grace
Will
have
you
new
thatch'd
;
you
must
have
clothes
Fitting
your
State
and
honorable
title
.
Horn.
These
will
be
good
enough
for
me
,
'las
I
am
not
able
.
1
Lo.
Nay
,
you
must
have
'em
from
his
Wardrobe
,
sir
,
They
'll
cost
you
nothing
;
You
'll
not
looke
in
those
,
Like
a
poore
Knight
of
Windsor
.
War.
When
he
is
ready
,
give
us
knowledge
.
1
Lo.
Yes
,
sir
.
Exeunt
.
Flourish
.
Horn.
What
will
become
of
me
?
1.
You
were
best
prepare
,
Your
cloathes
will
be
here
presently
,
the
King
Will
send
for
you
before
you
be
ready
;
Cast
Your
old
skin
off
:
Do
you
not
to
save
sheets
And
trouble
,
wrap
your selves
a
night
i'
th
blankets
?
Or
are
they
ashamed
to
show
the
Linings
?
Horn.
Hum
?
if
this
be
but
preparative
to
a
whipping
,
What
case
am
I
in
?
Enter
servants
with
clothes
.
1.
Well
said
,
now
they
are
come
;
Be
nimble
now
,
and
helpe
to
fit
Sr.
Gyles
.
Horn.
Alas
,
must
I
weare
this
doublet
?
it
would
yield
Heaven
knowes
how
much
to
burne
.
1
Lo.
You
may
be
disparate
When
't
is
on
,
and
burne
your
body
with
it
,
sir
,
Horn.
I
sha'not
know
my selfe
.
1
Lor.
Be
that
time
we
ha'
done
wi'
ye
.
Ser.
Fit
as
they
were
made
,
sir
.
Enter
Playfaire
.
Play.
Which
is
Sir
Gyles
?
Horn.
I
am
the
man
you
please
to
call
Sir
Gyles
.
Play.
Then
I
congratulate
your
happy
fortune
;
Y'
are
like
to
be
exalted
,
his
Grace
talkes
Much
on
you
,
I
'll
be
proud
to
be
your
servant
:
My
Lord
,
a
word
.
Horn.
What
Gentleman
is
that
?
Ser.
The
Bridegroom
,
Sir
,
in
great
favour
,
I
can
tell
you
,
And
new
created
by
his
Highnesse
,
Baron
Of
Landskip
;
his
living
is
far
off
.
Horn.
My
very
good
Lord
,
my
breeches
are
almost
on
.
Ser.
There
be
the
Keyes
.
Horn.
His
Grace
has
pleas'd
to
shine
upon
A
piece
of
barren
earth
.
Play.
You
are
too
modest
;
The
King
has
been
informed
,
Sir
Gyles
,
you
are
One
of
the
ablest
men
in
his
Dominion
:
Should
vertue
still
be
cloath'd
in
rags
?
Advance
it
To
honour
,
and
regard
you
waste
your
braine
At
home
,
in
cheap
and
low
engagements
,
sweat
Your
soule
out
,
for
a
poore
and
paltry
living
;
Old
houses
,
let
'em
fall
to
the
dull
Lord
O'
th'
Manner
;
switch
me
up
a
Towne
together
,
Or
meddle
not
;
This
or
that
straggling
Acre
's
Not
worth
your
care
;
Study
some
Monopoly
,
May
sweep
the
Kingdome
at
a
stake
;
Despise
A
project
wo'not
bring
in
halfe
the
City
;
Finde
out
a
way
to
forfeit
all
the
Charters
;
Have
an
Exchequer
of
your
owne
,
and
keep
The
Princes
round
about
in
pension
:
These
are
becomming
businesses
,
and
speake
An
active
State-man
.
Horn.
You
do
talk
strange
things
,
My
Lord
.
Play.
His
keyes
are
things
verie
Materiall
to
our
businesse
.
1
Lo.
And
I
have
'em
.
Play.
So
,
so
:
I
will
account
it
one
of
my
felicities
,
To
be
a
witnesse
of
your
Honour
,
Sir
.
Horn.
Oh
,
my
good
Lord
of
Landskip
.
Ser.
How
shall
we
dispose
these
?
1
Lo.
The
Hang-man
will
not
have
them
,
and
I
feare
,
They
will
corrupt
a
well
;
'faith
give
them
stable
roome
.
Enter
3
Lord
.
3
Lo.
My
Lord
,
the
King
asks
for
you
;
Good
Sir
Gyles
Write
me
i'
th'
number
of
your
faithfull
friends
.
Play.
We
must
attend
.
1
Lo.
Do
not
yet
say
he
's
ready
,
The
Barber
has
a
dutie
to
dispatch
,
He
will
be
houres
a
rubbing
,
washing
,
powdering
.
Then
I
'll
attend
him
to
his
Presence
.
Play.
We
shall
excuse
him
so
long
,
still
your
servant
.
1
Lo.
The
Barber
,
sir
,
attends
in
the
next
roome
.
Horn.
I
wo'not
shave
.
1
Lo.
He
feares
his
throat
.
Horn.
I
never
give
above
three-pence
.
1
Lo.
Talk
not
you
of
charge
,
You
have
but
yet
your
welcome
:
do
not
you
Think
,
good
sir
Gyles
,
but
we
can
shave
you
too
.
Exeunt
.
Enter
Close
,
Startup
in
his
shirt
.
Star.
Where
is
he
,
Close
?
Clo.
I
told
him
,
sir
,
You
lay
in
a
chamber
o'
th
t'other
side
,
The
house
,
whither
he
is
gone
with
his
sword
drawne
,
And
curses
of
themselves
able
to
kill
you
:
You
did
affront
him
once
,
and
now
his
Mistresse
Has
quite
neglected
him
,
for
your
love
,
he
thinks
:
He
'll
make
you
an
example
to
all
Rivals
;
I
'll
bring
your
clothes
hereafter
,
yet
your
feare
And
running
,
sir
,
will
keep
you
warme
enough
.
Star.
Honest
Close
,
thou
hast
sav'd
my
life
.
Clo.
Death
,
is
he
not
behind
you
?
this
way
,
good
sir
.
Exeunt
.
Enter
Nurse
,
and
Mistresse
Frances
.
Nur.
Ha'
you
not
made
a
fine
choyce
,
I
did
ever
Think
he
was
false
;
your
mother
did
but
counterfeit
The
love-sick
widdow
all
this
while
,
to
trie
him
.
Fran.
Trie
him
,
Nurse
.
Nur.
She
told
me
so
her selfe
,
Assuring
him
the
state
was
hers
,
and
you
At
her
devotion
;
put
him
to
his
choyce
,
To
take
her
with
the
wealth
,
or
you
with
nothing
:
What
followed
,
you
have
heard
,
come
be
wise
yet
,
And
love
the
Countrey
Gentleman
that
dotes
on
you
;
He
's
rich
,
and
halfe
a
foole
,
I
'll
fetch
him
to
you
.
Fran.
My
mother
counterfeit
?
why
may
not
Hartwell
Pretend
as
well
as
she
,
fearing
her
anger
And
policie
,
if
he
refus'd
her
love
?
I
have
observ'd
some
sorrow
in
his
gestures
,
As
he
were
willing
to
deliver
something
,
If
opportunitie
would
give
him
leave
:
He
cannot
be
so
false
,
now
I
suspect
He
does
obey
some
dire
necessitie
:
'T
would
puzzle
a
wise
lover
to
be
so
Severely
put
to
't
.
Nurse
brings
in
Hartwell
in
Startups
clothes
.
Nur.
On
like
a
bold
Captaine
,
Give
her
a
broad
side
,
she
's
within
your
shot
,
I
'll
leave
you
.
Fran.
'T
is
the
foole
,
Why
Nurse
?
Hart.
Nay
,
fly
not
before
you
heare
.
Fran.
'T
is
Hartwell
.
Hart.
If
my
voyce
Betray
me
not
.
Fran.
Why
in
this
shape
?
some
trick
in
't
,
He
hides
his
face
,
I
'll
put
him
to
't
however
,
Although
the
houre
be
unseasonable
,
any
time
We
may
expresse
our
joy
:
my
Nurse
once
told
me
You
were
not
well
,
and
gone
to
bed
,
your
health
Is
welcome
as
my
owne
;
I
dare
not
,
sir
,
In
modestie
presume
to
bid
you
stay
,
And
to
requite
your
paines
,
kind
Mr.
Startup
.
Hart.
She
knowes
me
not
.
Fran.
Forgive
me
if
I
blush
,
I
have
no
other
way
,
but
to
declare
My
eyes
that
late
frown'd
on
your
love
shall
smile
.
Hart.
On
me
?
Fran.
On
none
but
you
:
I
have
beene
too
Unkindly
dealt
withall
by
Hartwell
,
whom
How
dearly
I
affected
,
good
Heaven
knowes
:
But
I
have
read
discretion
to
my
fancie
,
And
were
he
here
,
he
should
be
witnesse
of
My
vowes
to
you
,
if
you
accept
my
heart
,
And
can
with
equall
truth
embrace
it
,
I
Will
chuse
my
husband
here
;
you
,
only
you
,
This
faith
be
registred
in
Heaven
,
shall
challenge
from
me
a
wives
obedience
.
Hart.
Planet-struck
.
Enter
Nurse
.
Nur.
Away
,
your
mother
's
up
;
I
wo'd
not
for
A
thousand
pound
she
find
you
in
this
chamber
.
Fran.
I
have
undone
my selfe
.
Exit
Frances
.
Nur.
Sweet
Mr.
Startup
,
to
your
owne
lodging
,
Take
that
close
lanthorne
with
you
:
Passion
of
me
,
what
makes
her
rise
?
Hart.
I
will
discover
yet
.
Nur.
Discover
;
what
?
Ha
,
Mr.
Hartwell
.
Hart.
You
ha'
midnight
plots
.
Nur.
Oh
,
we
are
wretched
,
miserable
,
what
have
I
done
?
Hart.
Oh
,
who
shall
lead
me
to
a
world
where
are
No
women
?
Farewell
all
,
I
'll
be
above
Your
charms
,
and
find
out
death
,
a
cure
for
love
.
Exit
.
ACT.
IV.
Enter
Startup
,
Close
.
Start.
Where
are
we
now
?
't
is
verie
cold
,
why
do'st
not
Lead
me
to
some
house
?
Clos.
What
,
at
this
time
a
night
?
All
people
are
a bed
,
the
verie
Owles
Are
in
their
dead
sleep
;
or
if
we
could
Be
admitted
,
would
you
venture
a
this
fashion
,
And
publish
your
disgrace
,
proclaime
your selfe
Coward
,
and
lay
some
imputation
Upon
the
place
you
came
from
,
where
your
hopes
May
yet
be
faire
for
marriage
?
This
brunt
over
.
To
meet
some
Drunkard
now
were
comfortable
,
Whose
eyes
enflamed
might
serve
for
torches
,
Or
he
might
spit
flapdragons
from
his
fire
Of
Sack
,
and
light
us
:
But
no
sober
man
,
Considering
what
case
you
are
in
,
sir
,
By
my
consent
should
see
you
.
Start.
Ha
,
what
's
that
?
Clos.
Where
,
where
?
a
fire-drake
.
Start.
Now
't
is
gone
:
't
is
bright
Agen
,
Is
't
not
a
spirit
?
Oh
deliver
me
.
Clos.
I
have
heard
some
such
things
use
to
walke
the
fields
.
Start.
What
shall
I
do
?
Clos.
Pray
,
pray
with
as
much
strength
As
if
you
had
no
land
,
or
were
confined
To
my
annuity
:
Now
I
feare
no
spirits
;
This
riches
makes
us
cowards
;
Hide
your selfe
,
I
will
go
neerer
.
Star.
Dost
know
the
devill
if
thou
seest
him
,
Close
?
A
pox
of
love
,
if
this
be
the
reward
on
't
;
Some
call
it
fire
,
but
I
finde
no
such
matter
;
I
am
frozen
to
the
Blanket
,
and
my
teeth
Strike
one
another
,
and
keep
time
like
hammers
That
beat
a
Psalme
upon
the
vertuous
Anvile
;
I
do
beleeve
if
they
were
beaten
out
,
They
would
make
false
Dyce
,
there
's
quicksilver
in
'em
,
I
know
already
by
their
dancing
.
Clos.
Sir
,
where
are
you
?
Star.
Here
I
am
still
.
Clos.
Y'
are
a
dead
man
.
Star.
More
terrour
?
what
's
the
matter
?
Clos.
'T
is
my
Master
with
a
darke
Lanthorne
,
that
pursues
us
:
By
This
darknesse
,
't
is
his
voice
,
wrap
your selfe
up
,
And
roule
into
some
ditch
,
flight
will
betray
us
.
Start.
I
had
as
good
be
kill'd
,
but
yet
I
'll
venture
.
Exit
.
Clos.
'T
is
he
indeed
,
and
more
than
I
expected
:
The
matters
do
not
fadge
well
with
his
Mistris
.
Enter
Hartwell
.
Hart.
What
a
sweet
thing
is
night
?
how
calme
and
harmlesse
?
No
whispering
,
but
of
leaves
,
on
which
the
breath
Of
heaven
playes
Musick
to
the
birds
that
slumber
;
Here
are
no
objects
to
betray
our
sence
To
repentance
,
nor
can
women
,
thus
Advantag'd
by
the
Tapers
of
the
night
,
Spread
their
temptations
to
undoe
poore
man
:
What
a
fine
book
is
heaven
?
which
we
may
read
Best
now
,
when
every
Star
is
a
faire
letter
:
How
much
they
wrong
thee
night
,
which
call
thee
guilty
Of
rapes
and
murders
:
'T
is
the
day
,
that
like
A
glorious
whore
,
engages
men
to
act
'em
,
And
taking
then
the
darknesse
to
obscure
'em
:
We
unjustly
lay
the
shame
upon
thy
browes
,
That
art
so
innocent
;
Thou
never
sawest
them
Befriended
with
this
silence
;
I
begin
To
wander
:
There
's
no
wildernesse
abroad
,
To
him
that
's
lost
at
home
.
Clos.
Sir
.
Hart.
Who
's
that
?
Clos.
One
that
has
taken
paines
for
you
to night
:
I
am
Close
.
Hart.
What
mak'st
thou
here
?
Clos.
I
wait
upon
My
charge
;
I
led
your
Rivall
a
procession
In
's
shirt
,
perswading
him
you
had
resolv'd
To
cut
his
throat
else
;
he
's
hard
by
at
's
prayers
,
And
thinkes
you
ha'
pursued
him
.
Hart.
Ha
,
I
'll
do
't
;
Shew
me
the
foole
,
by
all
my
hopes
I
'll
kill
him
,
And
send
his
base
heart
as
a
present
to
her
:
Fate
has
preserved
me
with
this
revenge
,
And
I
will
not
delay
his
death
a
minute
.
Clos.
You
wo'not
kill
him
basely
?
Hart.
No
.
Clos.
Why
then
There
is
no
feare
but
he
'll
live
long
enough
;
I
'll
undertake
he
nere
shall
go
provided
To
fight
w'
ee
;
and
for
other
satisfaction
,
Name
it
,
and
take
it
;
so
I
'll
fetch
him
to
ye
.
Hart.
Stay
,
I
have
been
too
passionate
,
let
him
live
To
be
her
punishment
;
that
's
revenge
enough
,
While
I
pursue
my
owne
wayes
.
Clos.
Whither
now
?
Hart.
Whither
thou
must
not
follow
,
by
thy
honesty
,
I
charge
thee
come
not
after
me
.
Clos.
That
bindes
my
attendance
,
sir
.
Hart.
But
not
when
I
command
The
contrary
,
if
thou
dost
move
this
way
,
Thou
drawest
my
anger
;
Minde
the
preservation
Of
the
tame
thing
you
undertooke
;
Farewell
,
If
thou
dost
love
me
,
follow
not
,
nor
question
'T
is
in
my
power
to
loose
thee
or
my selfe
.
Exit
.
Clos.
I
cannot
see
i'
th'
darke
with
spectacles
,
And
mine
owne
eyes
ha'
lost
him
o'
the
suddaine
;
Well
,
I
must
hope
the
best
;
What
shall
I
do
With
my
hen-hearted
lover
,
that
would
give
Halfe
his
estate
his
colde
fit
were
well
over
:
I
shall
make
worke
for
the
Physitians
:
Candles
and
Cullices
will
nere
restore
him
;
If
he
but
scape
with
life
,
I
am
not
sorry
,
He
may
be
a
souldier
,
and
indure
the
trenches
;
I
put
him
first
to
the
becomming
sufferance
:
But
what
are
these
?
an
army
of
hornes
and
Halberds
?
Upon
my
conscience
,
the
Watch
;
I
thought
The
fields
had
not
been
haunted
with
these
goblins
:
I
cannot
run
;
If
I
should
squat
,
and
they
finde
me
,
There
were
no
mercy
but
Bride-well
,
Or
some
such
lovely
place
;
I
am
resolv'd
To
cast
away
a
few
good
words
upon
'em
,
A
leg
and
worshipping
;
the
Constable
That
leads
the
rusty
Regiment
will
quit
me
,
I
passe
the
gates
wo't
often
,
and
so
may
The
devill
if
he
pay
the
Porter
;
blesse
you
:
Enter
Constable
and
Watch-men
.
My
masters
what
a clocke
is
't
?
1.
Who
's
theere
?
Const.
I
charge
you
stand
.
Clos.
Your
worship
may
do
much
.
Const.
Where
have
you
beene
?
Clos.
At
Islington
,
and
please
you
,
about
businesse
.
Const.
Some
thiefe
,
I
warrant
him
,
no
honest
man
,
I
know
by
his
basket
hilt
,
some
rogue
that
watches
,
The
fields
are
pester'd
with
such
sturdy
robbers
.
Clo.
He
is
a
rogue
that
watches
,
for
my
part
.
Con.
He
cals
my
watchmen
rogues
.
1.
How
Mr.
Constable
?
you
are
one
your selfe
.
Const.
A
way
with
him
.
Clo.
Good
Sir
.
2.
We
will
provide
you
a
lodging
.
Clo.
Where
?
Con.
New
prison
.
Clo.
But
are
you
in
earnest
,
Gentlemen
?
If
there
be
no
remedy
.
2.
We
'll
humble
you
.
Clo.
I
have
a
companion
hereabouts
:
where
are
you
Sir
?
Star.
Here
in
the
ditch
.
Const.
They
seldome
go
alone
:
We
'll
finde
him
out
;
ha
sirra
.
Enter
Watch-men
and
Startup
.
Star.
I
thanke
you
honest
men
:
where
art
thou
Close
?
Clo.
Here
;
these
good
men
will
helpe
us
to
a
lodging
.
Star.
Blessing
on
their
hearts
,
I
am
almost
starv'd
.
Const.
Yes
,
we
'll
do
you
that
favour
;
Come
away
,
sir
.
Star.
Whether
shall
we
go
now
?
Clos.
To
prison
.
Star.
How
,
Close
?
1.
You
shal
be
close
enough
.
Star.
D'
ee
heare
,
sweet
Gentlemen
?
Clos.
I
follow
,
Sir
,
I
cannot
leave
you
in
adversity
;
All
this
is
for
your
health
,
cleane
straw
is
warme
,
sir
;
You
have
the
benefit
of
being
naked
:
I
shall
have
worke
to morrow
in
the
woollen
.
Const.
Away
,
away
;
bring
them
away
.
Exeunt
.
Mistris
Bellamy
and
Nurse
.
Bell.
I
heard
some
noise
;
looke
,
call
up
the
servants
,
See
if
the
Gentlemen
be
a bed
;
I
'm
troubled
.
Nur.
Oh
Mistris
?
Bell.
What
's
the
matter
?
Nur.
Mr.
Startup
is
not
a bed
,
and
here
is
all
is
left
Of
Mr.
Hartwell
.
Bell.
This
is
verie
strange
.
Nur.
I
dare
not
tell
her
of
his
shift
,
they
're
gone
,
The
doores
I
found
left
open
,
and
no
signe
Which
way
they
are
bestowed
.
Bell.
This
puzzles
me
:
Pray
Heaven
there
be
no
mischiefe
in
this
absence
:
Is
Franck
abed
?
Nur.
Yes
.
Bell.
What
should
move
'em
To
leave
my
house
so
late
,
and
Mr.
Hartwell
Without
his
clothes
?
Some
knock
there
:
Beshrew
me
but
I
trembled
.
Nur.
'T
is
a
stranger
,
And
sayes
he
would
speake
with
you
.
Bell.
At
this
late
houre
?
What
accidents
are
these
?
from
whence
?
Nur.
I
know
not
.
Bell.
Has
he
no
name
?
what
should
this
meane
?
Nur.
He
sayes
he
is
a
Countrey-man
of
Mr.
Startups
.
Bell.
Admit
him
,
he
perhaps
does
bring
some
newes
.
Enter
Countrey-man
.
Count
.
By
your
leave
Mistresse
,
pardon
my
importunitie
At
so
unfit
an
houre
.
Bell.
Y'
are
welcome
,
sir
.
Count
.
I
met
with
fortunate
directions
,
Though
I
came
late
;
I
understand
you
have
A
guest
,
one
Startup
of
Northampton-shire
,
That
comes
a wooing
to
your
daughter
.
Bell.
Such
an
one
there
was
that
supt
with
us
,
and
went
To
bed
;
but
since
,
as
I
have
faith
,
I
know
not
Which
way
he
has
convey'd
himselfe
;
another
Gentleman
too
is
missing
,
and
his
Rivall
.
Count
.
Pray
do
not
mock
me
,
Lady
,
I
ha
rid
A
great
way
,
and
the
businesse
much
concernes
him
.
Bell.
You
may
beleeve
me
,
he
is
no
such
treasure
I
should
conceale
him
.
Enter
Frances
.
Count
Then
I
see
you
dally
:
Know
,
Mistresse
,
you
may
slack
your
preparations
,
Your
daughter
must
look
out
another
husband
,
He
is
contracted
.
Bell.
How
?
Count
.
And
something
more
,
Gotten
with
child
one
,
that
without
blushing
I
cannot
call
my
daughter
;
he
shall
make
Her
credit
straight
agen
,
although
my
fortunes
Have
no
equalitie
with
his
,
I
shall
Find
Law
to
force
him
.
Fran.
You
preferr'd
this
sutor
,
This
newes
returnes
my
bloud
.
Bell.
Sir
,
you
shall
find
All
truth
I
have
deliver'd
,
I
am
not
sorrie
,
To
heare
this
newes
,
this
is
no
time
to
seek
him
:
Please
you
accept
the
lodging
that
was
his
,
My
servant
shall
attend
you
in
the
morning
,
To
help
your
search
.
Count
.
You
seeme
a
noble
Gentlewoman
,
I
take
your
courtesie
.
Bell.
Nurse
,
a
light
;
pray
walk
,
sir
.
Fran.
I
was
unkind
to
Hartwell
,
he
not
wise
;
But
love
still
apprehends
too
much
,
or
nothing
.
Exit
Countrey-man
.
Bell.
Frances
,
a
word
:
do
not
you
know
what
is
Become
o'
these
Gentlemen
.
Fran.
Not
I
,
their
absence
Is
strange
to
me
.
Bell.
Oh
,
Franck
,
I
am
undone
.
Fran.
Good
Heaven
,
forbid
.
Bell.
This
Gentleman
,
Mr.
Hartwell
,
Whom
we
shall
never
see
agen
,
I
feare
.
Fran.
How
,
mother
?
are
you
acquainted
With
any
cause
to
feare
thus
.
Bell.
'T
is
in
vaine
To
tell
thee
how
I
loved
him
.
Fran.
Blesse
my
senses
!
you
love
him
?
Bell.
'Bove
all
the
world
,
affectionately
plac'd
him
Too
neere
my
heart
.
Fran.
I
heard
you
made
pretence
Of
Love
,
to
trie
him
for
my
sake
;
and
pardon
me
,
If
yet
I
dare
not
beleeve
more
.
Bell.
Oh
Franck
�
Fran.
My
heart
doth
thrill
,
I
feele
a
coldnesse
run
Through
all
my
veines
already
.
Bell.
I
had
no
other
thought
,
At
first
;
but
wisely
to
distinguish
whether
His
heart
was
fixt
on
thee
,
or
my
estate
;
With
resolution
,
if
I
found
him
more
A
Courtier
of
thy
fortune
than
thy
person
,
To
punish
him
with
losse
of
both
:
But
Love
Hath
chang'd
both
scene
and
title
in
our
Comedy
,
And
what
I
meant
should
shipwrack
all
his
hopes
,
Hath
ruin'd
us
,
his
modest
and
calme
answer
:
To
accept
my
tender
,
with
such
force
and
reason
Directed
to
my
fancie
,
turn'd
my
purpose
,
And
made
me
his
indeed
,
his
perfect
Lover
:
But
now
we
ha'
both
lost
him
.
Fran.
All
the
pietie
That
ever
taught
children
to
love
their
mother
,
Will
but
suffice
to
keep
my
heart
obedient
.
Was
ever
Maid
so
miserable
?
Was
there
No
other
,
in
my
fate
,
to
rivall
me
I
live
too
long
;
oh
breake
,
breake
my
poore
heart
;
For
she
that
gave
me
life
,
hath
took
it
from
me
.
Bell.
Why
do
you
weep
?
Fran.
I
do
not
weep
,
or
if
I
do
,
I
know
not
why
.
Bell.
Now
I
perceive
Thy
duty
was
but
counterfeit
,
you
love
him
,
Upon
my
life
you
love
him
still
;
Have
my
Commands
no
more
respect
?
My
care
and
love
So
ill
rewarded
,
that
my
heart
desiring
One
comfort
in
the
world
,
and
shall
my
childe
Rise
up
to
take
it
from
me
?
Fran.
Alas
I
knew
not
You
loved
him
too
,
indeed
I
had
rather
die
Than
you
should
call
me
rebell
.
Bell.
Now
I
see
The
cause
of
his
departure
in
this
fashion
,
Pray
heaven
he
have
not
made
away
himselfe
:
Did
ever
childe
deceive
a
mother
so
?
I
have
a
sad
presage
,
you
may
to
bed
,
And
rise
without
my
blessing
,
yet
You
may
stay
,
wherefore
should
I
despaire
Of
his
returne
?
You
say
you
could
not
tell
That
I
affected
him
.
Fran.
Indeed
not
I
,
And
do
believe
it
now
against
my
will
;
But
I
am
your
daughter
.
Bell.
Shew
it
,
in
confirming
Your selfe
to
my
desires
,
and
what
is
past
,
I
can
forgive
you
,
if
he
come
againe
:
Will
you
be
rul'd
,
and
shew
no
favour
to
him
?
For
't
is
in
you
,
I
see
,
to
make
me
happy
;
I
will
not
tye
you
to
affect
the
other
,
Choose
any
for
your
husband
but
this
man
,
My
love
and
prayers
shall
go
along
with
you
;
Answer
.
Fran.
Indeed
I
dare
not
,
yet
could
I
Put
off
the
knowledge
that
you
are
a
mother
�
Bell.
What
then
?
Fran.
Though
in
imagination
I
allow
you
The
greatest
woman
in
the
earth
,
whose
frowne
Could
kill
,
and
eyes
at
pleasure
make
alive
Agen
;
I
could
say
�
Bell.
Pray
let
's
heare
.
Fran.
I
durst
tell
you
,
In
confidence
of
my
cause
,
that
you
betray
Two
innocents
to
sorrow
;
and
though
heaven
Looke
on
,
and
seem
to
smile
upon
your
cruelty
,
Yet
there
is
punishment
for
divorcing
those
Whose
hearts
that
hath
conjoyned
:
I
durst
tell
you
,
Though
all
your
terrours
were
prepared
to
punish
My
bold
defence
;
you
were
a
tyrant
.
Bell.
How
?
Fran.
A
most
unjust
,
a
sacrilegious
tyrant
.
Bell.
You
would
not
be
so
violent
.
Fran.
That
thus
,
Not
only
ruine
and
deface
the
Altar
,
But
steal
away
the
very
Sacrifice
;
And
I
durst
adde
and
smile
upon
your
anger
.
Though
as
you
frown'd
death
stood
in
every
wrinckle
,
My
soul
's
above
your
tyranny
,
and
would
From
torturing
flame
,
receive
new
fire
of
love
,
And
make
your
eye
faint
to
behold
the
brightnesse
Of
my
poore
bodies
Martyrdome
;
and
if
ever
Love
shewed
a
miracle
,
my
heart
should
beare
The
Characters
of
him
you
have
torne
from
it
,
With
beames
about
it
like
a
Saint
that
suffer'd
:
But
as
you
are
my
mother
,
thus
I
kneele
And
beg
a
pardon
for
my
innocence
,
If
that
offend
you
;
Live
you
happy
still
,
And
be
the
Mistris
of
your
vowes
,
live
to
Enjoy
whom
you
affect
,
may
every
houre
Returne
new
blessings
on
you
both
;
renew
Your
spring
,
and
let
him
thinke
you
young
againe
,
And
let
me
beg
but
this
for
all
my
duty
;
Against
that
day
you
marry
him
to
provide
My
Coffin
,
for
I
feare
I
shal
,
not
have
Breath
many
minutes
after
,
to
pray
for
you
.
The
herbs
that
shall
adorne
your
Bridall
chamber
,
Will
serve
my
Funerall
,
and
deck
my
Herse
;
Beneath
which
you
should
say
,
there
lies
your
daughter
That
dies
to
shew
obedience
.
Bell.
Why
shouldst
thou
Continue
thus
to
him
?
Fran.
I
know
he
loves
me
,
yet
hereafter
your
affections
May
not
.
Bell.
But
never
procure
thee
one
sad
thought
;
Now
I
have
tried
you
both
;
assure
my
childe
,
I
loved
him
but
for
thee
,
dispose
thy selfe
To
be
his
Bride
:
This
newes
,
at
his
returne
,
Will
make
all
well
to
rest
.
Fran.
Can
this
be
true
?
Bell.
'T
were
sin
to
mocke
thee
any
more
:
To
bed
.
Fran.
I
'll
spend
all
night
In
prayers
for
you
,
mother
:
Oh
my
Hartwell
Exeunt
.
Enter
Playfaire
and
his
Cousen
.
Play.
I
am
bound
ever
to
thee
.
Cous.
Does
she
not
become
her
rich
cloathes
too
?
Play.
The
morning
never
look'd
So
fresh
,
nor
Venus
with
more
charmes
upon
her
:
Adon
would
melt
before
her
eye
,
and
wooe
her
Her
kisses
,
at
expence
of
his
last
breath
:
Cupid
himselfe
,
could
he
but
see
,
would
fall
In
love
with
her
,
and
throwing
away
his
shafts
,
Offer
the
empty
quiver
to
her
eyes
,
Ambitious
to
fill
it
with
her
beames
;
The
least
of
which
,
would
wound
more
hearts
,
than
ail
His
stocke
of
golden
Arrowes
.
Cous.
No
more
Raptures
.
Play.
Didst
thou
not
know
before
,
that
love
is
able
,
Without
the
helpe
of
Sacke
,
to
make
a
Poet
,
My
nimble
Mercury
,
Ioves
Herald
in
Reversion
?
Cous.
I
must
confesse
I
had
a
trick
of
Mercury
when
I
pick'd
His
pocket
for
the
Keyes
.
Play.
He
never
mist
'em
?
Cous.
His
eyes
were
drench'd
in
suds
,
and
I
return'd
em
Ere
they
recover'd
light
.
Play.
'T
was
excellent
;
He
walkes
in
darknesse
still
.
Cous.
D'
ee
think
he
'll
know
her
?
Play.
His
cloathes
already
have
Made
him
forget
himselfe
,
or
if
he
have
But
the
remembrance
of
such
a
woman
;
The
more
he
sees
her
now
,
the
more
he
'l
thinke
The
change
impossible
.
Cous.
Where
ha'
you
left
him
?
Play.
I'
th'
Gallery
,
where
with
much
patience
,
He
does
expect
his
highnesse
will
send
for
him
.
Cous.
Then
all
runs
smoothe
,
his
wonder
still
continues
.
Play.
I
fed
that
humour
artificially
;
He
is
halfe
perswaded
all
's
but
a
dream
,
To
which
imagination
his
clothes
Are
a
great
help
,
because
he
paid
not
for
'em
:
Sometimes
he
is
very
merry
,
then
agen
He
struts
about
with
such
a
scurvy
pride
,
As
some
new
crept
into
Nobility
;
When
men
of
their
first
Livery
come
to
see
'em
;
His
honour
has
so
chang
'him
,
that
he
now
Knowes
not
of
what
Religion
he
is
;
Or
if
he
chance
to
thinke
of
his
first
faith
,
He
spits
o'
th
hangings
,
and
excused
with
,
I
do
not
like
the
Story
,
't
is
apocryphall
:
Sometimes
he
'll
offer
at
a
jest
,
and
talke
Non-sense
with
him
that
has
been
seaven
yeares
Lorded
;
Frowne
upon
any
man
that
will
presume
To
have
more
knowledge
,
in
worse
clothes
;
I
told
him
It
was
his
Graces
pleasure
he
should
be
Controuler
of
the
Masque
,
and
he
did
sweat
,
As
he
were
studying
for
some
mighty
oathes
To
cleere
the
presence
:
he
is
here
;
away
.
Exit
.
Hornet
and
Sr.
Clement
.
Horn.
And
you
are
Master
of
the
house
,
Sir
Clement
,
For
so
I
heard
you
call'd
.
Clem.
It
is
my
name
,
Sr.
Gyles
,
unworthy
of
this
grace
his
Highnesse
Is
daign'd
to
shew
in
honouring
of
my
daughter
.
Horn.
And
was
she
married
this
morning
,
say
you
?
Clem.
This
morne
she
lost
her
Virgin
name
.
Horn.
I
have
not
seen
her
yet
,
nor
any
of
the
Ladies
,
You
have
but
little
noise
methinkes
in
the
house
.
Clem.
It
would
offend
his
Grace
.
Horn.
Who
,
as
you
say
,
came
hither
privately
,
with
a
small
train
Of
Lords
;
Would
I
might
see
his
face
agen
;
I
am
not
sent
for
yet
,
I
have
beene
ready
,
Sr.
Clement
,
these
three
houres
,
and
I
do
wonder
His
Grace
forgets
himselfe
so
much
.
Clem.
That
Musick
speaks
him
on
entrance
.
Enter
Cousen
and
Lords
.
Flourish
.
Cous.
I
,
that
garbe
becomes
him
;
How
was
his
person
lost
within
that
shape
He
was
first
presented
to
me
?
Horn.
Indeed
the
case
is
somewhat
a
Altered
,
by
your
highnesse
bounty
To
your
poore
subject
,
Hornet
.
Play.
Now
he
lookes
As
he
did
scorne
the
quorum
,
and
were
hungry
To
eat
a
Statesman
;
'Las
an
office
in
The
houshold
is
too
little
for
a
breakfast
:
A
Baron
,
but
a
mornings
draught
,
he
'll
gulpe
it
,
Like
a
round
Egge
in
Muscadine
:
Me thinkes
At
every
wiping
of
his
mouth
,
should
drop
A
golden
saying
of
Pythagoras
;
A
piece
of
Machiavell
;
I
see
already
Hang
on
his
Beard
(
which
wants
but
stroaking
out
)
The
Statutes
and
the
Magna
Charta
have
Taken
a
lease
at
his
tongues
end
.
Cous.
I
will
think
on
't
;
He
shall
be
�
but
toth
'
banquet
,
Then
let
the
masque
be
ready
,
there
we
shall
Employ
your
worthy
diligence
.
Horn.
Heaven
blesse
your
mightie
Grace
.
Cous.
You
'll
follow
.
Exit
.
Horn.
I
attend
you
presently
:
I
know
not
what
to
think
of
these
things
yet
,
'T
is
verie
strange
I
should
be
thus
exalted
Without
desert
;
best
knowne
unto
my self
.
Princes
I
see
are
mortall
,
and
may
be
Deceiv'd
in
placing
of
their
honours
,
I
Am
little
better
than
a
favorite
,
If
this
be
true
:
If
?
't
is
a
question
,
Let
me
consider
wisely
,
it
may
be
I
am
not
I
.
No
,
no
,
I
am
a
Knight
:
Are
these
my
clothes
?
I
did
not
use
to
weare
such
A
pocket
in
my
sleeve
and
velvet
hose
,
Six
times
translated
since
they
were
a
Mid-wives
Fore-part
,
were
things
I
wore
on
holidayes
.
The
price
of
these
would
break
a
Cammels
back
,
And
yet
some
men
walk
under
'em
like
Elephants
,
And
have
varietie
,
as
the
Devill
were
Their
Taylour
,
who
best
knowes
where
all
their
land
lies
.
Then
why
this
cost
on
me
?
it
is
a
dreame
,
And
I
am
verie
glad
on
't
,
't
is
impossible
I
should
be
true
,
it
does
not
hang
together
,
I
will
have
patience
till
i
wake
agen
,
And
care
not
what
becomes
on
't
.
Enter
Sr.
Clement
.
Clem.
'T
is
his
Highnesse
Pleasure
now
the
banquet
's
done
.
Horn.
How
,
the
banquet
done
?
I
was
comming
to
't
,
You
could
hardly
say
grace
by
this
time
.
Clem.
That
's
a
ceremony
growne
out
of
use
;
It
was
a
running
banquet
.
Horn.
A
running
?
so
it
seemes
,
it
made
great
haste
:
I
doe
dreame
certainly
,
there
's
no
sense
nor
reason
In
any
thing
they
say
.
Sr.
Clem.
You
know
your
place
,
The
masque
will
straight
begin
,
and
his
Grace
wo'not
Have
any
one
admitted
,
he
resolves
,
If
the
conceit
affect
him
,
it
shall
be
Perform'd
i'
th'
Court
hereafter
,
i'
th'
meane
time
He
does
command
all
privacie
:
There
are
Some
set
to
guard
the
door
;
but
your
care
must
Provide
his
Highnesse
be
not
interrupted
.
Back
,
they
are
rude
already
.
Exit
.
Knocks
.
Horn.
Let
me
alone
:
What
turbulent
Knave
is
that
?
Within
.
I
am
a
Countrey
Gentlemen
,
Sr.
Gyles
;
And
if
I
may
presume
upon
good
clothes
,
You
may
before
his
Grace
call
me
your
Couzen
,
And
not
be
asham'd
;
here
is
a
Lady
too
.
Horn.
A
Lady
too
?
Is
she
with
child
?
What
makes
she
Here
,
and
she
be
with
child
already
?
'
Tell
thee
none
such
shall
be
admitted
,
while
I
am
in
place
:
More
rapping
?
Keep
the
doores
,
If
I
do
fall
a
swearing
once
,
look
to
't
.
Within
.
I
beseech
you
,
for
my
wives
sake
.
Horn.
Thy
wives
?
What
's
he
that
pleads
In
forma
pauperis
?
Within
.
A
Citizen
,
and
like
you
.
Horn.
Like
me
?
thou
lyest
:
I
am
more
like
a
Lord
.
Thou
shalt
fare
ne're
the
better
for
that
word
:
Knock
downe
the
women
,
and
there
be
a
hundred
.
And
make
their
husbands
drunk
;
the
Guard
are
lazie
:
These
womens
insolence
will
force
a
Statute
,
I
will
petition
to
the
King
my self
,
They
may
have
libertie
but
once
a
yeere
To
see
the
Gally
foist
,
then
be
confined
To
their
Chamber
,
and
one
Prentice
�
yet
agen
.
Within
.
Sir
Gyles
,
Sr.
Gyles
,
you
know
me
well
enough
.
Horn.
But
while
I
am
in
office
I
'll
know
no body
.
Scri.
I
am
your
Scrivenor
.
Horn.
Draw
thy
purse
,
wherein
Thou
keep'st
thy
eares
,
and
leave
'em
at
the
doore
;
The
Guard
trust
none
without
a
pawne
;
they
'll
serve
,
If
they
be
ne're
redeem'd
,
to
seethe
in
milke
For
a
sore
throat
:
Jewes
eares
I
know
they
are
.
Scri.
Sir
Gyles
,
here
's
your
Neece
.
Horn.
My
Neece
?
the
devill
she
is
.
Neec.
Within
.
Pray
Uncle
let
me
in
.
Horn.
Her
very
voice
:
Ha
?
open
the
doores
there
;
Where
is
she
?
With.
Whom
?
Horn.
My
Neece
that
call'd
to
me
.
With.
None
call'd
:
nor
was
there
any
woman
here
.
Horn.
No
,
nor
my
Scrivener
bawling
out
,
Sir
Gyles
,
Not
at
any
hand
your
worship
.
Horn.
Then
I
dreame
,
And
I
am
a
fool
to
make
a
question
on
't
.
With.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
.
Horn.
The
knaves
laugh
at
me
,
but
let
'em
,
I
Shall
be
as
merry
with
this
tale
to morrow
:
What
fancies
men
have
in
their
sleep
sometimes
?
His
Highnesse
.
Enter
Cousen
,
Lords
.
Where
be
the
Ladies
?
Clem.
They
are
all
i'
th'
Masque
.
Horn.
Nay
,
't
is
no
matter
,
why
do
I
aske
the
question
?
Clem.
You
'll
see
'em
,
Sir
,
anon
.
1
La.
Wilt
please
your
Grace
?
Gives
papers
to
the
King
and
Sr.
Gyles
.
And
you
Sir
Gyles
,
the
subject
of
the
Masque
.
Horn.
What
's
here
,
the
three
Goddesses
Contention
for
the
golden
ball
?
Enter
Playfaire
,
dancing
,
with
a
Golden
Ball
in
his
hand
.
This
is
Paris
;
So
.
Enter
Iuno
,
Pallas
,
Venus
.
These
are
the
three
Goddesses
;
Iuno
,
Pallas
,
Venus
.
The
Goddesses
dance
,
and
court
Paris
for
his
Ball
:
To
Iuno
enters
one
like
a
King
;
Takes
his
Crowne
and
Scepter
,
offers
it
to
Paris
,
he
refuses
.
2
Lo.
Iuno
doth
wooe
him
with
her
State
and
Kingdomes
.
Horn.
But
he
refuses
,
more
foole
he
.
To
Pallas
,
enter
one
like
a
Souldier
arm'd
,
with
a
Booke
in
his
hand
;
She
presents
them
to
Paris
,
he
neglects
.
Clem.
He
is
not
for
her
service
,
though
she
offer
To
make
him
Schollar
and
a
Souldier
:
A
compleat
man
.
Horn.
No
,
no
,
that
fairie
must
win
the
ball
.
To
Venus
comes
Cupid
,
leading
in
Hornet's
Neece
,
richly
drest
.
Ha
?
that
's
my
Neece
.
Clem.
Which
,
Sr.
Gyles
?
Horn.
That
whom
Dame
Venus
and
her
Dandiprat
Are
busie
withall
.
1
Lo.
Why
that
's
the
Bride
.
Horn.
Bride
,
quotha
?
Clem.
Married
this
morning
;
'T
is
my
daughter
,
sir
.
Horn.
Nay
,
if
she
be
my
Neece
,
I
am
sure
she
was
not
Married
this
morning
.
Paris
receives
the
Neece
,
and
gives
Venus
the
Ball
;
Iuno
,
Pallas
,
with
their
Masquers
,
Exeunt
.
She
's
safe
enough
at
home
,
And
has
but
halfe
her
wits
,
as
I
remember
:
The
devill
cannot
juggle
her
from
my
custody
.
Ha
,
ha
,
I
do
dreame
still
.
Cupid
joynes
their
bands
,
and
sings
;
Which
done
,
Exeunt
Masquers
.
Cous.
'T
is
time
to
breake
off
revels
:
How
like
you
this
,
Sr.
Gyles
?
Horn.
A
very
fine
dreame
,
ifaith
.
Cous.
I
see
you
'd
be
a bed
;
You
are
not
us'd
To
these
late
houres
.
Clem.
Lights
for
his
Highnesse
.
Horn.
I
humbly
beg
your
license
I
may
returne
to
my
owne
lodging
.
Clos.
Well
,
sir
,
't
is
easily
granted
.
Exit
.
1
Lo.
Lights
for
Sir
Gyles
:
One
shall
attend
you
home
.
Horn.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
.
Clem.
Why
do
you
laugh
?
Horn.
At
a
conceit
,
at
a
conceit
:
What
did
I
eat
last
night
,
to
make
me
dream
thus
?
Exeunt
.
ACT.
V.
Enter
Hartwell
apprehended
,
Countrey-man
Officers
,
Servant
.
Hart.
You
have
done
well
?
Countr.
Would
you
had
done
no
worse
.
These
are
his
clothes
,
and
you
must
give
account
How
you
came
by
'em
,
and
produce
him
safe
Ere
you
acquit
your selfe
;
We
may
suspect
You
ha'
kill'd
him
.
Horn.
Then
I
obey
my
destiny
;
Justice
I
see
pursues
the
guilty
person
:
Dispose
me
where
you
please
.
Officer
.
He
does
confesse
.
Hart.
What ere
you
be
,
you
can
but
have
my
life
For
his
;
all
your
revenge
can
reach
no
higher
:
And
to
the
law
I
yeeld
my selfe
.
Countr.
My
hopes
are
colde
As
his
blood
whom
thou
hast
slaine
:
Thou
hast
Been
cruell
in
this
act
,
to
me
and
mine
;
Whose
fames
in
him
are
miserably
wounded
:
But
looke
for
the
reward
.
Hart.
I
must
expect
it
;
In
the
meane
time
I
do
not
beg
your
mercy
:
Life
is
a
burden
,
I
would
faine
be
rid
on
't
.
Does
he
weary
me
to
carry
it
?
Serv.
I
'll
acquaint
my
Mistris
.
Count
.
Do
so
:
To
the
next
Justice
;
come
away
Exeunt
.
Enter
Hornet
.
Horn.
She
's
gone
,
she
's
gone
,
I
shall
run
mad
;
My
Neece
,
Rob'd
of
three
thousand
pound
in
her
escape
,
I
finde
too
late
,
I
am
awake
and
gull'd
,
Nor
know
I
whom
to
accuse
for
my
tormentors
;
Devils
or
men
,
but
sure
they
were
not
men
,
But
very
fiends
I
revell'd
with
last
night
.
That
I
could
meet
the
prince
of
devils
that
knighted
me
,
The
Poets
call
him
Pluto
,
god
of
riches
;
I
and
my
learned
Councell
would
undo
him
In
Law
,
in
very
Law
,
which
he
should
finde
Hotter
ere
I
had
done
,
than
hell
it selfe
,
And
call
his
place
of
torment
,
in
three
Termes
,
But
a
refreshing
to
't
:
Yet
let
me
see
,
I
have
the
portion
still
,
though
she
be
vanish'd
,
That
's
better
than
my
Neece
,
but
if
she
marry
,
I
lose
it
all
there
;
there
's
the
vexation
.
Enter
Cousen
.
Cous.
Save
Mr.
Hornet
.
Horn.
'T
is
too
late
,
away
,
I
do
not
love
unnecessary
complement
.
Cous.
This
he
?
Horn.
Yes
,
I
am
he
;
am
I
not
very
fine
?
What
do
you
thinke
this
trim
will
cost
me
,
ha
?
Three
thousand
pounds
,
no
more
?
Cous.
The
Broker
wo'not
Lend
halfe
the
money
.
Horn.
Will
you
,
sir
,
be
gone
,
I
ha'
no
money
to
lend
now
,
it
is
not
,
You
know
,
in
fashion
,
with
rich
clothes
.
Cous.
I
came
for
other
purpose
,
and
with
newes
perhaps
,
You
would
be
willing
to
receive
;
You
have
A
Neece
?
Horn.
No
;
such
a
creature
was
in
my
possession
:
Do
you
know
where
she
is
?
Cous.
Faith
I
imagine
.
Horn.
Ha
,
good
sir
?
pray
forwards
:
You
shall
have
money
upon
good
security
.
Cous.
I
thanke
you
,
sir
,
for
nothing
;
I
do
owe
you
Too
much
already
,
on
these
tearmes
.
Horn.
My
Neece
,
as
you
were
saying
.
Cous.
Were
you
knighted
lately
?
Horn.
Is
that
talk'd
abroad
?
Cous.
No
generall
rumour
;
By
a
chance
I
came
Where
such
a
thing
was
whisper'd
only
whisper'd
;
Just
as
he
was
describ'd
:
In
my
opinion
Y'
are
very
handsome
,
and
do
looke
as
like
a
reverend
�
Horn.
Asse
.
Cous.
Why
,
you
shall
have
it
,
sir
.
Horn.
But
touching
my
Neece
,
good
sir
,
That
most
ungracious
giglet
,
That
's
run
or
stolne
away
,
juggled
last
night
Out
a
my
doores
.
Cous.
Did
not
she
leap
the
casement
?
Horn.
Do
not
increase
my
agony
;
you
came
�
Cous.
With
civill
meaning
to
discover
how
You
may
be
abus'd
.
Horn.
What
money
do
you
want
,
sir
?
Your
owne
bond
shall
suffice
.
Cous.
I
ha
sworne
never
To
write
my
name
or
marke
;
But
I
can
tell
�
Horn.
Where
I
may
finde
this
girle
.
Cous.
More
I
can
do
,
if
need
require
;
T
is
in
my
power
to
give
Her
back
to
your
possession
,
and
I
am
willing
.
Horn.
An
honest
man
.
Cous.
On
reasonable
conditions
,
and
such
As
shall
not
trench
on
borrowing
money
.
Horn.
Honester
yet
.
Cous.
For
you
shall
give
it
freely
and
get
by
't
;
For
you
must
understand
if
I
do
this
,
I
shall
betray
a
friend
of
mine
,
that
has
Put
me
in
trust
,
one
that
intends
to
marry
her
,
(
For
truth
to
tell
,
they
are
not
yet
contracted
)
To
marry
her
,
d'
ee
marke
?
and
yet
e're
morning
Three
thousand
pounds
upon
her
,
Is
't
not
so
much
?
One
that
has
lent
me
sums
too
without
parchmont
.
Or
foolish
circumstance
,
to
be
repaid
;
Which
you
were
never
yet
so
much
a
Christian
,
As
to
be
guilt
of
,
in
your
Usurers
gallon
Of
conscience
melting
Sacke
;
This
deserves
something
,
But
cause
some
expedition
is
required
;
You
have
a
Bond
of
mine
.
Horn.
For
fifty
pound
.
Cous.
I
had
but
forty
,
and
your
Scrivenor
paid
,
With
whom
,
perhaps
,
your
worship
too
divided
;
If
you
remember
,
there
were
precious
dinners
,
Ere
I
could
count
my
Chickens
altogether
,
Which
was
your
thrift
and
my
expence
;
You
shall
First
cancell
that
Bond
,
nay
this
wo'not
dot
,
And
give
,
d'
ee
marke
,
give
me
a
hundred
pieces
,
Perhaps
I
'll
drinke
your
health
:
This
shall
retrive
Your
Neece
,
and
give
her
into
your
hands
,
Though
for
my
treachery
,
I
be
sung
in
ballads
,
And
have
the
towne
curse
if
ever
I
marry
.
Horn.
'T
is
too
much
for
no
more
labour
,
sir
.
Cous.
If
I
consider
,
Three
hundred
will
not
bring
me
to
't
agen
;
Thus
faire
I
'll
deale
with
you
;
I
'le
not
touch
your
money
Till
I
ha'
don
't
,
but
then
I
will
be
sure
:
Fetch
,
fetch
the
businesse
.
Horn.
The
Bond
is
ready
.
Cous.
I
will
have
ready
money
too
:
You
have
Bags
of
all
sizes
and
denominations
.
I
,
these
things
promise
well
;
now
I
'll
attend
you
.
Horn.
Do
this
fear
for
me
,
and
't
is
all
thine
owne
.
Exeunt
.
Enter
Iustice
,
Playfaire
and
Neece
.
Iust.
Now
we
may
wish
you
say
,
the
Priest
has
tyed
That
knot
no
subtilty
nor
malice
can
Dissolve
;
And
repent
not
I
have
been
An
actor
in
your
Comedy
,
though
I
should
not
Be
tempted
easily
to
such
another
Engagement
;
For
your
sake
I
have
dispenc'd
with
My
person
and
my
place
.
Play.
You
alwayes
were
My
loving
Uncle
.
Neec.
Sir
,
you
have
,
in
this
,
Deserv'd
our
lives
and
fortunes
.
Play.
It
was
good
mirth
To
heare
him
confident
all
our
device
Was
but
a
dreame
.
Iust.
He
is
awake
by
this
time
;
Should
your
Cousen
faile
,
we
'll
have
another
way
To
invite
him
;
And
if
honesty
prevaile
not
,
Force
him
till
he
consent
.
Enter
Servant
.
Serv.
Some
offenders
are
brought
to
be
examin'd
.
Iust.
Nephew
,
withdraw
,
and
you
,
faire
Bride
;
These
troubles
Are
incident
to
my
place
,
I
'll
soon
dispatch
'em
.
Enter
Countrey-man
,
Hartwell
,
and
Officers
.
How
now
my
Masters
?
Mr.
Hartwell
?
ha
!
Hart.
Looke
on
me
;
Sir
,
as
a
delinquent
;
These
Are
able
to
accuse
me
.
Iust.
What
offence
?
Const.
Nothing
,
but
for
killing
of
a
man
.
Iust.
What
proofe
?
Countr.
He
has
confest
it
,
Sir
.
Enter
Mistria
Bellamy
and
Frances
.
Iust.
Mistris
Bellamy
,
You
are
come
in
a
sad
time
:
Here
's
Mr.
Hartwell
Accus'd
for
killing
.
Bell.
'T
is
not
possible
.
Good
sir
believe
it
not
.
Iust.
He
does
confesse
.
Horn.
I
am
not
worth
your
prey
,
gentle
lady
In
vaine
I
should
extenuate
my
fact
,
To
have
the
troubles
of
examinations
;
Here
I
confesse
agen
,
my
hand
is
guilty
Of
killing
him
whose
feeble
arme
durst
not
Lift
up
a
weapon
to
defend
himselfe
.
Iust.
That
was
not
manly
.
Hart.
I
but
slew
a
coward
Startup
,
and
could
I
call
his
life
agen
,
As
soone
I
should
destroy
it
;
you
perhaps
Know
not
my
provocation
:
He
has
My
Rivall
,
sir
,
pardon
me
:
Mistris
Bellamy
,
To
whom
I
only
seemed
a
Proselyte
In
love
,
I
had
no
heart
to
give
from
her
:
And
in
my
study
to
decline
your
anger
;
I
fell
upon
her
scorne
,
which
in
few
minutes
,
Engaged
me
to
this
Fate
;
Not
am
I
troubled
That
I
must
dye
,
when
she
upon
whose
faith
I
durst
have
laid
the
hopes
of
my
eternity
,
Hath
violated
all
the
trust
of
woman
.
Count
.
Wil
t
please
you
,
sir
�
Iust.
Forbear
a
little
.
Hart.
Tell
me
,
most
unkinde
,
if
thou
didst
love
At
all
?
How
couldst
thou
thinke
I
should
be
such
A
desperate
Atheist
,
that
thou
so
soone
,
And
with
a
strange
Apostacy
should'st
revenge
it
?
These
swelling
drops
which
in
thy
innocence
Might
ha'
prevail'd
to
ha'
restor'd
the
dead
,
Heaven
now
doth
looke
on
,
and
despise
:
And
though
Thou
shed
moist
tribute
on
this
Tombe
,
't
shall
slide
,
Neglected
o're
the
Marble
,
and
be
lost
,
As
if
the
stone
had
sense
to
punish
thy
Disdaine
of
me
:
I
can
behold
that
weeping
,
And
not
be
moved
to
wish
I
were
not
guilty
Of
killing
him
whose
love
had
been
thy
triumph
;
And
I
dare
boldly
,
still
in
the
contempt
Of
what
I
am
to
suffer
,
and
the
justice
Of
my
owne
truth
,
challenge
thy
soule
to
answer
In
what
I
was
beneath
that
gaudy
foole
,
Excepting
that
he
had
more
earth
than
I
To
helpe
his
scale
,
which
yet
he
may
be
indebt
for
To
his
fathers
sins
:
Alive
,
he
could
not
merit
One
cold
disdaine
from
thee
;
And
dead
,
how
comes
it
He
should
be
worth
thy
teares
?
But
let
thy
eyes
Chide
this
unruly
sorrow
;
dresse
thy
cheekes
With
their
fresh
blood
again
,
and
let
thy
face
Open
a
book
of
smiles
,
in
the
assurance
I
have
not
long
to
live
;
When
I
have
numbred
A
few
sad
minutes
,
thou
shalt
be
reveng'd
,
And
I
shall
never
trouble
thee
:
If
this
Be
not
enough
,
extend
thy
malice
further
:
And
if
thou
find'st
one
man
that
lov'd
me
living
,
Will
honour
this
cold
body
with
a
grave
,
Be
cruell
,
and
corrupt
his
charity
.
So
fare
ye
well
.
Fran.
Yet
you
must
stay
and
heare
me
:
He
sha'not
suffer
,
if
my
friends
or
state
Can
purchase
him
a
pardon
:
Where
's
the
body
Of
him
that
's
slaine
?
Countr.
We
know
not
;
But
you
heare
His
free
confession
of
the
fact
.
Iust.
This
may
Proceed
from
discontents
;
Life
to
some
man
Is
but
their
torment
in
whose
paine
they
will
,
As
on
the
Wracke
,
confesse
what
never
Was
in
their
thought
.
Hart.
Speak
it
agen
,
and
I
Dare
promise
thee
to
live
.
Fran.
My
heart
was
ever
Constant
,
my
mothers
love
was
but
thy
triall
,
As
mine
a
seeming
change
in
thy
disguise
,
Which
was
not
able
to
secure
thee
from
me
;
The
words
were
,
I
would
choose
my
husband
here
:
But
what
will
this
availe
us
?
Hart.
Mr.
Iustice
,
I
here
discharge
you
.
Iust.
How
?
Hart.
My
joyes
obeyes
No
limits
;
I
accus'd
my
false
unjustly
,
The
fool
's
alive
.
Countr.
Startup
,
Where
?
Hart.
I
know
not
that
,
My
servant
's
with
him
,
but
if
he
ha'
plaid
The
hang-man
,
starv'd
or
smother'd
him
in
a
ditch
,
I
ha'
made
faire
worke
.
Omnes
.
This
were
a
welcome
truth
.
Enter
servant
.
Serv.
Sir
,
the
Constable
.
Iust.
I
had
rather
it
had
been
my
Kinsman
and
the
Usurer
;
But
wait
and
give
me
knowledge
when
they
come
.
Enter
Constable
,
Startup
,
Close
,
Officers
.
Const.
Where
's
Mr.
Justice
?
Hart.
It
is
he
and
Close
;
Then
I
am
secure
,
your
pardon
,
and
thy
love
.
Bell.
You
have
it
freely
,
and
a
mothers
prayers
For
both
your
happinesse
.
Const.
Please
your
worship
,
these
We
took
last
night
i'
th'
fields
suspiciously
,
And
by
my
owne
authority
I
condemn'd
'em
.
Star.
Shall
we
be
hang'd
,
Close
,
we
are
condemn'd
already
.
Iust.
This
is
the
Gentleman
was
kill'd
.
Start.
Sweet
sir
,
no
;
Not
kill'd
out
right
,
but
I
was
almost
starv'd
With
cold
:
These
Gentlewoman
know
me
,
And
I
should
know
that
Hose
and
Doublet
too
;
Those
garments
which
you
weare
,
I
have
oft
seen
,
sweet
sir
.
Clos.
Well
said
Ierouinte
.
Start.
I
was
faine
to
borrow
These
of
a
prisoner
that
lies
in
,
upon
My
Diamond
Ring
.
Iust.
You
are
discharg'd
.
Start.
And
we
too
?
Iust.
Yes
,
and
joy
in
every
bosome
.
Start.
Close
,
you
must
know
this
your
Mistris
:
Sweet
Lady
.
Fran.
How
?
Clos.
'T
is
enough
for
you
to
know
her
,
sir
,
And
me
to
acknowledge
.
Countr.
Do
you
know
me
,
sir
?
Start.
Hum
;
yes
,
who
brought
you
to
town
?
And
your
daughter
too
,
sweet
sir
?
Countr.
And
you
shall
right
her
.
Start.
Is
she
growne
crooked
?
I
knew
her
too
well
.
Peace
,
not
a
word
more
,
I
know
your
meaning
,
Do
not
discredite
me
,
sweet
sir
,
and
we
'll
steale
downe
And
marry
her
ere
any
be
aware
on
't
;
I
wo'not
stay
to
shift
me
,
take
no
leave
;
The
jest
will
be
when
I
am
in
the
Countrey
,
How
like
an
asse
he
'll
look
in
my
apparrell
.
Exeunt
Startup
Country-man
,
Enter
servant
.
Serv.
Sir
,
Mr.
Playfaires
Cousen
and
the
tother
Gallant
.
Iust.
I
must
intreat
your
patience
a
little
,
You
'll
meet
with
friends
in
the
next
roome
.
Enter
Cousen
,
Hornet
.
Cous.
Excuse
my
boldnesse
,
sir
,
this
Gentleman
.
Iust.
Mr.
Hornet
,
you
are
very
welcome
.
Horn.
Good
sir
no
ceremony
;
We
are
come
'Bout
businesse
:
I
have
lost
my
Neece
,
and
would
Know
where
she
is
.
Iust.
D'
ee
take
me
for
a
Wizzard
?
Cous.
Sir
,
our
desires
are
modest
;
That
you
would
Be
witnesse
to
a
bargaine
,
and
receive
Some
trifles
,
sir
,
in
trust
to
be
deliver'd
To
me
,
If
I
restore
his
Kinswoman
.
Horn.
Not
else
;
On
that
condition
I
deposite
These
hundred
pieces
,
and
a
bond
,
if
he
Deliver
me
my
Neece
,
they
are
his
fraught
,
If
not
,
they
call
me
owner
.
Cous.
Pardon
,
sir
,
That
I
presume
to
bring
this
trouble
to
you
.
Iust.
'T
is
none
at
all
.
Cous.
You
sha'not
long
expect
:
So
rest
you
merry
.
Iust.
How
fare
you
,
sir
?
Horn.
As
you
see
,
falne
away
an
inch
since
morning
,
But
this
will
physicke
me
;
If
I
possesse
This
harlotry
agen
,
I
'll
make
her
sure
:
Trust
not
a
woman
,
they
have
found
the
herbe
To
open
locks
;
not
brazen
Towers
can
hold
'em
.
Or
if
they
get
not
loose
,
they
have
the
vertue
Of
Loadstones
;
Shut
up
in
a
box
,
they
'll
draw
Customers
to
them
;
Nay
,
being
dead
and
buried
,
There
is
a
suspicion
they
will
breake
the
grave
,
Which
puts
so
many
husbands
to
the
charge
Of
heavy
stones
to
keep
their
bad
wires
under
.
Iust.
You
are
moved
?
Horn.
Oh
Mr.
Justice
you
are
honest
,
I
ha'
been
abus'd
,
so
miserably
cheated
,
I
am
asham'd
to
thinke
on
't
,
Stay
,
what
,
musicke
?
Enter
Cousen
,
leading
the
Neece
.
Ha
,
't
is
my
Neece
;
the
very
same
.
Cous.
There
,
sir
,
you
have
her
,
and
I
must
ha'
these
.
Horn.
Take
'em
:
But
you
shall
go
with
me
;
have
I
found
you
?
Neec.
How
Unckle
?
a
reveller
?
you
'll
lead
mea
Corranto
.
Horn.
You
shall
dance
homewards
.
Enter
Playfaire
.
Play.
What
make
you
so
familiar
with
my
wife
?
Horn.
How
,
wife
?
is
she
married
?
Cous.
'T
is
upon
record
,
I
'll
bring
a
Parson
that
shall
take
his
oath
on
't
Horn.
Give
me
my
hand
and
money
,
Mr.
Justice
.
Hart.
Where
?
where
?
Cous.
Here
,
here
,
but
not
to
be
recovered
By
law
:
I
have
a
judgement
,
sir
,
against
you
.
Horn.
You
have
conspired
to
rob
,
cheat
,
and
undo
me
;
I
'll
have
you
all
Star-chamber'd
.
Play.
Sir
,
be
calme
,
and
hear
us
.
Horn.
I
'll
hear
nothing
.
Play.
Yes
,
you
shall
;
It
will
be
necessary
,
I
am
bold
,
Presuming
on
her
favour
,
to
demand
A
parcell
of
three
thousand
pound
,
the
sum
belongs
to
me
,
by
vertue
of
a
marriages
And
I
must
have
it
.
Horn.
Tell
me
of
a
marriage
?
Cous.
I
saw
the
Priest
conjoyne
'em
:
He
will
deserve
your
love
.
Play.
Perhaps
you
may
continue
A
thousand
,
or
two
thousand
,
for
six
moneths
,
Upon
security
.
Horn.
Persecution
.
Iust.
Faith
sir
consider
,
It
is
more
safe
to
see
her
thus
bestowed
,
Than
trust
a
jury
;
If
the
Doctor
had
Given
her
too
much
Opium
,
or
purg'd
Her
soule
away
,
things
might
so
worse
;
But
I
Keep
counsell
.
Horn.
Ha'
ye
mortified
me
yet
?
Cous.
For
your
owne
sake
,
and
as
you
are
true
Knight
.
Enter
Mistris
Bellamy
,
Hartwell
,
Frances
,
and
Close
.
Horn.
Now
,
ha
ye
done
?
The
widdow
;
Not
a
word
more
,
take
her
,
I
'll
pay
you
sir
,
Three
thousand
pounds
to morrow
:
Noble
widdow
You
were
in
the
first
list
to
be
invited
;
My
Neece
I
told
you
of
,
is
married
to
This
worthy
Gentleman
.
Bell.
You
looke
like
a
Bridegroom
.
Horn.
'T
is
in
your
power
to
make
it
good
;
What
say
you
,
Shall
we
have
issue
?
Now
the
word
of
comfort
.
Bell.
I
will
never
marry
.
Horn.
You
are
resolv'd
why
,
so
:
Come
hither
Nephew
,
Shalt
be
my
heire
,
I
love
thee
for
thy
wit
;
But
charme
thy
friends
,
they
do
not
laugh
at
me
:
I
'll
be
a
Knight
too
,
if
I
live
,
and
build
An
Hospitall
for
twenty
more
o'
th'
Order
,
Which
I
'll
reduce
my selfe
out
of
the
Suburbs
;
It
is
a
shame
such
men
should
lose
their
spurs
In
womens
Petticoats
,
and
turne
Squires
agen
To
Whores
,
or
Parasites
to
Noble
men
,
For
want
of
fit
provision
.
Iust.
An
excellent
foundation
.
But
where
's
Startup
?
Clos.
Sunke
,
I
thinke
.
Hart.
Nere
conjure
for
him
;
we
are
ingratefull
to
Our
blisse
:
But
wasting
of
these
precious
minutes
,
Which
are
so
many
ages
,
till
the
Church
Hath
made
us
perfect
.
Horn.
Is
there
any
more
Worke
for
the
Priest
?
Then
give
you
joy
before
hand
,
And
let
us
celebrate
the
day
together
.
Play.
I
'me
glad
of
your
conversion
;
Ye
are
the
first
Jew
that
in
my
remembrance
has
turn'd
Christian
.
Iust.
Walke
on
to
joyes
.
Hart.
'Twixt
Love
and
Fortune
,
now
the
accounts
are
even
:
A
chaine
of
hearts
,
and
the
first
linck
in
heaven
.