THE LOVERS Melancholy.  
ACTED AT THE PRIVATE HOUSE IN THE BLACK Friars, and publicly at the Globe by the king's Majesty's Servants.  
LONDON, Printed for H. Seile, and are to be sold at the tiger's head in Saint Paul's Churchyard. 1629.   

The Scene Famagosta in Cyprus.  

The names of such as acted.  
JOHN LOWIN.  
JOSEPH TAYLOR.  
ROBERT BENFIELD.  
JOHN SHANCK.  
EYLYARDT SWANSTON.  
ANTHONY SMITH.  
RICHARD SHARP.  
THOMAS POLLARD.  
WILLIAM PENN.  
CURTEISE GRIVILL.  
GEORGE VERNON.  
RICHARD BAXTER.  
JOHN TOMSON.  
JOHN HONYMAN.  
JAMES horn.  
WILLIAM TRIGG.  
ALEXANDER GOUGH.    

TO MY WORTHILY RESPECTED FRIENDS, NATHANIEL FINCH, JOHN FORD, Esquires; Mt. HENRY BLUNT, Mr. Robert ELLICE, and all the rest of the Noble Society of Gray's Inn.  
My Honoured Friends,  
THe account of some leisurable hours, is here summed up, and offered to examination. Importunity of Others, or Opinion of mine own, hath not urged on any confidence of running the hazard of a censure. As plurality hath reference to a Multitude, so, I care not to please Many: but where there is a Parity of condition, there the freedom of construction, makes the best musics. This concord hath equally held between you THE patrons, and ME THE presenter. I am cleared of all scruple of disrespect on your parts; as I am of too slack a Merit in myself. My presumption of coming in Print in this kind, hath hitherto been unreprovable. This Piece, being the first, that ever courted Reader; and it is very possible, that the like compliment with Me, may soon grow out of fashion. A practice of which that I may avoid now, I commend to the continuance of your Loves, the memory of HIS, who without the protestation of a service, is readily your Friend,  
JOHN FORD.   


To my Honoured Friend, Master john Ford, on his lover's Melancholy.  
IF that thou think'st these lines thy worth can raise,  
Thou dost mistake: my liking is no praise:  
Nor can I think thy judgement is so ill,  
To seek for bays from such a barren Quill:  
Let your true Critic, that can judge and mend,  
Allow thy Scenes and Style: ay, as a friend  
That knows thy worth, do only stick my Name,  
To show my Love, not to advance thy Fame.  George Donne.  

To his worthy Friend, the Author, Master john Ford.  
I Write not to thy Play: I'll not begin  
To throw a censure upon what hath been  
By th' Best approved; It can nor fear, nor want  
The Rage, or Liking of the Ignorant.  
Nor seek I Fame for Thee, when thine own Pen  
Hath forced a praise long since, from knowing Men.  
I speak my thoughts, and wish unto the Stage  
A glory from thy studies; that the Age  
May be indebted to Thee, for Reprieve  
Of purer language, and that Spite may grieve  
To see itself outdone. When Thou art read,  
The Theater may hope Arts are not dead,  
Though long concealed; that Poet-Apes may fear  
To vent their weakness, mend, or quite forbear.  
This I dare promise; and keep this in store;  
As thou hast done enough, Thou canst do more.  William Singleton.  

To the Author, Master john Ford.  
Black choler, reason's overflowing Spring,  
Where thirsty lover's drink, or any Thing,  
Passion, the restless current of dull plaints  
Affords their thoughts, who deem lost beauties, Saints:  
Here their best Lectures read, collect, and see  
Various conditions of Humanity  
Highly enlightened by thy muse's rage;  
Yet all so couched, that they adorned the Stage.  
Shun photion's blushes thou; for sure to please  
It is no sin, then what is thy disease?  
judgements applause? effeminated smiles?  
Study's delight? thy wit mistrust beguiles:  
Established Fame will thy Physician be,  
(Write but again) to cure thy jealousy.  Hum. Howorth.  

Of the lover's Melancholy.  
'tIs not the Language, nor the fore-placed Rhymes  
Of Friends, that shall commend to after-times  
The lover's Melancholy: Its own worth  
Without a borrowed praise, shall set it forth.  {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}   

THE prologue.  
TO tell ye (Gentlemen) in what true sense  
The Writer, Actors, or the audience  
Should mould their judgements for a Play, might draw  
Truth into Rules, but we have no such law.  
Our Writer, for himself would have ye know,  
That in his following Scenes, he doth not owe  
To others' Fancies, nor hath lain in wait  
For any stolen Invention, from whose height  
He might commend his own, more than the right  
A Scholar claims, may warrant for delight.  
It is art's scorn, that some of late have made  
The Noble use of Poetry a Trade.  
For your parts (Gentlemen) to quite his pains,  
Yet you will please, that as you meet with strains  
Of lighter mixtures, but to cast your eye  
Rather upon the main, then on the buy.  
His hopes stand firm, and we shall find it true,  
The lover's Melancholy cured by you.   

THE LOVERS MELANCHOLY.  

Actus. I. Scena I.  Enter Menaphon and Pelias. Menaphon. 
DAngers? How mean you dangers? that so courtly  
You gratulate my safe return from dangers?  Pel. 
From Travails (noble Sir.)  Men. 
These are delights,  
If my experience hath not truant-like  
Misspent the time, which I have striven to use,  
For bettering my mind with observation.  Pel. 
As I am modest, I protest 'tis strange:  
But is it possible?  Men. 
What?  Pel. 
To bestride  
The frothy foams of Neptune's surging waves,  
When blustering Boreas tosseth up the deep,  
And thumps a thunder bounce?  Men. 
Sweet Sir, 'tis nothing,  
Straight comes a Dolphin playing near your ship,  
Heaving his crooked back up, and presents  
A Featherbed, to waft 'ee'ee to the shore,  
As easily as if you slept i'th' i'th' Court.  Pel. 
Indeed, is't true, I pray?  Men. 
I will not stretch  
Your Faith upon the Teinters, prithee Pelias,  
Where didst thou learn this language?  Pel. 
I this language?  
Alas, Sir, we that study words and forms  
Of compliment, must fashion all discourse,  
According to the nature of the subject.  
But I am silent, now appears a Sun,  
Whose shadow I adore.  Enter Amethus, Sophronos, and Attendants. Men. 
My honoured Father.  Soph. 
From mine eyes, son, son of my care, my love,  
The joys that bid thee welcome, do too much speak me a child.  Men. 
O Princely Sir, your hand.  Amet. 
Perform your duties where you owe them first,  
I dare not be so sudden in the pleasures,  
Thy presence hath brought home.  Soph. 
Here thou still findest  
A Friend as noble (Menaphon) as when  
Thou left'st at thy departure.  Men. 
Yes, I know it,  
To him I owe more service.—  Amet. 
Pray give leave,  
He shall attend your entertainments soon,  
Next day, and next day, for an hour or two,  
I would engross him only.  Soph. 
Noble Lord.  Ame. 
You're both dismissed.  Pel. 
Your creature, and your Servant.  Exeunt all but Ameth. Menap. Ame. 
Give me thy hand, I will not say, thouart welcome,  
That is the common road of common friends,  
I am glad I have thee here— O, I want words  
To let thee know my heart.  Men. 
'Tis pieced to mine.  Ame. 
Yes, 'tis, as firmly, as that holy thing  
Called Friendship can unite it. Menaphon,  
My Menaphon: now all the goodly blessings,  
That can create a Heaven on earth, dwell with thee.  
twelve months we have been sundered, but henceforth  
We never more will part, till that sad hour,  
In which death leaves the one of us behind,  
To see the others funerals performed.  
Let's now a while be free. How have thy travails  
Disburdened thee abroad of discontents?  Men. 
Such cure as sick men find in changing beds,  
I found in change of Airs; the fancy flattered  
My hopes with ease, as theirs do, but the grief  
Is still the same.  Ame. 
Such is my case at home.  
Cleophyla, thy Kinswoman, that Maid  
Of sweetness and humility, more pities  
Her Father's poor afflictions, than the tide  
Of my complaints.  Men. 
Thamasta, my great Mistress,  
Your Princely Sister, hath, I hope ere this,  
Confirmed affection on some worthy choice.  Ame. 
Not any, Menaphon. Her bosom yet  
Is intermured with Ice, though by the truth  
Of love, no day hath ever passed, wherein  
I have not mentioned thy deserts, thy constancy  
Thy— Come, in troth I dare not tell thee what,  
Lest thou mightst think I fawned upon a sin  
Friendship was never guilty of; for flattery  
Is monstrous in a true friend.  Men. 
Does the Court  
Wear the old looks too?  Ame. 
If thou mean'st the Prince,  
It does, he's the same melancholy man,  
He was at's Father's death, sometimes speaks sense,  
But seldom mirth; will smile, but seldom laugh;  
Will lend an ear to business, deal in none;  
Gaze upon Revels, Antic Fopperies,  
But is not moved; will sparingly discourse,  
Hear music; but what most he takes delight in,  
Are handsome pictures; one so young, and goodly,  
So sweet in his own nature, any Story  
Hath seldom mentioned.  Men. 
Why should such as I am,  
Groan under the light burdens of small sorrows,  
whenas a Prince, so potent, cannot shun  
Motions of passion? To be man (my Lord)  
Is to be but the exercise of cares  
In several shapes; as miseries do grow,  
They alter as men's forms; but how, none know.  Ame. 
This little I'll of Cyprus sure abounds  
In greater wonders, both for change and fortune,  
Than any you have seen abroad.  Men. 
Then any  
I have observed abroad: all Countries else  
To a free eye and mind yield something rare;  
And I for my part, have brought home one jewel.  
Of admirable value.  Ame. 
jewel, Menaphon?  Men. 
A jewel, my Amethus, a fair Youth;  
A Youth, whom if I were but superstitious,  
I should repute an Excellence more high,  
Then mere creations are, to add delight.  
I'll tell ye how I found him.  Ame. 
Prithee do.  Men. 
Passing from Italy to Greece, the Tales  
Which Poets of an elder time have feigned  
To glorify their Tempe, bred in me  
Desire of visiting that Paradise.  
To Thessaly I came, and living private,  
Without acquaintance of more sweet companions,  
than the old Inmates to my love, my thoughts;  
I day by day frequented silent Groves,  
And solitary Walks. 
Vide Famistradam. lib. 2. Prolas. 6. Acad. 3. Imitat. Claudian.  One morning early  
This accident encountered me: I heard  
The sweetest and most ravishing contention,  
That Art or Nature ever were at strife in.  Ame. 
I cannot yet conceive, what you infer  
By Art and Nature.  Men. 
I shall soon resolve ye.  
A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather  
Indeed entranced my soul: as I stole nearer,  
Invited by the melody, I saw  
This Youth, this fair-faced Youth, upon his Lute  
With strains of strange variety and harmony,  
Proclaiming (as it seemed) so bold a challenge  
To the clear Quiristers of the Woods, the Birds,  
That as they flocked about him, all stood silent,  
Wondering at what they heard. I wondered too.  Ame. 
And so do I, good,— on.  Men. 
A Nightingale.  
Nature's best skilled Musician undertakes  
The challenge, and for every several strain  
The well-shaped Youth could touch, she sung her down;  
He could not run Division with more Art  
Upon his quaking Instrument, than she,  
The Nightingale did with her various notes  
Reply too, for a voice, and for a sound,  
Amethus, 'tis much easier to believe  
That such they were, then hope to hear again.  Amet. 
How did the rival's part?  Mena. 
You term them rightly,  
For they were Rivals, and their Mistress harmony.  
Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last  
Into a pretty anger, that a bird  
Whom Art had never taught Cliffs, Moods, or Notes,  
Should vie with him for mastery, whose study  
Had busied many hours to perfect practice:  
To end the controversy, in a rapture,  
Upon his Instrument he plays so swiftly,  
So many voluntaries, and so quick,  
That there was curiosity and cunning,  
Concord in discord, lines of differing method  
Meeting in one full Centre of delight.  Amet. 
Now for the bird.  Mena. 
The bird ordained to be  
Music's first Martyr, strove to imitate  
These several sounds: which, when her warbling throat  
Failed in, for grief, down dropped she on his Lute,  
And broke her heart; it was the quaintest sadness,  
To see the Conqueror upon her Hearse,  
To weep a funeral Elegy of tears,  
That trust me (my Amethus) I could chide  
Mine own unmanly weakness, that made me  
A fellow-mourner with him. Amet. I believe thee.  Mena. 
He looks upon the trophies of his Art,  
Then sighed, then wiped his eyes, then sighed, and cried,  
Alas poor creature: I will soon revenge  
This cruelty upon the Author of it;  
Henceforth this Lute guilty of innocent blood,  
Shall never more betray a harmless peace  
To an untimely end: and in that sorrow,  
As he was pashing it against a tree,  
I suddenly stepped in.  Amet. 
Thou hast discoursed  
A truth of mirth and pity.  Mena. 
I reprieved  
Th'intended execution with entreaties,  
And interruption: but (my Princely friend)  
It was not strange, the music of his hand  
Did overmatch birds, when his voice and beauty,  
Youth, carriage and discretion, must, from men  
Endued with reason, ravish admiration:  
From me they did.  Amet. 
But is this miracle  
Not to be seen?  Men. 
I won him by degrees  
To choose me his Companion whence he is,  
Or who, as I durst modestly inquire,  
So gently he would woo not to make known:  
Only for reasons to himself reserved,  
He told me, that some remnant of his life  
Was to be spent in Travail; for his fortunes,  
They were nor mean, nor riotous, his friends  
Not published to the world, though not obscure:  
His Country, Athens; and his name, Parthenophill.  Amet. 
Came he with you to Cyprus?  Men. 
Willingly.  
The fame of our young melancholy Prince,  
Meleander's rare distractions, the obedience  
Of young Chleophila, Thamasta's glory,  
Your matchless friendship, and my desperate love  
Prevailed with him, and I have lodged him privately  
In Famagosta.  Amet. 
Now thouart doubly welcome:  
I will not lose the sight of such a rarity  
For one part of my hopes. When d''ee intend  
To visit my great-spirited Sister.  Mena. 
May I  
Without offence?  Amet. 
Without offence? Parthenophill  
Shall find a worthy entertainment too.  
Thou art not still a coward.  Mena. 
she's too excellent,  
And I too low in merit.  Amet. 
I'll prepare  
A noble welcome. And (friend) ere we part,  
Unload to thee an overcharged heart.  Exeunt. Enter Rhetius carelessly attired. Rhet. 
I will not court the madness of the times,  
Nor fawn upon the Riots that embalm  
Our wanton Gentry, to preserve the dust  
Of their affected vanities in coffins  
Of memorable shame; when Commonwealths  
Totter and reel from that nobility  
And ancient virtue, which renowns the great,  
Who steer the Helm of government, while Mushrooms  
Grow up, & make new laws to licence folly:  
Why should not I, a May-game, scorn the weight  
Of my sunk fortunes? snarl at the vices  
Which rot the Land, and without fear or wit  
Be mine own Antic? 'tis a sport to live  
When life is irksome, if we will not hug  
Prosperity in others, and contemn  
Affliction in ourselves. This Rule is certain,  
"He that pursues his safety from the School  
" Of State, must learn to be mad man, or fool.  
Ambition, wealth, ease, I renounce the devil  
That damns ye here on earth, or I will be—  
Mine own mirth, or mine own tormentor,— So,  Enter Pelius. 
Here comes intelligence, a Buz o'the Court.  Pel. 
Rhetias, I sought thee out to tell thee news,  
New, excellent new news. Cucolus, Sirrah,  
That Gull, that young old Gull, is coming this way.  Rhet. 
And thou art his forerunner?  Pel. 
Prithee hear me:  
In stead of a fine guarded Page,  
We have got him  
A Boy, tricked up in neat and handsome  
Fashion;  
Persuaded him, that 'tis indeed a Wench;  
And he has entertained him, he does follow him,  
Carries his sword and buckler, waits on his trencher,  
Fills him his Wine, Tobacco, whets his knife,  
Lackeys his letters, does what service else  
He would employ his man in: being asked,  
Why he is so irregular in Courtship?  
His answer is, that since great Ladies use  
Gentlemen Ushers to go bare before them,  
He knows no reason, but he may reduce  
The Courtiers to have women wait on them,  
And he begins the fashion; he is laughed at  
Most complementally. thou'lt burst to see him.  Rhet. 
Agelastus, so surnamed for his gravity,  
Was a very wise fellow, kept his countenance  
All days of his life as demurely, as a judge that  
Pronounceth sentence of death, on a poor Rogue,  
For stealing as much bacon, as would serve at a meal  
With a calf's head. Yet he smiled once,  
And never but once: Thou art no Scholar?  Pel. 
I have read Pamphlets dedicated to me:  
Dost call him Agelastus? why did he laugh?  Rhet. 
To see an Ass eat Thistles.  
Puppy, go study to be a singular Coxcomb. Cuculus is an  
Ordinary Ape, but thou art an Ape of an Ape.  Enter Cuculus and Grilla. Pel. 
Thou hast a Patent to abuse thy friends:  
Look, look, he comes, observe him seriously.  Cucul. 
Reach me my sword and buckler.  Grill. 
They are here, forsooth.  Cucul. 
How now (minx) how now? Where is your duty, your distance?  
Let me have service methodically tendered; you are now One of us. Your curtsy; good: remember that you are To practise Courtship: was thy father a Piper, sayst thou?  Grill. 
A sounder of some such wind instrument forsooth.  Cucull. 
Was he so? hold up thy head; be thou musical  
To me, and I will marry thee to a dancer: one  
That shall ride on his Foot-cloth, and maintain thee  
In thy Muff and Hood.  Grill. 
That will be fine indeed.  Cucul. 
That art yet but simple.  Grill. 
D'ee think so?  Cucul. 
I have a brain; I have a head-piece;  
O my conscience, if I take pains with thee, I should  
Raise thy understanding (Girl) to the height of a nurse,  
Or a Court-midwife at least, I will make thee big  
In time, wench.  Grill. 
E'en do your pleasure with me, Sir.  Pel. 
Noble accomplished Cuculus.  Rhet. 
Give me thy fist, Innocent.  Cucul. 
Would 'twere in thy belly, there 'tis.  Pel. 
That's well, he's an honest blade, though he be blunt.  Cucul. 
Who cares? we can be as blunt as he for's life.  Rhet. 
Cuculus, there is within a mile or two, a Sow-pig  
Hath sucked a Brach, and now hunts the deer, the Hare,  
Nay, most unnaturally the wild Boar,  
as well as any Hound in Cyprus.  Cucul. 
Monstrous Sow-pig! is't true?  Pel. 
I'll be at charge of a banquet on thee for a sight of her.  Rhet. 
Every thing takes after the dam that gave it suck:  
Where hadst thou thy milk?  Cucul. 
I? Why, my nurse's husband was a most excellent maker  
Of shuttlecocks.  Pel. 
My nurse was a woman-surgeon.  Rhet. 
And who gave thee pap, Mouse?  Gril. 
I never sucked that I remember.  Rhet. 
La now, a shuttlecock-maker, all thy brains are stuck with cork and feather. Cuculus, this learned Courtier takes after the nurse too, a she-surgeon, which is in effect a mere matter of colours. Go, learn to paint and daub compliments, 'tis the next step to run into a new suit; my Lady Periwinkle here never sucked; suck thy Master, and bring forth mooncalves, Fop, do; This is good Philosophy, Sirs, make use on't.  Grill. 
Bless us, what a strange Creature this is?  Cucul. 
A Gull, an arrant Gull by Proclamation.  Enter Corax passing over. Pel. 
Corax, the PRINCE's chief Physician;  
What business speeds his haste—  
Are all things well, Sir?  Cor. 
Yes, yes, yes.  Rhet. 
Phew, you may wheel about, man, we know you're proud of your slovenry and practice, 'tis your virtue; the PRINCE's melancholy fit I presume holds still.  Cora. 
So do thy knavery and desperate beggary.  Cucul. 
Aha: here's one will tickle the bandog.  Rhet. 
You must not go yet.  Cora. 
I'll stay in spite of thy teeth. There lies my gravity:  Casts off his gown. 
Do what thou darest, I stand thee.  Rhet. 
Mountebank, empirics, Quacksalvers, Mineralists, Wizards, alchemists, cast-Apothecaries, old Wives and Barbers, are all suppositors to the right Worshipful Doctor, as I take it.  
Some of ye are the head of your Art, & the horns too, but they come by nature; thou livest single for no other end, but that thou fearest to be a Cuckold.  Cora. 
Have at thee; thou affectest railing only for thy health, thy miseries are so thick and so lasting; that thou hast not one poor denier to bestow on opening a vein. Wherefore to avoid a Pleurisy, thou'lt be sure to prate thyself once a month into a whipping, and bleed in the breech in stead of the arm.  Rhet. 
Have at thee again.  Cora. 
Come.  Cucul. 
There, there, there; O brave Doctor.  Pel. 
Let'em alone.  Rhet. 
Thou art in thy Religion an Atheist, in thy condition a Cur, in thy diet an Epicure, in thy lust a Goat, in thy sleep a Hog; thou tak'st upon thee the habit of a grave Physician, but art indeed an impostrous empiric. physicians are the bodies Cobblers, rather the Butchers of men's bodies; as the one patches our tattered clothes, so the other solders our diseased flesh. Come on.  Cuc. 
Tot, tot, hold him tot, hold him to't, tot, tot, tot.  Cora. 
The best worth in thee, is the corruption of thy mind, for that only entitles thee to the dignity of a louse: a thing bred out of the filth and superfluity of ill humours: Thou bit'st anywhere; and any man who defends not himself with the clean linen of secure honesty; him thou darest not come near. Thou art Fortune's Idiot, virtue's Bankrupt, Times Dunghill, Manhood's Scandal, and thine own scourge. Thou wouldst hang thyself, so wretchedly miserable thou art; but that no man will trust thee with as much money as will buy a halter: and all thy stock to be sold, is not worth half as much as may procure it.  Rhet. 
Ha, ha, ha; this is flattery, gross flattery.  Cora. 
I have employment for thee, and for ye all, Tut, these are but good morrows between us.  Rhet. 
Are thy bottles full?  Cor. 
Of rich wine, let's all suck together.  Rhet. 
Like so many Swine in a trough.  Cora. 
I'll shape ye all for a device before the Prince, we'll try how that can move him.  Rhet. 
He shall fret or laugh.  Cucul. 
Must I make one?  Cora. 
Yes, and your feminine Page too.  Gril. 
Thanks most egregiously.  Pel. 
I will not slack my part.  Cucul. 
Wench, take my buckler.  Cora. 
Come all unto my chamber, the project is cast,  
The time only we must attend.  Rhet. 
The melody must agree well, and yield sport,  
When such as these are, Knaves and fool's consort.  Exeunt. Enter Amethus, Thamasta and Kala. Amet. 
Does this show well?  Tham. 
What would you have me do?  Amet. 
Not like a Lady of the trim, new crept  
Out of the shell of sluttish sweat and labour,  
Into the glittering pomp of ease and wantonness,  
Embroideries, and all these antic fashions,  
That shape a woman monstrous; to transform  
Your education, and a Noble birth  
Into contempt and laughter. Sister, Sister,  
She who derives her blood from Princes, aught  
To glorify her greatness by humility.  Tham. 
Then you conclude me proud.  Amet. 
Young Menaphon,  
My worthy friend, has loved you long, and truly,  
To witness his obedience to your scorn,  
twelve months (wronged Gentleman) he undertook  
A voluntary exile. Wherefore (Sister)  
In this time of his absence, have you not  
Disposed of your affections on some Monarch?  
Or sent Ambassadors to some neighbouring King  
With fawning protestations of your graces?  
Your rare perfections, admirable beauty?  
This had been a new piece of modesty,  
Would have deserved a Chronicle!  Tham. 
You are bitter;  
And brother, by your leave, not kindly wise.  
My freedom is my births, I am not bound  
To fancy your approvements, but my own.  
Indeed you are an humble youth, I hear of  
Your visits, and your loving commendation  
To your heart's Saint, Cleophila, a Virgin  
Of a rare excellence: what though she want  
A portion to maintain a portly greatness?  
Yet 'tis your gracious sweetness to descend  
So low, the meekness of your pity leads ye.  
She is your dear friends Sister, a good soul,  
An Innocent.  Amet. 
Thamasta.  Tham. 
I have given  
Your Menaphon a welcome home as fits me;  
For his sake entertained Parthenophill,  
The handsome Stranger, more familiarly  
Then (I may fear) becomes me; yet for his part,  
I not repent my courtesies, but you—  Amet. 
No more, no more; be affable to both:  
Time may reclaim your cruelty.  Tham. 
I pity  
The youth, and trust me (brother) love his sadness:  
He talks the prettiest stories, he delivers  
His tales so gracefully, that I could sit  
And listen, nay forget my meals and sleep,  
To hear his neat discourses. Menaphon  
Was well advised in choosing such a friend,  
For pleading his true love.  Amet. 
Now I commend thee,  
thou'lt change at last, I hope.  Enter Menaphon and Eroclea in man's attire. Tham. 
I fear I shall.  Amet. 
Have ye surveyed the Garden?  Men. 
'tis a curious,  
A pleasantly contrived delight.  Tham. 
Your eye (Sir)  
Hath in your travails, often met contents  
Of more variety.  Eroc. 
Not any (Lady.)  Men. 
It were impossible, since your fair presence  
Makes every place where it vouchsafes to shine,  
More lovely than all other helps of Art  
Can equal.  Tham. 
What you mean by helps of Art,  
You know yourself best, be they as they are:  
You need none I am sure to set me forth.  Men. 
'Twould argue want of manners, more than skill,  
Not to praise praise itself.  Tham. 
For your reward,  
Henceforth I'll call you Servant.  Amet. 
Excellent Sister.  Men. 
'Tis my first step to honour: May I fall  
Lower than shame, when I neglect all service  
That may confirm this favour.  Tham. 
Are you well, Sir?  Eroc. 
Great Princess, I am well, to see a League  
Between an humble love, such as my Friends is,  
And a commanding virtue, such as yours is,  
Are sure restoratives.  Tham. 
You speak ingeniously.  
Brother, he pleased to show the Gallery  
To this young stranger, use the time a while,  
And we will altogether to the Court.  
I will present ye (Sir) unto the Prince.  Eroc. 
You're all composed of fairness, and true bounty.  Amet. 
Come, come, we'll wait thee, Sister: this beginning  
Doth relish happy process.  Mena. 
You have blessed me.  Exeunt all but Thamasta and Kala. Tham. 
Kala, O Kala,  Kala. 
Lady.  Tham. 
We are private, thou art my Closet.  Kala. 
Lock your secrets close then:  
I am not to be forced.  Tham. 
Never till now,  
could I be sensible of being traitor  
To honour and to shame.  Kala. 
You are in love.  Tham. 
I am grown base— Parthenophill—  Kala. 
he's handsome,  
Richly endowed; he hath a lovely face,  
A winning tongue.  Tham. 
If ever I must fall,  
In him my greatness sinks. Love is a Tyrant  
Resisted; whisper in his ear, how gladly  
I would steal time, to talk with him one hour;  
But do it honourably; prithee Kala  
Do not betray me.  Kala. 
madam, I will make it  
Mine own case; he shall think I am in love with him.  Tham. 
I hope thou art not Kala.  Kala. 
'tis for your sake:  
I'll tell him so; but Faith I am not, Lady.  Tham. 
Pray use me kindly; let me not too soon  
Be lost in my new follies. 'tis a Fate  
That overrules our wisdoms, whilst we strive  
To live most free, we're caught in our own toils.  
Diamonds cut Diamonds: they who will prove  
To thrive in cunning, must cure love with love.  Exit. 
Finis Actus Primi.   

Actus II. Scena I.  Enter Sophronos and Aretus. Sophronos. 
Our Commonwealth is sick: 'tis more than time  
That we should wake the Head thereof, who sleeps  
In the dull Lethargy of lost security.  
The Commons murmur, and the Nobles grieve,  
The Court is now turned Antic, and grows wild,  
Whiles all the neighbouring Nations stand at gaze,  
And watch fit opportunity, to wreak  
Their just conceived fury, on such injuries,  
As the late Prince, our living Master's Father,  
Committed against Laws of truth or honour.  
Intelligence comes flying in on all sides,  
Whilst the unsteady multitude presume,  
How that you, Aretus, and I, engross  
(Out of particular Ambition)  
Th'Affairs of government, which I for my part,  
Groan under, and am weary of.  Aret. Sophronos, 
I am as zealous too of shaking of  
My gay State fetters, that I have bethought  
Of speedy remedy; and to that end  
As I have told ye, have concluded with  
Corax, the PRINCE's chief Physician.  Soph. 
You should have done this sooner, Aretus;  
You were his Tutor, and could best discern  
His dispositions to inform them rightly.  Aret. 
Passions of violent nature, by degrees  
Are easiliest reclaimed. There's something hid  
Of his distemper, which we'll now find out.  Enter Corax, Rhetias, Pelias, Cuculus and Grilla. 
You come on just appointment: welcome, Gentlemen,  
Have you won Rhetias (Corax?)  Cora. 
Most sincerely.  Cucul. 
Save ye, Nobilities: do your Lordships take notice of my Page? 'tis a fashion of the newest edition, spick and span new, without example. Do your honour, Housewife.  Grill. 
There's a curtsy for you, and a curtsy for you.  Soph. 
'tis excellent: we must all follow fashion, and entertain Shee-waiters.  Aret. 
'Twill be Courtly.  Cucul. 
I think so; I hope the Chronicles will rear me one day for a head-piece—  Rhet. 
Of Woodcock without brains in't; Barbers shall wear thee on their citherns, and Hucksters set thee out in Gingerbread.  Cucul. 
Devil take thee: I say nothing to thee now; canst let me be quiet?  Gril. 
You're too perstreperous, Saucebox.  Cucul. 
Good Girl, if we begin to puff once.  Pel. 
Prithee hold thy tongue, the Lords are in the presence.  Rhet. 
Mum, Butterfly.  Pel. 
O the Prince: stand and keep silence.  Cucul. 
O the Prince: Wench, thou shalt see the Prince now.  Soft Music. Enter Pallador, the Prince, with a Book in his hand. Soph. Aret. 
Sir; Gracious Sir.  Prince. 
Why all this Company?  Cora. 
A Book! is this the early exercise  
I did prescribe? in stead of following health,  
Which all men covet, you pursue your disease.  
Where's your great Horse, your Hounds, your set at Tennis,  
Your Balloon ball, the practice of your dancing,  
Your casting of the sledge, or learning how  
To toss a Pike; all changed into a Sonnet?  
Pray Sir grant me free liberty to leave  
The Court, it does infect me with the sloth  
Of sleep and surfeit: In the University  
I have employments, which to my profession  
Add profit and report: Here I am lost,  
And in your wilful dulness held a man  
Of neither Art nor honesty: you may  
Command my head; pray take it, do; 'twere better  
For me to lose it, than to lose my wits,  
And live in Bedlam: you will force me to't,  
I am almost mad already.  Prince. 
I believe it.  Soph. 
Letters are come from Crete, which do require  
A speedy restitution of such ships,  
As by your Father were long since detained;  
If not; defiance threatened.  Aret. 
These near parts  
Of Syria that adjoin, muster their friends:  
And by intelligence we learn for certain,  
The Syrian will pretend an ancient interest  
Of tribute intermitted.  Soph. 
Through your Land  
Your subjects mutter strangely, and imagine  
More than they dare speak publicly.  Cora. 
And yet  
They talk but oddly of you.  Cucul. 
Hang 'em mongrels.  Prince. 
Of me? my subjects talk of me?  Cora. 
Yes, scurvily,  
And think worse (Prince.)  Prince. 
I'll borrow patience  
A little time to listen to these wrongs,  
And from the few of you which are here present,  
Conceive the general voice.  Cora. 
So, now he is nettled.  Prince. 
By all your loves I charge ye, without fear  
Or flattery, to let me know your thoughts,  
And how I am interpreted: Speak boldly.  Soph. 
For my part (Sir) I will be plain, and brief:  
I think you are of Nature mild and easy,  
Not willingly provoked, but withal headstrong  
In any passion that misleads your judgement.  
I think you too indulgent to such motions,  
As spring out of your own affections,  
too old to be reformed, and yet too young  
To take fit council from yourself, of what  
Is most amiss.  Prince. 
So— Tutor, your conceit?  Aret. 
I think you dote (with pardon let me speak it)  
Too much upon your pleasures, and these pleasures  
Are so wrapped up in self-love, that you covet  
No other change of fortune: would be still  
What your birth makes you, but are loath to toil  
In such affairs of State as break your sleeps.  Cora. 
I think you would be by the world, reputed  
A man in every point complete, but are  
In manners and effect indeed a child,  
A boy, a very boy.  Pel. 
May it please your Grace,  
I think you do contain within yourself  
The great elixir, soul and quintessence  
Of all divine perfections: are the glory  
Of mankind, and the only strict example  
For earthly Monarchies to square out their lives by:  
Times miracle, Fame's pride, in Knowledge, Wit,  
Sweetness, Discourse, Arms, Arts—  Prince. 
You are a Courtier.  Cucul. 
But not of the ancient fashion, an't like your Highness. 'tis I; I, that am the credit of the Court, Noble Prince: and if thou wouldst by Proclamation or Patent, create me Overseer of all the Tailors in thy Dominions; then, then the golden days should appear again; bread should be cheaper; fools should have more wit; knaves more honesty; and beggars more money.  Gril. 
I think now—  Cucul. 
Peace you Squall.  Prince. 
You have not spoken yet.  Cucul. 
Hang him, he'll nothing but rail.  Gril. 
Most abominable: out upon him.  Cora. 
Away Cuculus; follow the Lords.  Cucul. 
Close Page, close.  They all fall back, and steal out. Manet Prince and Rhetias. Prince. 
You are somewhat long a thinking.  Rhet. 
I do not think at all.  Prince. 
Am I not worthy of your thought?  Rhet. 
My pity you are—  
But not my reprehension.  Prince. 
Pity?  Rhet. 
Yes, for I pity such to whom I owe service, who exchange their happiness for a misery.  Prince. 
Is it a misery to be a Prince?  Rhet. 
Princes who forget their sovereignty, and yield to affected passion, are weary of command. You had a Father, Sir.  Prince. 
Your Sovereign whiles he lived. But what of him?  Rhet. 
Nothing. I only dared to name him; that's all.  Prince. 
I charge thee by the duty that thou ow'st us, be plain in what thou meanest to speak: there's something that we must know: be free, our ears are open.  Rhet. 
O Sir, I had rather hold a Wolf by the ears, then stroke a Lion, the greatest danger is the last.  Prince. 
This is mere trifling— Ha? are all stolen hence?  
We are alone: Thou hast an honest look,  
Thou hast a tongue, I hope, that is not oiled  
With flattery. Be open, though 'tis true,  
That in my younger days I oft have heard  
Agenor's name, my Father, more traduced,  
Than I could then observe; yet I protest,  
I never had a friend, a certain friend,  
That would inform me throughly of such errors,  
As oftentimes are incident to Princes.  Rhet. 
All this may be. I have seen a man so curious in feeling of the edge of a keen knife, that he has cut his fingers. My flesh is not of proof against the metal I am to handle; the one is tenderer than the other.  Prince. 
I see then I must court thee. Take the word  
Of a just Prince for any thing thou speakest.  
I have more than a Pardon, thanks and love.  Rhet. 
I will remember you of an old Tale that something concerns you. Meleander, the great (but unfortunate Statesman, was by your Father treated with for a Match between you and his eldest daughter, the Lady Eroclea. You were both near of an age. I presume you remember a Contract, and cannot forget Her.  Prince. 
She was a lovely beauty: Prithee forward.  Rhet. 
To Court was Eroclea brought, was courted by your Father, not for Prince Palador, as it followed, but to be made a prey to some less noble design.— With your favour I have forgot the rest.  Prince. 
Good call it back again into thy memory,  
Else losing the remainder, I am lost too.  Rhet. 
You charm me. In brief, a Rape, by some bad Agents, was attempted; by the Lord Meleander her father rescue, she conveyed away Meleander accused of treason, his Land seized, he himself distracted and confined to the Castle where he yet lives. What had ensued was doubtful. But your Father shortly after died.  Prince. 
But what became of fair Eroclea?  Rhet. 
She never since was heard of.  Prince. 
No hope lives then  
Of ever, ever seeing her again.  Rhet. 
Sir, I fear I should anger ye. There was, as I said, an old Tale: I have now a new one, which may perhaps season the first with a more delightful relish.  Prince. 
I am prepared to hear, say what you please.  Rhet. 
My Lord Meleander falling, on whose favour my fortunes relied, I furnished myself for travail, and bent my course to Athens, where a pretty accident after a while came to my knowledge.  Prince. 
My ear is open to thee.  Rhet. 
A young Lady contracted to a noble Gentleman, as the Lady we last mentioned, and your Highness were, being hindered by their jarring Parents, stole from her home, and was conveyed like a Ship-boy in a Merchant, from the Country where she lived, into Corinth first, and afterwards to Athens; where in much solitariness she lived like a Youth almost two years, courted by all for acquaintance, but friend to none by familiarity.  Prince. 
In habit of a man?  Rhet. 
A handsome young man, till within these three months, or less, her sweet hearty Father dying some year before, or more, she had notice of it, and with much joy returned home, and as report voiced it, at Athens enjoyed her happiness: she was long an exile: For now Noble Sir, if you did love the Lady Eroclea, why may not such safety and fate direct her, as directed the other? 'tis not impossible.  Prince. 
If I did love her, Rhetias: yes I did.  
Give me thy hand: As thou didst serve Meleander,  
And art still true to these, henceforth serve me.  Rhet. 
My duty and my obedience are my surety,  
But I have been too bold.  Prince. 
Forget the sadder story of my Father,  
And only Rhetias, learn to read me well,  
For I must ever thank thee; thoust unlocked  
A tongue was vowed to silence, for requital  
Open my bosom, Rhetias.  Rhet. 
What 's your meaning?  Prince. 
To tie thee to an oath of secrecy—  
Unloose the buttons, man, thou dost it faintly,  
What findst thou there?  Rhet. 
A picture in a Tablet.  Prince. 
Look well upon't.  Rhet. 
I do— yes— let me observe it—  
'tis hers, the Ladies.  Prince. 
Whose!  Rhet. 
Eroclea's.  Prince. 
Hers that was once Eroclea: for her sake  
Have I advanced Sophronos to the Helm  
Of government; for her sake will restore  
Meleander's Honours to him; will for her sake  
Beg friendship from thee, Rhetias. O be faithful,  
And let no politic Lord work from thy bosom  
My griefs: I know thou wert put on to sift me:  
But be not too secure.  Rhet. 
I am your Creature.  Prince. 
Continue still thy discontented fashion:  
Humour the Lords, as they would humour me;  
I'll not live in thy debt.— We are discovered.  Enter Amethus, Menaphon, Thamasta, Kala, Eroclea, as before. Amet. 
Honour and health still wait upon the Prince.  
Sir, I am bold with favour to present  
Unto your Highness, Menaphon my friend,  
Returned from travail.  Mena. 
Humbly on my knees  
I kiss your gracious hand.  Prince. 
It is our duty  
To love the virtuous.  Mena. 
If my prayers or service  
Hold— any value, they are vowed yours ever.  Rhet. 
I have a fist for thee too (Stripling) thouart started up prettily since I saw thee. Hast learned any wit abroad? Canst tell news, and swear lies with a grace like a true Traveller? What new ouzel's this?  Tham. 
Your Highness shall do right to your own judgement,  
In taking more than common notice of  
This stranger, an Athenian, named Parthenophill.  
One, (whom if mine opinion do not soothe me  
Too grossly) for the fashion of his mind,  
Deserves a dear respect.  Prince. 
Your commendations,  
Sweet Cousin, speaks him Nobly.  Eroc. 
All the powers  
That centinel just Thrones, double these guards  
About your sacred Excellence.  Prince. 
What fortune led him to Cyprus!  Men. 
My persuasions won him.  Amet. 
And if your Highness please to hear the entrance  
Into their first acquaintance, you will say—  Tham. 
It was the newest, sweetest, prettiest accident,  
That ere delighted your attention.  
I can discourse it, Sir.  Prince. 
Some other time.  
How is 'a called?  Tham. 
Parthenophill.  Prince. 
Parthenophill?  
we shall sort time to take more notice of him.  Exit. Prince. Men. 
His wonted melancholy still pursues him.  Amet. 
I told you so.  Tham. 
You must not wonder at it.  Eroc. 
I do not, Lady.  Amet. 
Shall we to the Castle?  Men. 
we will attend ye both.  Rhet. 
All three— I'll go too. Hark in thine ear, Gallant: I'll keep the old mad man in chat, whilst thou gabblest to the girl: my thumb's upon my lips, not a word.  Amet. 
I need not fear thee, Rhetias.— Sister, soon  
Expect us: this day we will range the City.  Tham. 
Well, soon I shall expect ye.— Kala?  Kala. 
Trust me.  Rhet. 
Troop on— Love, Love, what a wonder thou art?  Exeunt. Kala and Eroclea stays. Kala. 
May I not be offensive, Sir?  Ero. 
Your pleasure; yet pray be brief.  Kala. 
Then briefly, good, resolve me:  
Have you a Mistress, or a Wife?  Ero. 
I have neither.  Kala 
Nor did you ever love in earnest any  
Fair Lady, whom you wished to make your own?  Ero. 
Not any truly.  Kala 
What your friends or means are  
I will not be inquisitive to know,  
Nor do I care to hope for. But admit  
A dowry were thrown down before your choice,  
Of Beauty, Noble birth, and sincere affection,  
How gladly would you entertain it? (Young man)  
I do not tempt you idly.  Ero. 
I shall thank you,  
When my unsettled thoughts can make me sensible  
Of what 'tis to be happy: for the present  
I am your debtor: and fair Gentlewoman,  
Pray give me leave as yet to study ignorance,  
For my weak brains conceive not what concern me.  
— Another time.—  Enter Thamasta. Tham. 
Do I break off your Parley  
That you are parting? Sure my woman loves you.  
Can she speak well, Parthenophill?  Ero. 
Yes, madam:  
Discreetly chaste she can: she hath much won  
On my belief, and in few words, but pithy,  
Much moved my thankfulness. You are her Lady,  
Your goodness aims (I know) at her preferment:  
Therefore I may be bold to make confession  
Of truth, if ever I desire to thrive  
In woman's favour. Kala is the first  
Whom my ambition shall bend to.  Tham. 
Indeed.  
But say a Nobler Love should interpose?  Eroc. 
Where real worth, and constancy first settle  
A hearty truth, there greatness cannot shake it,  
Nor shall it mine: yet I am but an Infant  
In that construction, which must give clear light  
To Kala's merit: riper hours hereafter  
Must learn me how to grow rich in deserts.  
madam, my duty waits on you.  Exit Eroclea. Tham. 
Come hither.  
If ever henceforth I desire to thrive  
In woman's favours, Kala is the first  
Whom my ambition shall bend to— 'twas so.  Kal. 
These very words he spoke.  Tham. 
These very words  
Curse thee, unfaithful creature, to thy grave:  
Thou wouldst him for thyself?  Kala. 
You said I should.  Tham. 
My name was never mentioned!  Kala. 
madam, no:  
We were not come to that.  Tham. 
Not come to that?  
Art thou a Rival fit to cross my Fate?  
Now poverty and a dishonest fame,  
The waiting-woman's wages, be thy payment.  
False, faithless, wanton beast, I'll spoil your carriage;  
There's not a Page, a Groom, nay, not a Citizen  
That shall be cast upon ye. Kala,  
I'll keep thee in my service all thy life time,  
Without hope of a husband or a suitor.  Kala. 
I have not verily deserved this cruelty.  Tham. 
Parthenophill shall know, if he respect  
My birth, the danger of a fond neglect.  Exit Tham. Kala. 
Are you so quick? Well, I may chance to cross  
Your peevishness. Now though I never meant  
The young man for myself; yet if he love me,  
I'll have him, or I'll run away with him,  
And let her do her worst then: what, we are all  
But flesh and blood; the same thing that will do  
My Lady good, will please her woman too.  Exit. Enter Cleophila and Trollio. Cleo. 
Tread softly (Trollio) my Father sleeps still.  Troll. 
I forsooth: but he sleeps like a Hare with his eyes open and that's no good sign.  Cleo. 
Sure thou art weary of this sullen living,  
But I am not; for I take more content  
In my obedience here, than all delights  
The time presents elsewhere.  
Menander within. Oh!  Cleo. 
Dost hear that groan?  Troll. 
Hear it? I shudder, it was a strong blast, young Mistress, able to root up heart, liver, lungs and all.  Cleo. 
My much-wronged Father: let me view his face.  Draws the Arras, Meleander discovered in a chair sleeping. Troll. 
Lady Mistress, shall I fetch a Barbour to steal away his rough beard, whiles he sleeps in's naps? He never looks in a glass, and 'tis high time on conscience for him to be trimmed, has not been under the shaver's hand almost these four years.  Cleo. 
Peace, fool.  Trol. 
I could clip the old Ruffian, there's hair enough to stuff all the great Codpieces in Switzerland. 'a begins to stir, 'a stirs. Bless us how his eyes roll. A good year keep your Lordship in your right wits, I beseech ye.  Mel. 
Cleophila?  Cleo. 
Sir, I am here, how d''ee Sir?  Troll. 
Sir, is your stomach up yet? get some warm porridge in your belly, 'tis a very good settle-brain.  Mel. 
The Raven croaked, and hollow shrieks of Owls  
Sung Dirges at her funeral; I laughed  
The whiles: for 'twas no boot to weep. The Girl  
Was fresh and full of youth: but, O the cunning  
Of Tyrants that look big, their very frowns  
Doom poor souls guilty, ere their cause be heard.  
Good. What art thou, and thou?  Cleo. 
I am Cleophila,  
Your woeful daughter.  Troll. 
I am Trollia your honest implement.  Mel. 
I know ye both. 'las, why d''ee use me thus!  
Thy Sister, my Eroclea, was so gentle,  
That Turtles in their Down do feed more gall,  
Than her spleen mixed with: yet when winds and storm  
Drive dirt and dust on banks of spotless snow,  
The purest whiteness is no such defence  
Against the sullying foulness of that fury.  
So raved Agenor, that great man, mischief  
Against the Girl— 'twas a politic trick,  
We were too old in Honour.— I am lean  
And fall'n away extremely; most assuredly  
I have not dined these three days.  Cleo. 
Will you now, Sir?  Troll. 
I beseech ye heartily Sir. I feel a horrible puking myself.  Mel. 
Am I stark mad?  Troll. 
No, no, you are but a little staring— there's difference between staring and stark mad. You are but whimsied, yet crotcheted, conumndrummed, or so.  Mel. 
Here's all my care: and I do often sigh  
For thee, Cleophyla: we are secluded  
From all good people. But take heed, Amethus  
Was son to Doryla, Agenor's Sister.  
There's some ill blood about him, if the Surgeon  
Have not been very skilful to let all out.  Cleo. 
I am (alas) too grieved to think of love,  
That must concern me least.  Mel. 
Sirrah, be wise, be wise.  Enter Amethus, Menaphon, Eroclea (as before) and Rhetias. Troll. 
Who I? I will be monstrous and wise immediately. Welcome, Gentlemen, the more the merrier, I'll lay the cloth, and set the stools in a readiness, for I see here is some hope of dinner now.  Exit Trollio. Amet. 
My Lord Meleander, Menaphon your Kinsman  
Newly returned from travail, comes to tender  
His duty t'ee: to you his love, fair Mistress.  Men. 
I would I could as easily remove  
Sadness from your remembrance, Sir, as study  
To do you faithful service— my dear Cousin,  
All best of comforts bless your sweet obedience.  Clo. 
One chief of 'em (worthy Cousin) lives  
In you, and your well-doing.  Men. 
This young stranger  
Will well deserve your knowledge.  Amet. 
For my friend's sake,  
Lady pray give him welcome.  Cleo. 
He has met it, if sorrows can look kindly.  Eroc. 
You much honour me.  Rhet. 
How 'a eyes the company: sure my passion will betray my weakness— O my Master, my Noble Master, do not forget me, I am still the humblest, and the most faithful in heart of those that serve you.  Mel. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Rhet. 
There's wormwood in that laughter, 'tis the usher to a violent extremity.  Mel. 
I am a weak old man. All these are come To jeer my ripe calamities.  Mena. 
Good Uncle!  Mel. 
But I'll outstare 'ee all, fools, desperate fools,  
You are cheated, grossly cheated, range, range on,  
And roll about the world to gather moss,  
The moss of honour, gay reports, gay clothes,  
Gay wives, huge empty buildings, whose proud roofs,  
Shall with their pinnacles, even reach the stars.  
Ye work and work like Moles, blind in the paths,  
That are bored through the crannies of the earth,  
To charge your hungry souls with such full surfeits,  
As being gorged once, make 'ee lean with plenty.  
And when ye have skimmed the vomit of your riots,  
You're fat in no felicity but folly,  
Than your last sleeps seize on 'ee. Then the troops  
Of worms crawl round, &, feast, good cheer, rich fare,  
Dainty delicious— here's Chleophyla:  
All the poor stock of my remaining thrift;  
You, you, the PRINCE's Cousin: how d''ee like her?  
(Amethus) how d''ee like her?  Amet. 
My intents are just and honourable.  Men. 
Sir, believe him.  Mel. 
Take her.— we two must part, go to him, do.  Ero. 
This sight is full of horror.  Rhet. 
This is sense yet in this distraction.  Mel. 
In this jewel I have given away,  
All what I can call mine. When I am dead,  
Save charge; let me be buried in a nook.  
No guns, no pompous whining: these are fooleries.  
If whiles we live, we stalk about the streets,  
justled by Carmen, Foot-posts, and fine Apes,  
In silken coats, unminded, and scarce thought on;  
It is not comely to be haled to the earth,  
Like high fed jades upon a Tilting-day,  
In antique trappings: scorn to useless tears.  
Eroclea was not coffined so: she perished,  
And no eye dropped save mine, and I am childish.  
I talk like one that dotes; laugh at me, Rhetias,  
Or rail at me: they will not give me meat:  
They have starved me: but I'll henceforth be mine own Cook.  
Good morrow: 'tis too early for my cares  
To revel. I will break my heart a little,  
And tell ye more hereafter. Pray be merry.  Exit Meleander. Rhet. 
I'll follow him. My Lord Amethus, use your time  
Respectively. Few words to purpose soonest prevail:  
Study no long Orations; be plain and short,  
I'll follow him.  Exit Rhetias. Amet. 
Cleophyla, although these blacker clouds  
Of sadness, thicken and make dark the sky  
Of thy fair eyes, yet give me leave to follow  
The stream of my affections: they are pure,  
Without all mixture of unnoble thoughts.  
Can you be ever mine?  Cleo. 
I am so low  
In mine own fortunes, and my Father woes,  
That I want words to tell ye, you deserve  
A worthier choice.  Amet. 
But give me leave to hope.  Men. 
My friend is serious.  Cleo. 
Sir, this for answer: If I ever thrive  
In an earthly happiness, the next  
To my good Fathers wisht recovery,  
Must be my thankfulness to your great merit;  
Which I dare promise for the present time:  
You cannot urge more from me.  Mel. 
Ho, Cleophyla?  Cleo. 
This Gentleman is moved.  Ame. 
Your eyes, Parthenophill,  
Are guilty of some passion.  Men. 
Friend, what ails thee?  Eroc. 
All is not well within me, Sir.  
Meleander within. Cleophyla?  Ame. 
Sweet Maid, forget me not; we now must part.  Cleo. 
Still you shall have my prayer.  Ame. 
Still you my truth.  Exeunt omnes. 
Finis Actus secundi.   

Actus III. Scena I.  Enter Cuculus and Grilla, Cuculus in a black velvet Cap, and a white Feather, with a paper in his hand. Cuculus. 
do not I look freshly, and like a Youth of the Trim?  Gril. 
As rare an old Youth as ever walked cross-gartered.  Cucul. 
Here are my mistresses mustered in white and black. Kala the Waiting-woman. I will first begin at the soot: stand thou for Kala.  Gril. 
I stand for Kala, do your best and your worst.  Cucul. 
I must look big, and care little or nothing for her, because she is a creature that stands at livery. Thus I talk wisely, and to no purpose. Wench, as it is not fit that thou shouldst be either fair or honest; so considering thy service, thou art as thou art, and so are thy betters, let them be what they can be. Thus in despite and defiance of all thy good parts, if I cannot endure thy baseness, 'tis more out of thy courtesy, than my deserving, and so I expect thy answer.  Grill. 
I must confess—  Cucul. 
Well said.  Gril. 
You are—  Cucul. 
That's true too.  Gril. 
To speak you right, a very scurvy fellow.—  Cucul. 
Away, away, dost think so?  Grill. 
A very foul-mouthed, and misshapen Coxcomb  Cucul. 
I'll never believe it by this hand.  Grill. 
A maggot, most unworthy to creep in—  
— To the least wrinkle of a Gentlewoman's  
(What d''ee call) good conceit, or so, or what  
You will else.— Were you not refined by Courtship  
And education, which in my blear eyes  
Makes you appear as sweet as any nosegay,  
Or savoury cod of Musk new fallen from th'Cat.  Cucul. 
This shall serve well enough for the Waiting-woman. My next Mistress is Cleophyla, the old madman's daughter: I must come to her in whining tune, sigh, wipe mine eyes, fold my Arms, and blubber out my speech as thus: Even as a Kennel of Hounds (sweet Lady) cannot catch a Hare, when they are full paunched on the Carrion of a dead Horse: so, even so the gorge of my affections being full crammed with the garboils of your condolements, doth tickle me with the prick (as it were) about me, and fellow-feeling of howling outright.  Grill. 
This will do't, if we will hear.  Cucul. 
Thou seest I am crying ripe, I am such another tender-hearted fool.  Grill. 
even as the snuff of a candle that is burnt in the socket, goes out, and leaves a strong perfume behind it; or as a piece of toasted cheese next the heart in a morning is a restorative for a sweet breath: so, even so the odoriferous savour of your love doth perfume my heart, (Hay ho) with the pure scent of an intolerable content, and not to be endured.  Cucul. 
By this hand 'tis excellent. Have at thee last of all: for the Princess Thamasta, she that is my Mistress indeed, she is abominably proud. A Lady of a damnable, high, turbulent, and generous spirit. But I have a loud-mouthed Cannon of mine own to batter her, and a penned speech of purpose observe it.  Grill. 
Thus I walk by, hear and mind you not.  Cucul. 
Though haughty as the Devil or his Dam,  
Thou dost appear, great Mistress: yet I am  
Like to an ugly firework, and can mount  
Above the Region of thy sweet Ac— count.  
Wert thou the Moon herself, yet having seen thee,  
Behold the man ordained to move within thee.  
— Look to yourself, Housewife; answer me  
In strong Lines you're best.  Gril. 
Keep off, poor fool, my beams will strike thee blind:  
Else if thou touch me, touch me but behind.  
In Palaces, such as pass in before,  
Must be great Princes; for at the back door  
tatterdemalions wait, who know not how  
To get admittance: such a one— art Thou.  Cucul. 
'Sfoot, this is downright roaring.  Grill. 
I know how to present a big Lady in her own cue. But pray in earnest, are you in love with all these?  Cucul. 
Pish, I have not a rag of love about me. 'tis only a foolish humour I am possessed with, to be surnamed the Conqueror. I will court any thing; be in love with nothing, nor no— thing.  Grill. 
A rare man you are, I protest.  Cucul. 
Yes, I know I am a rare man, and I ever held myself so.  Enter Pelias and Corax. Pel. 
In amorous contemplation on my life;  
Courting his Page by Hell. con.  Cucul. 
'tis false.  Grill. 
A gross untruth; I'll justify it, Sir, At any time, place, weapon.  Cucul. 
Marry shall she.  Cora. 
No quarrels, goody Whisk. Lay by your Trumperies, and fall to your practice. Instructions are ready for you all. Pelias is your Leader, follow him. Get credit now or never. Vanish, Doodles, vanish.  Cucul. 
For the Device.  Cora. 
The same, get'ee gone, and make no bawling.  Exeunt. 
To waste my time thus drone-like in the Court,  
And lose so many hours, as my studies  
Have hoarded up, is to be like a man  
That creeps both on his hands and knees, to climb  
A mountain's top, where when he is ascended,  
One careless slip down, tumbles him again  
Into the bottom whence a first began.  
I need no PRINCE's favour: Princes need  
My art. Then Corax, be no more a Gull,  
The best of'em cannot fool thee, nay, they shall not.  Enter Sophronos and Aretus. Soph. 
We find him timely now let's learn the cause.  Aret. 
'tis fit we should— Sir, we approve you learned,  
And since your skill can best discern the humours  
That are predominant, in bodies subject  
To alteration: tell us (pray) what devil  
This Melancholy is, which can transform  
Men into Monsters.  Cora. 
You're yourself a Scholar,  
And quick of apprehension: Melancholy  
Is not as you conceive. Indisposition  
Of body, but the mind's disease. So Ecstasy,  
Fantastic Dotage, Madness, frenzy, Rupture,  
Of mere imagination differ partly  

Vid. Democrit. junior.  From Melancholy, which is briefly this,  
A mere commotion of the mind, o'ercharged  
With fear and sorrow; first begot i'th' brain,  
The Seat of Reason, and from thence derived  
As suddenly into the Heart, the Seat  
Of our Affection.  Aret. 
There are sundry kinds  
Of this disturbance.  Cora. 
Infinite, it were  
More easy to conjecture every hour  
We have to live, then reckon up the kinds,  
Or causes of this anguish of the mind.  Soph. 
Thus you conclude, that as the cause is doubtful,  
The cure must be impossible; and then  
Our Prince (poor Gentleman) is lost for ever,  
As well unto himself, as to his subjects.  Cora. 
My Lord, you are too quick; thus much I dare  
Promise, and do, ere many minutes pass,  
I will discover whence his sadness is,  
Or undergo the censure of my ignorance.  Aret. 
You are a Noble Scholar.  Soph. 
For reward,  
You shall make your own demand.  Cora. 
May I be sure?  Aret. 
We both will pledge our truth.  Cora. 
'tis soon performed,  
That I may be discharged from my attendance  
At Court, and never more be sent for after:  
Or if I be, may Rats gnaw all my books,  
If I get home once, and come here again,  
Though my neck stretch a halter for't, I care not.  Soph. 
Come, come, you shall not fear it.  Cora. 
I'll acquaint ye  
With what is to be done, and you shall fashion it.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Kala and Eroclea, as before. Kala. 
My Lady does expect'ee, thinks all time  
Too slow till you come to her: wherefore young man,  
If you intend to love me, and me only,  
Before we part, without more circumstance  
Let us betrothe ourselves.  Eroc. 
I dare not wrong 'ee;  
You are too violent.  Kala. 
Wrong me no more  
Than I wrong you: be mine, and I am yours:  
I cannot stand on points.  Eroc. 
Then to resolve  
All further hopes, you never can be mine,  
Must not, (and pardon though I say) you shall not.  Kala. 
The thing is sure a Gelding— Shall not? well,  
You're best to prate unto my Lady now,  
What proffer I have made.  Eroc. 
Never, I vow.  Kala. 
Do, do, 'tis but a kind heart of mine own,  
And ill luck can undo me.— Be refused?  
O scurvy.— Pray walk on, I'll overtake 'ee.  
What a greene-sickness-livered Boy is this!  Exit Ero. 
My Maidenhead will shortly grow so stale,  
That 'twill be mouldy: but I'll mar her market.  Enter Menaphon. Men. 
Parthenophill past the way; prithee Kala  
Direct me to him.  Kala. 
Yes, I can direct'ee:  
But you (Sir) must forbear.  Men. 
Forbear!  Kala. 
I said so.  
Your bounty h'as engaged my truth; receive  
A secret, that will, as you are a man,  
Startle your Reason: 'tis but mere respect  
Of what I owe to thankfulness. (Dear Sir)  
The Stranger whom your courtesy received  
For Friend, is made your Rival.  Men. 
Rival, Kala.  
Take heed, thou art too credulous.  Kala. 
My Lady  
Dotes on him: I will place you in a room,  
Where, though you cannot hear, yet you shall see  
Such passages as will confirm the truth  
Of my intelligence.  Men. 
'twill make me mad.  Kala. 
Yes, yes: it makes me mad too, that a Gentleman  
So excellently sweet, so liberal,  
So kind, so proper, should be so betrayed  
By a young smooth-chinned straggler: but for love's sake  
Bear all with manly courage.— Not a word,  
I am undone then.  Mena. 
That were too much pity:  
Honest most honest Kala; 'tis thy care,  
Thy serviceable care.  Kal. 
You have even spoken all can be said or thought.  Men. 
I will reward thee:  
But as for him, ungentle Boy, I'll whip  
His falsehood with a vengeance.—  Kala. 
O speak little.  
Walk up these stairs, and take this key, it opens  
A Chamber door, where at that window yonder,  
You may see all their courtship.  Men. 
I am silent.  Exit Menap. Kala. 
As little noise as may be, I beseech ye;  
There is a back-stair to convey ye forth  
Unseen or unsuspected.— He that cheats  
A Waiting-woman of a free good turn  
She longs for, must expect a shrewd revenge.  
Sheep-spirited Boy, although he had not married me,  
He might have proffered kindness in a corner,  
And ne'er have been the worse for't. They are come;  
On goes my set of Faces most demurely.  Enter Thamasta and Eroclea. Tham. 
Forbear the room.  Kala. 
Yes, madam.  Tham. 
Whosoever requires access to me, deny him entrance till I call thee, and wait without.  Kala. 
I shall. Sweet Venus, turn his courage to a Snowball, I heartily beseech it.  Exit. Tham. 
I expose  
The Honour of my Birth, my Fame, my Youth,  
To hazard of much hard construction,  
In seeking an adventure of a parley  
So private with a Stranger; if your thoughts  
Censure me not with mercy, you may soon  
Conceive, I have laid by that modesty,  
Which should preserve a virtuous name unstained.  Eroc. 
Lady, to shorten long excuses; time  
And safe experience have so throughly armed  
My apprehension, with a real taste  
Of your most Noble nature, that to question  
The least part of your bounties, or that freedom  
Which Heaven hath with a plenty made you rich in,  
Would argue me uncivil, which is more,  
Base-bred, and which is most of all, unthankful.  Tham. 
The constant Loadstone, and the Steel are found  
In several Mines: yet is there such a league  
Between these Minerals, as if one Vein  
Of earth had nourished both. The gentle Myrtle  
Is not ingraft upon an olives's stock:  
Yet nature hath between them locked a secret  
Of Sympathy, that being planted near,  
They will both in their branches, and their roots  
Embrace each other; twines of ivy round  
The well grown Oak; the Vine doth court the Elm;  
Yet these are different Plants. Parthenophill,  
Consider this aright, than these sleight creatures,  
Will fortify the reasons I should frame  
For that ungrounded (as thou think'st) affection,  
Which is submitted to a stranger's pity.  
True love may blush, when shame repents too late,  
But in all actions Nature yields to Fate.  Eroc. 
Great Lady, 'twere a dulness must exceed  
The grossest and most sottish kind of ignorance,  
Not to be sensible of your intents:  
I clearly understand them. Yet so much  
The difference between that height and lowness,  
Which doth distinguish our unequal fortunes,  
Dissuades me from ambition; that I am  
Humbler in my desires, then Loves own power  
Can any way raise up.  Tham. 
I am a Princess,  
And know no law of slavery, to sue,  
Yet be denied?  Ero. 
I am so much a subject  
To every law of Noble honesty,  
That to transgress the vows of perfect friendship,  
I hold a sacrilege as foul, and cursed,  
As if some holy Temple had been robbed,  
And I the thief.  Tham. 
Thou art unwise, young man,  
To enrage a Lioness.  Eroc. 
It were unjust  
To falsify a faith, and ever after  
Disrobed of that fair ornament, live naked,  
A scorn to time and truth.  Tham. 
Remember well who I am, and what thou art.  Ero. 
That remembrance  
Prompts me to worthy duty, O great Lady.  
If some few days have tempted your free heart,  
To cast away affection on a stranger:  
If that affection have so overswayed  
Your judgement, that it in a manner hath  
Declined your sovereignty of birth and spirit:  
How can ye turn your eyes off from that glass,  
Wherein you may new Trim, and settle right  
A memorable name?  Tham. 
The Youth is idle.  Ero. 
days, months and years are past, since Menaphon  
Hath loved and served you truly: Menaphon;  
A man of no large distance in his blood,  
From yours; in qualities desertful, graced  
With Youth, Experience; every happy gift  
That can by nature, or by Education  
Improve a Gentleman: for him (great Lady)  
Let me prevail, that you will yet at last,  
Unlock the bounty, which your love and care  
Have wisely treasured up, t'enrich his life.  Tha. 
Thou hast a moving eloquence; Parthenophill,  
Parthenophill, in vain we strive to cross  
The destiny that guides us. My great heart  
Is stooped so much beneath that wonted pride  
That first disguised it, that I now prefer  
A miserable life with thee, before  
All other earthly comforts.  Eroc. 
Menaphon, by me, repeats the selfsame words to you:  
You are too cruel, if you can distrust  
His truth, or my report.  Tham. 
Go where thou wilt,  
I'll be an exile with thee, I will learn  
To bear all change of fortunes.  Ero. 
For my friend, I plead with grounds of reason.  Tham. 
For thy love,  
Hard-hearted youth, I here renounce all thoughts  
Of other hopes, of other entertainments,—  Eroc. 
Stay, as you honour Virtue.  Tham. 
When the proffers of other greatness—  Eroc. 
Lady.  Tham. 
When entreats of friends;—  Eroc. 
I'll ease your grief.  Tham. 
Respect of kindred;  Eroc. 
Pray give me hearing.  Tham. 
Loss of Fame;  Eroc. 
I crave but some few minutes.  Tham. 
Shall infringe my vows, let Heaven—  Eroc. 
My love speak t'ee; hear then, go on.  Tham. 
Thy love, why 'tis a Charm to stop a vow  
In its most violent course.  Eroc. 
Cupid has broke  
His Arrows here; and like a child unarmed,  
Comes to make sport between us with no weapon,  
But feathers stolen from his mother's Doves.  Tham. 
This is mere trifling.  Eroc. 
Lady, take a secret.  
I am as you are, in a lower rank  
Else of the self same sex, a maid, a virgin.  
And now to use your own words, if your thoughts  
Censure me not with mercy, you may soon  
Conceive, I have laid by that modesty,  
Which should preserve a virtuous name unstained.  Tham. 
Are you not mankind then?  Eroc. 
When you shall read  
The story of my sorrows, with the change  
Of my misfortunes, in a letter printed  
From my unforged relation; I believe  
You will not think the shedding of one tear,  
A prodigality that misbecomes  
Your pity and my fortune.  Tham. 
Pray conceal the errors of my passions.  Eroc. 
Would I had  
Much more of honour (as for life I value't not)  
To venture on your secrecy.  Tham. 
It will be  
A hard task for my Reason, to relinquish  
The affection which was once devoted thine,  
I shall a while repute thee still the youth  
I loved so dearly.  Eroc. 
You shall find me ever, your ready faithful servant.  Tham. 
O the powers  
Who do direct our hearts, laugh at our follies!  
We must not part yet.  Ero. 
Let not my unworthiness alter your good opinion.  Tham. 
I shall henceforth  
Be jealous of thy company with any;  
My fears are strong and many.  Kala enters. Kala. 
Did your Ladyship call me?  Tham. 
For what?  Kala. 
Your servant Menaphon desires admittance.  Enter Menaphon. Men. 
With your leave, great Mistress! I come—  
So private: is this well, Parthenophill?  Eroc. 
Sir, Noble Sir.  Men. 
You are unkind and treacherous.  
This 'tis to trust a straggler.  Tham. 
Prithee servant.  Men. 
I dare not question you, you are my Mistress;  
My PRINCE's nearest Kinswoman, but he—  Tham. 
Come, you are angry.  Mena. 
Henceforth I will bury  
Unmanly passion in perpetual silence.  
I'll court mine own distraction, dote on folly,  
Creep to the mirth and madness of the age,  
Rather than be so slaved again to woman,  
Which in her best of constancy is steadiest  
In change and scorn.  Tham. 
How dare ye talk to me thus?  Men. 
Dare? Were you not own Sister to my friend,  
Sister to my Amethus; I would hurl ye  
As far off from mine eyes, as from my heart;  
For I would never more look on ye. Take  
Your jewel t'ee. And Youth, keep under wing,  
Or— Boy— Boy.  Tham. 
If commands be of no force,  
Let me entreat thee, Menaphon.  Men. 
'tis nought, fie, fie, Parthenophill, have I deserved  
To be thus used?  Eroc. 
I do protest—  Men. 
You shall not,  
Henceforth I will be free, and hate my bondage.  Enter Amethus. Amet. 
Away, away to Court, the Prince is pleased  
To see a Mask tonight, we must attend him:  
'tis near upon the time.— How thrives your suit?  Men. 
The judge, your Sister, will decide it shortly.  Tham. 
Parthenophill, I will not trust you from me.  Enter Prince, Aretas, Corax (with a Paper-plot) servants with torches. Cor. 
Lights and attendance, I will show your highness,  
A trifle of mine own brain If you can,  
Imagine you were now in the University,  
You'll take it well enough, a scholar's fancy,  
A quab. 'tis nothing else a very quab.  Prince. 
We will observe it.  Soph. 
Yes, and grace it too Sir.  
For Corax else is humerous and testy.  Aret. 
By any means, men singular in Art,  
Have always some odd whimsy more than usual.  Prince. 
The name of this conceit.  Cora. 
Sir, it is called the Mask of Melancholy.  Aret. 
We must look for nothing but sadness, here then.  Cora. 
Madness rather  
In several changes: Melancholy is  
The Root as well of every Apish frenzy,  
Laughter and mirth, as dulness. Pray my Lord  
Hold and observe the plot, 'tis there expressed  
In kind, what shall be now expressed in action.  Enter Amethus, Menaphon, Thamasta, Eroclea. 
No interpretation, take your places quickly.  
Nay, nay, leave ceremony: sound to the entrance.  flourish. Enter Rhetias, his face whited, black shag hair, long nails, a piece of raw meat. Rhet. 
Bow, Bow, wow, wow; the moon's eclipsed, I'll to the Churchyard and sup: Since I turned Wolf, I bark and howl, and dig up graves, I will never have the Sun shine again, 'tis midnight, deep dark midnight, get a prey, and fall too, I have catched thee now. Are.  Cora. 
This kind is called, Lycanthropia, Sir,  
When men conceive themselves Wolves.  Prince. 
Here I find it.  Enter Pelias. A Crown of feathers on, Antically rich. Pel. 
I will hang 'em all, and burn my wife: was I not an Emperor; my hand was kissed, and Ladies lay down before me. In triumph did I ride with my Nobles about me, till the mad-dog bit me, I fell, and I fell, and I fell. It shall be treason by Statute for any man to name water, or wash his hands throughout all my Dominions; break all the looking-glasses, I will not see my horns; my wife Cuckolds me, she is a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore.  Prince. 
Hydrophobia term you this?  Cora. 
And men possessed so, shun all sight of water:  
Sometimes, if mixed with jealousy, it renders them.  
Incurable, and oftentimes brings death.  Enter Philosopher in black rags, a copper chain on, an old Gown half off, and Book. Phi. 
Philosophers dwell in the Moon Speculation and Theory girdle the world about like a wall. Ignorance like an Atheist, must be damned in the pit. I am very, very poor, and poverty is the physic for the soul: my opinions are pure and perfect. Envy is a monster, and I defy the beast.  Cora. 
Delirium this is called, which is mere dotage,  
Sprung from Ambition first, and singularity,  
Self love, and blind opinion of true merit.  Prince. 
I not dislike the course.  Enter Grilla in a rich Gown, great Vardingale, great Ruff, Musse, Fan, and Coxcomb on her head. Grill. 
Yes forsooth, and no forsooth, is not this fine, I pray, your blessing Gaffer, here, here, here did he give me a shove, and cut off's tail: buss, buss Nuncle, and there's a pum for daddy.  Cora. 
You find this noted there, Phrenitis.  Prince. 
True.  Cora. 
Pride is the ground on't;  
It reigns most in women.  Enter Cuculus like a Bedlam singing. Cucul. 
They that will learn to drink a health in Hell,  
Must learn on earth to take Tobacco well,  
To take Tobacco well, to take Tobacco well:  
For in Hell they drink nor Wine, nor Ale, nor Beer,  
But fire, and smoke, and stench, as we do here.  Rhet. 
I'll soup thee up.  Pel. 
Thou'st straight to execution.  Gril. 
Fool, Fool, Fool, catch me and thou canst.  Philos. 
Expel him the house, 'tis a Dunce.  Cuculus sings. 
Hark, did ye not hear a rumbling,  
The Gobblings are now a tumbling:  
I'll tear 'em, I'll sear'em,  
I'll roar 'em, I'll gore 'em:  
Now, now, now, my brains are a jumbling,—  
Bounce, the gun's off.  Prince. 
You name this here, Hypochondriacal.  Cora. 
Which is a windy flatuous humour stuffing  
The head, and thence derived to th'animal parts  
To be too overcurious, loss of goods,  
Or friends, excess of fear, or sorrow's cause it.  Enter a sea-nymph big-bellied, singing and dancing. 
Good your Honours,  
Pray your Worships,  
Dear your Beauties,  Cucul. 
Hang thee.  
To lash your sides,  
To tame your hides,  
To scourge your pride's,  
And bang thee.  Nym. 
Were pretty and dainty, and I will begin,  
See how they do jeer me, deride me, and grin:  
Come sport me, come court me, your Topsail advance,  
And let us conclude our delights in a Dance.  All. 
A Dance, a Dance, a Dance.  Cora. 
This is the Wanton Melancholy; women  
With child possessed with this strange fury often,  
Have danced three days together without ceasing.  Prince. 
'tis very strange: but Heaven is full of miracles.  The Dance:— Which ended, they all run out in couples. Prince. 
We are thy debtor (Corax) for the gift  
Of this invention: but the plot deceives us;  
What means this empty space.  Cora. 
One kind of Melancholy  
Is only left untouched; 'twas not in Art  
To personate the shadow of that Fancy.  
'tis named Love-Melancholy. As for instance,  
Admit this stranger here (Young man, stand forth)  
Entangled by the beauty of this Lady,  
The great Thamasta, cherished in his heart  
The weight of hopes and fears: it were impossible,  
To limn his passions in such lively colours,  
As his own proper sufferance could express.  Ero. 
You are not modest Sir.  Tham. 
Am I your mirth?  Cora. 
Love is the Tyrant of the heart, it darkens  
Reason, confounds discretion, deaf to counsel:  
It runs a headlong course to desperate madness.  
O were your Highness but touched home, and throughly,  
With this (what shall I call it) Devil—  Prince. 
Hold, let no man henceforth name the word again  
Wait you my pleasure, Youth; 'tis late, to rest.  Cora. 
My Lords—  Soph. 
Enough, thou art a perfect artsman.  Cora. 
panther's may hide their heads, not change the skin:  
And love pent ne'er so close yet will be seen.  Exeunt.  

Actus IV. Scena I.  Enter Amethus and Menaphon. Amethus. 
Dote on a stranger?  Mena. 
Court him, plead, and sue to him,  Amet. 
Affectionately?  Mena. 
Servilely; and pardon me, if I say basely.  Amet. 
Women in their passions,  
Like false fierce flash, to fright our trembling senses;  
Yet in themselves contain nor light nor heat.  
My Sister do this? she, whose pride did scorn  
All thoughts that were not busied on a Crown?  
To fall so far beneath her fortunes now?  
You are my friend.  Mena. 
What I confirm, is truth.  Amet. 
Truth, Menaphon?  Mena. 
If I conceived you were  
jealous of my sincerity and plainness,  
Than Sir—  Amet. 
What then, Sir?  Mena. 
I would then resolve,  
You were as changeable in vows of friendship,  
As is Thamasta in her choice of love.  
That sin is double, running in a blood,  
Which justifies another being worse.  Amet. 
My Menaphon, excuse me, I grow wild,  
And would not willingly believe the truth  
Of my dishonour: She shall know how much  
I am a debtor to thy noble goodness,  
By checking the contempt, her poor desires  
Have sunk her fame in. Prithee tell me (friend)  
How did the Youth receive her?  Mena. 
With a coldness,  
As modest and as hopeless, as the trust  
I did repose in him, could wish, or merit.  Enter Thamasta and Kala. Ame. 
I will esteem him dearly.  Men. 
Sir, your Sister.  Tha. 
Servant, I have employment for ye.  Amet. 
Hark ye:  
The mask of your ambition is fallen off,  
Your pride hath stooped to such an abject lowness,  
That you have now discovered to report  
Your nakedness in virtue, honours, shame—  Tham. 
You are turned Satire.  Ame. 
All the flatteries  
Of greatness have exposed ye to contempt.  Tham. 
This is mere railing.  Amet. 
You have sold your birth, for lust.  Tham. 
Lust?  Amet. 
Yes, and at a dear expense  
Purchased the only glories of a Wanton.  Tham. 
A Wanton?  Amet. 
Let repentance stop your mouth.  
Learn to redeem your fault.  Kal. 
I hope your tongue has not betrayed my honesty.  Men. 
Fear nothing.  Tham. 
If (Menaphon,) I hitherto have striven;  
To keep a wary guard about my fame;  
If I have used a woman's skill to sift  
The constancy of your protested love;  
You cannot in the justice of your judgement,  
Impute that to a Coyness, or neglect,  
Which my discretion and your service aimed  
For noble purposes.  Mena. 
Great Mistress, no:  
I rather quarrel with mine own ambition,  
That durst to soar so high, as to feed hope  
Of any least desert, that might entitle  
My duty, to a pension from your favours.  Ame. 
And therefore Lady (pray observe him well)  
He henceforth covets plain equality;  
Endeavouring to rank his fortunes low,  
With some fit partner, whom without presumption,  
Without offence, or danger, he may cherish;  
Yes and command too, as a Wife; a Wife;  
A Wife, my most great Lady  Kala 
all will out.  Tham. 
Now I perceive the league of Amity,  
Which you have long between ye, vowed and kept,  
Is sacred and inviolable, secrets  
Of every nature are in common t'ee:  
I have trespassed, and I have been faulty:  
Let not too rude a Censure doom me guilty,  
Or judge my error wilful without pardon.  Men. 
Gracious and virtuous Mistress.  Ame. 
'tis a trick,  
There is no trust in female cunning (friend)  
Let her first purge her follies past, and clear  
The wrongs done to her honour, by some sure  
Apparent testimony of her constancy:  
Or we will not believe these childish plots;  
As you respect my friendship, lend no ear  
To a reply. Think on't.  Men. 
Pray love your fame.  Exeunt Men. Amet. Tham. 
Gone! I am sure awaked. Kala I find,  
You have not been so trusty as the duty  
You owed, required.  Kala 
Not I? I do protest, I have been, Madam.  Tham. 
Be no matter what.  
I'm paid in mine own Coin; something I must,  
And speedily— so,— seek out Cuculus  
Bid him attend me instantly.  Kala 
That Antic!  
The trim old Youth shall wait ye.  Tham. 
Wounds may be mortal, which are wounds indeed:  
"But no wounds deadly, till our Honours bleed. Exeunt.  Enter Rhetias and Corax. Rhet. 
thou'rt an excellent fellow. Diabolo. O this lousy close-stool empirics, that will undertake all Cures, yet know not the causes of any disease. dog-leeches. By the four Elements I honour thee, could find in my heart to turn knave, and be thy flatterer.  Cora. 
Sirrah, 'tis pity thoust not been a Scholar;  
thouart honest, blunt, and rude enough. O Conscience!  
But for thy Lord now, I have put him to't.  Rhet. 
He chafes hugely, fumes like a stew-pot; Is he not monstrously overgone in frenzy?  Cora. 
Rhetias, 'tis not a madness, but his sorrow's  
Close griping grief, and anguish of the soul  
That torture him: he carries Hell on earth  
Within his bosom, 'twas a PRINCE's tyranny  
Caused his distraction, and a PRINCE's sweetness  
Must qualify that tempest of his mind.  Rhet. 
Corax, to praise thy Art, were to assure  
The misbelieving world, that the Sun shines,  
When 'tis in th'full Meridian of his beauty.  
No cloud of black detraction can eclipse  
The light of thy rare knowledge; henceforth casting  
All poor disguises off, that play in rudeness,  
Call me your servant: only for the present,  
I wish a happy blessing to your Labours;  
Heaven crown your undertakings; and believe me,  
Ere many hours can pass, at our next meeting,  
The bonds my duty owes, shall be full cancelled.  Exit. Cora. 
Farewell— a shrewd-brain Whoreson, there's pith  
In his untoward plainness.—  Enter Trollio with a murrain on. 
Now, the news!  Troll. 
Worshipful Master Doctor, I have a great deal of I cannot tell what, to say t'ee; My Lord thunders: every word that comes out of his mouth, roars like a Cannon: the house shook once, my young Lady dares not be seen.  Cora. 
We will roar with him, Trollio, if he roar.  Trol. 
He has got a great Pole-axe in his hand, and fences it up and down the house, as if he were to make room for the Pageants. I have provided me a murrain for fear of a clap on the Coxcomb.  Cora. 
No matter for the murrain, here's my Cap:  
Thus I will pull it down; and thus outstare him.  Trol. 
The Physician is got as mad as my Lord.—  
O brave, a man of Worship.  Cor. 
Let him come, Trollio, I will firk his Trangdido,  
And bounce, and bounce in metal, honest Trollio.  Trol. 
He vapours like a Tinker, and struts like a juggler.  Menander within. So ho. So ho. Troll. 
There, there, there; look to your Right Worshipful, look to yourself.  Enter Meleander with a pole-axe. Mel. 
Show me the Dog, whose triple throated noise,  
Hath roused a Lion from his uncouth den,  
To tear the Cur in pieces.  Cor. 
Stay thy paws,  
Courageous beast, else lo, the gorgeous skull,  
That shall transform thee, to that restless stone,  
Which Sisyphus rolls up against the hill;  
Whence tumbling down again, it, with his weight  
Shall crush thy bones, and puff thee into Air.  Mel. 
Hold, hold thy conquering breath, 'tis stronger far  
Than Gunpowder and Garlic. If the Fates  
Have spun my thread, and my spent-clue of life  
Be now untwisted, let us part like friends.  
Lay up my weapon, Trollio, and be gone.  Trol. 
Yes Sir, with all my heart.—  Exit. Trollio Mel. 
This friend and I will walk, and gabble wisely.  Cor. 
I allow the motion: On.  Mel. 
So Politicians thrive,  
That with their crabbed faces, and sly tricks  
Legerdemain, ducks, cringes, formal beards,  
Crisped hairs, and punctual cheats, do wriggle in  
Their heads first, like a Fox, to rooms of State,  
Than the whole body follows.  Cor. 
Then they fill Lordships, steal women's hearts: with them and their's the world runs round, yet these are square men still.  Mel. 
There are none poor, but such as engross offices.  Cor. 
None wise; but unthrifts, bankrupts, beggars, Rascals.  Mel. 
The hangman is a rare Physician.  Cor. 
That's not so good, it shallbe granted.  Mel. 
All the buzz of Drugs, and minerals and Simples,  
Blood-lettings, Vomits, Purges, or what else  
Is conjured up by men of Art, to gull  
Liege-people, and rear golden piles, are trash  
To a well-strong-wrought halter; there the Gout,  
The stone, yes and the Melancholy devil,  
Are cured in less time than a pair of minutes.  
Build me a Gallows in this very plot,  
And I'll dispatch your business.  Cora. 
Fix the knot right under the left ear.  Mel. 
Sirrah, make ready.  Cora. 
Yet do not be too sudden, grant me leave,  
To give a farewell to a creature long  
Absented from me, 'tis a daughter (Sir)  
Snatched from me in her youth, a handsome girl,  
She comes to ask a blessing.  Mel. 
Pray where is she? I cannot see her yet.  Cora. 
she makes more haste  
In her quick prayers than her trembling steps,  
Which many griefs have weakened.  Mel. 
Cruel man!  
How canst thou rip a heart, that's cleft already  
With injuries of time? whilst I am frantic,  
Whilst throngs of rude divisions huddle on,  
And do disrank my brains from peace, and sleep;  
So long I am insensible of cares.  
As balls of wildfire may be safely touched,  
Not violently sundered, and thrown up;  
So my distempered thoughts rest in their rage,  
Not hurried in the Air of repetition,  
Or memory of my misfortunes past.  
Then are my griefs struck home,  
When they are reclaimed,  
To their own pity of themselves— Proceed;  
What of your daughter now?  Cor. 
I cannot tell ye,  
'tis now out of my head again; my brains  
Are crazy; I have scarce slept one sound sleep  
These twelve months.  Mel. 
'las poor man; canst thou imagine  
To prosper in the task thou tak'st in hand,  
By practising a cure upon my weakness,  
And yet be no Physician for thyself?  
Go, go, turn over all thy books once more,  
And learn to thrive in modesty; for impudence  
Does least become a Scholar. Thou art a fool,  
A kind of learned fool.  Cor. 
I do confess it.  Mel. 
If thou canst wake with me, forget to eat,  
Renounce the thought of Greatness; tread on Fate;  
Sigh out a lamentable tale of things  
Done long ago, and ill done; and when sighs  
Are wearied, piece up what remains behind,  
With weeping eyes, and hearts that bleed to death:  
Thou shalt be a companion fit for me,  
And we will sit together like true friends,  
And never be divided. With what greediness  
Do I hug my afflictions? there's no mirth  
Which is not truly seasoned with some madness.  
As for example.—  Exit. Cora. 
What new crotchet next?  
There is so much sense in this wild distraction,  
That I am almost out of my wits too,  
To see and hear him: some few hours more  
Spent here, would turn me Apish, if not frantic.  Enter Meleander and Cleophyla. 
In all the volumes thou hast turned, thou Man  
Of knowledge, hast thou met with any rarity,  
Worthy thy contemplation like to this?  
The model of the Heavens, the Earth, the Waters,  
The harmony, and sweet consent of times,  
Are not of such an excellence, in form  
Of their Creation, as the infinite wonder  
That dwells within the compass of this face:  
And yet I tell thee, Scholar, under this  
Well-ordered sign, is lodged such an obedience,  
As will hereafter in another age,  
Strike all comparison into a silence.  
She had a Sister too: but as for her,  
If I were given to talk, I could describe  
A pretty piece of goodness: let that pass—  
We must be wise sometimes: What would you with her?  Cor. 
I with her! nothing by your leave, Sir, I:  
It is not my profession.  Mel. 
You are saucy,  
And as I take it, scurvy in your sauciness,  
To use no more respect— good soul, be patient:  
We are a pair of things the world doth laugh at:  
Yet be content, Cleophila; those clouds  
Which bar the Sun from shining on our miseries,  
Will never be chased off till I am dead;  
And than some charitable soul will take thee  
Into protection. I am hasting on,  
The time cannot be long.  Cleo. 
I do beseech ye,  
Sir, as you love your health, as you respect  
My safety, let not passion overrule you.  Mel. 
It shall not, I am friends with all the world.  
Get me some wine, to witness that I will be  
An absolute good fellow, I will drink with thee.  Cora. 
Have you prepared his Cup?  Cleo. 
'tis in readiness.  Enter Cuculus and Grilla. Cucul. 
By your leave, Gallants, I come to speak with a young Lady, as they say, the old Trojans daughter of the house.  Mel. 
Your business with my Lady daughter, toss-pot?  Gril. 
toss-pot? O base! toss-pot?  Cucul. 
Peace; dost not see in what case he is? I would do my own commendations to her; that's all.  Mel. 
Do, come my Genius, we will quaff in wine  
Till we grow wise.  Cora. 
True Nectar is divine.  Exit Mel. & Cora. Cucul. 
So, I am glad he is gone. Page, walk aside. Sweet Beauty, I am sent Ambassador from the Mistress of my thoughts, to you, the Mistress of my desires.  Cleo. 
So Sir, I pray be brief.  Cucul. 
That you may know, I am not as they say, an Animal; which is as they say, a kind of Cokes, which is as the learned term, an Ass, a Puppy, a widgeon, a Dolt, a Noddy, a—  Cleo. 
As you please.  Cucul. 
Pardon me for that, it shall be as you please indeed. Forsooth I love to be courtly, and in fashion.  Cleo. 
Well, to your Embassy; what, or from whom?  Cucul. 
Marry what is more than I know? for to know what's what, is to know what's what, and for what's what: but these are foolish figures, and to little purpose.  Cleo. 
From whom then are you sent?  Cucul. 
There you come to me again: O, to be in the favour of great Ladies, is as much to say, as to be great in ladies' favours.  Cleo. 
Good time a day t'ee; I can stay no longer.  Cucul. 
By this light but you must, for now I come to't. The most excellent, most wise, most dainty, precious, loving, kind, sweet, intolerably fair Lady Thamasta commends to your little hands, this letter of importance. By your leave, let me first kiss and then deliver it in fashion, to your own proper beauty.  Cleo. 
To me from her? 'tis strange; I dare peruse it.  Cucul. 
Good, O that I had not resolved to live a single life! here's temptation able to conjure up a spirit with a witness. So so: she has read it.  Cleo. 
Is't possible? Heaven, thou art great and bountiful.  
Sir, I much thank your pains: and to the Princess,  
Let my love, duty, service, be remembered.  Cucul. 
They shall madam.  Cleo. 
When we of hopes, or helps, are quite bereaven,  
Our humble prayers have entrance into heaven.  Cucul. 
That's my opinion clearly and without doubt.  Exit. Enter Aretas and Sophronos. Aret. 
The Prince is throughly moved.  Sophron. 
I never saw him so much distempered.  Aret. 
What should this young man be,  
Or whither can he be conveyed?  Sophr. 
'tis to me a mystery, I understand it not.  Aret. 
Nor I.  Enter Prince Amethus and Pelias. Prince 
Ye have consented all to work upon  
The softness of my nature; but take heed:  
Though I can sleep in silence, and look on  
The mockery ye make of my dull patience;  
Yet'ee shall know, the best of ye, that in me  
There is a masculine, a stirring spirit;  
Which provoked, shall like a bearded Comet  
Set ye at gaze, and threaten horror.  Pel. 
Good Sir.  Prin. 
Good Sir. 'tis not your active wit or language,  
Nor your grave politic wisdoms (Lords) shall dare  
To checkmate and control my just commands.  Enter Menaphon. 
Where is the Youth your friend? is be found yet?  Men. 
Not to be heard of.  Prince. 
Fly then to the desert,  
Where thou didst first encounter this Fantastic,  
This airy apparition; come no more  
In sight: Get ye all from me; he that stays,  
Is not my friend.  Amet. 
'tis strange.  Aret. Soph. 
We must obey.  Exeunt all but the Prince. Prince. 
Some angry power, cheats with rare delusions,  
My credulous sense: the very soul of Reason  
Is troubled in me— the Physician  
Presented a strange Mask, the view of it  
Puzzled my understanding: but the Boy—  Enter Rhetias. 
Rhetias, thou art acquainted with my griefs,  
Parthenophill is lost, and I would see him;  
For he is like to some thing I remember  
A great while since, a long, long time ago.  Rhet. 
I have been diligent (Sir) to pry into every corner for discovery, but cannot meet with him: There is some trick I am confident.  Prin. 
There is, there is some practice, sleight or plot.  Rhet. 
I have apprehended a fair Wench, in an odd  
Private lodging in the City, as like the Youth  
In face, as can by possibility be discerned.  Prince. 
How Rhetias!  Rhet. 
If it be not Parthenophill in long coats,  
'tis a spirit in his likeness; answer  
I can get none from her; you shall see her.  Prince. 
The young man in disguise upon my life,  
To steal out of the Land.  Rhet. 
I'll send him t'ee.  Exit Rhet. Enter Eroclea in woman's attire, and listens. Prince. 
Do, do my Rhetias. As there is by nature  
In every thing created contrariety:  
So likewise is there unity and league  
Between them in their kind; but Man, the abstract  
Of all perfection, which the workmanship  
Of Heaven hath modelled, in himself contains  
Passions of several quality, the music  
Of man's fair composition best accords,  
When 'tis in consort, not in single strains.  
My heart has been untuned these many months,  
Wanting her presence, in whose equal love  
True harmony consisted; living here  
We are heaven's bounty all, but Fortune's exercise.  Eroc. 
Minutes are numbered by the fall of Sands;  
As by an hourglass, the span of time  
Doth waste us to our graves, and we look on it.  
An age of pleasures revelled out, comes home  
At last, and ends in sorrow, but the life  
Weary of riot, numbers every Sand,  
Wailing in sighs, until the last drop down,  
So to conclude calamity in rest.  Prince. 
What Echo yields a voice to my complaints?  
Can I be nowhere private?  Eroc. 
Let the substance  
As suddenly be hurried from your eyes,  
As the vain sound can pass your ear,  
If no impression of a troth vowed yours, Kneels.  
Retain a constant memory.  Prince. 
Stand up; 'tis not the figure stamped upon thy cheeks,  
The cozenage of thy beauty, grace, or tongue,  
Can draw from me a secret, that hath been  
The only jewel of my speechless thoughts.  Eroc. 
I am so worn away with fears and sorrows,  
So wintered with the tempests of affliction,  
That the bright Sun of your life-quickening presence  
Hath scarce one beam of force, to warm again  
That spring of cheerful comfort, which youth once  
Apparelled in fresh looks.  Prince. 
Cunning Impostor,  
Untruth hath made thee subtle in thy trade:  
If any neighbouring Greatness hath seduced  
A freeborn resolution, to attempt  
Some bolder act of treachery, by cutting  
My weary days off. Wherefore (Cruel-mercy)  
Hast thou assumed a shape, that would make treason  
A piety, guilt pardonable, bloodshed  
As holy as the sacrifice of peace?  Eroc. 
The Incense of my love-desires, are flamed  
Upon an Altar of more constant proof.  
Sir, O Sir, turn me back into the world,  
Command me to forget my name, my birth,  
My Father's sadness, and my death alive,  
If all remembrance of my Faith hath found  
A burial, without pity in your scorn.  Prince. 
My scorn (disdainful Boy) shall soon unweave  
The web thy Art hath twisted: cast thy shape off,  
disrobe the mantle of a feigned Sex,  
And so I may be gentle; as thou art,  
There's witchcraft in thy language, in thy face,  
In thy demeanours; turn, turn from me (prithee)  
For my belief is armed else. Yet (fair subtlety)  
Before we part (for part we must) be true,  
Tell me thy Country.  Eroc. 
Cyprus.  Prince. 
Ha: thy Father.  Eroc. 
Meleander.  Prince. 
Hast a name?  Eroc. 
A name of misery, the unfortunate Eroclea.  Prince. 
There is danger  
In this seducing counterfeit, great goodness!  
Hath honesty and virtue left the time?  
Are we become so impious, that to tread  
The path of impudence, is Law and justice?  
Thou vizard of a beauty ever sacred,  
Give me thy name.  Eroc. 
Whilst I was lost to memory,  
Parthenophill did shroud my shame in change  
Of sundry rare misfortunes: but since now  
I am, before I die, returned to claim  
A Convoy to my grave, I must not blush  
To let Prince Pallador (if I offend,)  
Know when he dooms me, that he dooms Eroclea.  
I am that woeful Maid.  Prince. 
join not too fast  
Thy penance, with the story of my sufferings.  
So dwelled simplicity with virgin truth;  
So martyrdom and holiness are twins,  
As innocence and sweetness on thy tongue.  
But let me by degrees collect my senses,  
I may abuse my trust. Tell me, what air  
Hast thou perfumed, since Tyranny first ravished  
The contract of our hearts?  Eroc. 
Dear Sir, in Athens have I been buried.  Prince. 
Buried! Right, as I  
In Cyprus.— Come to trial, if thou be'st  
Eroclea, in my bosom I can find thee.  Eroc. 
As I, Prince Palador, in mine: This gift  She shows him a Tablet. 
His bounty blessed me with, the only physic  
My solitary cares have hourly took,  
To keep me from despair.  Prince. 
We are but Fools  
To trifle in disputes, or vainly struggle  
With that eternal mercy which protects us.  
Come home, home to my heart, thou banished-peace,  
My ecstasy of joys would speak in passion,  
But that I would not lose that part of man,  
Which is reserved to entertain content.  
Eroclea, I am thine; O let me seize thee  
As my inheritance. Hymen shall now  
Set all his Torches burning, to give light  
Throughout this Land, new settled in thy welcome.  Eroc. 
You are still gracious. Sir, how I have lived,  
By what means been conveyed, by what preserved,  
By what returned; Rhetias, my trusty servant,  
Directed by the wisdom of my Uncle,  
The good Sophronos, can inform at large.  Prince. 
Enough, in stead of Music, every night  
To make our sleeps delightful, thou shalt close  
Our weary eyes with some part of thy story.  Eroc. 
O but my Father!  Prince. 
Fear not: to behold  
Eroclea safe, will make him young again;  
It shall be our first task. Blush sensual follies,  
Which are not guarded with thoughts chastely pure.  
"There is no faith in lust, but baits of Arts;  
" 'tis virtuous love keeps clear contracted hearts.   

Actus V. Scena I.  Enter Corax and Cleophila. Corax. 
'tIs well, 'tis well, the hour is at hand,  
Which must conclude the business, that no Art  
Could all this while make ripe for wished content.  
O Lady, in the turmoils of our lives,  
Men are like politic States, or troubled Seas,  
Tossed up and down with several storms and tempests,  
Change, and variety of wracks, and fortunes,  
Till labouring to the havens of our homes,  
We struggle for the Calm that crown our ends.  Cleo 
A happy end Heaven Bless us with.  Cora 
'tis well said, the old man sleeps still soundly?  Cleo 
May soft dreams  
Play in his fancy, that when he awakes,  
With comfort, he may by degrees, digest  
The present blessings in a moderate joy.  Cora 
I drenched his cup to purpose, he ne'er stirred  
At Barber or at Tailor: a will laugh  
At his own Metamorphosis, and wonder.  
We must be watchful. Does the Coach stand ready?  Enter Trollio. Cleo 
All as you commanded. What's your haste for?  Trol 
A brace of big women, ushered by the young old Ape, with his shee-clog at his bum, are entered the Castle; Shall they come on?  Cora 
By any means, the time is precious now;  
Lady, be quick and careful, follow, Trollio.  Trollio. 
I owe all Sir- Reverence to your Right Worshipfulnesse.  Cleo 
So many fears, so many joys, encounter  
My doubtful expectations, that I waver  
Between the resolution of my hopes  
And my obediencene; 'tis not (O my Fate)  
The apprehension of a timely blessing  
In pleasures, shakes my weakness; but the danger  
Of a mistaken duty, that confines  
The limits of my reason; let me live,  
Virtue, to thee as a chaste, as Truth to time.  Enter Thamasta. Tham 
Attend me till I call.—— My sweet Cleophila.  Cleo 
Great Princess——  Tham 
I bring peace, to sue a Pardon  
For my neglect, of all those noble virtues  
Thy mind and duty are apparelled with.  
I have deserved ill from thee, and must say,  
Thou art too gentle, if thou canst forget it.  Cleo 
Alas, you have not wronged me; for indeed,  
Acquaintance with my sorrows, and my fortune,  
Were grown to such familiarity,  
That 'twas an impudence, more than presumption,  
To wish so great a Lady as you are,  
Should lose affection on my Uncle's Son,  
But that your Brother, equal in your blood,  
Should stoop to such a lowness, as to love  
A Castaway, a poor despised Maid,  
Only for me to hope was almost sin,  
Yet troth I never tempted him.  Tha. 
Chide not the grossness of my trespass (lovely Sweetness)  
In such an humble language, I have smarted  
Already in the wounds, my pride hath made  
Upon thy sufferings. Henceforth 'tis in you  
To work my happiness.  Cleo. 
Call any service  
Of mine a debt, for such it is; the Letter  
You lately sent me, in the blessed contents  
It made me privy to, hath largely quitted  
Every suspicion of your Grace or goodness.  Tham. 
Let me embrace thee with a sister's love,  
A sister's love, Cleophila: for should  
My Brother henceforth study to forget  
The vows that he hath made thee, I would ever  
Solicit thy deserts.  Enter Amethus and Menaphon. Ame. 
We must have entrance.  Tham. 
Must? Who are they say, must? you are unmannerly.  
Brother is't you, and you too, Sir?  Ame. 
Your Ladyship has had a time of  
Scolding to your humour:  
Does the storm hold still?  Cleo. 
Never fell a shower  
More seasonably gentle on the barren  
Parched thirsty earth, than showers of courtesy  
Have from this Princess been distilled on me,  
To make my growth in quiet of my mind  
Secure and lasting.  Tham. 
You may both believe that I was not uncivil.  Ame. 
Pish, I know her spirit, and her envy.  Cleo. 
Now in troth, Sir,  
Pray credit me, I do not use to swear;  
The virtuous Princess hath in words and carriage  
Been kind, so overkind, that I do blush:  
I am not rich enough in thanks sufficient  
For her unequalled bounty.— My good Cousin,  
I have a suit to you.  Men. 
It shall be granted.  Cleo. 
That no time, no persuasion, no respects  
Of jealousies past, present, or hereafter  
By possibility to be conceived,  
Draw you from that sincerity and pureness  
Of love, which you have oftentimes protested  
To this great worthy Lady she deserves  
A duty more, then what the ties of Marriage  
Can claim, or warrant: be for ever hers,  
As she is yours, and Heaven increase your comforts.  Ame. 
Clophila hath played the churchman's part,  
I'll not forbid the Banes.  Men. 
Are you consented?  Tha. 
I have one task in charge first, which concerns me.  
Brother, be not more cruel than this Lady,  
She hath forgiven my follies, so may you:  
Her youth, her beauty, innocence, discretion,  
Without additions of estate or birth,  
Are dower for a Prince indeed. You loved her;  
For sure you swore you did: else if you did not  
Here fix your heart, and thus resolve, if now  
You miss this Heaven on earth, you cannot find  
In any other choice ought but a hell.  Ame. 
The Ladies are turned Lawyers, and plead handsomely  
Their Clients cases. I am an easy judge,  
And so shalt thou be Menaphon. I give thee  
My Sister for a wife; a good one, friend.  Men. 
Lady, will you confirm the gift?  Tham. 
The errors of my mistaken judgement being lost,  
To your remembrance, I shall ever strive  
In my obedience to deserve your pity.  Men. 
My love, my care, my all.  Amet. 
What rests for me?  
I'm still a Bachelor: Sweet Maid, resolve me,  
May I yet call you mine?  Cleo. 
My Lord Amethus,  
Blame not my plainness, I am young and simple,  
And have not any power to dispose  
Mine own will without warrant from my father:  
That purchased, I am yours.  Amet. 
It shall suffice me.  Enter Cuculus, Pelias, Trollio and Grilla plucked in by 'em. Cucul. 
Revenge, I must have revenge; I will have revenge bitter and abominable revenge; I will have revenge. This unfashionable Mongrel, this Linsey-woolsey of mortality by this hand, Mistress, this she-rogue is drunk, and clapper-clawed me without any reverence to my person, or good garments, why d''ee not speak, Gentlemen.  Pel. 
Some certain blows have passed, an't like your Highness.  Troll. 
Some few knocks of Friendship, some love-toys, some Cuffs in kindness, or so.  Gril. 
I'll turn him away, he shall be my Master no longer.  Men. 
Is this your she-Page, Cuculus? 'tis a Boy, sure.  Cucul. 
A Boy, an arrant Boy in long coats.  Troll. 
He has mumbled his nose, that 'tis as big as a great Cod piece.  Cucul. 
Oh thou Cock vermin of iniquity.  Tha. 
Pelias, take hence the wag and school him for't.  
For your part, servant, I'll entreat the Prince  
To grant you some fit place about his Wardrobe.  Cucul. 
Ever after a bloody nose do I dream of good luck.  
I horribly thank your Ladyship.  
Whilst I'm in office, the old garb shall again  
Grow in request, and Tailors shall be men.  
Come Trollio, help to wash my face, prithee.  Trol. 
Yes, and to scour it too.—  Exit Cuculus, Trollio, Pelias, Grill. Enter Rhetias, Corax. Rhet. 
The Prince and Princess are at hand, give over your amorous Dialogues. Most honoured Lady, henceforth forbear your sadness: are you ready to practise your instructions?  Cleo. 
I have studied  
My part with care, and will perform it (Rhetias)  
With all the skill I can.  Cor. 
I'll pass my word for her.  flourish. Enter Prince, Sophronus, Aretius, and Eroclea. Prince. 
Thus Princes should be circled with a guard  
Of truly noble friends, and watchful subjects.  
O Rhetias, thou art just; the Youth thou told'st me.  
That lived at Athens, is returned at last  
To her own fortunes, and contracted love.  Rhet. 
My knowledge made me sure of my report, Sir.  Prince. 
Eroclea, clear thy fears, when the Sun shines,  
Clouds must not dare to muster in the sky,  
Nor shall they here— Why do they kneel? Stand up,  
The day and place is privileged.  Soph. 
Your presence, Great Sir, makes every room a Sanctuary.  Prince. 
Wherefore does this young virgin use such circumstance,  
In duty to us? Rise.  Eroc. 
'tis I must raise her.  
Forgive me, Sister, I have been too private,  
In hiding from your knowledge any secret  
That should have been in common 'twixt our souls:  
But I was ruled by council.  Cleo. 
That I show myself a Girl (Sister) and bewray  
joy in too soft a passion 'fore all these,  
I hope you cannot blame me.  Prince. 
We must part:  
The sudden meeting of these two fair Rivulets  
With th' Island of our arms, Cleophila,  
The custom of thy piety hath built  
Even to thy younger years a Monument  
Of memorable Fame; some great reward  
Must wait on thy desert.  Soph. 
The Prince speaks t'ee, Niece.  Cor. 
Chat low, I pray; let's about our business.  
The good old man awakes: my Lord, withdraw;  
Rhetias, let's settle here the Coach.  Prince. 
Away then.  Exit. Soft Music. Enter Melander (in a Coach) his hair and beard trim, habit and gown changed. Rhetias and Corax, and Boy that sings. 

The Song.  
Fly hence, shadows, that do keep  
Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep;  
Though the Eyes be overtaken,  
Yet the Heart doth ever waken  
Thoughts, chained up in busy snares  
Of continual woes and cares:  
Love and griefs are so expressed,  
As they rather sigh than rest.  
Fly hence, shadows, that do keep  
Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep.   Mel. 
Where am I? Ha? What sounds are these? 'tis day, sure.  
Oh, I have slept belike: 'tis but the foolery  
Of some beguiling dream. So, so, I will not  
Trouble the play of my delighted Fancy  
But dream my dream out.  Cor. 
Morrow to your Lordship:  
You took a jolly nap, and slept it soundly.  Mel. 
Away, beast, let me alone.  Cease music. Cora. 
O, by your leave, Sir.  
I must be bold to raise ye, else your Physic  
Will turn to further sickness.  Mel. 
Physic, Bear-leech?  Cor. 
Yes physic, you are mad.  Mel. 
Trollio, Cleophila.  Rhet. 
Sir, I am here.  Mel. 
I know thee, Rhetias, prithee rid the room  
Of this tormenting noise. He tells me, sirrah.  
I have took physic, Rhetias, physic, physic.  Rhet. 
Sir true, you have; and this most learned Scholar  
Applied t'ee. O you were in dangerous plight  
Before he took ye hand.  Mel. 
These things are drunk,  
Directly drunk. Where did you get your liquour?  Cor. 
I never saw a body in the wane  
Of age, so over spread with several sorts  
Of such diseases as the strength of Youth  
Would groan under and sink.  Rhet. 
The more your glory in the miraculous cure.  Cor. 
Bring me the Cordial  
Prepared for him to take after his sleep,  
'twill do him good at heart.  Rhet. 
I hope it will, Sir.  Exit. Mel. 
What dost think I am, that thou shouldst fiddle  
So much upon my patience? Fool, the weight  
Of my disease sits on my heart so heavy,  
That all the hands of Art cannot remove  
One grain to ease my grief. If thou couldst poison  
My memory, or wrap my senses up  
Into a dulness, hard and cold as Flints?  
If thou couldst make me walk, speak, eat and laugh  
Without a sense or knowledge of my faculties,  
Why then perhaps at Marts thou might'st make benefit  
Of such an Antic motion, and get credit  
From credulous gazers, but not profit me.  
Study to gull the wise; I am too simple  
To be wrought on.  Cor. 
I'll burn my books (old man)  
But I will do thee good, and quickly too.  Enter Aretus with a Patent. Aret. 
Most honoured Lord Meleander, our great Master,  
Prince Palador of Cyprus, hath by me  
Sent you this Patent, in which is contained  
Not only confirmation of the Honours  
You formerly enjoyed, but the addition  
Of the Marshalship of Cyprus, and ere long  
He means to visit you. Excuse my haste,  
I must attend the Prince.—  Exit. Cor. 
There's one Pill works.  Mel. 
Dost know that spirit? 'tis a grave familiar,  
And talked I know not what.  Cor. 
he's like, methinks, the Prince his Tutor, Aretus.  Mel. 
Yes, yes; it may be I have seen such a formality;  
No matter where, or when.  Enter Amethus with a Staff. Amet. 
The Prince hath sent ye  
(My Lord) this Staff of Office, and withal  
Salutes you Grand Commander of the Ports  
Throughout his Principalities. He shortly  
Will visit you himself: I must attend him.—  Exit. Cor. 
D''ee feel your physic stirring yet?  Mel. 
A Devil is a rare juggler, and can cheat the eye,  
But not corrupt the reason in the Throne  
Of a pure soul.— Another? I will stand thee,  
Be what thou canst, I care not.  Enter Sophronus with a Tablet. Soph. 
From the Prince, dear Brother, I present you this rich Relic,  
A jewel he hath long worn in his bosom:  
Henceforth he bade me say, he does beseech you  
To call him son, for he will call you Father.  
It is an honour (brother) that a subject  
Cannot but entertain with thankful prayers.  
Be moderate in your loys, he will in person  
Confirm my errand, but commands my service.  Exit. Cora. 
What hope now of your Cure?  Mel. 
Stay, stay— What Earthquakes  
Roll in my flesh? here's Prince, and Prince and Prince;  
Prince upon Prince: the dotage of my sorrow's  
Revels in magic of ambitious scorn,  
Be they Enchantments deadly (as the grave)  
I'll look upon'em: Patent, staff, and Relic  
To the last first. Round me, ye guarding ministers  
And ever keep me waking till the Cliffs  
That over hang my sight fall off, and leave  
These hollow spaces to be crammed with dust.  Cor. 
'tis time I see to fetch the Cordial. Prithee  
Sit down: I'll instantly be here again—  Exit. Mel. 
Good, give me leave, I will sit down indeed:  
Here's Company enough for me to prate to,  Eroclea. 
'tis the same, the cunning Artsman  
Faltered not in a line. could he have fashioned  
A little hollow space here, and blown breath  
To have made it move, and whisper, 't had been excellent.  
But faith, 'tis well, 'tis very well as 'tis.  
Passing, most passing well.  Enter Cleophila, Eroclea, Rhetias. Cleo. 
The sovereign Greatness,  
Who, by Commission from the powers of heaven,  
Sways both this Land and us, our gracious Prince,  
By me presents you (Sir) with this large bounty,  
A gift more precious to him then his birthright.  
Here let your cares take end; now set at liberty  
Your long imprisoned heart, and welcome home  
The solace of your soul, too long kept from you.  Eroc. 
Dear Sir, you know me.  Mel. 
Yes, thou art my Daughter:  
My eldest blessing. Know thee? Why Eroclea,  
I never did forget thee in thy absence.  
Poor soul, how dost?  Eroc. 
The best of my well-being consists in yours.  Mel. 
Stand up: the gods who hitherto  
Have kept us both alive, preserve thee ever.  Cleophila. 
I thank thee and the Prince,  
I thank thee too, Eroclea, that thou wouldst  
In pity of my age, take so much pains  
To live, till I might once more look upon thee,  
Before I broke my heart: O 'twas a piece  
Of piety and duty unexampled.  Rhet. 
The goodman relisheth his comforts strangely,  
The sight doth turn me child.  Eroc. 
I have not words that can express my joys.  Cleo. 
Nor I.  Mel. 
Nor I: yet let us gaze on one another freely,  
And surfeit with our eyes; let me be plain,  
If I should speak as much as I should speak,  
I should talk of a thousand things at once,  
And all of thee, of thee (my child) of thee:  
My tears like ruffling winds locked up in Caves,  
Do bustle for a vent— on tother side,  
To fly out into mirth were not so comely.  
Come hither, let me kiss thee— with a pride,  
Strength, courage, and fresh blood, which now thy presence  
Hath stored me with, I kneel before their Altars,  
Whose sovereignty kept guard about thy safety.  
Ask, ask thy Sister (prithee) she'll tell thee  
How I have been much mad.  Cleo. 
Much discontented,  
Shunning all means that might procure him comfort.  Eroc. 
Heaven has at last been gracious.  Mel. 
So say I but wherefore crop thy words in such a sloth,  
As if thou wert afraid to mingle truth.  
With thy misfortunes? Understand me throughly,  
I would not have thee to report at large  
From point to point, a journal of thy absence:  
'twill take up too much time, I would securely  
Engross the little remnant of my life,  
That thou might'st every day be telling somewhat,  
Which might convey me to my rest with comfort.  
Let me bethink me, how we parted first:  
Puzzles my faint remembrance— But soft,  Cleophila, 
thou toldst me, that the Prince  
Sent me this present.  Cleo. 
From this own fair hands I did receive my Sister.  Mel. 
To requite him, we will not dig his Father's grave anew,  
Although the mention of him much concerns  
The business we inquire of— as I said,  
We parted in a hurry at the Court,  
I to this Castle, after made my jail.  
But whither thou, dear heart?  Rhet. 
Now they fall to't, I looked for this.  Eroc. 
I by my Uncle's care (Sophronos, my good Uncle) suddenly was like a sailor's Boy conveyed a shipboard that every night.  Mel. 
A policy quick and strange.  Eroc. 
The ship was bound for Corinth, whither first  
Attended only with your servant Rhetias,  
And all fit necessaries, we arrived:  
From thence in habit of a youth we journeyed  
To Athens, where till our return of late,  
Have we lived safe.  Mel. 
Oh what a thing is man,  
To bandy factions of distempered passions,  
Against the sacred providence above him?  
Here in the Legend of thy two years' exile,  
Rare pity and delight are sweetly mixed,  
And still thou wert a Boy.  Eroc. 
So I obeyed my Uncle's wise command.  Mel. 
'twas safely carried, I humbly thank thy Fate.  Eroc. 
If earthly treasures  
Are poured in plenty down from Heaven on mortals;  
They reign amongst those Oracles, that flow  
In Schools of sacred knowledge; such is Athens:  
Yet Athens was to me but a fair prison:  
The thoughts of you, my Sister, Country, Fortunes,  
And something of the Prince, barred all contents,  
Which else might ravish sense: for had not, Rhetias,  
Been always comfortable to me, certainly  
Things had gone worse.  Mel. 
Speak low Eroclea;  
That something of the Prince bears danger in it:  
Yet thou hast travailed (Wench) for such Endowments,  
As might create a Prince a wife fit for him,  
Had he the World to guide: but touch not there;  
How cam'st thou home?  Rhet. 
Sir, with your Noble savour,  
Kissing your hand first, that point I can answer.  Mel. 
Honest, right honest Rhetias.  Rhet. 
Your grave Brother  
Perceived with what a hopeless love his son,  
Lord Menaphon, too eagerly pursued  
Thamasta, Cousin to our present Prince;  
And to remove the violence of affection,  
Sent him to Athens, where for twelve months' space  
Your daughter, my young Lady and her Cousin  
Enjoyed each others griefs, till by his Father  
The Lord Sophronos we were all called home.  Mel. 
Enough, enough, the world shall henceforth witness  
My thankfulness to Heaven, and those people  
Who have been pitiful to me and mine.  
Lend me a looking-glass— How now? How came I  
So courtly in fresh raiments?  Rhet. 
Here's the Glass, Sir.  Mel. 
I'm in the trim too.— O Cleophila,  
This was the goodness of thy care and cunning.—  
Whence comes this noise?  Loud Music. Rhet. 
The Prince my Lord in person.  Enter Prince, Sophronos, Aretas, Amethus, Menaphon, Thamasta, Corax, Kala. Prince. 
Ye shall not kneel to us; rise all, I charge ye:  
Father, you wrong your age, henceforth my arms  
And heart shall be your guard; we have o'erheard  
All passages of your united loves.  
Be young again, Meleander, live to number  
An happy generation, and die old  
In comforts as in years. The Offices  
And Honours which I late on thee conferred,  
Are not fantastic bounties, but thy merit;  
Enjoy them liberally.  Mel. 
My tears must thank ye, for my tongue cannot.  Cor. 
I have kept my promise, & given you a sure cordial.  Mel. 
O, a rare one.  Prince. 
Good man, we both have shared enough of sadness:  
Though thine has tasted deeper of th'extreme;  
Let us forget it henceforth. Where's the picture  
I sent ye? Keep it, 'tis a counterfeit,  
And in exchange of that, I cease on this,  
The real substance: with this other hand  
I give away before her Father's face  
His younger joy, Cleophila, to thee  
Cousin Amethus: take her, and be to her  
More than a Father, a deserving husband.  
Thus robbed of both thy children in a minute,  
Thy cares are taken off.  Mel. 
My brains are dulled;  
I am entranced, and know not what you mean:  
Great, gracious Sir, alas, why do you mock me?  
I am a weak old man, so poor and feeble,  
That my untoward joints can scarcely creep  
Unto the grave, where I must seek my rest.  Prince. 
Eroclea was you know, contracted mine;  
Cleophila, my Cousins by consent  
Of both their hearts: We both now claim our own;  
It only rests in you to give a blessing  
For confirmation.  Rhetias. 
Sir, 'tis truth and justice.  Mel. 
The gods that lent ye to me, bless your vows:  
O Children, children, pay your prayers to Heaven,  
For they have showed much mercy. But Sophronos,  
Thou art my Brother: I can say no more:  
A good, good Brother.  Prince. 
Leave the rest to time.  
Cousin Thamasta, I must give you too:  
She's thy wife, Menaphon. Rhetias, for thee  
And Corax, I have more than common thanks.  
On, to the Temple; there all solemn Rites  
Performed, a general Feast shall be proclaimed.  
The lover's Melancholy hath found cure;  
Sorrows are changed to Bride-songs. So they thrive,  
Whom Fate in spite of storms hath kept alive.  Exuent omnes. 
FINIS.    

 

   

epilogue.  
TO be too confident, is as unjust  
In any Work, as too much to distrust;  
Who from the laws of study have not swerved,  
Know, begged applauses never were deserved.  
We must submit to Censure: so doth He,  
Whose hours begot this issue; yet being free  
For his part, if He have not pleased you, then  
In this kind, he'll not trouble you again.  
FINIS.