A CHALLENGE FOR beauty. AS IT HATH BEEN Sundry times Acted, By the king's majesty's Servants: At the Blackfriars, and at the Globe on the Bankside.  Aut prodesse solent, aut Delectare— 
Written by THOMAS HEYWOOD.  
LONDON: Printed by R. Raworth, and are to be sold by james Becket, at his shop in the Inner Temple Gate, 1636.   

The Prologue.  
THe Roman and Athenian Drammas far  
Differ from us, And those that frequent are  
In Italy and France, even in these days,  
Compared with ours, are rather jigs than Plays:  
Like of the Spanish may be said, and Dutch,  
None versed in language, but confess them such.  
They do not build their projects on that ground,  
Nor have their phrases half the weight and sound  
Our laboured Scenes have had; (and yet our Nation,  
Already too much taxed for imitation,  
In seeking to Ape others) cannot quit  
Some of our Poets, who have sinned in it.  
For where before great Patriots, Dukes and Kings  
Presented for some high facinorious things,  
Were the stage-subject; now we strive to fly  
In their low pitch, who never could soar high:  
For now the common argument entreats,  
Of puling Lovers, crafty Bawds or cheats.  
Nor blame I their quick fancies, who can fit  
These queasy Times, with Humours flashed in wit,  
Whose Art I both encourage and commend;  
I only wish that they would sometimes bend  
To memorise the valours of such men,  
Whose very names might dignify the Pen,  
And that our (once applauded) Roscian strain,  
In acting such might be revived again:  
Which you to countenance, would the Stage make proud,  
And Poets strive to key their strings more loud,   

Dramatis Personae.  

King Sebastian King of Portugal.  
Queen Isabella His proud Queen.  
L. Bonavida A noble and honest Spanish Lord.  
Centella Pineda Two Spanish Sycophants.  
Valladaura A noble Spanish Sea Captain.  
Mont. Ferrers A noble English Sea Captain.  
Helena Sister to Ferrers, of incomparable Virtue and Beauty.  
Aldana Father to Petrocella.  
Petrocella A fair Spanish Lady.  
Leonora An ancient Lady, wife to Aldana  
Rosara Maid to Helena.  
Manhurst Ferrers his friend.  
The Clown Servant to the Lord Bonavida.  
Three Englishmen. Sold for Slaves in Spain.    

A Challenge for Beauty.  
Actus primus. Scaena prima.  Enter the King of Portugal, Isabella the Queen, the Lord Bonavida, two other Lords, Centella, Pineda, with a great train of Attendants. King. 
THe united blood of Spain and Portugal,  
Now meets in us; the Hereditary hopes,  
That were but in Conception, now have birth,  
And what was but Idea, till this day,  
Hath put on essence.  Omnes. 
joy to the Prince and Princess.  King. 
This Hail from you, we count a blessing to us,  
And more than common greeting, as from Gentlemen,  
Crowned both in blood, and virtue.  Isabel. 
These perhaps,  
See with judicial eyes unto these joys  
You gain by enjoying us.  King. 
we find them great.  Isabel. 
But great? we looked for a superlative,  
And if there be a fit, and known degree,  
Above compare; to have been marked with thee  
we would not have a thought conceived of us,  
But should be mixed with rapture, and what you  
Term joy, transported into ecstasy,  
But great?  Bena. 
Methinks addition great enough  
For any mortal Woman.  Cent. 
To such goodness,  
Your highness might have lent an attribute  
Of far more weight, and splendour.  King. 
Teach us that?  Isabel. 
I shall, who would be weighed unto my worth,  
And yet in all my poise not lose a dram,  
Put you the proudest Lady in one scale,  
And me into another.  Bona. 
You shall mount her— If pride will do't.  Isabel. 
This Beauty, Virtue, Birth,  
Shall unto mine own Centre sink myself,  
And lift her, unto nought save smoke and Air.  Pine. 
Nay, that upon my knowledge.  King. 
Fair Isabella,  
Instruct me modestly in what I err,  
And if I shall but scant you in the least,  
I'll make you large amends.  Isabel. 
Why even in that,  
In terming me but fair, fair Isabella?  
It is a Milkmaid's title, every Swain  
Bestows it on his Mistress, ne'er so mean,  
Your City damsel scorns the word, because  
'Tis common in the Country; and shall we  
Bred in the Courts rich glory, entertained?  
What's great and fair? we would be termed divine.  
Such as would give us our full character,  
Must search for Epithets, and study phrase.  Bona. 
Examine but plain Mantuan, and he'll tell you, what woman is.  Isabel. 
Great Prince of Portugal,  
Observe in me thine happiness, thank not Heaven  
So much that thou wert borne, nor borne a Prince,  
But that thou enjoyest us: For that great blessing  
Give thy Creation thanks.  Cent. 
So he well may.  Isabel. 
Behold I here expose me to all eyes,  
To universal censure. Lives a Lady  
Greater in Blood? if any that gainsay  
Spain shall maintain it by her potency;  
Search Italy and all these Climes beyond,  
Come by the Alps back, and view France throughout,  
Produce me the most excellent German Froae,  
Examine England, which some say breeds beauties  
Beyond all these, and Prince; your Portugal  
To equal this; this? do I boast of those  
That are not mine? say we ascribe our birth  
Only to Fortune, and to nature form,  
Count both these accidental, there's a third  
Virtue remains: and even in that we dare  
With any Princess of the World contest.  
Come, your free censures Lords.  Pineda, 
Madam I hold you  
In least of these not to be paralleled.  Centella, 
In my opinion, Madam you so far  
Exceed all these that yet mine eyes have seen  
Nay heard, or read of.  Bonavid. 
O base flattery!  Cent. 
That unto those beforetime wondered at,  
You in our age appear a miracle,  
And never to be matched.  Isabella. 
We observe in you,  
A kind of enforced silence mixed with scorns,  
Your tongue hath been so backward to pronounce  
So definitive a sentence.  Bonavid. 
Know then Madam,  
I must confess (although a woman's son)  
Yet cannot I dissemble, neither would I,  
Should I be racked and tortured, then with pardon  
Unto the Prince and you, thus much I think,  
I not deny, but you by birth are royal.  
Beauteous, or else I should condemn mine eyes,  
And say they wore false lights; for your known virtues,  
Traitor he were, that should but question them,  
I make this attestation, yet sweet Princess,  
These praises you confer upon yourself  
Though they be just and true from your own Tongue  
Loose part of their great luster, in these, or me,  
They would have had more sweetness, better sound,  
But from a tuscan tongue, or Portuguese,  
English or French, or any stranger's mouth,  
Much more harmonious relish; I have held it  
Still as a Maxim, my best judging days,  
Such doubt their worths are forced themselves to praise.  Isa. 
Who fitter to speak truth, then truth's own tongue?  Bona. 
Yet arrogance in Truth may blemish it.  Isabel. 
Of Arrogance us?  Bona. 
Call't if you please, self-love:  
Besides in man or woman, since the first  
Nature hath yielded dead none so absolute,  
To whom she made no fellow. First for beauty,  
If Greece afforded a fair Helen, Troy  
Her parallelled with a Polyxena:  
For Wisdom, Rome presented a Cornelia,  
And Lidia a Sosipatra: Chastity?  
Lucrece, of whom the Romans so much boast:  
Did not the self same City breed a Portia,  
Who when she heard her husband Brutus slain,  
Kept from all other Engines, swallowed fire,  
And by that means to meet with him in death,  
Of such I could produce yet Infinite;  
And Madam though I must confess you rare,  
And most completely perfect in all these,  
Yet not so choice a piece, but the wide world  
May yield you a competitor.  Isabel. 
As you are, Prince,  
And over hope to have the sweet fruition  
Of those pure gifts, that man so much disdains;  
Grant me one free demand.  King. 
Speak and obtain,  Isabel. 
His banishment from Spain and Portugal,  
Never hereafter to be capable  
Of Honour, of Renown, place, or office,  
Till he can find, produce, and set before us,  
Our match in Face and bosom, birth we set by,  
But be she woman, and can balance us,  
In both, or either, he redeems his exile  
Without such, to return, forfeits his head,  
Deny this Prince, you banish us your bed.  King. 
Most unpeered Lady, that, not for ten Worlds,  
For if an husband can a vassal be,  
To such approved virtues; I am he:  
Lord Bonavida, you have from her tongue  
An express doom, that cannot be revoked;  
'tis like the Persian seal unalterable:  
And come my divine Princess; He shall know,  
In his Just doom, what zeal to you we owe.  Exit K. & Isa. Bona. 
Is this truth's merit? Can the Court find place  
For none but flatterers, and must I be made  
The first example of her Tyranny?  
Shall I be made a precedent through Spain,  
To deter men from speaking in the Court  
What's Just and honest? Nay, we term this law,  
Or mere oppression. What an Infinite task  
Am I confined too? One as virtuous  
No Cloister scarce but could supply me with,  
And never travel further; but the doubt is,  
Whether it harbour in so smooth a skin;  
As fair a face, I might with ease produce,  
But Where's the Virtue then? since few there are  
That wear both these ascriptions, Chaste, and fair:  
In all his twelve great labours, Hercules  
Was not thus tasked by juno.  Enter the Clown. Clow. 
Ill news flies apace, and hath plucked me by the ears already, well, whosoever pronounced that sentence; I hope nobody hears me: I would his Portugal skin were tanned into Spanish Leather, and either cut into some slovenly Boot, to be dabbled in the dirt without a galosh, or sniped into a Saint Martin's jerkin, that never came within the scent of a perfumer's shop.  Bona. 
Had she proposed to find her match for pride,  
There had been then no help, no hope at all;  
For that had been the harder task of two.  Clow. 
In stead of confined had his doom been to have been coffined, there had been some comfort, he might have still kept his Country, but in plain Portuguese and Spanish, both banished  Bona. 
I am sure thou hearest the news.  Clow. 
How can I choose, being in the mouth of every Diego, which I no sooner heard, but I so sought that I might find you, and so find you never hereafter to lose you, for without you this is no place for me, and without me no Country can be a Country for you. And so a Fig for Spain, and a Prune for Portugal.  Bona. 
I both accept and will reward thy love,  
If ere my Fate be to revisit home.  
First these, then several Countries we will try,  
To find out this choice piece.  Clow. 
That's you and I.  Exeunt Enter Petrocella, Aldana her father. Ald. 
Why how! mistress daughter, have you conquered the West Indies, that you wear a gold Mine on your back, this wearing will make your father's revenues shrink.  Petr. 
I'll be so bold as stretch them on the tenters and they do  Ald. 
Y'are a good jewel the whilst.  Petr. 
And jewels must be set in gold father, I'll not lose the least dram of my lustre.  Ald. 
You will not, and to what end suits all this bravery pray?  Petr. 
To a good end if my Aim be steady. Hear you the News at Court.  Ald. 
Of Valladaura's fight at Sea; is this golden bait for him?  Petr. 
'Las poor Sea-calf: 'tis not his love I angle for, I fish deeper streams and for a richer draught, have you not heard of Bonavida's fortunes?  Ald. 
To parallel the Queen in beauty and virtue? which he can never do.  Petr. 
Which he may easily do, her Prerogative of birth set apart what blemish do you see in me that I may not be the woman?  Ald. 
Thou foolish girl: then compare a glow-worm with a Star, a Star with the Sun.  Petr. 
And the Sun with a Burning glass: Come, come, you're dim-sighted Father, could you see with my eyes, and judge with my understanding, your comparison would hold é contrario I assure you: thy hasty news?  Enter servant. Ser. 
A Noble Gentleman—  Petr. 
Would speak with me; (Bonavide in my Conscience) Is't not so fellow?  Ser. 
I am not familiar with his name: He is of a noble aspect.  Petr. 
It can be none but he, give me fresh ornaments, see your error now father, Cupid and Venus, rich and new attires: Bonavide come? live in my cheek sweet beauty: Eloquence attend my tongue, and perfection my behaviour: Came he on horseback or Caroached.  Ser. 
Neither of either. He is new come from Sea.  Petr. 
Certainly he having lost his labour in foreign search he meets his hopes at home, the more my honour still: fly and admit him. Your Counsel father, shall I seem strange of familiar, wanton or serious, affable or peevish, I am as full of humours as an April day of variety, how shall I bear myself?  Ald. 
e'en in the midst mean, daughter, or let me see and thou wilt be ruled by me, bear thyself— e'en how thou wilt, provided it be to thine own profit, and my further honour: Noble Bonavide has Valladaur a Daughter? do you know this gallant?  Petr. 
Valladaura I hate, this gentleman acquainted with my beauty, revealed it to Bonavide: Sir you have bound me to you, and comes to usher him to my presence.  Ald. 
Marry and welcome, my further honour still.  Petr. 
We stay his coming, pray Sir so return him.  Vall. 
whose's coming?  Petr. 
His, your Masters Bonavide's.  Vall. 
You speak Riddles to me.  Petr. 
Be your own O Oedipus and dissolve them then.  Ald. 
Come not you Nuntius from Bonavida Sir?  Vall. 
I am mine own Nuntius and my Errand's love.  Ald. 
I hear no hurt, my further honour still.  Vall. 
Which I am come in person to deliver  
To this rare beauty.  Ald. 
Honour upon honour.  Petr. 
My fortunes fly of too strong a wing, to stoop so low a pitch, is not Bonavida come yet?  Ald. 
As much as ere he will I think, Valladaura's a pretty piece of flesh cease him: play not Esop's cur, lose not the substance in expectation of the shadow: 'tis a dog trick many Ladies have practised: bosom him, do.  Petr. 
What, this mean creature?  Ald. 
And he were meaner, so thou getst profit, and thy father honour by't.  Vall. 
Are all my hopes repaid with scorn?  Ald. 
He begins to recoil, clap him close to thy breast, he's gone else.  Petr. 
Nay, Valladaura.  Vall. 
Have I laid out more breath  
In sacrificing vows, and fruitless Sonnets  
Unto that be beauteous shrine, than ere man did?  Petr. 
Come, be not passionate, though I know both my worth and beauty, and understand what Orb they move into: I am not so much infected with that same Court-sickness Philantia, or self-love, to scorn the service of any generous Spirit.  Ald. 
How, neither for thy profit, nor thy father's honour?  Petr. 
In sober conference then, what bounded service, have you ever done my beauty, that may challenge the least interest in my love?  Vall. 
As many as man can, I writ myself  
(And truly) lover ere I could write man,  
Passing my service as a star, where she  
The blessed Idea of thy glorious feature,  
Drawn by the curious working of my thoughts,  
Gave me the better, I put out to Sea,  
And there—  Petr. 
What did you?  Ald. 
For thy honour now; what didst at Sea?  Vall. 
As much as any man—  Ald. 
That did no more than thou didst, thy further honour still.  Vall. 
Somewhat I did: but what, let these deep wounds  
Undressed and unbound up deliver.  Petr. 
They are tongue-tied, and cannot speak for blushing, pretty ornaments for a soldier, how came you by them tro? honestly  Vall. 
As noble Hector did by his, but by  
An enemy far more valiant than his.  Ald. 
I like that well, thy further honour still.  Vall. 
At Sea I met with a bold man of war,  
And somewhat more, an Englishman: Oh had  
Your eye (but fate denied that blessedness)  
witnessed our bearing, and how far the thought  
Of you and your rare beauty carried me  
Above my strength.  Petr. 
I should have said what you are forced to acknowledge that my beauty had been the better man.  Ald. 
I am proud of that, my further honour still.  Pe. 
All this while you are beholding to my beauty, & I nothing in debt to your valour, which for aught I gather, is nothing at all  Vall. 
Nothing? to enter, and hold single combat  
With such a daring opposite, nothing, to take  
These dangerous wounds, and bring 'em home undressed?  Petr. 
'Twas I confess somewhat to take these wounds, yet in my mind he that gives the cognizance has more reason to boast of it, than he that wears it: show me the man that gave you these wounds and I'll commend his valour.  Ald. 
For giving of 'em? Knight there's small honour in taking of 'em though in my judgement, but what was he?  Vall. 
A man whose noble valour I must speak.  Petr. 
Good reason, he has paid you soundly for't afore hand.  Vall. 
In love and honour I shall ever serve him.  Petr. 
So I thought, for you wear a livery of his, cut to the skin and lined with Crimson: had you gin't him, I should have cane you for the Master. But pardon me, I soar too high for a servingman, your ear, I am modest, away, hie to the suburbs, bribe some honest barber-surgeon to wash off your dishonour and hear your infamy.  
That done once, learn this tenet of the war,  
The honour's more to give than wear a scar.  
Each coward may do that.  Exit. Vall. 
'Tis not my fate but mine own imperfection,  
That makes the act in itself good and laudable,  
Ill and distasteful, were my services  
Done by some other, they must needs become  
And grace the owner, were my words delivered  
From any tongue but mine, they could not choose  
But win attention: Had my love been bred  
In any breast but mine, it could not thus  
Be scorned and baffled. I of all the world  
Am most infortunate, neither act, word, or love  
Can please your audience, or compassion move.  Exit.  

Actus secundus Scena prima.  Enter Lo. Bonavide and the Clown. Bona. 
AFter our tedious travels we at length  
Are safe arrived in England, speak what use  
Hast made of our long Voyage?  Clow. 
Such as traveller's use, for by long practice I am now at length grown perfect, and the truth is I can lie in any language.  Bona. 
But in our quest of this rare piece of beauty  
And Virtue mixed, to rival the great Princess,  
What thinkest thou of our trial made in Spain?  Clow. 
I think of it as I ever did, that's as of a bottle of hay, and the Creature you talk of, a Needle a very Spanish Needle, which I fear you will never live to hit full in the eye: Spain! there are so many moor in't, that I know you would hope of nothing less: beside the most beauties of Spain have been oft in Civil.  Bona. 
What then of Portugal?  Clow. 
Worse than the tother: the Women there are for the most part like their oranges, the fairer the outside the rottenner within, and the founder at the heart, the rougher the skin; the Country is too hot, too hot.  Bona. 
What of the Russian then?  Clow. 
As of a Country too cold, and in cold countries I know we should have but cold comfort, besides the women go wrapped in so much fur, that of necessity they must have more hair than wit, beside they cannot be wise they have so much ado to keep themselves warm, and more than that, what might the Prince and Princess think, if after all our long travels, we should come home, and present them with a rush?  Bona. 
Which only taking her great title of  
Is worth more than herself, of Italy  
Then give me thy true censure.  Clow. 
The clean contrary way, oh, my Lord, there are so many Italian Locks, that I know it was unpossible your own key should open them all. Moreover these that are naturally jealous of their women, it is probable their women naturally give them cause.  Bona. 
For France.  Clow. 
What the pox should we speak of that, knowing what is bred in the bone, will hardly out of the flesh?  Bona. 
The women of high Germany?  Clow. 
A place that I should highly stand for, if the Princess had imposed on us a challenge for drinking.  Bona. 
Of the Low-Countries then.  Clow. 
In Flushing, there is good riding, but not without danger. For many at a high tide, have been like to have been cast away in the road. At Middleborough, night or day you could scarce find the Exchange empty. At Bristles, if you remember you were used but roughly: At Sluice we were both well washed, Nimmingham bid you look to your Sconce: and Ostend, beware the Cat. Don-hague is full of Witches, and had we but touched at Rot or Dam, ten to one we had never come off sound men. Much ado we had to find Newport: Therefore if ever you come to Bergen, see you make it wisely.  Bona. 
And now, there's hope I shall, this Albion  
That fitly bears name of his chalky cliffs,  
Breeds wondrous choice of Beauties, wise, and lovely,  
Scarce to be matched in all the world beside,  
'Mongst which I have took particular view of one,  
Whom had the Trojan Ravisher beheld,  
Troy had still stood, the Queen of Love disgraced,  
And she alone had gained the golden prize,  
For which the three celestial beauties strove.  Clow. 
I grant you the face, but if she should prove rotten at the heart, there's the question.  Bona. 
I think none to be made. First for her birth,  
I have inquired her noble: For her breeding,  
It hath been 'mongst her equals, and so far  
From least taxation, to the sail of tongues,  
It merits imitation; of her chastity  
Some proofs I have made, and found it like the Diamond,  
Save by a Diamond never to be wrought.  
Could opportunity have moved, words tempted,  
Persuasions took effect, or gifts prevailed,  
Beneath my much importance she had fall'n:  
But like a promontory rock she stands,  
At all the curled Ocean's wrath unmoved,  
Telling the gusts, and bearing every storm,  
Yet on such virtues are her bases fixed,  
She is not to be shaken, then in her  
My travels take their period.  Clow. 
Then I would she and you were agreed, that you might come to a full point: and here she comes, now or never make a full conclusion, and write Finis.  Enter Leonera and her Daughter. Leo. 
Daughter,  
What think you of this stranger?  Helle. 
As a stranger.  Leo. 
Of his carriage and compliment.  Helle. 
As things for which he hath traveled, 'tis easy  
For him that hath the liberty of many  
Grounds to pick himself a choice Nosegay,  
And he that hath traveled so many Countries,  
Out of every one peculiarising what's best;  
With what small difficulty may such a one  
Appear complemental?  Leo. 
His proffers to you were large.  Helle. 
And the performance may perhaps prove like  
His journey, long.  Leo. 
What think you of his person?  Helle. 
That there's many one cannot pray so well as  
He, that is better beneficed.  Leo. 
But say he had power to perform all that he hath promised.  Helle. 
Only this, that I have power in myself to say  
More than I have yet either promised him, or  
You to utter.  Clow. 
Did you not hear her talk of utter, for shame Sir, either utter your mind now to the full, or else utterly give it over.  Bona. 
Madam, What say you to my suit?  Helle. 
I needs must say Sir, it becomes you well,  
Graces your person, and your person it:  
I like both Stuff and fashion.  Bona. 
Oh, sweet Lady,  
'Tis good to play with such as use to sport,  
But with the stayed be serious.  Clow. 
Now whilst they are in talk, will I hold some discourse or other with the old Gentlewoman: because she shall not interrupt them.  
May it please your old Ladyship—  He takes her aside. Leo. 
Out of this fellow, I may find perhaps  
That which his Master would have loath revealed,  
I'll join with him in conference.  Helle 
Since you tax me of jest, I charge you Sir  
Henceforth to speak all earnest, or stand mute,  Bona. 
I vow it by my greatest bliss on earth,  
(My hopes I have in you.)  Helle. 
I'll try your faith,  
Have you in all the countries you have traveled  
Never made proof of Lady?  Bona. 
Yes, in all,  
And in each clime, of many.  Helle. 
Nay, I thought what I should find you, trust a stranger's love as gold to court the wind. If then such numbers,  
Why, after all these trials make you me  
The last of all your t'sales?  Bona. 
Last of my hopes,  
Or period of my wishes, had you said,  
I should have answered then, only because  
Of all you are most perfect.  Helle. 
Now you flatter.  Leo. 
A Lord saidst thou?  Clown. 
ay, and I assure your Ladyship, allied to the best  
Grandoes of Spain, nay more than so,—  Bona. 
As I confess you perfect, I entreat  
Let not my merited praises make you proud,  
And vie your own worth; I shall wonder then:  
Know Madam, that I left my Country Spain,  
And there my many honours, not of pleasure,  
But by compulsive force, unwillingly,  
My voyage purposely to find out you,  
Which ere I could, I have traveled Kingdoms through,  
Searched Courts, examined Cities, nay even Villages.  Helle. 
For me?  Bona. 
For you; for the chief Paragon  
Of Beauty matched with Virtue; therefore you  
For one to rival the great Spanish Princess,  
Matchless in both, through half the world, save you,  
Indeed I flatter not, you are that Mine,  
(Oh Lady, might I truly say that Mine:)  
No India yields, save this, but thine; the sun.  
To outshine that candle, none but this clear splendour,  
Dims her imperfect glories; You by this  
Shall win yourself a name through all the world,  
And purchase admiration: me that so  
Have prized you, and esteemed you, marking you  
'mongst thousands, for a piece unparalleled:  
Before all things, my Country, Honours, Friends,  
That else like a poor exile forfeit all,  
And Lady, you the cause on't: If my Love,  
Grounded upon such strong opinion  
Merit repulse; if you will lose yourself,  
And hazard me, that have my head engaged  
To make this good: I only shall report  
The strangest thing in my long search I find,  
Beauty with Virtue mixed, proved both unkind.  Helle. 
Which should I be?— pray give me leave to pause,  
And then expect my answer.  Leo. 
And hath he chused her out amongst so many?  Clow. 
Yes, and means to make her a great Lady, to possess her of all his fortunes, to put down all the prime Ladies of Spain: and for Beauty and Virtue, to be preferred before the great Princess herself.  Leo. 
To this, should she not willingly assent,  
She were no more my daughter.  Bona. 
Now, your answer.  Helle. 
Should this be true, that you prefer this face  
Before the beauties of so many climbs:  
And that your life and means solely depend,  
There to expose it freely, I should much  
Digress from honour, to neglect such love,  
And should I not in unseen Virtue strive  
To equal that seene beauty you so praise,  
I should then much wrong that great character  
You have bestowed upon me.  Leo. 
Which you shall not;  
Daughter, I say you shall not; Sir, she's yours,  
Or I disclaim her ever.  Helle. 
Pray good mother,  
A little pardon me; how shall I know  
What here you promise, you can there make good.  Clow. 
If you distrust his word, cake mine, which will pass in Spain for more Myravids, than the best Squires in England for Farthing-tokens.  Bona. 
That you may know it is not lust, but love,  
And the true speculation I have ta'en,  
In both these adjuncts, that proclaim you rare,  
That 'tis to have you denizened in Spain,  
Be instated in my liberal fortunes there,  
To appear in Court a foreign miracle,  
And not to make you here my Prostitute;  
I only beg your promise, that, being granted,  
I'll back into my Country, tell the Princess,  
What here in England I have seen and found,  
My peace being made, I will return thus far,  
To fix you in that sphere a splendent star,  
And this is all I crave  Leo. 
'Tis just, and honest,  
In this can be no fallacy at all.  Helle. 
As truth then I accept it, and am yours.  Bona. 
And Lady, I your creature: For by you  
I am new made; as Mistress of this contract.  
Accept this Ring, which never part withal,  
But to myself in person.  Helle. 
Not in death,  
'tshall with me to my grave.  Bona. 
To prove your constancy,  
One Imposition more; there may be trains  
Laid to entrap our love, to injure you,  
And forfeit me, therefore till my return,  
Which shall be with what suddenness I can:  
Be shown unto no stranger.  Helle. 
These I vow,  
And pray you keep this token with that care  
That I shall your commands, on this presume.  
Of which, through all Hesperia you may boast,  
Though my face please, yet shall my virtue most.  Bona. 
Thou hast lost Isabella; and I gained  
Me an Empire by my travel: I by you  
Am new created, being lost and gone,  
With this most sweet addition, two in one.  Clow. 
A good hearing, and I and the old Gentlewoman are both witnesses to the bargain.  Exeunt. Enter Valladaura, solus. Valla. 
Approve no act, though ne'er so well becoming  
Part, so well beautified, phrase aptly languaged,  
To the very Tone and Accent of the Time,  
But seems in me defamed and rustical;  
None can endure my sight, all things I do  
Are construed to the worst; I walk the streets,  
Salute I all I meet, none resaluteth me,  
But look askew, and point, and laugh at me,  
As who should say; See Petrocella's Scorn,  
And that which wounds me deeper than death can,  
The more I strive to make me worth her love,  
So much the more unworthy she reputes me.  Enter Pineda, and Centella, conferring. Pine. 
And faith what think'st of Bonavida's undertaking?  Cent. 
As of the man himself, most frivolous and idle;  
He parallel the Queen? ha, ha, ha.  Valla. 
They speak of me, and seal it with a smile:  
That I could sink, and hide me in the Centre.  Pine. 
Bold Valladaura, well returned from Sea: we hear—  Valla. 
Of my disgrace, what a swift wing has Rumor?  Cent. 
You met a bold and noble opposite.  Valla. 
Have you heard that too?  Pine. 
But beauteous Petrocella—  Valla. 
She has told all: I shall be Ballasted,  
Sung up and down by Minstrels? Gentlemen,  
Though my success fell short of my intent,  
Let it meet fair construction.  Pine. 
It deserves no less.  Cent. 
Your noble bearing, has given our modern gallants  
Plainsong to descant on.  Valla. 
They scoff me palpably: but noble friends,  
Such I have ever reckoned you, Let's change  
Discourse a while in private.  Walke and confer. Enter Turkish Captain, Mont Ferars, Monhurst, Prisoners. With others. Turk. 
Of all the Christians this arm ever tried,  
You come the nearest men: What Country?  Fera. 
England.  Turk. 
Y'are Nobly Spirited: Have you got your ransoms?  Manh. 
None but our lives.  Fer. 
Them thus we tender.  Turk. 
They are jewels:  
We rather wish to wear, than part withal,  
But need commands us to make instant sale;  
To the Male-Market with 'em, each man carries  
His price upon his shoulder, go go, try the Market,  
ourself will stay, and answer customers.  Vall. 
Y'ave given both me and my fear's satisfaction,  
I shall report you noble, and esteem my credit  
Much richer than I did: As I said, my opposer  
Had man enough in him, and indeed more  
Than I have known in many.  Pyn. 
The Land breeds few other: what's here, a Market of Slaves?  Vall. 
Manly proportions? Ha! Mont. Ferrers?  Fer. 
Death!  
My mortal foe? how is my poor life hunted?  Vall. 
You do not know me?  Fer. 
I must give you one lie, to say I do.  Vall. 
'Tis surely he, yet if it be, mischance  
Has made him much unlike himself, when he  
And I vied valour on the purple deck,  
He wot a look more manly; I'll try further.  
Were you ne'er Captain of a Ship at Sea?  Fer. 
I had ne'er been slave unto a Turk, ashore else.  Vall. 
Of England? your name Ferrars?  Fer. 
Rather than deny—  
My name and Country, I'll acknowledge any  
Thing base or deadly: I confess you know me,  Vall. 
You shall know me too, ere we part.  Fer. 
I shall?  Vall. 
Unto some cost you shall, trust tot.  Exit. Fer. 
If Fate  
Has writ my name in her black book: and this  
The hindmost minute of my hours, I scorn  
To bribe the Beldame to wipe't out again.  Pin. 
You know the Gentleman conferred with you?  Fer. 
For a bold Foe, and a proud Spaniard.  Pyn. 
You may have cause to say so: h'as sent you Ransom.  Fer. 
My ransom? Why? Why should he ransom me?  
Nay rather, why should I ask that? I saw  
Inveterate hate flame in his burning eye,  
He frees me from slight bondage of the Turk  
To slave me to himself, and exercise  
New tyranny: he meets a living grave  
That's vassal unto him, was once his slave;  
That fate o'ertakes me: I will not accept it.  Mon. 
Your reason?  Fer. 
Not that I desire to live  
Slave to a Turk, or fear the bloody usage  
Of an ambitious Spaniard: Death is but death  
What shape soe'er he comes in.  Pin. 
Why are ye so loath to meet him then?  Fer. 
Though you cannot enforce so much, I'll tell you,  
See you this man? One that with me hath fronted  
The wrath, and utmost violence of Fate,  
Should mine own Countrymen, nay, natural mother,  
Or my kind Sister, whose fair eyes I honour,  
Should the best Lord of these have sent my ransom,  
Had it come single without his, as this,  
I would have spurned, and sent it back.  Cent. 
You would Sir? We shall return so much.  Pin. 
And be persuaded to find usage answerable to your Contempt.  Exit. Man. 
Why for my sake do you neglect your freedom?  Fer. 
Because for mine, thou hast not loved thy life,  
But thrown it upon dangers more than common:  
Because for me, thou left'st thy native land,  
Father and Friends, and to make me a fortune  
Unmade thine own; gav'st both thyself and fate  
Wholly to me; think me not so unjust  
To lose a jewel made o'er to me in trust.  
But they return.  Enter Pineda and Contella. Pin. 
Here's both their Ransoms,  throws down the bags. Turk. 
And there's both the slaves,  
A better pennyworth of flesh and blood  
Turk never sold.  Fer. 
Nor Christian but a Spaniard  
Would ere have bought.  Pin. 
Oh yes, your English Jews, they'll buy and sell their fathers, prostrate their wives, and make money of their own children, the male stews can witness that: come on Sir, you must along.  Mon. 
How, must?  Cent. 
And shall, prating you English slave?  Enter Valladaura. Vall. 
You know me now?  Fer. 
Yes truly, for a Tyrant,  
And bloody hangman: had I known thee half so well.  
When on the Deck I had thee at my mercy,  
I would have ground my sword upon thy bones,  
And writ my freedom in thy blood.  Vall. 
I live,  
To do the like by thee—  Fer. 
And I breathe yet,  
To dare thee to thy utmost: and may win  
More honour of thee, by my manly suffering,  
Than thou, by base inflicting: My friend and I  
Like two chain-bullets, side by side, will fly  
Thorough the jaws of death.  Vall. 
A strong resolve,  
But I shall quickly weaken, sunder them,  
With him there— quick, that Paper will point out  
Diet and lodging for him.  speaks to a servant. Fer. 
Sunder them? that word  
Falls colder on me than the rheum of Death.  Pin. 
Then you'll not fly like bullets in the jaws  
Of Death and danger?  Fer. 
Hear me Valladaura,  
Since thou wilt needs take up the attribute  
And name of Tyrant, study thy trade perfect,  
Soil it not in performance, like a true Artist,  
Degree thy tortures, like an angry tempest,  
Rise calmly first, and keep thy worst rage last,  
Torment us jointly: sunder us at first,  
A plague so deadly, that whatever follows  
Will seem but as a Cordial: wouldst have devised  
After a thousand tortures, one to mad  
My manly patience, or to split my heart,  
It had been done in this one accent, part.  Pin. 
Divide'em so.  Mon. 
Mezentius. cruelty,  
Comes short of yours, he joined, but you divide  
A living man in two.  Vall. 
Right spanish Pride.  Fer. 
I used not you so though: but noble Sir,  
How well thou hast merited living?  Mon. 
So I'll die,  
Thy thought's an Antidote 'gainst tyranny.  Fer. 
Born on that confidence, lose not one tear,  
Nor spend a sigh, let guilty cowards fear.  Vall. 
You'll find a change.  Fer. 
Your churlsh— nor can we look to find  
Usage more gentle. Revenge is unconfined.  Vall. 
And so shall mine be: what the art of man  
Knows of tormentings, mine shall inflict, and can.  
This parting of you is the least and first,  
Of infinite to come.  Fer. 
I dare the worst.  Exeunt. Enter Sebastian, Isabella, Contella, Pineda, with other attendants and followers. Sebast. 
Most divine Lady, in the late exile  
Of your depraver Bonvida; how  
Do you applaud my justice?  Isabel. 
Why, as justice.  
To have done less, should have disgraced me more  
Than all your worth could merit.  Cen. 
Who doubts that,  
He were not worthy to be styled a Prince,  
Or to partake that goodness got in you,  
That should have let slip such proud arrogance,  
Without severest rigour.  Pin. 
troth I wonder  
In what remote clime the poor exile treads,  
Or in what place he hopes to find that piece  
His impudence durst boast of?  Isabel. 
he's perhaps  
traveled to Arabia Felix, and from thence  
To bring the Phoenix hither.  Seba. 
He should then  
Have kept his Country, if a Phoenix live,  
You make Spain blessed Arabia.  Isabel. 
I remember,  
There lived a Spanish Princess of our name,  
An Isabella too, and not long since;  
Who from her Palace windows, steadfastly,  
Gazing upon the Sun, her heir took fire,  
Some Augurs held it as a prodigy,  
I rather think she was Latona's brood,  
And that Apollo courted her bright hair,  
Else envying, that her tresses put down his,  
He scorched them off in envy, not dare I  
From her derived, expose me to his beams,  
lest, as he burns the Phoenix in her nest  
Made of the sweetest aromatic wood;  
Either in love or envy, he agree  
To use the like combustion upon me.  Cent. 
A thing much to be feared.  Pin. 
Then royal Lady,  
Might I advise you, keep out of the Sun  
And walk still in the shade, by proof we see  
Such Meteors oft take fire.  Isabel. 
Alas poor Lord:  
To see what thy bold rashness brings thee to  
That thou art forced to wander through the world,  
To find out a black Swan to rival us?  
Thou seek'st a thing that is not: and thy rashness  
Hath justly forced thine exile.  Enter a Lord. Lord. 
Fairest of Creatures,  
I bring you news, Lord bonavida's returned,  
And new arrived at Court,  Isabel. 
Art sure 'tis so?  Lord. 
Most certain Royal Princess.  Isabel. 
To his death: If he come empty handed.  Sebast. 
But if sped,  
Than he redeems his exile.  Isabel. 
Blind, and dull,  
Hath plenty bred a surfeit in you then?  
Or have you ta'en possession of that treasure,  
You know not how to value to the worth,  
But though you cannot, we can rate ourself:  
Perhaps, despair hath brought him back to offer  
His desperate life; Which if with submission,  
Repentance, and some due acknowledgement,  
May in our grace find pardon; Go, admit him.  Cent. 
Now let's prepare our eyes; For, he no question  
Hath brought o'er some rare creature.  Pine. 
Take your stands, let's have of her full view.  Enter Lord Bonavida, and the Clown. Bona. 
All the delights of earth, and joys above,  
For ever crown your Temples.  Sebast. 
Wellcome Bonavida;  
How speed you in your voyage?  Bona. 
That success,  
I had in expectation, Royal sir,  
I am now possessed of, really.  Clown. 
we have found her.  Isubel. 
Hah, whom?  Bona. 
The pride of Nature, and of Love;  
Beauty and Virtue in most high contention  
Which should exceed each other.  Clow. 
Why, I can assure you, we have her to show,  
And such a piece—  Isabel. 
Peace you; What Country?  Bona. 
England.  Isabel. 
What place there?  Bona. 
Of their chief Cities, the Metropolis, London.  Clow. 
ay, and the fairest there, one so fair, that all Bartholmew-fair could not match her again.  Isabel. 
we have no tongue for thee—  Clow. 
But we have a Tale for you, if you will give us the hearing.  Isabel. 
What name?  Bona. 
Helena.  Isabel. 
Of what descent or Parentage?  Bona. 
Noble by birth, yet not so high degreed,  
As her great virtue's merit: nor her means,  
To counterpoise her beauty.  Clow. 
Yet we have her, and weight and measure with her, to put down all the black-browed wenches in Spain, for a face, and Physiognomy.  Isabel. 
That prater, Peace there.  Clown. 
I hope, when travellers have light upon a rich Purchase, It is lawful for them to brag of their commodity.  Isabel. 
we may imagine one most beautiful;  
But how to rank with us?  Bona. 
With any Lady,  
Europe or Asia yields, them pardon, Lady,  
I hope without the least offence to you.  Isabel. 
Perhaps she's fair, what Instance can you give, that she's of such proved virtue.  Bona. 
Passing thousands;  
I will insist in one: At my departure,  
Only one Ring I left with her in change,  
Which if she living part with, lend, or give  
Till my return, I'll hold myself disgraced,  
Her evermore disparaged: In exchange,  
She did bestow on me this carcanet,  
Which I as long shall keep.  Isa. 
Pray let me see't.  Bona. 
Madam, I dare expose to you my life,  
Then much more this.  Isabel. 
'Tis a most costly jewel,  
Worthy a Princess wearing.  Clow. 
I can assure you Lady, there was a Ring, and a thing exchanged upon the wreath.  Isabel. 
But where's this rare one? come produce her straight, To make her the courts wonder.  Bona. 
Pardon Lady:  
she's yet in her own Country; But that Carcanet  
Can quickly fetch her over.  Isabel. 
Pardon? villain, and base Imposture, lived there such a creature, would not thy pride have brought her to full view?  
But this Illusion seconding the first,  
Doubles thy punishment; Hence with him to prison,  
More worthy of the block: Abuse us first,  
And then deride us after; Royal sir,  
If suffer me to swallow this disgrace,  
You underprise me doubly.  Sebast. 
Thou hast spoke it, and it shall stand.  Bona. 
Yet hear me Royal sir.  Isabel. 
Away with him.  Clow. 
Then hear me Noble Lady.  Isabel. 
Shall we be still tormented?  Bona. 
If you deny me freedom, grant me that  
Which I more prize, my precious Carcanet,  
That which you with no justice can detain.  Isabel. 
Into some loathsome dungeon hurry him,  
Unworthy the day's comfort: bear this scorn?  Sebast. 
Yo'have sentenced justly.  Isa. 
Please you sir, a little  
To leave me to my private solitude:  
I shall not be long from you.  Sebast. 
Take your pleasure;  
For your content is ours.  Exit. Isabel. 
Centella and Pineda.  Cen. 
Royal Madam.  Isabel. 
I have a project for you, which if you effect,  
You shall endear me ever.  Cent. 
What's in men,  
Shall not in us be scanted.  Isabel. 
You have heard  
The Country, and th' place of her abode;  
Thither I'll furnish you: Spare for no cost,  
Our Treasure lies ope to you; get that Ring  
By any slight or craft: be it possible  
That gold will do't, corrupt her; Use all means,  
All friends, devices, plots, and stratagems,  
To bring some token of her falseness back:  
Further instructions you shall have with you;  
Meantime prepare for travel.  Pine. 
And, or die,  
Or bring you news of her inchastity.  Isabel. 
Enough, you are ours: part with this carcanet?  
Not for a World: I have project too in that:  
be rivaled by a petty English Dame?  
Knew I the large earth did my equal give,  
Rather than brook her sight, I'd cease to live.  Exeunt.  

Actus tertius. Scaena prima.  Enter Valladaura, and Ferrers gallant. Fer. 
SIr from a bondman, you have cast me into a free mould, almost new made me, yet what your purpose is, I cannot gather, I am still yours; Is't your intention to prank me up, to make me fit for death, or feed me till I be in some good plight, the better to fat your own revenge?  Valla. 
What I purpose to myself, I still keep in myself,  
What you have found hitherto, speak, and when you  
Find yourself pinched, then freely complain.  Ferr. 
The face of your kind visage yet looks smooth,  
I spy in it no wrinkle; But my friend,  
How have you dealt by him?  Valla. 
As he deserves, no further, pray inquire him.  Ferr. 
If he perish,  
I am swept from off the earth too, with my sister,  
He next my heart sits unmoveable: pray what service  
Will you command me now?  Valla. 
None: yet some love  
I shall entreat, withal, a grace from you,  
I have a Mistress, unto whom I purpose  
A friendly visitation, to which duty,  
I entreat you as a witness.  Ferr. 
I am yours.  Enter Aldana, and Petrocella. Petr. 
I hear say Bonavida's returned:  Alda. 
And intends to visit thee, for having failed in all his Foreign purposes: he means, upon those thy pillars, as Hercules did upon his, to write Nonultra, think'st thou not so girl? my further honour still.  Petr. 
To see what a virtue lives in this Spanish continent, especially amongst yellow-haired wenches; jason, when he went in quest of the Golden-Fleece, found it in Spain, there's a Moral in that, and that great Hercules, so talked on amongst the Greeks, after all his travels through Asia, Afrique, and Europe, coming to this Country, into the Island called Calis; he that, unless Poets lie, lay with Fifty Ladies in one night, and got Nine and forty Boys, marry I must tell you, the last was a Girl; was there so tired with one woman; that he gave over all his travels, retired home to his Country, like a man taken down, and in memory of his adventure: where he reared his pillar, writ that most methodical Motto you speak of; No further.  Alda. 
My daughter is an apt, and witty lass:  
I know her apprehensive, and well-brained:  
My further honour still.  Valla. 
Noble Madam,  
I have brought a stranger, and an Englishman,  
To give you visitation.  Alda. 
A worthy stranger, a bold villain too,  
My further honour still.  Valla. 
To whom, Petrocella?  
As to a Gentleman to me Entired,  
I beg from you all the best compliment,  
Due unto my long service.  Petr. 
Why, what's he?  Valla. 
This man, do you mean?  Petro. 
Yes he, that fellow there.  Valla. 
Fellow, to whom; he hath not his in Spain,  
Nay, I might have took a larger bound,  
And not have passed my limit; fellow, villain?  Petr. 
Yes, or companion.  Valla. 
Paint me out a worthy—  
Else he is such to none: This was the man  
I met at sea, and fought with; our Encounter  
Was all in smoke and fire, so hotly fought,  
That in that fog, we had no further light,  
Than what our Lint-staves gave: our Decks flowed blood,  
Which through the Portholes run, and died the Sea  
Into a deep vermilion, yet still fought.  Ferr. 
But never with a braver opposite  
Did Englishman try with fire.  Petr. 
He speaks well.  Alda: 
Both to their honours still.  Valla. 
When Powder, and Bullet,  
And men, with all grew scant; for scarce was any  
Left to the present purpose, serviceable,  
Both bottoms ready through the violent leaks  
To split, and founder; we then haled, hung flags,  
And grew to composition.  Ferr. 
Which I begged.  Valla. 
Sir, it came first from me; And this proposed,  
That both our ships, goods, lives, and people, might not  
be in the Sea engraved, and swallowed up,  
Both from man's tongue and thought: that such rich prizes  
Might be to one survivor; the two Captains  
To try it out by Combat.  Alda. 
Honour still.  Valla. 
This nobly he accepted; Faith's new pawned,  
Hostages given, two worthy seconds chused;  
Lots cast, whose Decks should be th' appointed lists;  
To mine it fell: He boarded me to fight,  
From whom I came apparelled thus in wounds—  Petr. 
It seems then he's a cutter.  Valla. 
Whose scars still mark me his.  Ferr. 
Wear I not yours?  
Though not so many, yet more deeply carved,  
With greater danger, and expense of blood,  
Then ever dropped from these.  Valla. 
Short tale to make;  
Vanquished I was, He victor; and when all,  
Lading and lives were his; Nay even mine too  
Lay prostrate at his mercy, with a magnificence  
Equal to any Prince, he should at—  Petro. 
All this we know, nor do we desire to hear over again, what was before related; but had you spoke more in his praise, than you have done, which it may be is your purpose; I find nothing, but may well come within the compass of his merit, and my belief.  Valla. 
Lady, I am glad you are so possessed of him;  
And do you think him such?  Petr. 
I think you would gladly sell whom you have so lately bought, else you would never have spoke him thus: If you have any such purpose; It may be, there be those that, but surrender up your bargain, would be glad to help you to your money.  Ferr. 
I came but with one give upon my leg,  
Fastened upon me in his courtesy,  
But since I looked upon your lady's eyes,  
Now I am doubly fettered.  Vall. 
'Tis neglect,  
A palpable neglect, she loves me not:  
It shall be so, I will be boorish and sullen.  Fer. 
Sir, you this day have brought me to a fight  
That more contents me than the wealth of Spain:  
This matchless Lady.  Vall. 
My Mistress,  
Whom if thou wilt court for me,  
And win unto my wishes.  Fer. 
I Sir do't?  Vall. 
Yes, by the love thou owest me; do you pause?  
If ever I deserved the name of friend,  
Or hopest hereafter I may merit off thee,  
Make it thy sole endeavours  Fer. 
Doubly captived:  
Honour should still precede love: Sir, I will,  
Though I to cure another, myself kill.  Enter Helena with her. Helle. 
How long is't since those Gentlemen of Spain arrived here?  Maid. 
Three days since, Lady.  Hell. 
Came there no letters along with 'em from Spain? some note there?  Maid. 
Not to my hands.  Hell. 
Has Bonavid. that name methinks revives me, I dare not tax him of neglect, and yet I am very pleasant this morning, let's have a song Rosara: I would have the subject love, and yet modest to, and yet a little wanton, yet chaste and innocent as dreams of coals, and hearst thou? where Bonavida's name vouchsafes to grace the ditty, there let music speak in its smoothest phrase, and most courtly singing, stay, thou art a jewel too precious to be washed with, thou wert given to dear purpose: honoured with this, lie there.  A Song, during which, she washes. Maid. 
The ditties done.  Hell. 
And I have done, a dryer.  (Basin and Ring. Maid. 
How am I blessed: occasion I thank thee,  Ex. maid with Hell. 
Thy absence Bonavid, makes each minute seem an hour and thy delay, makes infant time look old, and were't not for this pledge of thy affection— Rosara, Maid.  misses her ring. Maid. 
Your pleasure madam?  Enter with the empty basin Helle. 
Reach me my Ring.  Maid. 
What Ring, Lady?  Helle. 
Dost ask that question? that of the basin?  Maid. 
Trust me madam, I saw none.  Helle. 
Speak not again upon thy life, where is the water?  Maid. 
Thrown out Madam, and with it I fear the Ring, but I'll—  Exit. Helle. 
Find it again, or lose thyself, inconsiderate girl, how are my hopes betrayed through thy rash negligence, was my blood pleasant for this? my thoughts, joyful for this?— how now, hast found it?  Enter Maid. Maid. 
Nor ever shall I fear Madam.  Helle. 
How, never? Then lose thyself, my hopes are lost for ever, torches and lights there, find it again, or never see me more.  Exit. Maid. 
Your will's a law, which I intend not suddenly to infringe, and have I got thee my best happiness? now to my Don of Spain, the next news you hear of me, is a Ladyship at least; but fie on this idleness, I stand on thorns till I be in action.  Exit. Enter Pineda and Centella. Cent. 
You find her pliant?  Pin. 
As a thing of wax, never was thrifty trader more willing to put of a sulk commodity, than she was to truck for her maidenhead, I admire her forwardness.  Cen. 
Call of the animal, she takes her entrance just at her cue step you aside for fear of suspicion.  Enter Maid. Maid. 
Oh, master Oracle, sweet master Oracle!  Cent. 
How thrives your project? works it into fashion?  Maid. 
Beyond hope or expectation, was there not a Don of Spain here, to speak with me?  Cen. 
Not I assure you? you have met him then?  Maid. 
Yes, and so met him, sweet M. Oracle, I am bound to you for ever.  Confer with Centella. Enter Pineda. Pin. 
This by my direction is the place, the labour in vain, and here spite of delay, she has prevented my haste, you see I keep my word sweet.  Maid. 
And that's somewhat strange, in a gallant of your rank.  Pine. 
But usual in a lover, may we presume upon the trust of this gentleman?  Maid. 
Why, do not you know him? Oh strange! why 'tis M. Oracle man; trust him? and I had a Maidenhead to spare, I durst trust it naked in bed with him.  Cent. 
Sir, though both strangers, yet fates past, and fortunes to come, are better known to me, than yourselves: have you got the Ring?  Maid. 
Have I? have I not? the handsomest way I had for't.  Pin. 
Sweet, I am come to make tender of my promise.  Maid. 
The like purpose bring we Sir.  Pin. 
You have my heart already.  Maid. 
For which take mine, and that Ring to boot: and M.  Pin. 
Welcome as health to the house of sickness: and now, where how, what, when?  Cen. 
How is't Sir? I see a sudden sign of alteration in you.  Pin. 
And can you blame me, my blood chills, my nerves faint. I am abused, my attendant Daemon prompts me, I am abused.  Cent. 
Where?  Maid. 
Or by whom?  Pin. 
Here, and by thee, by both a false imposture and a common Strumpet.  Maid. 
Do you mistrust my honesty?  Cen. 
Or my Art?  Pin. 
Both, they are both dissembled, and my noble purpose frustrate, this is not the Ring.  Maid. 
Not the Ring?  Pin. 
And you the woman my fate points at; how simple innocence may be played upon?  Maid. 
How, not the Ring? return it back then.  Pin. 
No, I will keep it to witness and evidence against you, for instantly expect the severest punishment law can inflict upon Impostures of this kind.  Exit. Cent. 
Disparagement to my Art, have you brought a false Ring?  Maid. 
The right on my faith, as I hoped to be a Lady, the right.  Cent. 
I am proud of that, this trial was not amiss though.  Maid. 
But Oh master Oracle, how have you deceived me?  Cent. 
I was deceived myself, I see my error now; only a mistake in the sign, I sought for Mercury in one house, and he lodged in the next, I must change my lodging, the City stones will grow too hot for me, I must go cool my feet in the suburbs. The all and only mistake was in the sign.  Maid. 
The Labour in vain, a fire on the sign, and you too; my Donna turned to this? my preferment to this? a Lady in the Morning, and a beggar before noon? here's quick work indeed; a cunning man? a cunning Rogue If ere it be my luck to see thee preach through a pillory, as one of the cast limbs of your cursed crew did not long since, the hangman shall have you by the ears for this: but I'll back and lay my case open to my Lady.  Cent. 
Your only curses, and now aboard for Spain,  
Her shame's our honour, and her loss our gain.  Exeunt. Enter Manhurst, with a false beard in his hand. Man. 
The spaniard's noble, beyond thought or expectation noble, instead of a Dungeon, he has furnished me with means, and sent me home with a letter of his purposed friendship to my friend. And now, though freed both from Turk and Spaniard. I live slave to a more cruel nation than both, my own countrymen, for suretyship and debt, (diseases that many a gallant lies sick to death on) have ta'en hold on me, and though I know it improbable, and partly ridiculous, that a false beard, and a fantastical habit, should mar my creation & make me a new creature, it has passed currant with some in this place, and I may the bolder venture on't. First then to my friend's Sister, the young Lady Ferrars, I think her virtuous, but withal know her for a woman, and dare not trust my liberty in so weak a stomach: in this disguise then, I'll address me to her presently.  Exit. Enter Helena and Maid. Helle. 
Thou tell'st me wonders, cheated of my Ring, by a cunning man, and a crafty Spaniard? the cozenage was premeditate: a Spaniard was he?  Maid. 
Some Don or Nobleman at least, he wore very good clothes.  Helle. 
So may a cheat, or a pickpurse; the better body, the plainer the habit, painted clothes were devised for ruined feeling, and sluttish walls, It's the Apparel of the mind, crown thee withn Noble.  Maid. 
Then was he a very beggar to cheat for so poor a trifle as a Ring.  Ellen. 
'Twas not so much for the value of the thing, As to impoverish the oath of the wearer; some crafty sumner had a hand in't: or it might be Bonavida's plot, to try my loyalty: and yet it relishes too much baseness to come from so noble an author; however, shall I see this, turn coward, and like a falling Tower, bury my beauty in my own Ruins? no, rather like the glorious Sun, dissolve, and scatter these clouds of Infamy. It is resolved, I'll after 'em to Spain: Your purpose Rosara.  Maid. 
To give you my best attendance to the last minute, please you Ladyship accept it.  Helle. 
And freely pardon thee; receive a few directions for our voyage.  Enter Manhurst disguised. Man. 
Yes, this disguise will do't; and for my friend, her noble brother's sake, I'll make the first tender of my service to her; save you Lady.  Helle. 
You're welcome sir; would you any thing with us?  Man. 
Impart a secret to you.  Helle. 
To a Woman? by no means, we want discretion to keep our own.  Man. 
Strange! Had I a secret concerned my life, I'd trust it in a Woman's bosom to choose, and think I said it up safe too.  Helle. 
Your reason Sir?  Man. 
Because no wiseman will over look for any matter of Worth in such a weak building.  Helle. 
A fellow of a bold aspect, and such a one, were I assured of his carriage, as would much avail me in my voyage; Art willing to serve?  Man. 
Mine own turn with all my heart: This fashions to my wishes; what if your Ladyship do want a servant? I am your man, your first man too, and such a man as know the World.  Helle. 
And such a man do I want;  
You have been in Spain then?  
Didst hear no talk of an Englishman there,  
One Farrers—  Man. 
And one Manhurst his friend, they are both prisoners, and lie— only for ransom.  Helle. 
My brother Prisoner? This news wings me for my voyage.  Man. 
Are you for any adventures Lady?  Helle. 
Thy bad news enforces me; I'll make that my colour, at least that Gentleman is my brother; and cost it the last penny of my Dower, I will not see him want; I'll furnish our voyage Instantly.  Man. 
As generous, as he is valiant, 'twere cowardice in me to dishearten her, we must be gallant; what habit were I best to travel in, let me see, a Spanish slop, good easy wear, but that like Chambermaids, they are loose, and somewhat too open below.  Maid. 
Methinks your Dutch Cassock is a comely wear.  Man. 
It hath been, but now adays it grows shorter and shorter, like your Court allowance: their Tailors are good husbands, tho' they make little or no waste at all, and that makes your Gallants stand so much upon Points: your button-hose is a good wear for Courtiers.  Maid. 
Why for Courtiers?  Man. 
'cause they are full of large promises outward, but lined with narrow and scant-performance within.  Maid. 
'Thas been a good fashion, but 'tis old.  Helle. 
So is all goodness else, we have nothing new, but oaths and diseases.  Man. 
No, for my money, give me your substantial, English hose, round and somewhat full afore.  Maid. 
Now they are methinks a little too great.  Man. 
The more the discretion of the Landlord that builds them the makes room enough for his Tenant to stand upright in, he may walk in and out at ease without stooping: but of all the rest, I am clean out of love with your Irish trowses; they are for all the world like a jealous wife, always close at a man's tail: out of all these will I cut and fashion that shall be and Imitable: will you follow?  Helle. 
Even where fate leads me, we are all her slaves  
And have no dwellings of our own.  Man. 
Yes, Graves.   

Actus quartus. Scaena prima.  Enter Ferrers and Petrocella. Petr. 
I Never heard a fellow since my years, taught me how to distinguish ill from good, to talk in this strange Key; how English this? What are thou in thy Country?  Ferr. 
There, a man.  Petr. 
What here?  Ferr. 
No better than you see a slave.  Petr. 
Whose?  Ferr. 
His that hath redeemed me.  Petr. 
Valladaura's?  Ferr. 
Yes, I proclaim 't; I that was once mine own,  
Am now become his creature.  Petro. 
I perceive,  
Your coming is to make me think you noble,  
Would you persuade me deem your friend a God?  
For only such make men, are you a gentleman?  Ferr. 
Not here, for I am all dejectedness,  
Captive to fortune, and a slave to want;  
I can not call these clothes I wear mine own,  
I do not eat, but at another's cost,  
This air I breathe, is borrowed; ne'er was man  
So poor and abject. I have not so much,  
In all this universe, as a thing to leave,  
Or a Country I can freely boast is mine:  
In all the world, I had but one true friend,  
And he is ravished from me;  
My essence, and my being, is another's:  
What should I say? I am not any thing,  
And I possess as little.  Petro. 
Tell me that?  
Come, come, I know you to be no such man,  
You are a Soldier, valiant, and renowned,  
Your carriage tried by land, and proved at Sea,  
Of which, I have heard such full expression  
No contradiction can persuade you less,  
And in this faith I am constant.  Fer. 
A mere worm  
Trod on by every Fate.  Petro. 
Raised by your merit  
To be a common argument through Spain.  
And speech at PRINCE's Tables, for your worth  
Your presence when you please to expose't abroad,  
Attracts all eyes, and draw them after you  
And these that understand you call their friends,  
And pointing through the streets, say, this is he,  
This that brave and noble Englishman,  
Whom Soldiers strive to make their precedent,  
And other men their wonder.  Fer. 
This your scorn.  
Makes me appear more abject to myself  
Then all diseases I have tasted yet  
Had power to asperse upon me, and yet Lady  
I could say something durst I.  Petro. 
Speak't at once.  Fer. 
And yet—  Petro. 
Nay, but we'll admit no pause.  Fer. 
I know not how my phrase may relish you,  
And loath I were to offend, even in what's past  
I must confess, I was too bold,— Farewell,  
I shall no more distaste you.  Petro. 
Sir, you do not,  
I do proclaim't you do not, stay, I charge you,  
Or as you say, you have been fortune's scorn,  
So ever prove to woman.  Fer. 
You charge deeply,  
And yet now, I bethink me.  Petr. 
As you are a Soldier,  
And Englishman, have hope to be redeemed  
From this your scorned bondage you sustain,  
Have comfort in your Mother, and fair Sister,  
Renown so blazed in the ears of Spain,  
Hope to re-breathe that air you tasted first.  
So tell me—  Fer. 
What?  Petr. 
Your apprehension catched  
And almost was in sheaf.  Fer. 
Lady I shall.  Petro. 
And in a word?  Fer. 
I will.  Petro. 
Pronounce it then.  Fer. 
I love you.  Petro. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Fer. 
Still it is my misery  
Thus to be mocked in all things.  Petro. 
Pretty faith.  Fer. 
I looked thus to be laughed at, my estate  
And fortunes I confess, deserves no less;  
That made me so unwilling to denounce  
Mine own derisions, but alas I find  
No Nation, sex, complexion, birth, degree.  
But jest at want, and mock at misery.  Petr. 
Love me?  Fer. 
I do, I do, and maugre Fate,  
And spite of all sinister evil shall.  
And now I charge you, by that filial zeal  
You owe your father, by the memory  
Of your dear mother, by the joys you hope  
In blessed marriage, by the fortunate issue  
Stored in your womb, by these and all things else,  
That you can style with goodness: instantly,  
Without evasion, trick, or circumstance,  
Nay, lest premeditation, answer me.  
Affect you me, or no?  Petro. 
How speak you that?  Fer. 
Without demur or pause.  Petr. 
Give me but time  
To sleep upon't.  Fer. 
I pardon you no minute, not so much  
As to apparel the least phrase you speak,  
Speak in the shortest sentence.  Petr. 
You have vanquished me  
At mine own weapon: noble sir, I love you:  
And what my heart durst never tell my tongue  
lest it should blab my thoughts, at last I speak  
And iterate, I love you.  Fer. 
Oh, my happiness  
What wilt thou feel me still? art thou not weary  
Of making me thy May-game to possess me  
Of such a treasure's mighty magazine,  
Not suffer me t' enjoy't, ta'en with this hand,  
With that to get another.  Petr. 
You are sad Sir,  
Be so no more, it you have been dejected  
It lies in me to mount you to that height,  
You could not aim at greater, I am yours.  
These lips that only witness it in air  
Now with this truth confirm it.  Kisses her Fer. 
I was borne to 't,  
And it shall out at once.  Petr. 
Sir, you seem passionate,  
As if my answer pleased not.  Fer. 
Now my death,  
For mine own tongue must kill me, noble Lady.  Enter Valladaura. 
You have endeared me to you, but my vow  
Was ne'er to match with any of what state  
Or birth soever, till before the contract,  
Some one thing I impose her.  Petr. 
she to do't?  Fer. 
Or if she fail me in my first demand  
I to abjure her ever.  Petr. 
I am she.  
That beg to be implied so, name a danger  
Whose very face would fright all womanhood,  
And manhood put in trance, nay whose aspect  
Would ague such, as should but hear it told:  
But to the sad beholder, prove like those  
That gazed upon Medusa's snaky locks,  
And turned them into Marble: These and more  
Should you but speak't I'd do.  Ferrers. 
And swear to this?  Petro. 
I vow it by my honour, my best hopes  
And all that I wish gracious, name it then,  
For I am in a longing in my soul,  
To show my love's expression.  Fer. 
You shall then,  Petro. 
I'll do't as I am a Virgin.  
Lie it within mortality, I'll do't.  Fer. 
You shall?  Petro. 
I will: that which appears in you  
So terrible to speak, I'll joy to act,  
And take pride in performance.  Ferr. 
Then you shall.  Petro. 
What? Soldier, What?  Ferr. 
Love noble Valladaura,  
And at his soonest appointment marry him.  Petro. 
Unkind man, thou hast killed me.  Fer. 
And my self with the same stroke.  Valladau. 
Oh, Noble Englishman,  
Thou now appear'st a mirror.  Petro. 
But in this,  
Pray Sir can you be serious?  Fer. 
As I would in death unto my Confessor.  Petro. 
Then I am lost,  
Now baser than this fellow termed himself,  
To him that was on earth most miserable:  
I am now become a Vassal, Nay, despised,  
I that but once today, thought myself rival,  
For face and virtue, to the peerless Queen,  
Both these have prostituted to a slave,  
To be more slave than he, but shall he thus  
Behold in me this passion to usurp  
Triumph in my disgrace, and boast abroad  
Of this so poor a conquest? No Peirocella recollect thyself,  
Preserve thy honour, though against thy spirit,  
And where thy heart is sick, complain thy heel,  
Let not thy seene grief please him.  Fer. 
Home and retire, Why should you strive thus  
to undo one that's already conquered?  Petro. 
Poor exile! oh, with what slight attribute  
Shall I devise to give thee expression?  
Thou all that baseness thou hast termed thyself,  
Thou look'st now I should whine and pale and weep  
Hang 'bout thy neck, submit, and kneel for grace,  
As if thou wert that brave man so reported!  
Know I am no such Creature, neither think I  
There can be aught good in thee, saving this  
Which was the last, that thou hast plighted me,  
To one more worthy one, whose very shadow  
I prize, above thy being, one whose actions  
Were never taxed in any thing save this  
To ransom such a— what thou knowest thyself  
Him I'll both love and marry, hence, depart:  
Oh heaven, how far my tongue speaks from my heart!  Fer. 
I would 'twere but a dream, than there were hope  
I might be once a wake and so see day,  
But night is lodged within me, night perpetual  
Darker than the Cimmerian, all my lights  
Have only been mere flashes that precede  
Tempestuous cracks of thunder.  Valla. 
Now 'tis time  
To rouse him from his slumber, worthy friend  
How have you sped this day in my behalf?  Fer. 
As you would wish.  Valla. 
You need not speak't again.  
You aver no more than what my ears have witnessed,  
In which you have used such fidelity,  
I needs most freely must acquit all debts  
Twixt you and me, and there Ingeniously  
Confess myself in rearage.  Ferr. 
Oh I still,  
And evermore, must owe you.  Valla. 
But If you,  
Would add a second to this courtesy,  
I should report you for the constantest friend  
That ever strived to exceed in gratitude.  Ferr. 
Name it I pray you, having one thing done,  
I now am in at all things.  Valla. 
Upon your honour.  Ferr. 
That which you have bought,  
And paid for, with your money.  Valla. 
That no more,  
I charge you by our love.  Ferr. 
Why, I have done:  
What I shall ever rue, may give it motion,  
I being new all for action.  Valla. 
Only this,  
For some occasions to myself best known,  
And which I now entreat you not inquire,  
But prosecute, that Priest shall marry us:  
For your disguise, and all things fitting to't,  
Leave it to my discretion to contrive,  
And this is all I enjoin.  Ferr. 
And this I'll do.  Valla. 
And bind me to you ever.  Ferr. 
I am in,  
Past half already, why not up toth' chin?  Exeunt. Enter Sebastian, and Isabella, Centella and Pineda, with other Followers and Attendants. Sebast. 
Centella and Pineda, we have long  
Mourned for your absence, had not our bright Queen  
Made us acquainted with th' intent thereof,  
we had not took it of you subject-like,  
You so unfriendly, left us without leave,  
But you are nobly welcome.  Isabel. 
As the men,  
Have crowned us with a wreath, of rarer worth,  
Then can the united births of Spain and Portugal  
Maintain to us: they make us still supreme,  
And we by them find no Competitor,  
The token that confirms infallibly,  
That beauty stands corrupted.  Cent. 
Sacred Empress,  
Behold the Ring: the manner how she fell,  
How easily, and with what facility,  
She yielded almost at the first demand,  
we shall relate at full.  Isabel. 
Forbear Centella, for to vex him more,  
It shall be in his hearing; one of you  
Release him from the torment of his Prison,  
To endure a greater here: And might Prince,  
Give me but leave, since he so proudly durst  
Deprave our worth to spite, nor all his grief,  
And triumph in his wilful misery.  Sebast. 
You speak but what is just and necessary,  
In others to deter the like presumption,  
I pray sir reprehend him, you cannot be too bitter  
In his Just reprehension.  Enter Bonavida and his man, brought in by Pineda. Cent. 
See, he's come.  Isabel. 
we have sent to prove your Mistress.  Bona. 
And her constancy  
Hath purchased my release, Is't not so Madam?  Isabel. 
we are put down; I feared if any climb  
Could yield rarity to equal ours,  
It would be found in England.  Bona. 
So I said,  
And Royal Mistress, had you seen that face,  
And made such proof, as I did of her heart,  
You would esteem it no disgrace at all,  
To honour her, that's your sole paragon,  Isa. 
Impudent slave—  
But we'll contain our spleen; but 'tis my grief  
To be excelled in both; to have failed in one,  
Had been the less vexation.  Bona. 
Oh, my fair Helena!  
Thou hast filled my soul with rapture, and released me  
From melancholy durance; Madam what were they  
That made this happy trial, and informed you  
That truth, to make her this acknowledgement?  Isable. 
Behold them: these are the witnesses  
Of my disgrace through Spain.  Bona. 
They're noble Lords,  
By whose approved censures, you have made,  
Here highness to confess mine injuries.  
At you return, in what plight did you leave  
Th' unequalled Lady?  Cent. 
Faith, in health of body.  Bona. 
Be proud my genius on't.  Pin. 
And lusty wondrous lusty.  Bona. 
Was she seen?  Cent. 
yes seen, and felt, and heard, and understood,  
We found her a Noun Substantive.  Bona. 
Oh, my blood! why fliest thou from my heart?  Cent. 
yet she stood,  
And by herself too, when she was alone,  
But lighting upon company she leaked,  
Poor prostitute, she fell.  Bona 
Unriddle me, and let me know thy meaning.  Cent. 
Then in plain— your Mistress is a Whore.  Bona. 
Centalla spak't.  Cent. 
And will make't good, More Bonavida, mine,  
My prostitute, most base and mercenary,  
Bowing her lust beneath the price of gold,  
For a few Spanish Ryalls.  Bona. 
Oh, my rage!  
Whether wilt thou transport me? Villain, Dog,  
False and unworthy and noble style,  
Scarce th' attribute of man,  Cent. 
Oh, Sir, anon I hope you'll have more patience,  Bona. 
Patience Devil?  
Let it flee to th' Antipodes, and we  
Wraste in wrath and fury, that base lie  
I'll stab with my stiletto down thy throat,  
And make thee swallow both.  Pin.. 
you are now heated: a little pause will cool you.  Bona. 
King, 'tis false,  
Believe him not great Princess, 'tis injust;  
Unless an Angel should descend and speak't,  
And for an instance straight produce that Ring.  
It wins with me no credence.  Isabel. 
Know you that?  Bona. 
Ha, this— I do, and therewithal dare swear  
That there's no faith in woman.  Isa. 
Ha, ha, ha: what thinks he great censorious carper now?  Bona. 
That there's not one (give my allegiance leave)  
I durst suspect even you, since she is fall'n.  Isable. 
Ha; what of us?  Bona. 
That I have calumnised,  
Your fame and virtue, that I merit death,  
That I am now professed Antagonist,  
(Saving your majesty) to all your sex,  
That I am weary now the air I breath,  
And should you grant it Madam, would not live,  
That I no batter than a Traitor am,  
And in the highest degree, have injured these,  
Buy most, your sacred self: if for all these  
You do not mount me on the public scaffold,  
I will lay violent hands upon my self:  
I beg my merited doom, my sentence crave,  
Which with severest rigour let me have.  Isa. 
We limit thee two days for thy repentance,  
The three's thy death.  Bona. 
My Helena prove base?  
Mount thoughts towards heaven, you have on earth no place.  Sebast. 
He hath but what he merits.  Isabel. 
And great prince,  
Now boast yourself 'bove Brutus, Collatine.  
Or those most famous for their constant wives,  
And I myself unequalled and unpeered  
May on the earth a blazing Comet shine,  
Seeming 'mongst others terren sole divine.  
Our trusty friends and subjects henceforth live  
In our highest grace, and trust: how we will right  
You that for zeal to us have injured been  
In our apparent justice shall be seen.  Exeunt. Enter Petrocella, Valladaura. Vall. 
You sent for me.  Petro. 
I did, to tell thee a word of which no ear is worthy but thine own, I love thee.  Vall. 
Possible, vexation should take new shapes to haunt me, you love me, come, this jest might pass upon one of Cupid's fashions, but I being a found Sophister in the art, am too familiar with our fallacies, to credit them or you.  Petro. 
Let not your comming betray your folly, though it be common with Ladies, 'twould show very ill a Courtier. I confess I seemed strange to you, till I was acquainted with your worth.  Val. 
How grew that acquaintance, 'twas without my knowledge?  Pet. 
Not to dissemble, some impulsive nuntioes have wrought very strangely for you but examine not particulars: suffice, I say I love you and you dare not take my word, I can put you in no better security.  Val. 
I desire none, only, but silence, you have vouchsafed me a happiness, beyond merit or expectation.  Petr. 
Y'are the more beholding to me, and courtesy that comes from a woman freely, is worth twenty pleasures enforced, neither would I have you tax my love of immodesty: nor think I purpose to make you pay for the nursery of another man's pleasure, though it be common with some at Court; I have a kind of thing within me called conscience, only I love you, and out of a compassionate charity purpose to marry you.  Enter Aldana, Pineda, Centella, Ferrers like a Churchman. Vall. 
H'as done't to purpose, I know not how to take you Lady.  Petro. 
e'en as you find me, that's with more faults than virtues but see, my father and some of my best friends, to whom I have read the story of my love, come in person to dispatch the Nuptials.  Vall. 
Then I presume y'are earnest, sir I must call you father.  Ald. 
And never miscall me, if she be thy wife as I think she will be.  Vall. 
With your consent.  Ald. 
Get hers, it's not a straw matter for mine, and yet to make her no worse than she is, I must needs say she will do any thing she list herself in spite of my beard, my further Honour still: but take her to thee, I thought so, as soon as ever I saw thee smack, I knew 'twould prove a match and now 'tis out, my further honour still.  Petr. 
Out before 'tis throughly lighted? such matches were ne'er kindled at Hymen's altar, have you sufficient certificate of my love now?  Vall. 
Yes sweet, and now my resolution's wings  
File with some Feathers: thou the man must join us?  Fer. 
Yes, and divide myself from happiness, this hand  
Must forth my bosom pluck a blessedness  
And place it in another's,— are you ready?  Vall. 
To shake thine Honour, which 'gins faint already,  
We are, set on, let music speak aloud,  
At such chaste Unions jove himself is proud.  Music sounds, while Ferrers in the habit of a Churchman joins them, they all exit. Fer. 
Awake? or in a dream? I hope the last,  
The god of marriage would not see his shrine.  
So much abused, the hallowed lights burn out  
Themselves in anger, and the Covenant Book  
Dropped down for shame, my hand shook, and my tongue  
Like a false evidence before a judge  
Faltered, and gave itself the lie, and yet  
My treacherous heart agreed to't, and this habit,  
Oh, could I throw my grief as easily from me,  
As I do thee, ne'er did religious share,  
Countenance or shelter such a horrid act.  Enter Valladaura. Vall. 
Friend Ferrers—  Fer. 
Ha? that very accent, friend,  
gives my faint fears the he, and writes my act  
Noble and lawful: had I given him my life  
'twas but his own.  Vall. 
Will not this Marble weep?  
Nor shed a tear yet? Not? he quite outdares me,  
In noble courtesies, all my attempts  
Like curses shall against the wind fly back  
In mine own face and soil it. Noble Ferrers  
Thy manly undertakings half persuade me  
Thou art more than man.  Fer. 
Mine? 'las, I have done nothing.  
Worthy your least good thought: if you (or hell)  
Can find a service to enjoin your slavs  
More hard (or damnable) that may become  
(The Devil to will) a servant to effect,  
Urge one more trial.  Vall. 
And with that I'll claim thee  
King of thyself and thy affections.  
And thus it is, for reasons yet concealed  
And strangely working in my mutinous thoughts,  
I would, and yet 'tis a request nor fitting  
Me to enjoin, nor thee to practise.  Fer. 
Name it.  
And if I do't not—  Vall. 
I am ashamed to own it,  
'tis so uncomely and beyond the strength  
Of man to act: yet in a word, this night  
Thou shalt (denie't not) under my name and habit,  
Sleep in my marriage sheets and with my wife.  Fer. 
Sleep with your wife? and is that all?  Vall. 
Yes, all  
That I allow, if after I shall prove,  
Thou art unchaste, so much as in a kiss,  
All thy past worth is blemished, never demand  
The reason on't, that's buried.  Ferr. 
I will do't; sleep with your wife? I'll do I,  
No eunuch like me.  Valla. 
she's now gone to her Chamber.  
Ladies and all have left her, under this cloud,  
Go shroud thyself.  Ferr. 
'Tis done,  
howe'er I rest, I'll rise bright honour's son  Exeunt.  

Actus quintus. Scaena prima.  Enter Valladaura, Aldana, and Pineda, Centella. Pine. 
WHat disturbs Valladaura?  Alda. 
What means my son?  Valla. 
To run, and roar, and bellow.  Cent. 
You are not mad?  Valla. 
As the great beast called Bull; Oh the cramp, the cramp!  Alda. 
Where?  Valla. 
Here, there, everywhere, in my Cry, my Mouth, my tongue, pull, and you love me pull.  Pine. 
Where?  Valla. 
In the middle there.  Alda. 
What do you mean?  Valla. 
Show you a true Emblem of myself, I am married.  Alda. 
True, to my daughter.  Valla. 
Yes, to a strumpet, to a lascivious strumpet, not possible to draw on my wedding shoes without a horn.  Alda. 
You are too dark.  Valla. 
And your daughter too light.  Omnes. 
Speak your griefs fully.  Valla. 
As patience, not suffer me this piece  
Of frailty, cut out of the heart of beauty,  
Where I so loved, as it was doubtful whether  
She or my life were dearer to me; she  
Whom by me married, is this night  
Clasped with a stranger: makes her father's house  
The wedding chamber, and her nuptial sheets  
Reek to adulterate pleasure—  Alda. 
Little to my honour, and this be true;  Valla. 
Would, oh my lost life, I could prove it false,  
Fates not so merciful; late up at revels;  
I will not say some of her sect of late  
plied me with wine, to give her purpose food,  
But healths flew round, and with full wing, and still  
I was their aim:  
They missed their aim though; and yet but a fairer  
as soon as opportunity served me:  
Unseen I lest 'em, and by a private key,  
Went to my Chamber, where I said, I'll dare call her  
Neither my wife, nor Bride; your lustful daughter.  Alda. 
Doing no hurt, I hope she has more care of him then so.  Valla. 
Wearied with pleasure, she lies fast asleep,  
Laid in a stranger's arms, sh'as stayed my speech,  
'Thas dimmed mine eyes from sight, and patience,  
Restrained my head from fury: what he is, or whence,  
I neither know nor question.  Alda. 
I commend ye, my daughter a whore, make my house a stews, and her father a pander; is this all the honour she doth me?  Pine. 
Dishonoured above sufferance.  Alda. 
Wine, and a strumpet, were there no hope of generation, but in her only, this hand should be her hangman: a whore on her wedding night, There's more modesty contemned in a Gore, strumpet, whore, I will not call her daughter, I'll lose her, Will you lead the way?  Valla. 
Your pardon, I am so mildly tempered, the expense Of one cheap tear, would buy her pardon; had her fault stroke at my life; If you intend revenge, Do't in my absence.  Alda. 
thouart a chicken, leave us, tho' a father's name, I'll bear a lion's heart, break open the doors, strumpet, why Impudence, break ope the door—  Petr. 
Whom do you seek?  Enter Petrocella with a bloody poniard Alda. 
A strumpet, thee, a— I can't devise a name bad enough for thee.  Fetr. 
I'll give myself one, call me murderess;  
A Name I am proud of.  Valla. 
Ha?  Al. 
She has saved us a labour; what means this bloody poniard?  Petr. 
read in my brow, do you not see his name  
Writ in red letters?  Alda. 
I see none: whose? what name?  Petr. 
Base Valladaura's—  Alda. 
Thy Husband?  Pert. 
He was never mine: for tho' you joined our hands,  
My heart ne'er tie a man to 't; and however duty  
Lives at command, Love cannot be enforced,  
And rather than live bound to one I love not,  
I have bought my freedom with his life.  Valla. 
False woman?  Petr. 
Alive again! blessed star—  Valla. 
I ne'er was dead,  
But thou hast killed a man, whom to have saved,  
Had I a thousand lives, I'd lose them all:  
O valiant Ferrers, a more Noble Gentleman  
Never drew air.  Omnes. 
The English man?  Valla. 
The wonder,  
And abstract of all virtues: did you but know  
What bold and noble Passages of honour,  
He for my sake, with danger hazarded,  
You would have thought there were more deity,  
Than man within him—  Petr. 
Choked in my revenge,  
This joys me yet, that though Il missed thy life,  
I reached thy friends.  Valla. 
My friend indeed: and one,  
That didst but know how ardently he loved  
Thee Tiger, thee, his cruel murderer,  
thou'dst curse thy hand, and hate thy bloody self,  
For thy not loving him.  Alda. 
If he were so loving to her, and honourable to you what business had he in your Chamber?  Vall. 
Much, and far more than ever was in man,  
But passing many unmatched courtesies,  
In honour's duel, when I all hope had lost,  
Ever to win the—  Petr. 
That slave wooed me for you, so much the sweeter by that, The thought of my revenge.  Valla. 
To try him further, In a churchman's habit,  
Although he loved thee dearer than his life,  
At my entreat he married us.  Petr. 
White-livered peasant,  
I have given him a due recompense.  Valla. 
But last,  
And it may stand, writ in the Roll of time,  
A daring challenge to all Ages.  Pine. 
You sent him to bed to your wife.  Petro. 
Which tho' I hated him, I must acknowledge  
Him noble that way.  Valla. 
Every way; the World  
Has lost a jewel, not to be regained  
By loss of twenty Worlds.  Cent. 
But to what purpose did you send him to your wife's bed?  Valla. 
My purpose was, having once passed that trial,  
To have made you man and wife.  Alda. 
How could that be, when you were married before?  Valla. 
she was never mine, the marriage was not lawful,  
Done by a Layman; But man's fate, 'tis thrown  
Above his reach, our hopes are not our own.  Petr. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Valla. 
Dost laugh at sorrow?  Petr. 
Would you have me turn Crocodile, and weep, Ferrers, Mont Ferrers, prithee come help me to laugh a little.  Enter Ferrers. Valla. 
Ferrers! my friend alive?  Petr. 
By this blood of a Turtle, and that's a chaste oath, he never did.  Valla. 
Hast failed thy promise, and abused my trust?  Petr. 
Do but name the word, abuse by love, and I'll kill him indeed; what should he do? He came to bed, and for his eyes take, slept with me, yet ne'er so much as kissed me, but I confess, I gave him twenty.  Valla. 
To quittance with him thus, I give him thy hand.  Ferr. 
I ask no more, I have her heart already.  Petr. 
Have heart and faith, Noble Mont Ferrers.  Alda. 
My daughter chaste, my house honest, and noble Ferrers my Son-in-law; this happens to my further honour indeed.  Pine. 
Noble of all sides, and so for joy of your friendly agreement, the Amorous sun is come to give you a hunts-up.  Cent. 
Aurora looks red at that, but with the new light, new business meets us, Bonavida's Execution.  Pine. 
Ten o'clock, is the last hour his life has to reckon.  Alda. 
Please you take part of a short breakfast, we will accompany you.  Valla. 
Come Ferrers, now all Trials are confirmed  
In this Embrace.  Fer. 
You have been ever noble.  Exeunt. Enter Manhurst, Hellen, and her Maid page-like. Helle. 
This then is Spain, into which continent  
You promised to conduct me.  Manh. 
Yes, it is.  Helle. 
And what this City's name?  Manh. 
Civil, the chief of Spain; where I presume  
You never were till now.  Helle. 
As I remember: I never was in Civil, but being here,  
How shall we best dispose us?  Manh. 
Doubt not me: I'll fit you with a lodging;  
here's a Spaniard, I'll sound him to that purpose.  Enter the Clown. Clow. 
Trust a Woman? trust thy mortgage to an Usurer, thy shoulder to the Mace, or thy bare back to the Beadle, thou wilt be whipped on all sides; a Woman?  Helle. 
This fellow, as I recollect myself,  
Was servant to the noble Bonavida.  Rosa. 
I know him, 'tis the same.  Clow. 
Why are they called fair, but that they are like a Fair where every one sets up shop, and any man may buy for his money? why lovely, but to denote unto us, they lie when they tell a man they love him? why chaste? unless from Coast to country, and from Constable to Constable: Why Virgin? but that they are merely gins and snares to entangle poor men in: why, when a man courts them; do they cry, away, away? but only to tell a man that there is a way, if he have the wit to find it. Oh, Women, Women, foemineo gentri tribuuntur Propria quae Maribus.  Man. 
This fellow I perceive's a Satirist  
Against the Feminine Sex Save thee, my friend.  Clow. 
From Women and I care not, for there's against them no standing.  Helle. 
Is there in them such danger?  Clow. 
Danger, I find but a little in that face, and 'tis a face able to outface the best face in Spain. A face that I have been face to face with, before now, but 'tis so long since I cannot tell when and we have travelled so many Countries I cannot guess where, Are you a stranger fair Lady?  Helle. 
Yes, and a traveller.  Clow. 
I love you the better for that, for indeed I myself have seen Countries, and I see no reason, but that if both parties were agreed we two might lie together by Authority.  Man. 
Why I have travelled too—  Clow. 
Alas, poor fellow, thou look'st not with the face, but if thou canst give me but the true fashions and descriptions of Countries, or my friend, with me you can purchase no Credit. Man. I shall and thus in brief too.  

The Song.  
THe Spaniard loves his ancient Slop.  
A Lombard the Venetian:  
And some like breechless women go,  
The Rush, Turk, jew, and Grecian.  
The thrifty Frenchman wears small waste,  
The Dutch his belly boasteth,  
The Englishman is for the they all all,  
And for each fashion coasteth.  
The Turk in Linen wraps his head.  
The Persian his in Lawn toe,  
The Rush with sables furs his Cap  
And change will not be drawn to.  
The spaniard's constant to his block,  
The French inconstant ever,  
But of all Felts that may be felt,  
Give me your English Beaver.  
The German loves his coney-wool,  
The Irishman his shag too,  
The Welsh his Monmouth loves to wear,  
And of the same will brag too.  
Some love the rough and some the smoothe,  
Some great and others small things,  
But O your liquorish English man,  
He loves to deal in all things.  
The Rush drinks quaff, Dutch Lubeck's beer,  
And that is strong and mighty,  
The Britain he metheglin quaffs,  
The Irish Aquavitae.  
The French affects the Orleans grape,  
The Spaniard sips his Sherry,  
The English none of these can scape,  
But he with all makes merry.  
The Italian in her high chopine,  
Scotch lass, and lovely Froe too,  
The Spanish Donna, French Madam,  
He doth net fear to go to.  
Nothing so full of hazard, dread,  
Nought lives above the Centre,  
No health, no fashion, wine or wench,  
On which he dare not venture.   Clow. 
God-a-mercy for this in faith, and were it not that the grief, for my Noble Master's death, and that tomorrow too—  Helle. 
Why, hast thou a master to suffer?  Clow. 
Yes, and about a face too that would have served the turn, if the heart had been correspondent. If you have a mind to see the pitiful spectacle, I'll help you to a place, where you shall have room to see, leisure to lament, and time to shed tears.  Helle. 
Strange, most strange, I will inquire this further,  
Ith' mean time, canst help us to a lodging?  Clow. 
Yes, especially for such a face. If you desire a strong one, to a prison. If you would lie cheap and save charges, 'tis but speaking treason, and I'll help you to be billeted, at the king's castle.  Enter Bonavida with Officers, and executioner. Bona. 
The Queen plays with my death,  
And bids me act a bold Tragedians part,  
To which, such moving action I will give,  
That it shall glaze this Theater round with tears,  
And all that shall behold me on this stage,  
Pitying my fate: shall tax her cruelty,  
And to the Spanish Chronicles let this a add,  
That he whose tongue hath justified their sex,  
Whose sword hath coped brave Champions for their fame  
Whose travels have been to maintain their honours,  
And of their virtues to give large approof,  
That he, whose labour was their praise t'uphold,  
Should by a woman fall; a fair false woman:  
And be it not the least stain to that Country,  
That she was bred in England.  Sound, Enter Sebastian, Isabella, Ferrers, Valladaura, Aldana, Pineda, Petrocella, &c. Sebast. 
The character you have given that noble stranger,  
His valour, faith, and friendship Valladaura,  
So deeply hath impressed us: that we are pleased,  
To see him matched into a noble house,  
And we from henceforth shall account him ours.  Isabel. 
Fair Petrocella, we commend your choice,  
For if renown bath blazoned him aright.  
Spain it could scarce have bettered: we have stored  
Favours for you, and high respect for him,  
Which leisure shall make known: but to the Prisoner,  
That's now our present business: Seat you Lords,  
Pineda, you next us.  Bona. 
Queen here's your sport,  
And this the mark you aim at: yet in this  
Deal gently with me, do not mock my death,  
And I'll expose my life as willingly,  
As in my ripest joys and best of pleasures.  
In love which most I wish to have preserved,  
Nor trouble me with vain intergatories  
To turn my soul (in the high road to heaven  
Into some dangerous by-path) grant but this,  
My death I freely pardon.  Isabel. 
Those small minutes  
You have to spend, are at your own desires,  
No tongue shall interrupt you.  Bonavid. 
Now you are kind:  
I now with what prepared speed I can  
Will come to kiss my Fate.  Prepares for death. Enter Manhurst, Helena, and the Maid. Man. 
Come Lady, if we press not through the throng  
we shall not get to th'hearing.  Helle. 
'Mongst all these Courtiers, point me our the man?  Maid. 
That Picke-devant that elbows next the Queen.  Helle. 
Enough, no more.  Bona. 
Now farewell Royal Sovereign and great Queen,  
Unto whose high and sacred Majesty  
My forfeit head thus stoops: and best loved Peers,  
I only wish this blood you shall see drawn  
Had dropped before the common enemy,  
The barbarous Turk: in some just Christian cause  
Not in this feminine quarrel. I had then  
Died a crowned Martyr: that offendor like  
Now bow to th' Axe of justice: farewell to  
Thee, for whose love I undergo this shame,  
May thy repentance for thy guilt beg pardon,  
That we may meet in blessed Elysium,  
There our souls kiss together: Farewell world,  
Grown so corrupt, thou wilt not suffer Virtue  
And Beauty roof together: may thy charity  
Guide me to yond safe harbour. Thus I fall  
Beneath my offences, and take leave of—  Helle. 
Stay.  Isabel. 
Who interupts our justice?  Helle. 
As you are Royal,  
And worthy of those honours arch your head,  
Defer that bloody business now in hand,  
To right an injured woman.  Manh. 
What means this?  Sebast. 
A lovely and sweet presence.  Ferr. 
That apparition transports me into wonder.  Isabel. 
A rare aspect; had she a suiting virtue,  
Pineda, I should half suspect my challenge,  
And willingly compound.  Pine. 
Most Divine Princess,  
Should they mere here, I should not blame your fears,  
Since th'one appears to be incomparable.  Sebast. 
What seek you from this throne?  Helle. 
That in which Kings  
Resemble most the Gods: justice.  Isabel. 
'Gainst whom?  Helle. 
Against a Felon, robber! a base thief.  
Harboured in this your Court.  Sebast. 
If such live here,  
As we are King, we banish him our patronage.  
And yield him up to sentence: first, fair creature,  
Give your name, your birth, and quality.  Helle. 
My Nation foreign: birth, not high degreed,  
Nor every way ignoble: for my quality,  
Some that resume to know me, call me Libertine,  
Wanton and wild wench; nay, a Courtesan:  
But were I looser than ere Lais was,  
It should not bar me justice.  Sebast. 
Thou shalt hait.  Ferr. 
That word quaked all the blood within my veins,  
And agues all my nerves.  Pine. 
You keep your own yet madam.  Isabel. 
And of that,  
Pineda, I am proud, infinite proud,  
I ne'er was pleased with any's, fin till now;  
It makes me still unpeered.  Sebast. 
Speak, what's your wrong?  Helle. 
See you this pantofle?  
'twas a rich pair, till the base felony,  
Of one of this your Court divided them;  
For being lodged, and nobly entertained,  
Was not alone content to vitiate  
Both fame and body, and to take full surfeit  
Of that my prostitution, but unworthy  
The title of a noble Gentleman,  
He stole the slipper there, that fellows this,  
Valued at no less than a Thousand Crowns.  Sebast. 
And cheaply rated too, find out the man,  
And be he one enthroned in our highest grace,  
He shall be thine to censure.  Isab. 
Take survey,  
Make strict inquiry, single men by men:  
For mine own part, so much I grieve thy loss,  
And his base theft abhor, that were't the man  
Upon whose shoulder we did use to lean,  
Severity should judge him.  Helle. 
You are all gracious,  
And I'll make bold to use the benefit  
Of this your Clemency.  Ferr. 
Oh that some whirlwind would but snatch me up,  
And bear me to a desert wilderness,  
Where never man was known, to sunder me  
So far, If not much further, from my shame.  Petr. 
Pray sir, why should this beauty trouble you.  
If one of your acquaintance.  Ferr. 
I hope Lady, you are not jealous, are you?  Helle. 
Sir look up: you are no whit like the man.  Bona 
But she the woman,  
For whom the sword thus thirsts: is this a vision?  
Or else some waking dream.  Helle. 
And have I found thee villain? Thinkest thou Majesty can be protection for a common thief?  
This is that base felonious impudent,  
Shame to his Nation, scandal to his birth,  
And a disgrace unto that Royal Court,  
In which he seems protected.  Pine. 
Ha, who I?  Isabel. 
Pineda guilty; shall we bolster theft,  
And patronage dishonour.  Helle. 
justice Queen,  
justice great sir, let not this high tribunal.  
So famous by that Virgin, sent from heaven,  
That bears the sword and balance, now be taxed  
Of favour, or connivance.  Sebast. 
As we hope,  
To be held worthy of the Crown we wear,  
Thou shalt not find us partial.  Isabel. 
Hence from us,  
For till thou canst approve thine Innocence,  
And clear this black aspersion thrown on thee,  
we here abandon thee, to the severity  
Of the law's rigorous censure.  Pine. 
You amaze me,  
Nor know I what this means.  Helle. 
I challenge then this man for stealing from me  
The fellow to this slipper.  Pine. 
Of which crime,  
I here protest me clear: Name the time where.  Helle. 
That night, when I became thy Paramour,  
breasted thee, in these arms received thee  
Into my free Embraces, and imparted  
The lavish store of such voluptuous sweets,  
I lent with all profuseness  Pine. 
I do this!  
Madam, by all my favours stored in you,  
I never looked upon that face till now;  
Nor do I know what this Imposture means.  Helle. 
What saith my Page to this?  Maid. 
That 'tis most false,  
And what my Lady here protests for true,  
That, noble fit, I'm witness, as a man  
To all his unjust actions accessary.  Contel. 
Produce me as a party? May this presence,  
And awful Throne, 'fore which I stand accused,  
Pronounce me as a man forsook and lost,  
If in the least of what these two suggest,  
I have the smallest knowledge.  Sebast. 
Both ways strange.  Pine. 
Bring me in censure? by that royalty,  
Beneath whose grace I breathe, she is to me  
As foreign as an Indian: and her cause  
As far from my acquaintance: by my life,  
Which ne'er before a more Royal Court,  
Could have been called in question: what she is,  
I know not: of what Nation, birth, degree;  
How, or from whence derived, what continent,  
Or from what place she's come; she may be Turk,  
But More she cannot be, she is so fair,  
she's strange to me, yet somewhat should I say;  
To breast with her, I might as well have done it  
With a Bear, or lioness: Madam with her  
I vow I never did.  Helle. 
Give me thy oath of that.  Pine. 
I can, and dare.  Cent. 
And I as willingly,  
That I was never second to a man,  
In any such false business.  Helle. 
Let them swear.  Isabel. 
They shall.  Pine. 
we will.  Bona. 
This is a conflict worse.  
Then in the sad duel 'tween death and life,  
When neither's certain, both in difficulty,  
As it is now with me I pray ha' done  
That I were posted to your Country, there  
To finish all my Travels.  Helle. 
Both have sworn:  
And Princes, as you hope to crown your heads  
With that perpetual wreath, which shall last ever,  
Cast on a poor dejected innocent Virgin  
Your eyes, of grace and pity: what sin is't?  
Or who can be the patron to such evil?  
That a poor innocent Maid, spotless in thought,  
And pure in heart, borne without spleen and gall:  
That never injured creature: never had heart  
To think of wrong, or ponder injury;  
That such a one in her white innocence,  
Striving to live peculiar in the compass  
Of her own virtues, Notwithstanding these  
Should be sought out by strangers, persecuted  
Made infamous, even there where she was made  
For imitation, hissed at in her Country,  
Abandoned of her mother, kindred, friends:  
Depraved in foreign Climes, scorned everywhere,  
And even in PRINCE's Courts, reputed vile:  
O pity, pity this.  Sebast. 
Thou speak'st enigmas woman, and haste need  
To find a Sphinx to explain them.  Helle. 
Then behold.  
The strangest calling imposed on me  
That ere was laid on Virgin; I am she  
For whom this noble Sir hath undertook.  
And wrongly stands convicted, this that body  
So stained and sullied by these barbarous tongues,  
That even in scolding lies justice, for heaven  
Hath forced them to swear truth, they never saw me,  
How am I then polluted gracious Queen?  
How can such find competitors in virtue,  
That will not give it countenance: had those murdered me,  
As they have killed my same and havocked that,  
A pitied and crowned martyr I had died,  
That am in censure now, a condemned heretic,  
And mere Apostate to all womanhood;  
And what I ever made my precedent,  
Sincerity and goodness: Villains blush,  
And Sir, out gaze their falsehood, Queen be just;  
lest in the ocean of that prize you steal,  
You shipwreck all your glories.  Sebast. 
'Tis most strange:  Isabel. 
We know you not,  
Give us some lively instance, y'are the woman.  Helle. 
How should I know that Ring to be the same  
Of which my credulous maid was by these two  
Cheated and robbed, most treacherously betrayed;  
That carcanet you wear, peruse it well,  
Hath both my name and picture. Marks sufficient  
To prove me no imposter. Doth your guilt.  
Bow you so low already? let your penitence  
There stay you, lest your sin's weight cleave the earth,  
And sink you down to hell.  Bona. 
What prostrates them  
Mounts me to expectations: my blessed choice,  
Now I have seen thy apparent innocence,  
Queen I shall die contented.  Isabel. 
Oh, till now,  
I never thought to be vanquished.  Pin. 
Pox on that slipper.  Fer. 
Stand you all mute? then give me leave to speak.  Petr. 
Sir, what doth this concern you?  Fer. 
Woman, peace.  Helle. 
Oh sit, you are my brother.  Fer. 
Strumpet hence,  
Would I had never known thee, thou hast made me  
A foreign scorn, and where I aim at honour  
Most infamous and loathed, this vitiated beauty  
Even by her own confession late deflowered  
I beg from this most sacred Majesty,  
To see severely chastised: being English  
To have that English shame and punishment,  
Due to the like offenders.  Sebast. 
she stands cleared  
By her accusers silence.  Fer. 
This may be  
A mere confederacy, but to my fears  
At all no satisfaction, her own tongue  
Hath published her a mechal prostitute,  
And that is my first truth.  Vall. 
I pray Sir,  
What is this matchless beauty unto you,  
Being already in yourself engaged  
To this fair Creature, that this stranger's case  
Should any way be yours.  Fer. 
Spain's admiration.  
And wonder of a friend, I dare to you  
Be plain and serious: to all others ears I  
Wish my words locked in silence: Oh, with shame  
And infamy I speak it, desiring heaven  
'T might be my last of speech, this thing, polluted  
This (would I had aught else to style her by)  
But needs out, out it must, she is my— my Sister.  Vall. 
Flesh and blood?  Fer. 
The same, Oh me, the same, my natural Sister.  Vall. 
Father and mother?  Fer. 
So.  Vall. 
You are not honest,  
And now no more my friend: I do begin  
To doubt you, nay most heinously suspect you,  
I scarce can think you a true moral man,  
Much less Religious: Ferrers before these,  
This Royal bench, either confess thee mad,  
Desperate, and quite given o'er to calumny  
Or in behalf of this (I know not who)  
I challenge thee the combat.  Fer. 
Oh, you are mine  
And I vowed ever yours.  Vall. 
Come, no such thing.  
Either pronounce this Lady innocent,  
Or I denounce thee miscreant.  Man. 
Though I have stood  
In silence all this while, yet in this cause  
I, I myself am taxed: and to approve  
This Ladies Beauty, virtue, chastity  
I'll be this Spanyard's second.  Bona. 
I am wronged.  
And thou hast done't, try both, I should be first,  
But be thou what thou canst be, he or thou,  
So freely hath this Lady showed herself  
Mine, so I now dare term her, that in spite  
Of spleen or envy's opposition;  
It is a thing I do desire to embrace  
And meet in violent lightnings: and then  
I speak it, she is mine: and this encounter  
Concerns me, only me; who intercepts me  
Is guilty of my challenge, his own death,  
Her injury, and my most just revenge.  Fer. 
Pray let's talk mildly:  
And first to you, to whom my soul's engaged,  
Why should you hazard such a precious life  
For one by her own language stands condemned.  Vall. 
Because she is thy Sister; and so well  
I love thy merit that no new impression  
Can sink in me, that any of thy Line,  
Can ever stand polluted: I have found thee  
In all thy deeds so noble—  Fer. 
Oh you have moulded her  
In me anew: and friend your confirmation,  
I do receive her perfect as the woman,  
Whose acts are laws, whose sayings Oracles,  
And she was never truly mine, till now, so I receive her  
from you. But I pray,  
What might you be of whom I have deserved  
So ill to make you my Antagonist?  Vall. 
Or why to me, to be so dear a friend  
As to become my second, since your face.  
I never saw till now.  Man. 
Not Manhurst?  Ferr. 
Friend!  Man. 
Oh sir, you were my ransom.  Bonavs. 
I am wrapped:  
Spain show thy justice; now, where, or from whence  
Canst thou desire so rare a precedent:  
Wouldst thou see Beauty? Look upon that face:  
Or Virtue? here, see thy true Innocence,  
Valour in him, true nobleness in them all,  
And happy them, that naked of all these,  
Hath sent thee hither foreign presidents,  
For instruction, and example.  Isabel. 
Now I yield:  
And till now never; hence base sycophants,  
I shall abjure you ever, Flattering glasses,  
That gave me a false face, but in this Crystal,  
I now behold me truly, you are she  
By whom I'll henceforth dress me, and not wear  
No hurt, of which you are not precedent;  
be ever mine: next her, you that have travelled  
To fetch me o'er this Mirror, which I'll casket,  
As my best jewel: I now find myself,  
That to myself, was till this day unknown,  
I have transgressed in that I sought to fleece  
So pure a Diamond.  Sebast. 
Come, we'll end all this:  
First, Lady we'll acquit your jealousy,  
She is his sister: Ferrers, we shall rank you  
In as high grace, as you are in his love;  
Nor have you Manhurst, lest expressed yourself,  
In gratitude to him, friendship to both;  
You Bonavida we restore, you stand  
In the eye of our preferment: you we admire:  
And thus conclude: Two Nations have contended  
For breast and face, in you both these are ended.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.   

The Epilogue.  
IN battles, some men fall, others again,  
Come off with honoured scars, wounded, not slain,  
In shipwrecks, some sink, and are seen no more,  
Others on Masts, and Planks, attain the shore;  
'Tis so twixt us and you; your Smile or Frown,  
Can save, or spill; to make us swim, or drown.