BEN: JONSON, HIS CASE IS ALTERED.  
As it hath been sundry times Acted by the Children of Blackfriars.  
AT LONDON Printed for Bartholomew Sutton, dwelling in Paul's Churchyard near the great north door of S. Paul's Church. 1609.   

A pleasant Comedy called, the Case is Altered.  

Actus primi,  

Scaena prima.  Sound? after a flourish: Juniper a Cobbler is discovered, sitting at work in his shop and singing. juniper, Onion, Antony Baladino. 
you woeful wights give ear a while,  
And mark the tenor of my style,  Enter Onion in haste. 
Which shall such trembling hearts unfold  
As seldom hath tofore been told.  
Such chances rare and doleful news  Oni. fellow Juniper 
Peace a God's name.  
As may attempt your wits to muse.  Oni. God's so, here man. 
A pox a God on you.  
And cause such trickling tears to pass,  
Except your hearts be flint or brass:  Oni. Juniper, Juniper. 
To hear the news which I shall tell,  
That in Castilia once befell.  
'sblood, where didst thou learn to corrupt a man in the midst of a verse, ha?  Onion. 
God's lid man, service is ready to go up man, you must slip on your coat and come in, we lack waiters pitifully.  Iunip. 
A pitiful hearing, for now must I of a merry Cobbler become mourning creature.  Exit Onion. Onion. 
Well you'll come.  Iunip. 
Presto. Go to, a word to the wise, away, fly? vanish: Lie there the weeds that I disdain to wear.  Anto. 
God save you Master juniper.  Iuni. 
What signor Antonio Balladino, welcome sweet Ingle,  Anto. 
And how do you sir?  Iuni. 
Faith you see, put to my shifts here as poor retainers be oftentimes, sirrah Antony there's one of my fellows mightily enamoured of thee, and i'faith you slave, now you're come I'll bring you together, it's Peter Onion, the groom of the hall, do you know him.  Anto. 
No not yet, I assure you.  Iuni. 
O he is one as right of thy humour as may be, a plain simple Rascal, a true dunce, marry he hath been a notable villain in his time: he is in love, sirrah, with a wench, & I have preferred thee to him, thou shalt make him some pretty Paradox or some Allegory, how does my coat sit? well.  Anto. 
I very well.  Enter Onion. Oni. 
nam Gods so, fellow juniper, come away.  Iun. 
Art thou there mad slave, I come with a powder?. Sirrah fellow Onion. I must have you peruse this Gentleman well, and do him good offices of respect and kindness, as instance shall be given.  Anto. 
Nay good master Onion what do you mean, I pray you sir you are to respective in good faith.  Onion 
I would not you should think so sir, for though I have no learning, yet I honour a scholar in any ground of the earth sir,  
Shall I request your name sir?  Anto. 
My name is Antonio Balladino.  Onion 
Balladino? you are not Pageant Poet to the City of Milan sir, are you.  Anto. 
I supply the place sir: when a worse cannot be had sir.  Oni. 
I cry you mercy sir, I love you the better for that sir, by jesu you must pardon me, I knew you not, but I'd pray to be better acquainted with you sir, I have seen of your works.  Anto. 
I am at your service good Master Onion, but concerning this maiden that you love sir? what is she,  Onion. 
O did my fellow juniper tell you? marry sir, she is as one may say, but a poor man's child indeed, and for mine own part I am no Gentleman borne I must confess, but my mind to me a kingdom is truly.  Anto. 
Truly a very good saying.  Onion. 
'tis somewhat stale, but that's no matter.  Anto. 
O 'tis the better, such things ever are like bread, which the staler it is, the more wholesome.  Onion. 
This is but a hungry comparison in my judgement.  Anto. 
Why, I'll tell you, M. Onion, I do use as much stale stuff, though I say it myself, as any man does in that kind I am sure. Did you see the last Pageant, I set forth?  Onion. 
No faith sir, but there goes a huge report on't.  Anto. 
Why, you shall be one of my Maecen-asses, I'll give you one of the books, O you'll like it admirably.  Oni. 
Nay that's certain, I'll get my fellow juniper to read it.  Anto. 
read it sir, I'll read it to you.  Onion. 
Tut then I shall not choose but like it.  Anto. 
Why look you sir, I write so plain, and keep that old Decorum, that you must of necessity like it; mary you shall have some now (as for example, in plays) that will have every day new tricks, and write you nothing but humours: indeed this pleases the Gentlemen: but the common sort they care not for't, they know not what to make on't, they look for good matter, they, and are not edified with such toys.  Onion. 
You are in the right, I'll not give a halfpenny to see a thousand on'em. I was at one the last Term, but & ever I see a more roguish thing, I am a piece of cheese, & no onion, nothing but kings & princes in it, the fool came not out a jot.  Anto. 
True sir, they would have me make such plays, but as I tell hem, and they'll give me twenty pound a play, I'll not raise my vain.  Onion. 
No, it were a vain thing, and you should sir.  Anto. 
Tut give me the penny, give me the penny, I care not for the Gentlemen I, let me have a good ground, no matter for the pen the plot shall carry it.  Onion. 
Indeed that's right, you are in print already for the best plotter.  Anto. 
ay, I might as well ha' been put in for a dumb show too.  Ont. 
I marry sir, I mar'le you were not, stand aside sir a while:  Enter an armed Sewer: some half dozen in mourning coats following and pass by with service. Enter Valentine. Onion 
How now friend, what are you there? be uncovered, Would you speak with any man here?  Valen, 
ay, or else I must ha' returned you no answer.  Oni. 
Friend, you are somewhat too peremptory, let's crave your absence: nay never scorn it, I am a little your better in this place.  Valen. 
I do acknowledge it.  Onion. 
Do you acknowledge it? nay then you shall go forth, I'll teach you how shall acknowledge it another time; go to, void, I must have the hall purged, no setting up of a rest here, pack, begone.  Valen. 
I pray you sir is not your name Onion?  Oni. 
Your friend as you may use him, and M. Onion, say on.  Valen. 
M. Onion with a murrain, come come put off this lions hide, your ears have discovered you, why Peter! do not I know you Peter?  Onion. 
God's so, Valentine!  Valen. 
O can you take knowledge of me now sir?  Oni. 
Good Lord, sirrah, how thou art altered with thy travel?  Valen. 
Nothing so much as thou art with thine office, but sirrah, Onion is the Count Ferneze at home?  Exit Anthony. Oni. 
I Bully, he is above; and the Lord Paulo Ferneze, his son, and Madam Aurelia, & madam Phaenixella, his daughters, But O Valentine?  Valen. 
How now man, how dost thou?  Oni. 
Faith sad, heavy, as a man of my coat ought to be.  Valen. 
Why man, thou wert merry enough even now.  Oni. 
True, but thou knowest  
All creatures here sojourning, upon this wretched earth,  
Sometimes have a fit of mourning, as well as a fit of mirth.  
O Valentine, mine old Lady is dead, man.  Valen. 
Dead!  Oni. 
i'faith.  Valen. 
When died she?  Onion. 
Mary, tomorrow shall be three months, she was seen going to heaven they say, about some five weeks agone! how now? trickling tears, ha?  Valen. 
Faith thou hast made me weep with this news.  Onion. 
Faith thou hast made me weep with this news.  Onion. 
Why I have done but the part of an Onion, you must pardon me.   

Scene. 2.  Enter the sewer, pass by with service again, the serving-men take knowledge of Valentine as they go. Juniper salutes him. Iuni. 
What Valentine? fellow Onion, take my dish I prithee you rogue sirrah, tell me, how thou dost, sweet Ingle.  Valen. 
Faith, juniper, the better to see thee thus frolic.  Iuni. 
Nay, slid I am no changeling, I am juniper still. Exit Oni. I keep the pristmate ha, you mad hierogliphic, when shall we swagger.  Valen. 
hierogliphic, what meanest thou by that.  Iuni. 
Mean? God's so, be't not a good word man? what? stand upon meaning with your friends. Puh, abscond.  Valen. 
Why, but stay, stay, how long has this sprightly humour haunted thee?  Iuni. 
Foe humour, a foolish natural gift we have in the equinoctial.  Valen. 
Natural, slid it may be supernatural, this?  Iuni. 
Valentine, I prithee ruminate thyself welcome. What fortuna de la Guerra.  Valen. 
O how pitifully are these words forced.  
As though they were pumped out on's belly.  Iuni. 
Sirrah Ingle, I think thou hast seen all the strange countries in Christendom since thou went'st?  Valen. 
I have seen some juniper.  Iuni. 
You have seen Constantinople?  Valen. 
ay, that I have.  Iuni. 
And jerusalem, and the Indies, and Goodwin sands, and the tower of Babylon, and Venice and all.  Valen. 
I all; no marle and he have a nimble tongue, if he practise to vault thus from one side of the world to another.  Iuni. 
O it's a most heavenly thing to travel, & see countries, especially at sea, and a man had a patent not to be sick.  Valen. 
O sea sick lest, and full of the scurvy.   

Scene 3.  Enter Juniper, Antonio, Sebastian, Martino, Vincentio, Balthasar and Christophero. Seba. 
Valentine? welcome i'faith how dost sirrah?  Mart. 
How do you good Valentine.  Vincen. 
Troth, Valentine, I am glad to see you.  Balth. 
Welcome sweet rogue.  Sebast. 
Before God he never looked better in his life.  Balth. 
And how be't man? what, Alla Coragio.  Valen. 
Never better gentlemen i'faith.  Iuni. 
S'will here comes the steward.  Christ. 
Why how now fellows all here? and nobody to weight above now they are ready to rise? look up one or two signor Francesco Colomia's man how does your good master.  Exeunt juniper, Martino, Vincentio. Valen. 
In health sir he will be here anon.  Christo. 
Is he come home, then?  Valen. 
ay sir he is not passed six miles hence, he sent me before to learn if Count Ferneze were here and return him word.  Christo. 
Yes, my Lord is here; and you may tell your master he shall come very happily to take his leave of Lord Paulo Ferneze: who is now instantly to depart with other noble gentlemen, upon special service.  Valen. 
I will tell him sir.  Christo. 
I pray you do, fellows make him drink.  Valen. 
Sirs, what service be't they are employed in?  Sebast. 
Why against the French they mean to have a fling at Milan again they say.  Valen. 
Who leads our forces, can you tell?  Sebast. 
Marry that does signor Maximilian? he is above, now.  Valen. 
Who, Maximilian of Vicenza?  Balt. 
I he? do you know him?  Valen. 
Know him? O yes he's an excellent brave soldier.  Balt. 
I so they say, but one of the most vain glorious men in Europe.  Valen. 
He is indeed, marry exceeding valiant.  Sebast. 
And that is rare.  Balt. 
What.  Sebast. 
Why to see a vainglorious man valiant.  Valen. 
Well he is so I assure you.  Enter Juniper. Iuni. 
What no further yet, come on you precious rascal, sir Valentine, I'll give you a health i'faith, for the heavens you mad capriccio, hold hook and line.   

Scene 4.  Enter Lord Paulo Ferneze, his boy following him. Pau. 
Boy.  Boy. 
My Lord.  Pau. 
Sirrah go up to signor Angelio,  
And pray him (if he can) devise some means,  
To leave my father, and come speak with me.  Boy 
I will my Lord.  Pau. 
Well heaven, be auspicious in the event;  
For I do this against my Genius,  
And yet my thoughts cannot propose a reason.  
Why I should fear, or faint thus in my hopes,  
Of one so much endeared to my love.  
Some spark it is, kindled within the soul:  
Whose light yet breaks not to the outward sense,  
That propagates this timorous suspect;  
His actions never carried any face  
Of change, or weakness: then I injury him?  
In being thus cold conceited of his faith,  
O here he comes.  Enter Angels. Ang. 
How now sweet Lord, what's the matter?  Pau. 
Good faith his presence makes me half ashamed.  
Of my strayed thoughts. Boy. Bestow yourself.  Exit Boy. 
Where is my father, signor Angelio.  Ang. 
Marry in the gallery, where your Lordship left him.  Pau. 
That's well. Then Angelio I will be brief.  
Since time forbids the use of circumstance,  
How well you are received in my affection,  
Let it appear by this one instance, only  
That now I will deliver to your trust,  
The dearest secrets, treasured in my bosom,  
Dear Angelio. You are not every man,  
But one, whom my election hath designed,  
As the true proper object of my soul:  
I urge not this t'insinuate my desert,  
Or supple your tried temper, with soft phrases;  
True friendship loathes such oily complement:  
But from th'abundance of that love, that flows  
Through all my spirits, is my speech enforced.  Ang. 
Before your Lordship do proceed too far,  
Let me be bold to intimate thus much;  
That whatsoe'er your wisdom hath t'expose,  
Be it the weightiest and most rich affair,  
That ever was included in your breast,  
My faith shall poise it, if not—  Pau. 
O no more,  
Those words have rapt me with their sweet effects,  
So freely breathed, and so responsible,  
To that which I endeavoured to extract,  
Arguing a happy mixture of our souls.  Ange. 
Why were there no such sympathy sweet Lord?  
Yet the impressure of those ample favours,  
I have derived from your unmatched spirit,  
Would bind my faith to all observances.  Pau. 
How! favours Angelo, o speak not of them,  
They are mere paintings, and import no merit,  
Looks my love well? thereon my hopes are placed:  
Faith, that is bought with favours, cannot last.  Enters Boy. Boy. 
My Lord.  Pau. 
How now?  Boy. 
You are sought for all about the house, within,  
The Count your father calls for you.  Pau. 
God, what cross events do meet my purposes?  
Now will he violently fret and grieve  
That I am absent. Boy, say I come presently:  Exit Boy. 
Sweet Angelo, I cannot now insist  
Upon particulars, I must serve the time  
The main of all this is, I am in love.  Ange. 
Why starts your Lordship?  Pau. 
I thought I heard my father coming hither ward, list, ha?  Ange. 
I hear not any thing, it was but your imagination sure.  Pau. 
No?  Ange. 
No, I assure your Lordship.  Pau. 
I would work safely.  Ange. 
Why, has he no knowledge of it then?  Pau. 
O no, no creature yet partakes it but yourself  
In a third person, and believe me friend,  
The world contains not now another spirit,  
To whom I would reveal it. Hark, hark,  Servants. signor Paulo. Lord Ferneze. within. Ange. 
A pox upon those brazen throated slaves,  
What are they mad, trow?  Pau. 
Alas, blame not them,  
Their services are (clock-like) to beset,  
Backward and forward, at their Lords command,  
You know my father's wayward, and his humour  
Must not receive a check, for then all objects,  
Feed both his grief and his impatience,  
And those affections in him, are like powder,  
Apt to inflame with every little spark,  
And blow up reason, therefore Angelo, peace.  within. Count. 
Why this is rare, is he not in the garden?  Crist. 
I know not my Lord.  Count. 
See, call him?  Pau. 
He is coming this way, let's withdraw a little.  Exeunt. within. servants. signor Paulo, Lord Ferneze, Lord Paulo.  

Scene 5.  Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, Aurelia, Phoenixella, Sebast. Balthasar. Count. 
WHere should he be, trow? did you look in the armoury?  Sebast. 
No my Lord.  Count. 
No, why there? o who would keep such drones? Exeunt Sebast. and Baltha .How now, ha' ye found him?  Enter Martino. Mart. 
No my Lord.  Count. 
No my Lord, I shall have shortly all my family  
Speak nought, but no my Lord, where is Christophero,  Enter Christophero. 
Look how he stands, you sleepy knave,  Exit Martino. 
What is he not in the Garden?  Christo. 
No my good Lord.  Count. 
Your good Lord, o how this smells of fennel. Enter Sebast Baltha .You have been in the garden it appears, well, well.  Balth. 
We cannot find him my Lord.  Sebast. 
He is not in the armoury.  Count. 
He is not, he is nowhere, is he?  Maxi. 
Count Ferneze.  Count. 
signor.  Maxi. 
Preserve your patience honourable Count.  Count. 
Patience? a Saint would lose his patience to be crossed,  
As I am with a sort of motley brains,  
See see, how like a nest of Rooks they stand,  Enter Onion. 
Gaping on one another! now Diligence, what news bring you?  Oni. 
An't please your honour.  Count. 
Tut, tut, leave pleasing of my honour Diligence, you double with we, come.  Oni. 
How: does he find fault with Please his Honour. S'wounds it has begun a serving man's speech, ever since I belonged to the blue order: I know not how it may show, now I am in black, but—  Count. 
What's that, you mutter sir? will you proceed?  Oni. 
An't like your good Lordship.  Count. 
Yet more; Gods precious.  Oni. 
What, do not this like him neither?  Count. 
What say you sir knave?  Oni. 
Mary I say your Lordship were best to set me to school again, to learn how to deliver a message.  Count. 
What do you take exceptions at me then.  Oni. 
Exception? I take no exceptions, but by Gods so your humours—  Count. 
Go to you are a Rascal, hold your tongue.  Oni. 
Your Lordship's poor servant, I.  Count. 
Tempt not my patience.  Oni. 
Why I hope I am no spirit, am I?  Maxi. 
My Lord, command your Steward to correct the slave.  Oni. 
Correct him, 'sblood come you and correct him and you have a mind to it, correct him, that's a good jest i'faith, the Steward and you both, come and correct him.  Count. 
Nay see, away with him, pull his cloth over his ears.  Oni. 
Cloth? tell me of your cloth, here's your cloth, nay and I mourn a minute longer, I am the rottenest Onion that ever spoke with a tongue.  They thrust him out. Maxi. 
What call your hinds count Ferneze?  Count. 
His name is Onion signor,  Maxi. 
I thought him some such saucy companion.  Count. 
signor Maxmilian.  Maxi. 
Sweet Lord.  Count. 
Let me entreat you, you would not regard  
Any contempt flowing from such a spirit,  
So rude, so barbarous.  Maxi. 
Most noble Count under your favour—  Coun. 
Why I'll tell you signor,  
he'll bandy with me word for word, nay more,  
Put me to silence, strike me perfect dumb;  
And so amaze me, that oftentimes I know not,  
Whether to check or cherish his presumption:  
Therefore good signor.  Maxi. 
Sweet Lord satisfy yourself, I am not now to learn how to manage my affections, I have observed, and know the difference between a base wretch and a true man, I can distinguish them, the property of the wretch is, he would hurt and cannot, of the man, he can hurt, and will not.  Coun. 
Go to, my merry daughter, o these looks,  
Agree well with your habit, do they not?  Enter Juniper. Iunip. 
Tut, let me alone. By your favour, this is the Gentleman I think, Sir you appear to be an honourable Gentleman, I understand, and could wish (for mine own part) that things were conden't otherwise than they are: but (the world knows) a foolish fellow, somewhat proclive, and hasty, he did it in a prejudicate humour; mary now upon better computation, he wanes; he melts; his poor eyes are in a cold sweat. Right noble signor, you can have but compunction, I love the man, tender your compassion.  Maxi. 
Doth any man here understand this fellow?  Iunip. 
O God sir, I may say frustra to the comprehension of your intellection.  Maxi. 
Before the Lord, he speaks all riddle, I think.  
I must have a comment ere I can conceive him.  Count. 
Why he sues to have his fellow Onion pardoned,  
And you must grant it signor.  Maxi. 
O with all my soul my Lord, is that his motion?  Iunip. 
ay sir, and we shall retort these kind favours with all alacrity of spirit, we can sir, as may be most expedient, as well for the quality as the cause, till when in spite of this complement: I rest a poor Cobbler, servant to my honourable Lord here, your friend and juniper.  Exit. Maxi. 
How juniper?  Count. 
I signor.  Maxi. 
He is a sweet youth, his tongue has a happy turn when he sleeps.  Enter Paulo Ferneze, Francisco, Colomea, Angelo, Valentine. Count. 
I for then it rests, O Sir your welcome,  
Why God be thanked you are found at last.  
signor Coloma truly you are welcome,  
I am glad to see you sir so well returned.  Fran. 
I gladly thank your honour, yet indeed  
I am sorry for such cause of heaviness,  
As hath possessed your Lordship in my absence.  Count. 
O Francisco you knew her what she was!  Fran. 
She was a wise and honourable Lady.  Count. 
I was she not! well weep not she is gone,  
Passions dulled eye can make two grieves of one,  
Whom death mark out, virtue, nor blood can save,  
Princes, as beggars, all must feed the grave.  Max. 
Are your horse ready Lord Paulo,  Pau. 
I signor the stay for us at the gate.  Max. 
Well 'tis good. Ladies I will take my leave of you,  
Be your fortunes as yourselves? fair. Come let us to horse,  
Count Ferneze I bear a spirit full of thanks for all your honourable courtesies.  Count. 
Sir I could wish the number and value of them more in respect of your deservings. But signor Maxmilian. I pay you a word in private.  Aur. 
i'faith brother you are fitted for a general yonder, Beshrew my heart (If I had Fortunatus' hat here) and I would not wish myself a man and go with you, only t'enjoy his presence.  Pau. 
Why do you love him so well sister.  Aur. 
No by my troth, but I have such an odd pretty apprehension of his humour methinks: that I am e'en tickled with the conceit of it.  
O he is a fine man.  Ang 
And methinks another may be as fine as he.  Aur. 
O Angelio, do you think I do urge any comparison against you? no, I am not so ill bred, as to be a depraver of your worthiness: believe me, if I had not some hope of your abiding with us, I should never desire to go out of black whilst I lived: but learn to speak i'the nose, and turn puritan presently.  Ang. 
I thank you Lady: I know you can flout.  Aur. 
Come do you take it so? i'faith you wrong me.  Fran. 
ay, but madam,  
Thus to disclaim in all the effects of pleasure,  
May make your sadness seem too much affected,  
And then the proper grace of it is lost.  Phoenix 
Indeed sir, if I did put on this sadness  
Only abroad, and in Society,  
And were in private merry; and quick humoured;  
Then might it seem affected and abhorred:  
But as my looks appear, such is my spirit,  
Drowned up with confluence of grief, and melancholy,  
That like to rivers run through all my veins,  
Quenching the pride and fervour of my blood.  Max. 
My honourable Lord? no more.  
There is the honour of my blood engaged,  
For your sons safety.  Count. 
signor, blame me not,  
For tending his security so much,  
He is mine only son, and that word only,  
Hath with his strong, and repercussive sound,  
Stroke my heart cold, and given it a deep wound.  Max. 
Why but stay, I beseech you, had your Lordship ever any more sons than this.  Count. 
Why have not you known it Maximilian?  Max. 
Let my Sword fail me then.  Count. 
I had one other younger borne than this,  
By twice so many hours as would fill  
The circle of a year, his name Camillo,  
Whom in that black, and fearful night I lost,  
('tis now a nineteen years agone at least,  
And yet the memory of it fits as fresh  
Within my brain as 'twere but yesterday)  
It was that night wherein the great Chamont,  
The general for France surprised Vicenza,  
methinks the horror of that clamorous shout  
His soldiers gave when they attained the wall,  
Yet tingles in mine ear, methinks I see  
With what amazed looks, distracted thoughts,  
And minds confused, we, that were citizens,  
Confronted one another: every street  
Was filled with bitter self tormenting cries,  
And happy was that foot, that first could press,  
The flowery champaign, bordering on Verona  
Here I (employed about my dear wives safety)  
Whose soul is now in peace) lost my Camillo.  
Who sure was murdered by the barbarous Soldiers,  
Or else I should have heard— my heart is great.  
Sorrow is faint? and passion makes me sweat.  Max 
Grieve not sweet Count: comfort your spirits, you have a son a noble gentleman, he stands in the face of honour: For his safety let that be no question. I am master of my fortune, and he shall share with me. Farewell my honourable Lord. Ladies once more adieu, for yourself madam you are a most rare creature, I tell you so, be not proud of it, I love you: come Lord Paulo to horse.  Pau. 
Adieu good signor Francesco: farewell sister.  Sound a tucket, and as they pass every one severally depart, Maximilian, Paulo Ferneze and Angelo remain Ang. 
How shall we rid him hence.  Pau. 
Why well enough? sweet signor Maximilian.  
I have some small occasion to stay:  
If it may please you but take horse afore  
I'll over take you, ere your troops be ranged.  Max. 
Your motion hath taste well: Lord Ferneze I go  Exit Max. Pau. 
Now if my love fair Rachel, were so happy,  
But to look forth. See fortune doth me grace.  Enter Rachel. 
Before I can demand? how now love.  
Where is your father?  Rach. 
Gone abroad my Lord:  Pau: 
That's well,  Rach. 
ay but I fear he'll presently return,  
Are you now going my most honoured Lord?  Pau. 
I my sweet Rachel.  Ang. 
Before God, she is a sweet wench.  Pau. 
Rachel I hope I shall not need to urge,  
The sacred purity of our effects,  
As if it hung in trial or suspense:  
Since in our hearts, and by our mutual vows,  
It is confirmed and sealed in sight of heaven.  
Nay do not weep, why start you? fear not, Love.  
Your father cannot be returned so soon,  
I prithee do not look so heavily  
Thou shalt want nothing  Rach. 
No is your presence nothing,  
I shall want that, and wanting that, want all  
For that is all to me.  Pau. 
Content thee sweet  
I have Made choice here of a constant friend  
This gentleman? one, whose zealous love  
I do repose more, than on all the world,  
Thy beauteous self excepted: and to him,  
Have I committed my dear care of thee,  
As to my genius, or my other soul.  
Receive high gentle love and what defects,  
My absence proves, his presence shall supply.  
The time is envious of our longer stay.  
Farewell dear Rachel.  Rach: 
Most dear Lord, adieu,  
Heaven and honour crown your deeds, and you,  Exit Rachel. Pau. 
Faith tell me Angelio how dost thou like her?  Ang. 
Troth well my Lord, but shall I speak my mind.  Pan. 
I prithee do.  Ang. 
She is derived too meanly to be wife  
To such a noble person, in my judgement.  Pau. 
Nay then thy judgement is to mean, I see:  
Didst thou near read in difference of good  
'tis more to shine in virtue then in blood.  Enter jaques. Ang. 
Come you are so sententious my Lord.  Pau. 
Here comes her father. How dost thou good jaques?  Ang. 
God save thee jaques.  Iaq. 
What should this mean? Rachel open the door.  Exit jaques. Ang. 
'sblood how the poor slave looks, as though  
He had been haunted by the spirit Lar,  
Or seen the ghost of some great Satrap.  
In an unsavoury sheet.  Pru. 
I muse he spoke no, belike he was amazed  
Coming so suddenly and unprepared? Well let's go:  Exeunt.   

Actus secundi  

Scaena prima.  Enter jaques solus. 
SO now enough my heart, beat now no more;  
At least for this affright, what 'a could sweat,  
Flowed on my brows, and over all my bosom!  
Had I not reason? to behold my door  
Beset with unthrifts, and myself abroad?  
Why jaques? was their nothing in the house  
Worth a continual eye, a vigilant thought,  
Whose head should never nod, nor eyes once wink?  
Look on my coat; my thoughts; worn quite thread bare,  
That time could never cover with a nap,  
And by it learn, never with naps of sleep,  
To smother your conceits of that you keep.  
But yet, I marvel, why these gallant youth's  
Spoke me so fair, and I esteemed a beggar?  
The end of flattery, is gain, or lechery:  
If they seek gain of me, they think me rich,  
But that they do not: for their other object:  
'tis in my handsome daughter, if it be.  
And by your leave, her handsomeness may tell them  
My beggary counterfeits, and, that her neatness,  
Flows from some store of wealth, that breaks my coffers,  
With this same engine, love to mine own breed.  
But this is answered: Beggars will keep fine,  
Their daughters, being fair, though themselves pine.  
Well then, it is for her, ay, 'tis sure for her,  
And I make her so brisk for some of them,  
That I might live alone once with my gold.  
O 'tis a sweet companion! kind and true,  
A man may trust it when his father cheats him;  
Brother, or friend, or wife, o wondrous pelf,  
"That which makes all men false, is true itself.  
But now this maid, is but supposed my daughter:  
For I being Steward to a Lord of France,  
Of great estate, and wealth, called Lord Chamount,  
He gone into the wars, I stole his treasure,  
(But hear not, any thing) I stole his treasure,  
And this his daughter, being but two years old,  
Because it loved me so, that it would leave  
The nurse herself, to come into mine arms,  
And had I left it, it would sure have died.  
Now herein I was kind, and had a conscience;  
And since her Lady mother that did die  
In childbed of her, loved me passing well,  
It may be nature fashioned this affection,  
Both in the child and her: but he's ill bred,  
That ransacks tombs, and doth deface the dead.  
I'll therefore say no more: suppose the rest,  
Here have I changed my form, my name and hers.  
And live obscurely, to enjoy more safe  Enter Rachel. 
My dearest treasure. But I must abroad, Rachel.  Rach. 
What is your pleasure sir?  Iaq. 
Rachel I must abroad.  
Lock thyself in, but yet take out the key,  
That whosoever peeps in at the keyhole,  
May yet imagine there is none at home.  Rach. 
I will sir.  Iaq. 
But hark thee Rachel: say a thief should come,  
And miss the key, he would resolve indeed  
None were at home, and so break in the rather:  
open the door Rachel, set it open daughter;  
But sit in it thyself: and talk aloud,  
As if there were some more in house with thee:  
Put out the fire, kill the chimneys heart,  
That it may breathe no more than a dead man,  
The more we spare my child, the more we gain.  Exeunt.  

Scene 2.  Enter Christophero, Juniper and Onion. CHrist. 
What says my fellow Onion? come on.  Oni. 
All of a house sir, but no fellows, you are my Lords Steward, but I pray you what think you of love, sir?  Christ. 
Of love Onion? Why it's a very honourable humour.  Oni. 
Nay if it be but worshipful I care not.  Iunip. 
Go to, it's honourable, check not at the conceit of the Gentleman.  Oni. 
But in truth sir, you shall do well to think well of love:  
For it thinks well of you, in me, I assure you.  Chris. 
Gramercy fellow Onion: I do think well, thou art in love, art thou?  Oni. 
Partly sir, but I am ashamed to say wholly.  Chris. 
Well, I will further it in thee to any honest woman, or maiden, the best I can.  Iunip. 
Why now you come near him sir, he doth vail,  
He doth remunerate, he doth chaw the cud in the kindness  
Of an honest imperfection to your worship.  Chris 
But who is it thou lovest fellow Onion?  Oni. 
Mary a poor man's daughter, but none of the honestest, I hope.  Chris. 
Why, wouldst thou not have her honest?  Oni. 
O no, for then I am sure she would not have me. 'tis Rachel de Prie.  Chris. 
Why, she hath the name of a very virtuous maiden.  Iunip. 
So she is sir, but the fellow talks in quiddits, he.  Chris. 
What wouldst thou have me do in the matter?  Oni. 
Do nothing sir, I pray you, but speak for me.  Chris. 
In what manner?  Oni. 
My fellow juniper can tell you sir.  Iunip. 
Why as thus sir. Your worship may commend him for a fellow fit for consanguinity, and that he shaketh with desire of procreation, or so.  Chris. 
That were not so good, methinks.  Iunip. 
No sir, why so sir? what if you should say to her, corroborate thyself sweet soul, let me distinguish thy paps with my fingers, divine Mumps, pretty Pastorella? lookest thou so sweet and bounteous? comfort my friend here.  Chris. 
Well I perceive you wish, I should say something may do him grace, and further his desires, and that be sure I will.  Oni. 
I thank you sir, God save your life, I pray God sir.  Iunip. 
Your worship is too good to live long: you'll contaminate me no service.  Chris. 
Command thou wouldest say, no good juniper.  Iunip. 
Health and wealth sir.  Exeunt Onion and Juniper. Chris. 
This wench will solicit for myself,  
Making my Lord and master privy to it;  
And if he second me with his consent,  
I will proceed, as having long ere this,  
Though her a worthy choice to make my wife.  Exit.  

Scene 3.  Enter Aurelia, Phoenixella. AVre. 
Room for a case of matrons coloured black,  
How motherly my mother's death hath made us?  
I would I had some girls now to bring up;  
O I could make a wench so virtuous,  
She should say grace to every bit of meat,  
And gape no wider than a wafer's thickness:  
And she should make French curtsies, so most low,  
That every touch should turn her over backward.  Phoeni. 
Sister, these words become not your attire,  
Nor your estate: our virtuous mother's death  
Should print more deep effects of sorrow in us,  
Then may be worn out in so little time.  Aure. 
Sister, faith you take too much Tobacco,  
It makes you black within, as you're without.  
What true-stich sister? both your sides alike?  
Be of a slighter work: for of my word,  
You shall be sold as dear or rather dearer?  
Will you be bound to customs and to rites?  
Shed profitable tears, weep for advantage;  
Or else, do all things, as you are inclined.  
Hate when your stomach serves (saith the Physician)  
Not at eleven and six. So if your humour  
Be now affected with this heaviness.  
Give me the reins and spare not, as I do,  
In this my pleasurable appetite,  
It is Precisianism to alter that  
With austere judgement, that is given by nature.  
I wept you saw too, when my mother died:  
For then I found it easier to do so,  
And fitter with my mood, than not to weep.  
But now 'tis otherwise, another time  
Perhaps I shall have such deep thoughts of her,  
That I shall weep afresh, some twelvemonth hence,  
And I will weep, if I be so disposed,  
And put on black, as grimly then, as now;  
Let the mind go still with the Body's stature,  
judgement is fit for judges, give me nature.   

Scene. 4.  Enter Aurelia, Phaenixella, Francisco, Augelo. Fran. 
See signor Angelo here are the Ladies,  
Go you and comfort one, I'll to the other.  Ange. 
Therefore I come sir, I'll to the eldest.  
God save you Ladies, these sad moods of yours,  
That make you choose these solitary walks,  
Are hurtful for your beauties.  Aure. 
If we had them.  Ange. 
Come, that condition might be for your hearts,  
When you protest faith, since we cannot see them.  
But this same heart of beauty, your sweet face  
Is in mine eye still.  Aure. 
O you cut my heart with your sharp eye.  Ange. 
Nay Lady that's not so, your heart's too hard.  Aure. 
My beauty's heart?  Ange. 
O no.  
I mean that regent of affection, Madam,  
That tramples on all love with such contempt in this fair breast.  Aur. 
No more, your drift is savoured,  
I had rather seem hard hearted  Ang. 
Then hard favoured,  
Is that your meaning, Lady?  Aur. 
Go too sir.  
Your wits are fresh I know, they need no spur,  Ang. 
And therefore you will ride them.  Aur. 
Say I do.  
They will not tire I hope?  Ang. 
No not with you, hark you sweet Lady.  Fran. 
'tis much pity Madam.  
You should have any reason to retain  
This sign of grief, much less the thing designed.  Phoe. 
Griefs are more fit for Ladies then their pleasures.  Fran. 
That is for such as follow nought but pleasures.  
But you that temper them so well with virtues,  
Using your griefs so it would prove them pleasures.  
And you would seem in cause of griefs & pleasures equally pleasant.  Phoe 
Sir so I do now.  
It is the excess of either that I strive  
So much to shun in all my proved endeavours,  
Although perhaps unto a general eye,  
I may appear most wedded to my griefs,  
Yet doth my mind forsake no taste of pleasure,  
I mean that happy pleasure of the soul,  
Divine and sacred contemplation  
Of that eternal, and most glorious bliss.  
Proposed as the crown unto our souls.  Fran. 
I will be silent, yet that I may serve  
But as a Decade in the art of memory  
To put you still in mind of your own virtues  
When your too serious thoughts make you too sad)  
Accept me for your servant honoured Lady.  Phoen. 
Those ceremonies are too common signor Francis,  
For your uncommon gravity, and judgement,  
And fits them only, that are nought but ceremony.  Ang. 
Come, I will not sue, stally to be your servant,  
But a new term, will you be my refuge?  Aur. 
Your refuge, why sir.  Ange. 
That I might fly to you, when all else fail me.  Aur. 
And you be good at flying, be my Plover.  Ang. 
Nay take away the P.  Aur. 
Tut, than you cannot fly.  Ang. 
I'll warrant you. I'll borrow Cupid's wings.  Aur. 
Mass then I fear me you'll do strange things:  
I pray you blame me not, if I suspect you,  
Your own confession simply doth detect you,  
Nay and you be so great in Cupid's books,  
'twill make me jealous. you can with your looks  
(I warrant you) inflame a woman's heart,  
And at your pleasure take loves golden dart,  
And wound the breast of any virtuous maid.  
Would I were hence: good Faith I am afraid,  
You can constrain one ere they be aware,  
To run mad for your love?  Ang. 
O this is rate.   

Scene 6.  Aurelio, Phoenixella, Francisco, Angelo, Count. COunt. 
Close with my daughter's gentlemen? well done,  
'tis like yourselves: nay lusty Angelo,  
Let not my presence make you balk your sport,  
I will not break a minute of discourse  
Twixt you and one of your fair Mistresses.  Ang. 
One of my mistresses? why thinks your Lordship I have so many  Count. 
Many? no Angelo.  
I do not think thoust many, some fourteen  
I hear thou hast, even of our worthiest dames,  
Of any note, in Milan:  Ang. 
Nay good my Lord fourteen: it is not so.  Count. 
Byth' the Mass that be't, here are their names to show  
fourteen, or fifteen t'one. Good Angelo.  
You need not be ashamed of any of them,  
They are gallants all.  Ang. 
'sblood you are such a Lord.  Count. 
Nay stay sweet Angelo, I am disposed  Exit Ang: 
A little to be pleasant past my custom,  
He's gone? he's gone, I have disgraced him shrewdly,  
Daughters take heed of him, he's a wild youth,  
Look what he says to you believe him not,  
He will swear love to every one he sees.  
Francisco, give them council, good Francisco,  
I dare trust thee with both, but him with neither.  Fran. 
Your Lordship yet may trust both them with him.  Exunt.  

Scene 7.  Count. Christopher, Count. 
Well go your ways away; how now Christopher,  
What news with you?  Christ. 
I have an humble suit to your good Lordship.  Count. 
A suit Christopher? what suit I prithee?  Christ. 
I would crave pardon at your Lordship's hands,  
If it seem vain or simple in your sight.  Count. 
I'll pardon all simplicity, Christopher,  
What is thy suit?  Christ. 
Perhaps being now so old a bachelor,  
I shall seem half unwise, to bend myself  
In strict affection to a poor young maid.  Count. 
What? is it touching love Christopher?  
Art thou disposest to marry, why 'tis well.  Christo. 
ay, but your Lordship may imagine now  
That I being steward of your honour's house.  
If I be married once, will more regard  
The maintenance of my wife and of my charge,  
Than the due discharge of my place and office.  Count. 
No, no, Christopher, I know thee honest.  Christo. 
Good faith my Lord, your honour may suspect it— but—  Count. 
Then I should wrong thee, thou hast ever been  
Honest and true, and will be still I know.  Chris. 
ay but this marriage altars many men:  
And you may fear, it will do me my Lord,  
But ere it do so? I will undergo  
Ten thousand several deaths.  Count. 
I know it man.  
Who wouldst thou have I prithee?  Chris. 
Rachel de pry,  
If your good Lordship, grant me your consent.  Count. 
Rachel de pry? what the poor beggars daughter?  
she's a right handsome maid, how poor soever,  
And thou hast my consent, with all my heart.  Chris. 
I humbly thank your honour. I'll now ask her father.  Exit. Count. 
Do so Christofero thou shalt do well.  
'tis strange (she being so poor) he should affect her,  
But this is more strange that myself should love her.  
I spied her, lately, at her father's door,  
And if I did not see in her sweet face  
Gentry and nobleness, near trust me more:  
But this persuasion, fancy wrought in me,  
That fancy being created with her looks,  
For where love is he think his basest object  
Gentle and noble: I am far in love,  
And shall be forced to wrong my honest steward,  
For I must sue, and seek her for myself;  
How much my duty to my late dead wife,  
And my own dear renown soe'er it sways,  
He to her father straight. Love hates delays.  Exit.  

Scene 8.  Enter Onion, Juniper, Valentine, Sebastian, Balthasar, Martino. Onion. 
Come on i'faith, let's to some exercise or other my hearts: Fetch the hilts fellow juniper, wilt thou play:  Exit Martino. Iun. 
I cannot resolve you? 'tis as I am fitted with the ingenuity, quantity, or quality of the cudgel.  Valen. 
How dost thou bastinado the poor cudgel with terms?  Iuni. 
O Ingle, I have the phrases man, and the Anagrams and the Epitaphs, fitting the mystery of the noble science.  Oni. 
I'll be hanged & he were not misbegotten of some fencer.  Sebast. 
Sirrah Valentine, you can resolve me now, have they their masters of defence in other countries as we have here in Italy?  Valen. 
O Lord, ay, especially they in Utopia, there they perform their prizes and challenges, with as great ceremony as the Italian or any nation else.  Balt 
Indeed? how is the manner of it (for gods love) good Valentine?  Iuni. 
Ingle? I prithee make recourse unto us, we are thy friends and familiars: sweet Ingle.  Valen. 
Why thus sir.  Oni. 
God a mercy good Valentine, nay go on.  Iuni. 
Silentium bonus socius Onionus, good fellow Onion be not so ingenious, and turbulent: so fir? and how? how sweet Ingle?  Valen. 
Marry, first they are brought to the public Theater:  Iuni. 
What? ha? they Theater there  Valen. 
Theatres? I and plays to: both tragedy and comedy & set forth with as much state as can be imagined?  Iuni. 
By Gods so; a man is nobody, till he has traveled.  Sebast. 
And how are their plays? as ours are? extemporal?  Valen. 
O no? all premeditated things, and some of them very good i'faith, my master used to visit them often when he was there.  Balth. 
Why how are they in a place where any man may see them?  Valen. 
ay, in the common Theatres, I tell you. But the sport is at a new play to observe the sway and variety of opinion that passeth it. A man shall have such a confused mixture of judgement, poured out in the throng there, as ridiculous, as laughter itself: one says he likes not the writing, another likes not the plot, another not the playing. And sometimes a fellow that comes not there passed once in five year at a Parliament time or so, will be as deep mired in censuring as the best, and swear by God's foot he would never stir his foot to see a hundred such as that is.  Oni. 
I must travel to see these things, I shall near think well of myself else.  Iunip. 
Fellow Onion, I'll bear thy charges and thou wilt but pilgrimize it along with me, to the land of Utopia.  Sebast. 
Why but methinks such rooks as these should be ashamed to judge.  Valen. 
Not a whit? the rankest stinkard of them all, will take upon him as peremptory, as if he had writ himself in artibus magister.  Sebast. 
And do they stand to a popular censure for any thing they present.  Valen. 
I ever, ever, and the people generally are very acceptive and apt to applaud any meritable work, but there are two sorts of persons that most commonly are infectious to a whole auditory.  Balth. 
What be they?  Iunip. 
I come let's know them.  Oni. 
It were good they were noted.  Valen. 
Marry? one is the rude barbarous crew, a people that have no brains, and yet grounded judgements, these will hiss any thing that mounts above their grounded capacities. But the other are worth the observation, i'faith.  Omnes. 
What be they? what be they?  Valen. 
Faith a few Capricious gallants.  Iunip. 
Capricious? stay, that word's for me.  Valen. 
And they have taken such a habit of dislike in all things, that they will approve nothing, be it never so conceited or elaborate, but sit dispersed, making faces, and spitting, wagging their upright ears and cry filthy, filthy. Simply uttering their own condition, and using their wried countenances in stead of a vice, to turn the good aspects of all that shall sit near them, from what they behold.  Enter Martino with cudgels. Oni. 
O that's well said, lay them down, come sirs.  
Who plays, fellow juniper, Sebastian, Balthasar:  
somebody take them up, come.  Iunip. 
Ingle Valentine?  Valen. 
Not I sir, I profess it not.  Iunip. 
Sebastian.  Sebast. 
Balthasar.  Balth. 
Who? I?  Oni. 
Come, but one bout, I'll give hem thee, i'faith.  Balth. 
Why, here's Martino.  Oni. 
Foe he, alas he cannot play a whit, man.  Iunip. 
That's all one: no more could you in stata quo prius, Martino, play with him, every man has his beginning and conduction.  Mart. 
Will you not hurt me fellow Onion?  Oni. 
Hurt thee, no? and I do, put me among potherbs, And chop me to pieces, come on?  Iunip. 
By your favour sweet bullies give them room, back, so, Martino, do not look so thin upon the matter.  Oni. 
Ha, well played, fall over to my leg now? so, to your guard again, excellent, to my head now, make home your blow: spare not me, make it home, good, good a gain.  Sebast. 
Why how now Peter?  Valen. 
God's so, Onion has caught a bruise.  Iunip. 
Couragio? be not capricious? what?  Oni. 
Capricious? not I, I scorn to be capricious for a scratch, Martino must have another bout, come.  Val. Seb. Balth. 
No, no, play no more, play no more.  Oni. 
Foe, 'tis nothing o' philip, a devise, fellow juniper prithee get me a plantain, I had rather play with one that had skill by half.  Mart. 
By my troth, fellow Onion, 'twas against my will.  Oni. 
Nay that's not so, 'twas against my head,  
But come, we'll ha' one bout more.  Iunip. 
Not a bout, not a stroke.  Omnes. 
No more, no more.  Iunip. 
Why I'll give you demonstration, how it came, Thou openest the dagger to falsify over with the back sword frick, and he interrupted, before he could fall to the close.  Oni. 
No, no, I know best how it was better than any man here, I felt his play presently: for look you, I gathered upon him thus, thus do you see? for the double lock, and took it single on the head.  Valen. 
He says very true, he took it single on the head.  Sebast. 
Come let's go.  Enter Martino with a cobweb. Mar. 
Here fellow Onion, here's a cobweb.  Oni. 
How? a cobweb Martino, I will have another bout with you? S'wounds do you first break my head, and then give me a plaster in scorn? come to it, I will have a bout.  Mart. 
God's my witness.  Oni. 
Tut! your witness cannot serve.  Iunip. 
'sblood? why what, thou art not lunatic, art thou? and thou be'st avoid Mephistopheles. Say the sign should be in Aries now: as it may be for all us, where were your life? Answer me that?  Sebast. 
He says well, Onion.  Valen. 
I indeed does he.  Iunip. 
Come, come, you are a foolish Naturalist, go, get a white a of an egg, and a little flax, and close the breach of the head, it is the most conducible thing that can be. Martino, do not insinuate upon your good fortune, but play an honest part and bear away the bucklers.  Exeunt.   

Act. 3.  

Scene 1.  Enter Angelo solus. ANge. 
My young and simple friend, Paulo Ferneze,  
Bound me with mighty solemn conjurations,  
To be true to him, in his love, to Rachel,  
And to solicit his remembrance still,  
In his enforced absence, much, i'faith.  
True to my friend in cases of affection?  
In women's cases? what a jest it is?  
How silly he is, that imagines it!  
He is an ass that will keep promise strictly  
In any thing that checks his private pleasure;  
Chiefly in love. 'sblood am not I a man?  
Have I not eyes that are as free to look?  
And blood to be inflamed as well as his?  
And when it is so, shall I not pursue  
Mine own loves longings, but prefer my friends?  
I 'tis a good fool, do so, hang me then,  
Because I swore, alas, who does not know,  
That lovers perjuries are ridiculous?  
Have at thee Rachel: I'll go court her sure:  
For now I know her father is abroad.  Enter jaques. 
'sblood see, he is here, o what damned luck is this?  
This labour's lost, I must by no means see him.  tau, dery, dery, Exit.  

Scene 2.  jaques, Christophero. IAq. 
Mischief and hell, what is this man a spirit,  
Haunts he my house's ghost? still at my door?  
He has been at my door, he has been in,  
In my dear door: pray God my gold be safe.  Enter Christophero. 
God's pity, here's another. Rachel, ho Rachel.  Chris. 
God save you honest father.  Iaq. 
Rachel, God's light, come to me, Rachel, Rachel!  Exit. Chris. 
Now in God's name what ails he? this is strange!  
He loves his daughter so, I'll lay my life,  
That he's afraid, having been now abroad,  
I come to seek her love unlawfully.  Enter jaques. Iaq. 
'tis safe, 'tis safe, they have not robbed my treasure.  Chris. 
Let it not seem offensive to you sir.  Iaq. 
Sir, God's my life, sir, sir, call me sir.  Chris. 
Good father hear me.  Iaq. 
You are most welcome sir,  
I meant almost; and would your worship speak?  
Would you abase yourself to speak to me?  Chris. 
'tis no abasing father: my intent  
Is to do further honour to you sir  
Then only speak: which is to be your son.  Iaq. 
My gold is in his nostrils, he has smelled it,  
Break breast, break heart, fall on the earth my entrails,  
With this same bursting admiration!  
He knows my gold, he knows of all my treasure,  
How do you know sir? whereby do you guess?  Chris. 
At what sir? what be't you mean?  Iaq. 
I ask, an't please your Gentle worship, how you know?  
I mean, how I should make your worship know  
That I have nothing—  
To give with my poor daughter? I have nothing:  
The very air, bounteous to every man,  
Is scant to me, sir.  Chris. 
I do think good father, you are but poor,  Iaq. 
He thinks so, hark, but think so:  
He thinks not so, he knows of all my treasure.  Exit. Chris. 
Poor man he is so overjoyed to hear  
His daughter may be past his hopes bestowed,  
That betwixt fear and hope (if I mean simply)  
He is thus passionate.  Enter jaques. Iaq. 
Yet all is safe within, is none without?  
nobody break my walls?  Chris. 
What say you father, shall I have your daughter?  Iaq. 
I have no dowry to bestow upon her.  Chris. 
I do expect none, father.  Iaq. 
That is well,  
Than I beseech your worship make no question  
Of that you wish, 'tis too much favour to me.  Chris. 
I'll leave him now to give his passion's breath,  
Which being settled, I will fetch his daughter:  
I shall but move too much, to speak now to him.  Exit Christophero. Iaq. 
So, he's gone, would all were dead and gone,  
That I might live with my dear gold alone.   

Scene 3. jaques, Count.  Count. 
Here is the poor old man.  Iaq. 
Out of my soul another, comes he hither?  Count. 
Be not dismayed old man, I come to cheer you.  Iaq. 
To me by heaven,  
Turn ribs to brass, turn voice into a trumpet,  
To rattle out the battles of my thoughts,  
One comes to hold me talk, while th'other robs me.  Exit. Count. 
He has forgot me sure: what should this mean?  
He fears authority, and my want of wife  
Will take his daughter from him to defame her:  
He that hath nought on earth but one poor daughter,  
May take this ecstasy of care to keep her.  Enter jaques. Iaq. 
And yet 'tis safe: they mean not to use force,  
But fawning coming. I shall easily know  
By his next question, if he think me rich,  
Whom see I? my good Lord?  Count. 
Stand up good father, I call thee not father for thy age,  
But that I gladly wish to be thy son,  
In honoured marriage with thy beauteous daughter.  Iaq. 
O, so, so, so, so, so, this is for gold,  
Now it is sure, this is my daughter's neatness,  
Makes them believe me rich. No, my good Lord,  
I'll tell you all; how my poor hapless daughter  
Got that attire she wears from top to toe.  Count. 
Why father, this is nothing.  Iaq. 
O yes, good my Lord.  Count. 
Indeed it is not.  Iaq. 
Nay sweet Lord pardon me? do not dissemble,  
Hear your poor beadsman speak; 'tis requisite  
That I (so huge a beggar) make account  
Of things that pass my calling: she was borne  
T'enjoy nothing underneath the son:  
But that, if she had more than other beggars  
She should be envied: I will tell you then  
How she had all she wears, her warm shoes (God wot)  
A kind maid gave her, seeing her go barefoot  
In a cold frosty morning; God requite her;  
Her homely stockings  Count. 
Father, I'll hear no more, thou movest too much  
With thy too curious answer for thy daughter,  
That doth deserve a thousand times as much,  
I'll be thy Son in law, and she shall wear  
Th'attire of Countesses.  Iaq. 
O good my Lord,  
Mock not the poor, remembers not your Lordship,  
That poverty is the precious gift of God.  
As well as riches, tread upon me, rather  
Than mock my poorness.  Count. 
Rise I say:  
When I mock poorness, than heavens make me poor.  Enter Nuntius.  

Scene 7. Nuncio, Count.  NVn. 
See here's the Count Ferneze, I will tell him  
The hapless accident of his brave son,  
That he may seek the sooner to redeem him,  Exit jaques. 
God save your Lordship.  Count. 
You are right welcome sir.  Nun. 
I would I brought such news as might deserve it.  Count. 
What, bring you me ill news?  Nun. 
'tis ill my Lord,  
Yet such as usual chance of war affords,  
And for which all men are prepared that use it,  
And those that use it not, but in their friends,  
Or in their children.  Count. 
Ill news of my son?  
My dear and only son, I'll lay my soul,  
Ay me accursed, thought of his death doth wound me,  
And the report of it will kill me quite.  Nun. 
'tis not so ill my Lord.  Count. 
How then?  Nun. 
he's taken prisoner, and that's all.  Count. 
That's enough, enough,  
I set my thoughts on love, on servile love,  
Forget my virtuous wife, feel not the dangers,  
The bands and wounds of mine own flesh and blood,  
And therein am a mad man: therein plagued,  
With the most just affliction under heaven.  
Is Maximilian taken prisoner to?  Nun. 
My good my Lord, he is returned with prisoners.  Count. 
be't possible, can Maximilian?  
Return, and view my face without my son,  
For whom he swore such care as for himself?  Nun. 
My Lord no care can change the events of war.  Count. 
O! in what tempests do my fortune's sail,  
Still wracked with winds more foul and contrary,  
Than any northern guest, or Southern flaw?  
That ever yet enforced the sea to gape,  
And swallow the poor Merchants traffic up?  
First in Vicenza, lost I my first son;  
Next here in Milan my most dear loved Lady:  
And now my Paulo, prisoner to the French,  
Which last being printed with my other griefs,  
Doth make so huge a volume, that my breast  
Cannot contain them. But this is my love:  
I must make love to Rachel, heaven hath thrown,  
This vengeance on me most deservedly:  
Were it for nought but wronging of my steward.  Nun. 
My Lord since only money may redress  
The worst of this misfortune, be not grieved,  
Prepare his ransom and your noble son  
Shall greet your cheered eyes, with the more honour.  Count. 
I will prepare his ransom: gracious heaven  
Grant his imprisonment may be his worst,  
Honoured and soldier-like imprisonment,  
And that he be not manacled and made  
A drudge to his proud foe. And here I vow,  
Never to dream of seeme-les amorous toys,  
Nor aim at other joy on earth,  
But the fruition of my only son.  Exunt  

Scene 5.  Enter jaques with his gold and a scuttle full of horse-dung. Iaq, 
He's gone: I knew it; this is our hot lover,  
I will believe them! I! they may come in  
Like simple wooers, and be arrant thieves,  
And I not know them! 'tis not to be told,  
What servile villainies, men will do for gold,  
O it began to have a huge strong smell,  
Which lying so long together in a place;  
I'll give it vent, it shall ha' shift enough,  
And if the devil, that envies all goodness,  
Have told them of my gold, and where I kept it,  
I'll set his burning nose once more a work,  
To smell where I removed it, here it is:  
I'll hide and cover it with this horse-dung:  
Who will suppose that such a precious nest  
Is crowned with such a dunghill excrement?  
In my dear life, sleep sweetly my dear child.  
"Scarce lawfully begotten, but yet gotten,  
" And that's enough. Rot all hands that come near thee  
Except mine own. Burn out all eyes that see thee,  
Except mine own. All thoughts of thee be poison  
To their enamoured hearts, except mine own,  
I'll take no leave, sweet Prince great Emperor,  
But see thee every minute, King of Kings,  
I'll not be rude to thee, and turn my back,  
In going from thee, but go backward out:  
With my face toward thee, with humble courtesies,  
None is within. None overlooks my wall.  
To have gold, and to have it safe, is all.  Exit.   

Actus 3.  

Scene 1.  Enter Maximilian, with soldiers Chamount, Camilla, Ferneze, Pacue. Max. 
Lord Chamount and your valiant friend there, I cannot say welcome to Milan: your thoughts and that word are not musical, but I can say you are come to Milan.  Pac. 
Mort diew.  Cha. 
Gar soon.  Max. 
Gentlemen (I would call an Emperor so) you are now my prisoners, I am sorry, marry this, spit in the face of your fortunes, for your usage shall be honourable.  Cam. 
we know it signor Maximilian,  
The fame of all your actions sounds nought else,  
But perfect honour from her swelling cheeks.  Max. 
It shall do so still I assure you, and I will give you reason, there is in this last action (you know) a noble gentleman of our party, & a right valiant; semblably prisoner to your general, as your honoured self's to me, for whose safety, this tongue hath given warrant to his honourable father, the Count Ferneze. You conceive me.  Cam. 
I signor.  Max. 
Well? than I must tell you your ransoms be to redeem him, what think you? your answer.  Cam. 
Marry with my Lords leave here I say signor,  
This free & ample offer you have made,  
Agrees well with your honour, but not ours:  
For I think not but Chamount is as well borne  
As is Ferneze, then if I mistake not,  
He scorns to have his worth so underprized,  
That it should need an adjunct, in exchange,  
Of any equal fortune, Noble signor?  
I am a soldier, and I love Chamount,  
Ere I would bruise his estimation,  
With the least ruin of mine own respect,  
In this vild kind, these legs should rot with irons,  
This body pine in prison, till the flesh  
Dropped from my bones in flakes, like withered leaves,  
In heart of Autumn, from a stubborn Oak.  Maxi. 
monsieur Gasper (I take it so is your name) misprize me not, I will trample on the heart, on the soul of him that shall say, I will wrong you: what I purpose, you cannot now know; but you shall know, and doubt not to your contentment. Lord Chamount, I will leave you, whilst I go in and present myself to the honourable Count, till my regression so please you, your noble feet may measure this private, pleasant and most princely walk, Soldiers regard them and respect them.  Pac. 
O Ver bon: excellenta gull, he tak'a my Lord Chamount for monsieur Gaspra, & monsieur Gaspra for my Lord Chamont, o dis be brave for make a me laugh'a, ha, ha, ha, o my heart tickla.  Cam. 
ay but your Lordship knows not what hard fate  
Might have pursued us, therefore howsoe'er  
The changing of our names was necessary  
And we must now be careful to maintain  
This error strongly, which our own devise,  
Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits,  
For should we (on the taste of this good fortune)  
Appear ourselves, 'twould both create in them  
A kind of jealousy, and perchance invert  
Those honourable courses they intend.  Cha. 
True my dear Gasper: but this hang by here,  
Will (at one time or other) on my soul  
Discover us: A secret in his mouth  
Is like a wild bird put into a cage,  
Whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out.  
But sirrah, if I may but know  
Thou utterst it  Pac. 
Vtteria? vat monsieur?  Cha. 
That he is Gasper, and I true Chamont.  Pac. 
O pardon moy, fore my tongue shall put out de secreta,  
Shall breed de cankra in my mouth.  Count. 
Speak not so loud Pacue.  Pac. 
Foe, you shall not hear fool, for all your long ear, regard monsieur: you be de Chamont, Chamont be Gaspra.  Enter Count Ferveze, Maximilian, Francesco, Aurelia, Phoenixella, Finio. Cha. 
Peace, here comes Maximilian.  Cam. 
O belike that's the Count Ferneze, that old man.  Cha. 
Are those his daughters, trow?  Cam. 
I sure, I think they are.  Cha. 
Fore God the taller is a gallant Lady.  Cam. 
So are they both believe me.  Max. 
True my honourable Lord, that Chamont was the father of this man.  Count. 
O that may be, for when I lost my son,  
This was but young it seems.  Fran. 
Faith had Camillo lived,  
He had been much about his years, my Lord.  Count. 
He had indeed, well, speak no more of him.  Max. 
signor perceive you the error? 'twas no good office in us to stretch the remembrance of so dear a loss. Count Ferneze, let summer sit in your eye, look cheerfully sweet Count, will you do me the honour to confine this noble spirit within the circle of your arms?  Count. 
Honoured Chamont reach me your valiant hand,  
I could have wished some happier accident  
Had made the way unto this mutual knowledge,  
Which either of us now must take of other,  
But sure it is the pleasure of our fates,  
That we should thus be wracked on Fortune's wheel,  
Let us prepare with steeled patience  
To tread on torment, and with minds confirmed  
Welcome the worst of envy.  Max. 
Noble Lord, 'tis thus. I have here (in mine honour) set this gentleman free, without ransom, he is now himself, his valour hath deserved it, in the eye of my judgement. monsieur Gasper you are dear to me: fortuna non mutuat genus. But to the main, if it may square with your Lordship's liking, and his love, I could desire that he were now instantly employed to your noble General in the exchange of Ferneze for yourself, it is the business that requires the tender hand of a friend.  Count. 
ay, and it would be with more speed effected,  
If he would undertake it.  Max. 
True my Lord. monsieur Gasper, how stand you affected to this motion?  Cha. 
My duty must attend his Lordship's will.  Max. 
What says the Lord Chamont?  Cam. 
My will doth then approve what these have urged.  Max. 
Why there is good harmony, good music in these monsieur Gasper, you shall protract no time, only I will give you a bowl of rich wine to the health of your General, another to the success of your journey, and a third to the love of my sword. Pass.  Exeunt all but Aurelia and Phoenixella. Anre. 
Why how now sister in a motley muse?  
Go to, there's somewhat in the wind, I see.  
Faith this brown study suits not with your black,  
Your habit and your thoughts are of two colours.  Phoen. 
Good faith methinks that this young Lord Chamont favours my mother, sister, does he not?  Aure. 
A motherly conceit, o blind excuse,  
Blinder than love himself. Well sister, well.  
Cupid hath ta'en his stand in both your eyes, The case is altered.  Phoen. 
And what of that?  Aure. 
Nay nothing but a Saint.  
Another Bridget, one that for a face  
Would put down Vesta, in whose looks doth swim,  
The very sweetest cream of modesty.  
You to turn tippet? fie, fie, will you give  
A packing penny to Virginity.  
I thought you'd dwell so long in Cypress I'll,  
You'd worship Madam Venus at the length;  
But come, the strongest fall, and why not you?  
Nay, do not frown.  Phoen. 
Go. go, you fool. Adieu.  Aure. 
Well I may jest, or so: but Cupid knows  
My taking is as bad, or worse than hers.  
O monsieur Gasper? if thou be'st a man,  
Be not afraid to court me, do but speak,  
Challenge thy right and wear it: for I swear  
Till thou arrivedst, near came affection here.  Exit. Enter Pacue, Finio. Fin. 
Come on my sweet finical Pacue, the very prime  
Of Pages, here's an excellent place for us to practise in,  
nobody fees us here, come let's to it.  Enter Onion. Pac. 
Contenta: Reguarde, vou le Preimer.  Oni. 
Sirrah Finio?  Pac. 
Mort deiu le peasant.  Oni. 
Didst thou see Valentine?  Finio. 
Valentine? no.  Oni. 
No?  Fini. 
No. Sirrah Onion, whither goest?  Oni. 
O I am vexed, he that would trust any of these lying travelers.  Finio. 
I prithee stay good Onion.  Pac. 
monsieur Onion, vene ca, come hidera, je vou prey. By gar me ha see two, tree, four hundred thousand of your Cousan hang. Lend me your hand, shall pray for know you bettra.  Oni. 
I thank you good signor Parla vou? O that I were in another world, in the Ingies, or somewhere, that I might have room to laugh.  Pac. 
A we for't boon: stand? you be dear now, me come, Boon iour monsieur.  Under the arm. Fin. 
God morrow good signor.  Pac 
By gar, be much glad for see you.  Fin 
I return you most kind thanks sir.  Oni. 
How? how? 'sblood this is rare?  Pac. 
Nay, shall make you say rare by and by, regard monsieur Finio,  The shoulder Fin. 
signor Pache.  Pac. 
Dieu vou gard monsieur.  Fin. 
God save you sweet signor  Pac. 
monsieur Onion? is not for't boon.  Oni. 
bean? quoth he, would I were in debt of a pottle of beans I could do as much.  Fin. 
Welcome signor, what's next?  Pac. 
O here, Void de grand admiration, as should meet perchance monsieur Finio,  Fin. 
monsieur Pacue  Pac. 
jesu? by Gar who think we shall meet here?  Fin. 
By this hand I am not a little proud of it, sir  Oni. 
This trick is only forth the chamber, it cannot be cleanly done abroad,  Pac. 
Well what say you for dis den? monsieur:  Fin. 
Nay pray, sir.  Pac. 
Par ma foy vou bein encounters?  Fin 
What do you mean sir, let your glove alone.  Pac. 
Comen, se port la sante.  Fin. 
Faith exceeding well sir.  Pac, 
Trot, be much joy for heir.  Fin. 
And how be't with you sweet signor Pache.  Pac. 
Fat come vou voyer.  Oni. 
Young gentlemen? spirits of blood, if ever you'll taste of a sweet piece of mutton, do Onion a good turn now.  Pac. 
Que que, parla monsieur, what be't.  Oni. 
Faith teach me one of these tricks.  Pac. 
O me shall do presently, stand you dear, you signor dear, myself is here: so fort bein, now I parley to monsieur Onion, Onion pratla to you, you speak-a to me, so, and as you parley change the bonnet, monsieur Onion.  Oni. 
monsieur Finio.  Fin. 
monsieur Pacue.  Pac. 
Pray be covera.  Oni. 
Nay I beseech you sir.  Fin. 
What do you mean.  Pac. 
Pardon moy, shall be so,  Onion 
O God sir.  Fin. 
Not I in good faith sir.  Pac. 
By gar you must.  Onion 
It shall be yours.  Fin. 
Nay then you wrong me,  Oni. 
Well and ever I come to be great.  Pac. 
You be big enough for de Onion already,  Oni. 
I mean a great man.  Fin. 
Then thou'dst be a monster.  Oni. 
Well God knows not what fortune may do, command me, use me from the soul to the crown, and the crown to the soul: meaning not only from the crown of the head, and the sole of the foot, but also the foot of the mind and the crowns of the purse, I cannot stay now young gentlemen but— time was, time is, and time shall be.  Exeunt. Enter Chamount, Camillo. Cha. 
Sweet jasper I am sorry we must part,  
But strong necessity enforceth it.  
Let not the time seem long unto my friend,  
Till my return for by our love I swear  
(The sacred sphere wherein our souls are knit)  
I will endeavour to effect this business  
With all industrious care and happy speed.  Cam. 
My Lord these circumstances would come well,  
To one less capable of your desert  
Than I: in whom your merit is confirmed  
With such authentical and grounded proofs.  Cha. 
Well I will use no more. Gasper adieu.  Cam. 
Farewell my honoured Lord.  Cha. 
Commend me to the Lady, my good Gasper.  Cam. 
I had remembered that had not you urged it.  Cha. 
Once more adieu sweet Gasper.  Cam. 
My good Lord.  Exit Camillo, Cha. 
Thy virtues are more precious than thy name,  
Kind gentleman I would not sell thy love,  
For all the earthly objects that mine eyes,  
Have ever tasted, sure thou art nobly borne,  
however fortune hath obscured thy birth:  
For native honour sparkles in thine eyes,  
How may I bless the time wherein Chamont  
My honoured father did surprise vicenza,  
Where this my friend (known by no name) was found,  
Being then a child and scarce of power to speak,  
To whom my father gave this name of Gasper,  
And as his own respected him to death,  
Since when we two have shared our mutual fortunes,  
With equal spirits, and but deaths rude hand,  
No violence shall dissolve this sacred band.  Exit. Enter Juniper in his shop singing: to him Onion. Oni. 
Fellow juniper, no more of thy songs and sonnets, sweet juniper, no more of thy hymns and madrigals, thou singest, but I sigh.  Iuni 
What's the matter Peter ha? what in an Academy still, still in sable, and costly black array? ha?  Oni. 
Prithee rise mount, mount sweet juniper, for I go down the wind, and yet I puff: for I am vexed.  Iuni. 
Ha Bully? vexed? what intoxicate? is thy brain in a quintessence? an Idea? a metamorphosis? an Apology? ha rogue? come this love feeds upon thee, I see by thy cheeks, and drinks healths of vermilion, tears I see by thine eyes.  Oni. 
I confess Cupid's carouse, he plays super negulum with my liquour of life  Iuni. 
Tut, thou art a goose to be Cupid's gull, go to, no more of this contemplations, & calculations, mourn not, for Rachel's thine own  Oni. 
For that let the higher powers work: but sweet juniper, I am not sad for her, and yet for her in a second person, or if not so yet in a third.  Iuni. 
How second person? away, away, in the crotchets already Longitude and Latitude? what second? what person? ha?  Oni. 
juniper, I'll bewray myself before thee, for thy company is sweet unto me, but I must entreat thy helping hand in the case.  Iuni. 
Tut? no more of this surquedry; I am thine own? ad ungem upsy freeze: pell-mell, come, what case? what case?  Oni. 
For the case it may be any man's case, as well as mine, Rachel I mean, but I'll meddle with her anon, in the mean time, Valentine is the man hath wronged me.  Iuni. 
How my Ingle wrong thee, be't possible?  Oni. 
Your Ingle, hang him infidel, well and if I be not revenged one him let Peter Onion (by the infernal Gods) be turned to all eke or a scallion, I spoke to him for a ditty for this hankercher.  Iuni. 
Why, has he not done it?  Oni. 
Done it, not a verse by this hand.  Iuni. 
O in dichus illis, O preposterous, well come be blithe, the best judge of them al is sometimes dull, fellow Onion pardon mine juggle: he is a man, has imperfections and declinations, as other men have, his mass sometimes cannot carnet nor prognosticate and come of, as it should, no matter, I'll hammer our a paraphrase for thee myself.  Oni. 
No sweet juniper, no danger doth breed delay, love makes me choleric I can bear no longer.  Iuni. 
Not bear? what my mad Meridian slave? not be are? what?  Oni. 
Cupid's burden: 'tis too heavy, too tolerable, and as for the handkerchief and the posy: I will not trouble thee: but if thou wilt go with me into her father's backside, old jaques backside, and speak for me to Rachel, I will not being ratitude, the old man is abroad and all.  Iuni. 
Art thou sure on't.  Oni. 
As sure as an obligation.  Iuni. 
Let's away then, come we spend time in a vain circumference, trade I cashier thee till tomorrow, fellow Onion for thy sake I finish this workaday.  Oni. 
God a mercy, and for thy sake I'll at any time make a holiday.  Exunt. Enter Angelio, Rachel. Ang. 
Nay I prithee Rachel, I come to comfort thee, Be not so sad.  Rach. 
O signor Angelo,  
No comfort but his presence can remove,  
This sadness from my heart.  Ang. 
Nay then you're fond,  
And want that strength of judgement and election,  
That should be attendent on your years and form,  
Will you, because your Lord is taken prisoner,  
Blubber and weep and keep a peevish stir,  
As though you would turn turtle with the news,  
Come, come, be wise. 'sblood say your Lord should die:  
And you go mar your face as you begin,  
What would you do trow? who would care for you;  
But this it is, when nature will bestow  
Her gifts on such as know not how to use them,  
You shall have some that had they but one quarter  
Of your fair beauty? they would make it show  
A little otherwise than you do this,  
Or they would see the painter twice an hour,  
And I commend them I, that can use art,  
With such judicial practice.  Rach. 
You talk idly,  
If this be your best comfort keep it still,  
My senses cannot feed on such sour cates.  Ang. 
And why sweet heart.  Rach. 
Nay leave good signor.  Ang. 
Come I have sweeter viands yet in store.  Enter Onion and Juniper. Iuni. 
I in any case mistress Rachel.  Ang. 
Rachel?  Rach. 
God's pity signor Angelo, I hear my father, away for God's sake.  Ang: 
'sblood, I am betwixt, I think, this is twice now, I have been served thus.  Exit Rach. 
Pray God he meet him not.  Exit Rechel. Oni. 
O brave? she's yonder, O terrible she's gone.  Iuni. 
Yea? so nimble in your dilemmas, and your hyperboles Hay my love? O my love, at the first sight: By the mass.  Oni. 
O how she scudded, O sweet scud, how she tripped, O delicate trip and go.  Iuni. 
Come thou art enamoured with the influence of her profundity, but sirrah hark a little.  Oni. 
O rare, what? what? passing i'faith, what be't? what be't?  Iuni. 
What wilt thou say now, if Rachel stand now, and play hity-tity through the key hole, to behold the equipage of thy person:  Oni. 
O sweet equipage, try good juniper, tickle her, talk, talk, O? rare  Iuni. 
Mistress Rachel (watch then if her father come) Rachel? madonna? Rachel? No.  Oni. 
Say I am here, Onion or Peter or so.  Iuni. 
No, I'll knock, we'll not stand upon Horizons, and tricks, but fall roundly to the matter.  Oni. 
Well said sweet juniper: orisons? hang hem? knock, knock.  Rach. 
Who's there? father.  Iuni. 
Father no? and yet a father, if you please to be a mother.  Oni. 
Well said juniper, to her again, a smack or two more of the mother  Iuni. 
Do you here? sweet soul, sweet radamant? sweet mathavell one word Melpomene? are you at leisure.  Rach. 
At leisure? what to do?  Iuni. 
To do what, to do nothing, but to be liable to the ecstasy of true loves exigent, or so, you smell my meaning.  Oni. 
Smell, filthy, fellow juniper filthy? smell? O most odious.  Iuni. 
How filthy.  Oni. 
Filthy, by this finger? smell? smell a rat, smell a pudding, away these tricks are for trulls, a plain wench loves plain dealing, i'll upon myself, smell to march pain wench.  Iuni. 
With all my heart, I'll be legitimate and silent as an apple-squire, I'll see nothing, and say nothing.  Oni. 
Sweet heart, sweet heart?  Iuni. 
And bag pudding, ha, ha, ha?  Iaq. 
What Rachel my girl what Rachel;  Within Oni. 
God's lid?  Iaq. 
What Rachel,  Within Rach. 
Here I am  Within Onion 
What rakehell calls Rachel: O treason to my love.  Iuni. 
It's her father on my life, how shall we entrench and edify ourselves from him?  Oni. 
O coney-catching Cupid.  Enter jaques. Iaq. 
How in my back side? where? what come they for?  Onion gets up into a tree. 
Where are they? Rachel? thieves, thieves?  
Stay villain slave: Rachel? untie my dog.  
Nay thief thou canst not scape.  Iuni. 
I pray you sir.  Oni. 
A pitiful Onion, that thou hadst a rope.  Iaq. 
Why Rachel: when I say: let loose my dog? garlic my mastiff, let him lose I say.  Iuni. 
For God's sake hear me speak, keep up your cur.  Oni. 
I fear not garlic, he'll not bite Onion his kinsman pray God he come out, and then they'll not smell me.  Iaq. 
well then deliver, come deliver slave?  Iuni. 
What should I deliver?  Iaq. 
O thou wouldst have me tell thee? wouldst thou show me thy hands, what hast thou in thy hands?  Iuni. 
Here be my hands.  Iaq. 
Stay are not thy fingers ends begrimed with dirt, no thou hast wiped them.  Iuni. 
Wiped them?  Iaq. 
I thou villain? thou art a subtle knave, put off thy shows, come I will see them, give me a knife here Rachel, I'll rip the soles.  Oni. 
No matter he's a cobbler, he can mend them.  Iuni. 
What are you mad? are you detestable, would you make an Anatomy of me, think you I am not true Orthography?  Iaq. 
Orthography, Anatomy?  Iuni. 
For God's sake be not so inviolable, I am no ambuscado, what predicament call you this, why do you intimate so much.  Iaq. 
I can feel nothing.  Oni. 
by'r Lady but Onion feels something.  Iaq. 
Soft sir, you are not yet gone, shake your legs, come, and your arms, be brief, stay let me see these drums, these kilderkins, these bombard slops, what is it crams 'em so.  Iuni. 
Nothing but hair.  Iaq. 
That's true, I had almost forgot this rug, this hedgehogs nest, this hay mow, this bears skin, this heath, this firsbush.  Iuni. 
O let me go, you tear my hair, you resolve my brains and understanding.  Iaq. 
Heart, thou art somewhat eased? half of my fear  
Hath ta'en his leave of my, the other half  
Still keeps possession in despite of hope,  
Until these amorous eyes, court my fair gold:  
Dear I come to thee: friend, why art not gone?  
Avoid my soul's vexation, Sathan hence?  
Why dost thou stare on me, why dost thou stay?  
Why poorest thou on the ground with thievish eyes?  
What seest thou there, thou cur? what gapest thou at?  
Hence from my house, Rachel, send garlic forth.  Iunip. 
I am gone sir, I am gone, for God's sake stay.  Exit Juniper. Iaq. 
Pack, and thank God thou scapest so well away.  Oni. 
If I scape this tree, destinies, I defy you.  Iaq. 
I cannot see by any Characters  
Writ on this earth, that any felon foot  
Hath ta'en acquaintance of this hallowed ground.  
None sees me: knees do homage to your Lord.  
'tis safe, 'tis safe, it lies and sleeps so soundly,  
'twould do one good to look on't. If this bliss  
Be given to any man that hath much gold,  
justly to say 'tis safe, I say 'tis safe.  
O what a heavenly round these two words dance  
Within me and without me: First I think hem,  
And then I speak hem, than I watch their sound,  
And drink it greedily with both mine ears,  
Then think, then speak, then drink their sound again,  
And racket round about this Body's court.  
These two sweet words: 'tis safe: stay I will feed  
My other senses, o how sweet it smells  Oni. 
I mar'le he smells not Onion, being so near it.  Iaq. 
Down to thy grave again, thou beauteous Ghost,  
Angels men say, are spirits: Spirits be  
Invisible, bright angels are you so?  
Be you invisible to every eye.  
Save only these: Sleep, I'll not break your rest,  
Though you break mine: Dear Saints adieu, adieu:  
My feet part from you, but my soul dwells with you.  Exit. Oni. 
Is he gone? o Fortune my friend, & not fortune my foe,  
I come down to embrace thee, and kiss thy great toe.  Enter Juniper. Iunip. 
Fellow Onion? Peter.  Oni. 
Fellow juniper. What's the old panurgo gone? departed, cosmografied, ha?  Oni. 
O ay, and hark Sirrah. Shall I tell him? no.  Iunip. 
Nay, be brief and declare, stand not upon conundrums now, thou knowest what contagious speeches I have suffered for thy sake and he should come again and invent me here.  Oni. 
He says true, it was for my sake, I will tell him.  
Sirrah juniper? and yet I will not.  Iunip. 
What sayest thou sweet Onion?  Oni. 
And thou hadst smelled the scent of me when I was in the tree, thou wouldest not have said so: but Sirrah, The case is altered with me, my heart has given love a box of the ear, made him kick up the heels i'faith.  Iunip. 
Sayest thou me so, wad Greek? how haps it? how chances it.  Oni. 
I cannot hold it, juniper, have an eye, look, have an eye to the door, the old proverb's true, I see: gold is but muck. Nay Gods so juniper to the door, an eye to the main chance, here you slave, have an eye.  Iunip. 
O inexorable! o infallible! o intricate divine, and superficial fortune.  Oni. 
Nay, it will be sufficient anon, here, look here.  Iunip. 
O insolent good luck! How didst thou produce th'intelligence of the gold minerals.  Oni. 
I'll tell you that anon, here, make shift, convey, cram.  
I'll teach you how you shall call for garlic again i'faith.  Iunip. 
'sblood what shall we do with all this? we shall near bring it to a consumption.  Oni. 
Consumption? why we'll be most sumptuously attired, man.  Iunip. 
By this gold, I will have three or four most stigmatical suits presently.  Oni. 
I'll go in my foot-cloth, I'll turn Gentleman.  Iunip. 
So will I.  Oni. 
But what badge shall we give, what cullison?  Iunip. 
As for that let's use the infidelity and commiseration of some harlot of arms, he shall give us a gudgeon.  Oni. 
A gudgeon? a scutcheon thou wouldst say, man.  Iunip. 
A scutcheon or a gudgeon, all is one.  Oni. 
Well, our arms be good enough, let's look to our legs.  Iunip. 
Content, we'll be jogging.  Oni. 
Rachel? we retire: garlic God boy ye.  Iunip. 
Farewell sweet jaques.  Oni. 
Farewell sweet Rachel, sweet dog adieu.  Exeunt. Enter Maximilian, Count Ferneze, Aurelia, Phoenixella, Pache. Max. 
Nay but sweet Count.  Count. 
Away, I'll hear no more,  
Never was man so palpably abused,  
My son so basely marted; and myself  
Am made the subject of your mirth and scorn.  Max. 
Count Ferneze you tread too hard upon my patience,  
Do not persist I advise your Lordship.  Count. 
I will persist, and unto thee I speak.  
Thou, Maximilian thou hast injured me.  Max. 
Before the Lord:  Aur. 
Sweet signor.  Phoe 
O my father.  Mvx. 
Lady let your father thank your beauty.  Pac. 
By gar me shall be hang for tella dis same,  
Metella mademoiselle, she tell her sadera.  Count. 
The true Chamount set free, and one left here  
Of no descent, clad barely in his name.  
Sirrah boy come hither, and be sure, you speak the simple truth:  Pac. 
O pardon moy monsieur,  Count 
Come leave your pardons, and directly say.  
What villain is the same that hath usurped,  
The honoured name and person of Chamount:  Pac 
O monsieur, no point villain, brave Chevalier, monsieur Gasper.  Count. 
monsieur Gasper, on what occasion did they change their names, what was their policy, or their pretext.  Pac. 
Me canno tell, par ma foy monsieur.  Max. 
My honourable Lord.  Count. 
Tut tut, be silent.  Max. 
Silent? Count Ferneze, I tell thee if Amurath the great  
Turk were here I would speak, and he should hear me.  Count. 
So will not I.  Max. 
By my father's hand, but thou shalt Count, I say till this instant, I was never touched in my reputation: hear me you shall know that you have wronged me, and I will make you acknowledge it, if I cannot my sword shall.  Count. 
By heaven I will not, I will stop mine ears,  
My senses loathe the Saviour of thy breath.  
'tis poison to me, I say I will not hear.  
What shall I know, 'tis you have injured me,  
What will you make? make me acknowledge it.  
Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit.  Enter serving with Camillo. 
I'll make him to your face approve your wrongs.  
Come on false substance, shadow to Chamont:  
Had you none else to work upon but me,  
Was I your fittest project? well confess,  
What you intended by this secret plot.  
And by whose policy it was contrived,  
Speak truth, and be entreated courteously,  
But double with me, and resolve to prove  
The extremest rigor that I can inflict.  Cam. 
My honoured Lord, hear me with patience,  
Nor hope of favour, not the fear of torment,  
Shall sway my tongue, from uttering of a truth.  Count. 
'tis well, proceed then.  Cam. 
The morn before this battle did begin,  
Wherein my Lord Chamount and I were ta'en,  
We vowed one mutual fortune, good or bad,  
That day should be embraced of us both,  
And urging that might worst succeed our vow,  
We there concluded to exchange our names.  Count. 
Then Maximilian took you for Chamount.  Cam. 
True noble Lord.  Count. 
'tis false, ignoble wretch,  
'twas but a complot to betray my son.  Max. 
Count, thou liest in thy bosom, Count:  Count. 
Lie?  Cam. 
Nay I beseech you honoured gentlemen,  
Let not the untimely ruin of your love,  
Follow these sleight occurrents; be assured  
Chamount's return will heal these wounds again,  
And break the points of your too piercing thoughts.  Count. 
Return? I when? when will Chamount return?  
he'll come to fetch you, will he? I 'tis like,  
you'd have methink so, that's your policy.  
No, no, young gallant, your device is stale,  
You cannot feed me with so vain a hope.  Cam. 
My Lord, I feed you not with a vain hope,  
I know assuredly he will return,  
And bring your noble son along with him.  Max. 
ay, I dare pawn my soul he will return.  Count. 
O impudent derision? open scorn?  
Intolerable wrong? is't not enough?  
That you have played upon me all this while;  
But still to mock me, still to jest at me?  
fellows, away with him, thou ill-bred slave,  
That sets no difference twixt a noble spirit,  
And thy own slavish humour, do not think  
But i'll take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch?  Cam. 
Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind,  
And breed no terror in a guiltless mind.  Count. 
Nay, thou shalt want no torture, so resolve, bring him away.  Cam. 
Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend,  
Your tortures will, my love shall never end.  Exeunt. Manent Maxmilian, Aurelia, Phoenixella, Pacue. Phoen. 
Alas poor gentleman, my father's rage  
Is too extreme, too stern and violent  
O that I knew with all my strongest powers,  
How to remove it from thy patient breast,  
But that I cannot, yet my willing heart,  
Shall minister in spite of tyranny  
To thy misfortune, something there is in him,  
That doth enforce this strange affection,  
With more than common rapture in my breast:  
For being but Gasper, he is still as dear  
To me, as when he did Chamount appear.  Exit Phoenixella. Aure. 
But in good sadness signor, do you think Chamount will return?  Max. 
Do I see your face, Lady?  Aure. 
I sure, if love have not blinded you.  Max. 
That is a question, but I will assure you no, I can see, and yet love is in mine eye: well, the Count your father simply hath dishonoured me: and this steel shall engrave it on his burgonet.  Aure. 
Nay, sweet signor.  Max. 
Lady, I do prefer my reputation to my life,  
But you shall rule me, come let's march.  Exit Maxmilian. Aure. 
I'll follow signor, o sweet Queen of love!  
Sovereign of all my thoughts, and thou fair fortune,  
Who (more to honour my affections)  
Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamount.  
Let both your flames now burn in one bright spear;  
And give true light to my aspiring hopes,  
Hasten Chamount's return, let him affect me,  
Though father, friends, and all the world reject me.  Exit. Enter Angelo, Christopher. Ange. 
Sigh for a woman, would I fold mine arms,  
Rave in my sleep, talk idly being awake,  
Pine and look pale, make love-walks in the night,  
To steal cold comfort from a day-star's eyes.  
Kit, thou art a fool, wilt thou be wise? then lad  
Renounce this boy-god's nice idolatry,  
Stand not on complement, and wooing tricks,  
Thou lovest old jaques daughter, dost thou?  Chris. 
Love her?  Ange. 
Come, come, I know't, be ruled and she's thine own,  
thou'lt say her father jaques, the old beggar,  
Hath pawned his word to thee, that none but thou,  
Shalt be his son in law.  Chris. 
He has.  Ange. 
He has? wilt thou believe him, and be made a cook,  
To wait on such an antic wether cock;  
Why he is more inconstant than the sea,  
His thoughts, chameleon-like, change every minute:  
No Kit, work soundly, steal the wench away,  
Wed her, and bed her, and when that is done,  
Then say to jaques, shall I be your son?  
But come to our devise, where is this gold?  Chris. 
Here signor Angelo.  Ange. 
Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden drops,  
Let these bald french crowns be uncovered,  
In open sight, to do obeisance  
To jaques staring eyes when he steps forth,  
The needy beggar will be glad of gold.  
So, now keep thou aloof, and as he treads  
This guilded path, stretch out his ambling hopes,  
With scattering more & more, & as thou go'st, cry jaques, jaques  Chris. 
Tust, let me alone.  Ang. 
First i'll play the ghost, I'll call him out, Kit keep aloof.  Chris. 
But signor Angelo. Where will yourself and Rachel stay for me, after the jest is ended?  Ange. 
Mass, that's true, at the old Priory behind S. Foyes.  Chris. 
Agreed, no better place, i'll meet you there.  Ange. 
Do good fool, do, but i'll not meet you there.  
Now to this gear, jaques, jaques, what jaques?  within Iaq. 
Who calls? whose's there?  Ange. 
jaques.  within Iaq. 
Who calls?  Ange. 
Steward, he comes, he comes jaques.  Enter jaques. Iaq. 
What voice is this? nobody here, was I not called? I was.  
And one cried jaques with a hollow voice,  
I was deceived, no I was not deceived,  
See see, it was an Angel called me forth,  
Gold, gold, man-making gold, another star,  
Drop they from heaven, no, no, my house I hope  
Is haunted with a Fairy. My dear Lar,  
My household God, My Fairy on my knees.  Christ. 
jaques.  Exit Christopher. Iaq. 
My Lar doth call me, o sweet voice.  
Musical as the spheres, see, see, more gold.  within Chris. 
jaques.  Enter Rachel. Iaq. 
What Rachel, Rachel, lock my door, look to my house.  within Chris. 
jaques.  Iaq. 
Shut fast my door, a golden crown, jaques shall be a king.  Exit. Ange. 
To a fools paradise that path will bring  
Thee and thy household Lar.  Rach. 
What means my father, I wonder what strange humour.  Ange. 
Come sweet soul, leave wondering, start not, 'twas I laid this plot to get thy father forth.  Rach. 
O Angelo.  Ange. 
O me no oo's, but hear, my Lord your love,  
Paulo Ferneze is returned from war,  
Lingers at Pont Valeria, and from thence  
By post at midnight last, I was conjured  
To man you thither, stand not on replies,  
A horse is saddled for you, will you go,  
And I am for you, if you will stay, why so.  Rach. 
O Angelo, each minute is a day till my Ferneze come, come we'll away sir.  Ange. 
Sweet soul I guess thy meaning by thy looks,  
At pont Valerio thou thy love shalt see,  
But not Ferneze, Steward fare you well.  
You wait for Rachel to, when can you tell?  Exeunt. Enter Iaq. Iaq. 
O in what golden circle have I danced?  
Milan these odorous and enflowered fields  
Are none of thine, no here's Elysium,  
Here blessed ghosts do walk, this is the Court  
And glorious palace where the God of gold  
Shines like the son, of sparkling majesty;  
O fair feathered, my red-breasted birds,  
Come fly with me, i'll bring you to a quire,  
Whose consort being sweetened with your sound:  
The music will be fuller, and each hour  
These ears shall banquet with your harmony o, o, o,  Enter Christ. Chris. 
At the old priory, behind Saint Foyes,  
That was the place of our appointment sure:  
I hope he will not make me lose my gold,  
And mock me to, perhaps they are within: I'll knock.  Iaq. 
O God, the case is altered.  Christ. 
Rachel?  Angelo? 
signor Angelo?  Iaq. 
Angels? I where? mine Angels? where's my gold?  
Why Rachel? O thou thievish cannibal,  
Thou eatest my flesh in stealing of my gold.  Chris. 
What gold?  Iaq. 
What gold? Rachel call help, come forth,  
I'll rip thine entrails, but i'll have my gold:  
Rachel why comes thou not? I am undone,  
Ay me she speaks not, thou hast slain my child.  Exit Chris. 
What is the man possessed trow? this is strange,  
Rachel I see is gone with Angelo:  
Well i'll once again unto the priory,  
And see if I can meet them.  Exit Christopher, Iaq. 
'tis too true,  Enter jaques 
thoust made away my child, how haste my gold:  
O what hyena called me out of doors,  
The thief is gone: my gold's gone, Rachel's gone,  
all's gone? save I that spend my cries in vain,  
But i'll hence too, and die or end this pain.  Exit. Enter Juniper, Onion, Finio, Valentine. Iuni. 
'swounds, let me go, hay catso, catch him alive,  
I call, I call, boy, I come, I come sweet heart.  Oni. 
Page hold my rapier, while I hold my friend here.  Valen. 
O here's a sweet metamorphosis, a couple of buzzards turned to a pair of peacocks.  Iuni. 
signor Onion, lend me thy boy to unhang my rapier. On. signor juniper for once or so, but troth is, you must inveigle, as I have done, my Lords page here a poor follower of mine.  Iuni. 
Hei ho, your page then sha'not be super intendent upon me? he shall not be addicted? he shall not be incident? he shall not be incident? he shall not be incident, shall he?  Fin. 
O sweet signor juniper.  He foins 
juni 'sblood stand away princocks? do not aggravate my joy.  Valen. 
Nay good Master. Onion.  Oni. 
Nay and he have the heart to draw my blood, let him come.  Iuni. 
I'll slice you Onion, I'll slice you?  Oni. 
I'll cleave you juniper.  Valen. 
Why hold, hold, hough? what do you mean?  Iuni. 
Let him come Ingle, stand by boy, his alabaster blade cannot fear me.  Fin. 
Why hear you sweet signor, let not there be any contention, between my Master & you, about me, if you want a page sir, I can help you to a proper stripling.  Iuni. 
Canst thou? what parentage? what ancestry? what genealogy is he?  Fin. 
A french boy sir.  Iuni. 
Has he his French linguist? has he?  Fin. 
ay, sir.  Iuni. 
Then transport him: her's a crusado for thee.  Oni. 
You will not, imbecile my servant with your benevolence will you, hold boy their's a portmanteau for thee.  Fin. 
Lord sir.  On. 
Do take it boy, it's three pounds ten shill. a portmanteau.  Fin. 
I thank your Lordship.  Exit Finio. Iuni. 
Sirrah Ningle: thou art a traveler, and I honour thee.  
I prithee discourse? cherish thy muse? discourse?  Valen. 
Of what sir?  Iuni. 
Of what thou wilt. 'sblood? hang sorrow?  Oni. 
Prithee Valentine assoil me one thing.  Valen. 
'tis pity to soil you sir, your new apparel.  On. 
Mass thou sayst true, apparel makes a man forget himself.  Iun. 
Begin, find your tongue Ningle.  Val. 
Now will gull these ganders rarely:  
Gentlemen having in my peregrination through Mesopotamia.  Iun. 
Speak legibly, this game's gone, without the great mercy of God,  
Here's a fine tragedy indeed. there's a kaiser's royal.  
By God's lid, nor King nor Kaiser shall?  Enter Finio, Pacue, Balt. Martino. Balt. 
Where? where? Finio, where be they.  Iun. 
Go to, i'll be with you anon.  Oni. 
O her's the page signor juniper:  Iun. 
What sayth monsieur Onion, boy.  Fin. 
What say you sir.  Iuni. 
Tread out boy.  Fin. 
Take up, you mean sir.  Iun. 
Tread out I say, so, I thank you, is this the boy.  Pac. 
Ave monsieur.  Iuni. 
Who gave you that name.  Pac. 
Give me de name, vat name:  Oni. 
He thought your name had been, we young gentlemen, you must do more than his legs can do for him, bear with him sir.  Iuni. 
Sirrah give me instance of your carriage? you'll serve my turn, will you?  Pac. 
What? turn upon the toe.  Fin. 
O signor no.  Iuni. 
Page will you follow me, i'll give you good exhibition.  Pac. 
By gar, shall not alone follow you, but shall lead you to.  Oni. 
Plaguy boy, he soothes his humour? these french villains ha' pocky wits.  Iuni. 
Here? disarm me? take my scimitary.  Valen. 
O rare, this would be a rare man, and he had a little travel, Balthasar, Martino, put off your shoes, and bid him cobble them.  Iuni. 
Friends, friends, but pardon me for fellows, no more in occupation, no more in corporation, 'tis so pardon me, the case is altered, this is law, but i'll stand to nothing.  Pac. 
Fat so me tinke.  Iuni. 
Well then God save the Duke's Majesty, is this any harm now? speak, is this any harm now.  Oni. 
No nor good neither, 'sblood?  Iuni. 
Do you laugh at me? do you laugh at me? do you laugh at me?  Valen. 
ay sir, we do.  Iunip. 
You do indeed?  Valen. 
I indeed sir.  Iuni. 
'tis sufficient, Page carry my purse, dog me?  Exit. Oni. 
Gentlemen leave him not, you see in what case he is, he is not in adversity, his purse is full of money, leave him not?  Enter Angelo with Rachel. Exeunt Ang. 
Nay gentle Rachel?  Rach. 
Away? forbear? ungentle Angelo,  
Touch not my body, with those impious hands,  
That like hot Irons sear my trembling heart,  
And make it hiss, at your disloyalty.  Enter Chamount Paulo Ferneze. 
Was this your drift? to use Ferneze's name?  
Was he your fittest stale, o wild dishonour!  Pau. 
Stay noble sir?  Ange. 
'sblood how like a puppet do you talk now?  
Dishonour? what dishonour? come, come, fool,  
Nay then I see you're peevish, S'heart dishonour?  
To have you to a priest and marry you,  
And put you in an honourable state.  Rach. 
To marry me? o heaven, can it be?  
That men should live with such unfeeling souls,  
Without or touch or conscience of religion,  
Or that their warping appetites should spoil  
Those honoured forms, that the true seal of friendship  
Had set upon their faces.  Ange. 
Do you hear? what needs all this? say, will you have me, or no?  Rach. 
I'll have you gone, and leave me, if you would.  Ange. 
Leave you? I was accursed to bring you hither,  
And make so fair an offer to a fool.  
A pox upon you, why should you be coy,  
What good thing have you in you to be proud of?  
Are y'any other than a beggar's daughter?  
Because you have beauty. O God's light a blast.  Pau. 
I Angelo.  Ange. 
You scornful baggage, I loved thee not so much, but now I hate thee.  Rach. 
Upon my knees, you heavenly powers, I thank you,  
That thus have tamed his wild affections.  Ange. 
This will not do, I must to her again,  
Rachel, o that thou sawst my heart, or didst behold,  
The place from whence that scalding sigh evented.  
Rachel, by jesu I love thee as my soul, Rachel, sweet Rachel.  Rach. 
What again returned unto this violent passion.  Ange. 
Do but hear me, by heaven I love you Rachel.  Rach. 
Pray forbear, o that my Lord Ferneze were but here.  Ange. 
'sblood and he were, what would he do.  Pau. 
This would he do base villain.  Rach. 
My dear Lord,  Pau. 
Thou monster, even the soul of treachery!  
O what dishonoured title of reproach,  
May my tongue spit in thy deserved face?  
methinks my very presence should invert,  
The steeled organs of those traitorous eyes,  
To take into thy heart, and pierce it through:  
Turn'st thou them on the ground? wretch, dig a grave,  
With their sharp points, to hide th'abhorred head;  
Sweet love, thy wrongs have been too violent  
Since my departure from thee, I perceive:  
But now true comfort shall again appear,  
And like an armed angel guard thee safe  
From all th'assaults of covered villainy.  
Come monsieur, let's go, & leave this wretch to his despair.  Ange. 
My noble Ferneze.  Pau. 
What canst thou speak to me, and not thy tongue,  
Forced with the torment of thy guilty soul  
Break that infected circle of thy mouth,  
Like the rude clapper of a crazed bell.  
ay, that in thy bosom lodged my soul,  
With all her train of secrets, thinking them  
To be as safe, and richly entertained,  
As in a PRINCE's court, or tower of strength,  
And thou to prove a traitor to my trust,  
And basely to expose it, o this world!  Ange. 
My honourable Lord.  Pau. 
The very owl, whom other birds do stare & wonder at,  
Shall hoot at thee, and snakes in every bush  
Shall deaf thine ears with their—  Cha. 
Nay good my Lord, give end unto your passions.  Ange. 
You shall see, I will redeem your lost opinion.  Rach. 
My Lord believe him.  Cha. 
Come, be satisfied, sweet Lord you know our haste,  
Let us to horse, the time for my engaged return is past;  
Be friends again, take him along with you.  Pau. 
Come signor Angelo, hereafter prove more true.  Exeunt. Enter Count Ferneze, Maxmilian, Francesco. Count. 
Tut Maxmilian, for your honoured self,  
I am persuaded, but no words shall turn  
The edge of purposed vengeance on that wretch,  
Come, bring him forth to execution.  Enter Camillo bound, with servants 
I'll hang him for my son, he shall not scape,  
Had he an hundred lives: Tell me vile slave,  
Thinkest thou I love my son? is he my flesh?  
Is he my blood, my life? and shall all these be tortured for thy  
sake, and not revenged? truss up the villain.  Max. 
My Lord, there is no law to confirm this action.  
'tis dishonourable.  Count. 
Dishonourable? Maximilian?  
It is dishonourable in Chamount, the day of his prefixed return is past, and he shall pay for't.  Cam. 
My Lord, my Lord,  
Use your extremest vengeance, i'll be glad  
To suffer ten times more, for such a friend.  Count. 
O resolute and peremptory wretch!  Fran. 
My honoured Lord, let us entreat a word.  Count. 
I'll hear no more, I say he shall not live,  
myself will do it. Stay, what form is this  
Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my hand.  
What miracle is this? 'tis my own fancy,  
Carves this impression in me, my soft nature,  
That ever hath retained such foolish pity,  
Of the most abject creatures misery,  
That it abhors it, what a child am I  
To have a child? Ay me, my son, my son.  Enter Christophero. Chris. 
O my dear love, what is become of thee?  
What unjust absence layest thou on my breast,  
Like weights of lead, when swords are at my back,  
That run me through with thy unkind flight,  
My gentle disposition waxeth wild,  
I shall run frantic, o my love, my love.  Enter jaques. Iaq. 
My gold, my gold, my life, my soul, my heaven,  
What is become of thee? see, i'll impart  
My miserable loss to my good Lord,  
Let me have search my Lord, my gold is gone.  Count. 
My son, Christophero, thinkst it possible,  
I ever shall behold his face again.  Chris. 
O father where's my love, were you so careless  
To let an unthrift steal away your child.  Iaq. 
I know your Lordship may find out my gold,  
For God's sake pity me, justice, sweet Lord.  Count. 
Now they have young Chamount? Christophero?  
Surely they never will restore my son.  Chris. 
Who would have thought you could have been so careless to lose your only daughter.  Iaq. 
Who would think,  
That looking to my gold with such hares eyes,  
That ever open, I even when thy sleep,  
I thus should lose my gold, my noble Lord, what says your  
Lordship?  Count. 
O my son, my son.  Chris. 
My dearest Rachel?  Iaq. 
My most honey gold.  Count. 
Hear me Christophero.  Chris. 
Nay hear me jaques.  Iaq. 
Hear me most honoured Lord.  Max. 
What rule is here?  Count. 
O God that we should let Chamount escape.  Enter Aurelia, Phoenixella. Chris. 
I and that Rachel, such a virtuous maid, should be thus stolen away.  Iaq. 
And that my gold, being so hid in earth, should be found out.  Max. 
O confusion of languages, & yet no tower of Babel!  Fran. 
Ladies, beshrew me, if you come not fit to make a jangling consort, will you laugh to see three constant passions.  Max. 
Stand by, I will urge them, sweet Count, will you be comforted.  Count. 
It cannot be but he is handled the most cruelly,  
That ever any noble prisoner was.  Max. 
Steward, go cheer my Lord:  Chris. 
Well, if Rachel took her flight willingly?  Max. 
Sirrah, speak you touching your daughter's flight?  Iaq. 
O that I could so soon forget to know the thief again, that had my gold, my gold.  Max. 
Is not this pure?  Count. 
O thou base wretch, i'll drag thee through the streets.  Enter Balthasar, and whispers with him. 
And as a monster, make thee wondered at, how now.  Phoen. 
Sweet Gentleman? how too unworthily  
Art thou thus tortured, brave Maxmilian,  
Pity the poor youth and appease my father,  Count. 
How, my son returned? O Maxmilian,  
Francisco, daughters? bid him enter here.  Enter Chamount, Ferneze, Rachel, Angelo. 
Dost thou not mock me? O my dear Paulo welcome.  Max. 
My Lord Chamount?  Cha. 
My Gasper.  Chris. 
Rachel.  Iaq. 
My gold Rachel? my gold?  Count 
somebody bid the beggar cease his noise.  Chris. 
O signor Angelo, would you deceive  
Your honest friend, that simply trusted you?  
Well Rachel: I am glad thou art here again.  Ang. 
i'faith she is not for you steward.  Iaq. 
I beseech you madam urge your father.  Phoe. 
I will anon? good jaques be content.  Aur. 
Now God a mercy fortune, and sweet Venus,  
Let Cupid do his part, and all is well.  Phoe. 
methinks my heart's in heaven with this comfort.  Cha. 
Is this the true Italian courtesy.  
Ferneze were you tortured thus in France? by my soul's safety.  Count: 
My most noble Lord? I do beseech your Lordship.  Cha. 
Honoured Count, wrong not your age with flexure of a knee,  
I do impute it to those cares and griefs,  
That did torment you in your absent son.  Count. 
O worthy gentlemen, I am shamed  
That my extreme affection to my son,  
Should give my honour so uncured a main,  
But my first son, being in Vicenza lost.  Cha. 
How in Vicenza? lost you a son there?  
About what time my Lord?  Count. 
O the same night, wherein your noble father took the town.  Cha. 
How long's that since my Lord? can you remember.  Count. 
'tis now well nigh upon the twentieth year.  Cha. 
And how old was he then?  Count. 
I cannot tell, between the years of three and sour, I take it.  Cha. 
Had he no special note in his attire,  
Or otherwise, that you can call to mind.  Count 
I cannot well remember his attire,  
But I have often heard his mother say:  
He had about his neck a tablet,  
Given to him by the Emperor Sigismund.  
His Godfather, with this inscription,  
Under the figure of a silver Globe: En minimo, mundus.  Cha. 
How did you call your son my Lord?  Count 
Camillo Lord Chamount.  Cha. 
Then no more my Gasper? but Camillo,  
Take notice of your father, gentlemen:  
Stand not amazed? here is a tablet,  
With that inscription? found about his neck  
That night, and in Vicenza by my father,  
(Who being ignorant, what name he had)  
Christened him Gasper, nor did I reveal,  
This secret till this hour to any man.  Count. 
O happy revelation? o blessed hour? o my Camillo.  Phoe. 
O strange my brother.  Fran. 
Maximilian? behold how the abundance of his joy Drowns him in tears of gladness.  Count. 
O my boy? forgive thy father's late austerity:  Max. 
My Lord? I delivered as much before, but your honour would not be persuaded, I will hereafter give more observance to my visions? I dreamt of this.  Iaq. 
I can be still no longer, my good Lord,  
Do a poor man some grace 'mongst all your joys.  Count. 
Why what's the matter jaques.  Iaq. 
I am robbed, I am undone my Lord, robbed and undone:  
A heap of thirty thousand golden crowns,  
Stolen from me in one minute, and I fear:  
By her confederacy, that calls me father,  
But she's none of mine, therefore sweet Lord:  
Let her be tortured to confess the truth.  Max. 
More wonders yet.  Count. 
How jaques is not Rachel than thy daughter.  Iaq. 
No, I disclaim in her, I spit at her,