A Fine Companion. Acted before the King and Queen at Whitehall, And sundry times with great applause at the private House in SALISBURY Court, By the Prince his Servants.  
Written by SHAKERLEY MARMYON.  
— lectori credere mallem,  
Quam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi.  Hor: 
LONDON, Printed by Aug. Mathewes for Richard Meighen, next to the Middle Temple gate in Fleetstreet. 1633.   

TO THE TRULY NOBLE, and his Worthy Kinsman in all respects, Sir RALPH DUTTON  
SIR,  
we have great cause to triumph over the iniquity of the times, that in all ages there wants not a succession of some candid Dispositions, who (in spite of malice & ignorance) dare countenance Poetry, and the Professors. How such an excellent, and divine part of Humanity should fall under the least contempt, or arm the petulancy of Writers to declaim against her, I know not: but I guess the reason, that having their souls darkened, and rejoicing in their errors, are offended at the lustre of those Arts that would enlighten them. But the Fates have not so ill befriended our studies, as to expose them to contempt, without the protection of such, whose ability of judgement can both wipe off all aspersions, and dignify desert. Amongst the worthy Patrons of Learning, that can best vindicate her worth, you are not the least; And because custom and respect to noble friends, gives a privilege to dedicate our Endeavours where they may find admittance, I have made bold to present this piece unto you. It hath often pleased, and without intermission. If you shall second that applause by your kind favour, it shall not aspire to be more honoured.  
By him that is yours in all observance, SHACK; MARMYON.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Aurelio ,An elder Brother disinherited.  
Careless ,His Brother, the Fine Companion.  
Dotario ,An old Gentleman, their Uncle.  
Fido ,Their Friend.  
spruce ,A young Gallant.  
Littlegood ,An Usurer.  
Fondling ,His wife.  
Lackwit ,Their Son.  
Valeria ,Their Daughter.  
Aemilia ,Their Daughter.  
Crotchet ,A Clown.  
Whibble ,A Captain.  
Stern ,A Lieutenant.  
Taylor. Sempster. Haberdasher.  
Hostess.  
4. Wenches.  
fiddlers.  
Boy.  
Attendants.    

prologue.  Critic, Author. Crit. 
ARe you the Author of this Play?  Auth. 
What then?  Crit. 
Out o' this Poetry, I wonder what  
You do with this Disease, a seed of Vipers  
Spawned in Parnassus' pool, whom the world frowns on,  
And here you vent your poison on the Stage.  Auth. 
What say you sir?  Crit. 
Oh you are deaf to all  
Sounds, but a Plaudite, and yet you may  
Remember, if you please, what entertainment  
Some of your Tribe have had, that have took pains  
To be contemned, and laughed at by the Vulgar,  
And then ascribed it to their ignorance.  
I should be loath to see you move their spleens  
With no better success, and then with some  
Commendatory Epistles fly to the Press,  
To vindicate your credit.  Aut. 
What if I do?  Crit. 
By my consent I'll have you  
Banished the Stage, proscribed, and interdicted  
Castalian water, and Poetical fire.  Aut. 
In that you wrong th'approved judgements of  
This noble Auditory, who like a Sphere  
Moved by a strong Intelligence, sit round  
To crown our Infant Muse, whose celestial  
Applause, she heard at her first entrance.  Crit. 
This way of Poetry has deceived many;  
For 'tis not every one that writes a Verse,  
Has washed his mouth in Helicon, or slept  
On the two topped Parnassus, there's great difference  
Betwixt him, that shall write a lawful Poem,  
And one that makes a paper of loose Verses,  
To court his looser Mistress; there's much air  
Required to lift up the Dircaean Swan,  
When he shall print his tracts among the clouds:  
Not as your ignorant Poetasters use,  
In spite of Phoebus, without Art or Learning,  
T'usurp the Stage, and touch with impure hands,  
The lofty Buskin, and the Comic style.  Aut. 
This I confess; but when the prosperous gale  
Of their auspicious breath shall fill our sails,  
And make our high-born thoughts swell like a tide:  
And when our bolder Muse shall put on Buskins,  
And clap on her Talaria on her feet,  
Then like swift Mercury, she may aspire  
To a sublimer Region, with that force,  
And bear that weighty burden on her wings,  
That she shall fear to crack her pinions.  Crit. 
'tis this licentious generation  
Of Poets, trouble the peace of the whole Town;  
A Constable can't get his Maid with child,  
A Baker nor a Scrivener lose his cares,  
Nor a justice of Peace share with his Clerk;  
A Lord can't walk drunk with a torch before him,  
A Gallant can't be suffered to pawn's Breeches,  
Or leave his cloak behind him at a Tavern,  
But you must jerk him for it.  Auth. 
In all ages  
It hath been ever free for Comic Writers,  
If there were any that were infamous,  
For lust, ambition, or avarice,  
To brand them with great liberty, though I  
Disclaim the privilege; no impure language,  
As Stygian mud stirred up with Charon's oar,  
ne'er belched so foul an air, shall ever mix  
With our ingenious mirth, nor need we fear,  
Any their foul aspersions; whilst the wise,  
Sit to control and judge, in whose clear eyes,  
As we deserve, we look to stand or fall,  
Passing profane people, and leave all  
To be determined as you censure. Boy  
Go and subscribe it quickly what I say.  Crit. 
he's grown contemptuous, & flings away  
In a rapture; for this, when I am in,  
If I can't laughed at's play, I'll laugh at him.   

A Fine Companion.  

ACTVS I.  

SCENA I.  Aurelie, Valeria. Aur. 
'tIs true indeed, our love is like our life,  
There's no man blessed in either, till his end.  
And he whom Fate points to that happiness,  
A thousand passions mock his doubtful hopes,  
Till Virtue that can never be extinct,  
Shall rise above their rage, and call down Hymen,  
Attended with as many several joys,  
To triumph in the circle of our brow.  Val. 
But that the fatal union of our hearts,  
Should breed such issues of extremity,  
In both our fortunes, yet the greatest grief  
I feel, is in your wrongs, not in my own.  Aur. 
ne'er think of it; what though my father made me  
A stranger to his loins, and cut me off  
From my inheritance, because he thought me  
A rival in his love, that fatal love  
Whose jealousy prevailed so in a wooer,  
That it killed all affection in a father.  
These ill begotten thoughts he still maintained,  
And cherished to his death, whose period  
Of life, was the beginning of my mischief:  
For he gave all the land unto my brother.  
One less deserving, would I could report  
That he had any worth, his ill wrought mind,  
Too apt for the impression of all vice,  
As if he were to strive with his estate,  
And had no other Enemy, would make  
A conquest of his ruin. So negligent  
Of what his father wrongfully bereft me,  
That he spends all in riot, and so vainly,  
As if he meant to throw it after him,  
Only he has a foolish flashing wit,  
Too weak to sustain, or prevent his fall,  
But no solidity of mind or judgement.  
And now imagines he can salve it up,  
By being styled, A Fine Companion.  
Let that entitle him to all my right,  
Whilst I secure in my imputed crime,  
Think thee a better portion; all my fault  
Was honesty, and true affection.  Val. 
And those still envious fate insults upon.  
But we will live together, and whate'er  
Shall interpose to poison our true love,  
Still triumph o'er their malice.  Aur. 
Dear Valeria,  
Had fortune pleased to place me in that means  
My birth assured me, we had spent our life  
Lulled in the lap of peace, our days had run  
Smooth as the feet of time, free from all tumults.  Val. 
And why not still?  Aur. 
It may do so, but I  
Have not a fortune equal to your virtues,  
And to support the title of your worth.  Val. 
My mind was never yet ambitious.  
And there is nothing but your company,  
Can satisfy, or limit my desires.  Aur. 
I love you better than to injure you.  
I will resign you to some richer heir,  
Whose heaps of wealth left by his greedy father,  
Untouched as is your goodness, may advance you,  
And make you happy, think on't, be not cruel  
To your own self.  Aur. 
On how have I deserved that you should think  
So ill of me? you may divorce the luy,  
The Vine from her embraces, me you can not.  
Where is the care you wont to have of me?  
What is my fault? you can be well without me,  
And I shall please you best when I am absent.  Aur. 
Nay my Valeria do not weep so sore,  
Thy grief adds more to mine, it is enough  
I part from thee, my heart with drops of blood,  
Pays tribute to the Ocean of thy tears:  
This treasure of thine eyes, if spent for those,  
That lie unterred, wanting their funeral rites,  
And restless walk upon the Stygian strand,  
So long as fate has limited their curse,  
Would send them over to Elysium.  
One grain of that same grief which clogs her heart,  
Would lie in balance 'gainst the universe.  
The joy and happiness of all mankind,  
Are given to me in her, and she was borne,  
T'upbraid the world, and tell them they are false.  Val. 
What shall I do when you are ravished from me?  
Could Portia rather swallow glowing coals,  
Then burn with a desire of her lost Brutus?  
Shall the example of those times descend  
To shame my love? Could the Egyptian Queen,  
Rather endure the poignant stings of Adders,  
Than that of death which wounded Antony?  
And must I then survive you? can I live,  
When you that are my soul are taken from me?  
Oh 'tis not now as when Penelope  
Could stay ten years the coming of her love,  
And span a tedious web of foolish thoughts,  
In expectation.  Aur. 
Faith that fled to heaven,  
And truth, that after once men's hearts grew cold,  
Would go no longer naked, now again  
Are come to dwell with mortals. Here's a woman,  
In whose comparison all wealth is sordid.  
And since she proves so constant, fate itself  
Shall not be blamed for me that I for sooke her.    

Actus I.  

Scena. II.  Enter Littlegood. Lit. 
Are you so well resolved? but I may cross you.  Val. 
Oh me my father, I am quite undone  
I am nobody.  Lit. 
Yes, you are the wickedest,  
The most ungracious child, that ever lived  
Under so good a government, but that  
Shall turn to tyranny, since your discretion  
Can not distinguish of the difference.  
Have I, what should I say? cherished you up,  
With tenderness, and costly education,  
To have you made a Sacrifice to beggary,  
To one that's cut off, disinherited,  
The son of the people?  Aur. 
Pray sir forbear,  
My wrongs do not permit you to abuse me.  Lit. 
Sir 'tis most basely done of you, to use  
The charity, and freedom of my house,  
Thus to seduce my daughter: but for that  
If you can keep her as well from your mind,  
As I can from your sight, you may in time,  
Learn to forget her. You were best go travel,  
Repair yourself by some new found plantation,  
Not think to supplant my issue. This place,  
Is moralised with thrift and industry,  
Suits not with men of your condition,  
That have no stock but their gentry. Get you in,  
And for your part sir, know my house no more,  
I'll provide her a husband. So farewell.  Aur. 
howe'er I speed, comfort attend thee still,  
And so my best Valeria farewell.    

Actus I.  

Scena. III.  Careless, Fido. Car. 
ne'er tell me on't, a Gentleman must show himself to be a Gentleman.  Fid. 
I so he must sir, but in you there's small resemblance of one.  Car. 
Come you are an importunate Ass, a dull heavy fellow, and I must bear with you must I? by this light I will not live out of the blaze of my fortunes, though it last but a minute, to linger out a tedious siege of adversities.  Fid. 
Yet you may live with more credit, at a competent rate as your land will allow you.  Car. 
Land? there was my unhappiness to have any, I was borne to none, 'twas merely thrust upon me, and now I can not be quiet for it; 'tis like a wife that brings a thousand impediments, I must take an order, I can not walk the streets in peace, your Magnifico stops his great horse to salute me, another treats of marriage, and offers me his daughter, your Advocate racks me with impertinences, and to free my land from encumbrances troubles me ten times worse, what with friends and Counsellors, fellows that seem to me of another species I could resign my interest.  Fid. 
All this sir is a grace to you, if you conceive it.  Car. 
I'll sell all, 'twere a sin to keep it. When didst thou know an elder brother disinherited, and the land continue with the issue? now for me to live thriftily upon it, were no otherwise than to mock fate and contemn providence.  Fid. 
But now you know the danger, you may prevent it.  Car. 
What should I dote upon casualties, trust Scriveners with my money, fellows that will break, and all the wit in Town can't solder them up again?  Fid. 
You may scorn my advice, but when 'tis too late—  Car. 
I tell thee, I'll keep no Land, not no houses, candle rents that are subject to fire and ruin, I can't sleep for fear of them; there's no danger in coin, 'twill make a man respected, drink, and be drunk, wear good clothes, and live as free as a Parthian.  Fid. 
But when all's gone, where's your respect, and gentility then?  Car. 
Where is't? why in my blood still, we'll both run one course near out of the vain I warrant thee.  Fid. 
If you can hold in this vain 'tis more lasting than a mineral.  Car. 
Prithee good honest, old patched piece of experience, go home and wear thyself out in contemplation, and do not vex me with problems, they can do no more good upon me, than a young pitiful Lover upon a Mistress, that has the sullens.  Fid. 
Well sir, I could willingly wait upon you in the way of honour and reputation.  Car. 
No no, you shall not need my homo frugi, go about your business, and though men of my quality, do seldom part with any thing, for good uses, for Gamesters and Courtiers have but little charity, yet for this once, I will trespass against custom, and here's something to put you into a fortune, I could wish it more, but you know how my man has used me, and my occasions.  Fid. 
I see yet in his good nature a reluctancy against ill courses, he has not quite shaked off his humanity, there are hopes to reclaim him; if not sir gallant, when all is spent, the return of this money will be grateful; and so farewell.  Exit Fido. Car. 
Adieu, and commend me to my Uncle, tell the Mechanics without, that I vouchsafe them admittance. I will not spend all in whoring and sack. I will have some clothes of value, though they be but to pawn in a vacation, for this purpose I have sent this morning to consult with the authential judgements, of my tailor, Sempster and Haberdasher; and now am I studying with what state I shall use them.    

Actus I.  

Scena 4.  Careless, tailor, Sempster, Haberdasher. Car. 
Come in fellows, I sent for you together, because you should receive your instructions: I am to make me a suit, and I would have you determine, about the form and the accoutrements, for the fitting of the points and the garters, and the roses, and the colours of them. Nature is much beholding to you, though there be a difference in the accidents, yet you can reconcile them, & make them suit handsomely together. I am a Gentleman, and would not be disgraced for my irregularity.  Tayl. 
You say well sir.  Care. 
I tell you my disposition, I am wholly addicted to rarities, things that are new take me; new plays, new mistresses, new servants, new toys, new fangles, new friends, and new fashions, and these I deal with, as in a quarrel I would not be behind hand with any of them.  Semp. 
Sir you shall command our endeavours.  Car. 
I thought fit to take your advice, & you are beholding to me, you are the only men in the world that can rule me.  Hab. 
Sir for curiosity we have the maidenheads of all the wits in Europe, and to your service we will employ both our art and our industry.  Car. 
I am informed of your qualities, I hear you are men of intelligence, by this light I wonder the state is not afraid of you.  Tay. 
we hope they have no reason for that sir.  Care. 
Yes, you are dangerous follows, and have plots and devices upon men's bodies, and are suspected to be sorcerers, that can transform a man into what shape you list.  Tayl. 
It pleases you to be merry sir.  Care. 
Nay by this hand, 'tis given out, that you are great scholars, and are skilled in all the habitual Arts, and know their coherences, and that you are a kind of Astrologers, observers of times and seasons, and for making of Matches, beyond all the gallants in the Kingdom.  Tay. 
We would match things as near as we could sir.  Care. 
And besides that, you are proud of your knowledge, for when you have once got a man's good name, you make what account you list of it.  Hab. 
Not so sir.  Care. 
Yes, and presume upon't, and think whatever injury you do a man, you can be saved by your Book This is true, and care not a pin for the Law, for you hold good Custom to be far beyond it.  Semp. 
We would be loath to give any Gentleman distaste sir.  Care. 
I must commend you, in that you are not partial, for you make the like reckoning of every man. Well, to the purpose.  Tay. 
You'll have your suit of the Spanish fashion?  Car. 
What with two wallets behind me, to put up faults and abuses, or else I'll cashier my men, and they shall serve me for attendants, hangers on, ha? No by this air, I am too good a gentleman to have my arms tricked up with such gewgaws.  Tayl. 
Sir, you must be conformable.  Care. 
Well, I am content to be persuaded: when shall I have them?  Tayl. 
You shall not miss within these three days, and what else is requisite, trust to my care to apply it.  Care. 
Well I am satisfied, and hereafter believe me, as I believe thee.  Enter Boy Boy. 
Sir, Master spruce is come to visit you.  Car. 
Master spruce? prithee bid him come up. Well, there's a Gentleman, of all I know, can justly claim admiration, for his compliment, his discourse, his habit, his acquaintance, and then for proffering of courtesies, & never doing any; I may give away all I have, before I shall arrive at the grace of it.  Hab. 
Pray sir, when did you see the noble Captain?  Car. 
Who Captain Whibble; Mass now think on't thou shalt go seek him out, and entreat him to meet me at the Horseshoe Tavern at dinner, I love that house for the signs sake, 'tis the very print of the shoe that Pegasus wore, when he broke up Helicon with his hoof, and now in relation of that, your Poets and Players, still haunt about the brinks of it. Sirrah tell him withal, that Master Lackwit the citizen's son will be there, and other good company, and we will have music and wenches, go thy ways, and you Master Snip, meet me about three o'clock to take up these commodities, so now I have done with you.    

Actus I.  

Scena V.  Careless, Spruse, with one garter untied, and a black Box at his girdle. Spru. 
Save you Master Careless.  Care. 
Master spruce you have much honoured me with your presence.  Spru. 
I met with a disaster coming up, something has ravished the tassel of my Garter, and discomposed the whole fabric, 'twill cost me an hour's patience to reform it; I had rather have seen the Common wealth out of order.  Care. 
Sure it was not fast tied to your leg.  Spru. 
As fast together, as the fashion is for friends now adays to be tied, with certain knots of compliment, which the least occasion disjoins. I'll only tuck it up, and when my better leisure permits, reduce it to perfection.  Care. 
What box have you there?  Spru. 
A conceit, a conceit, a rare invention one of the happiest that ever my wit teemed withal.  Care. 
Bless me with the discovery.  Spru. 
You shall swear to be silent then.  Care. 
As close as that covering.  Spru. 
Then look you, I will participate the mystery; this petty fogging box promises that I have great suits in law, this is to delude the world now: But I must tell you I am a kind of a Solicitor, an earnest suitor to every wench I see.  Care. 
Very pretty, proceed.  Spru. 
What do you think I have in this box then?  Care. 
I know not.  Spru, 
A bundle of blank love letters, ready penned with as much vehemency of affection, as I could get for money, only wanting the superscription of their names, to whom they shall be directed, which I can instantly, and with ease endorse upon acquaintance.  Care. 
And so send them to your Mistress?  Spru. 
You understand me. I no sooner fall into discourse with any Lady, but I profess myself ardently in love with her, and being departed, return my Boy with one of these Letters, to second it, as I said passionately deciphering how much I languish for her. Which she can not but deeply apprehend, together with the quickness and promptitude of my ingenuity in the dispatch of it.  Care. 
I'll practise this device. Prithee let me see one of them, what's here? To the fair hands of—  Spru. 
I there wants a name, they fit any degree or person whatsoever.  Care 
Let me see this then. To the Lady and Mistress of his thoughts, and service.  Spru. 
There wants a name too. They are general things.  Care. 
I'll open it by your favour sir, what's here? Most resplendent Lady, that may justly be styled, the accomplishment of beauty, the Seat and mansion of all delight, and virtue, in whom meet the joy, and desires of the happy. Some man here perhaps might fear, in praising your worth, to heighten your disdain, but I am forced though to the peril of my neglect, to acknowledge it: For to this hour my curious thoughts, and wandering, in the Sphere of feminine perfection, could never yet find out a subject like yourself, that could so detain and command my affection.  Spru. 
And so it goes on: How do you like it?  Car. 
Admirable good, put them up again.  Spr. 
Nay I have so strange a wit, few men do jump with it.  
All my delights are steeped in Elegancy,  
And censured by an Arbitration,  
Before I do approve them; I have searched  
The dust of antiquity to find out  
The rare inventions that I am versed in,  
My several Garbs and Postures of the body,  
My rules for banqueting, and entertainment:  
And for the titillation of my laughter,  
Buffoons and Parasites, for I must tell you,  
I still affect a learned luxury.  Car. 
You have a very complete suit on too methinks.  Spr. 
'tis as fresh as the morning, and that's the grace on't, a new Play, and a Gentleman in a new suit, claim the same privilege, at their first presentment their estimation is double.  Car. 
And whither now do your employments direct you?  Spr. 
I took your lodging by the way, I am going to dazzle the eyes of the Ladies with my apparition.  Car. 
I am not so conformable as I could wish, or else I would attend you. I took up a new man, for pities sake, some three days since, to wait upon me, which foolish sin I will abandon whilst I live for it. He ran away with two hundred pounds, the remnant of a mortgage, and since that I was put to a new perplexity to supply me.  Spr. 
By this hand, if you had spoke but yesterday I could have furnished you.  Car. 
Why what a rare way is here now, to engage a man for nothing? I must study it.  Spr. 
How does your brother digest the loss of his inheritance?  Car. 
Very well sure, for sometimes he has nothing else to digest; and he has enough of that too: it sticks in his stomach worse than a Surfeit. Alas we landed men are but fools to him, it makes him sober, and wise, very temperate.  Spr. 
There's Valeria a foolish peevish thing that he calls Mistress, good for nothing but to whet a man's wit, and make a Whore on, I can't believe there's any real love between them.  Car. 
Has she received any of your Letters?  Spr. 
Yes twenty, and nothing will prevail. I have sought to corrupt her any time this twelvemonth, and can do no good on her, her father gives me opportunity out of pretence of good will, but I use it clean contrary; for alas, I can not love any wench farther than to lie with her. I can not fashion my tongue to speak in any other Character. I would not willingly lose all this time and labour. I'll make short of it, either work her to obedience, or do her a mischief.  Car. 
'tis well resolved, and there's her sister Aemilia. She will glance sometimes affectionately upon me; were it not a mad thing, when I have sold all my Land to her father to get her into advantage? I think that will be the end of it.  Spr. 
methinks Lackwit her brother might stand thee in some stead for the conveyance.  Car. 
Well 'tis the truest spaniel that, I put a hundred jeers upon him, and yet he loves me the better, I can pawn him as familiarly as my cloak.  Spr. 
The time calls upon me.  Car. 
I'll dismiss you, will you present my service to the Ladies and excuse me?  Spr. 
I shall be proud to make my tongue the Organ of your command's sir.  Car. 
I will hold you no longer from your happiness, but I shall envy the intercourse of your mirth.  Exeunt.   

Actus I.  

Scena. VI.  Dotario. Fido. Dot. 
Then he is past hope?  Fid. 
He has no sense of his misery, a strong stupidity, a lethargy has possessed him: his disease is infectious, it has caught hold of his estate, & brought that into a consumption.  Dot. 
No means to reclaim him?  Fid. 
I know not what to apply, when remedies are hurtful, give him good counsel, and you poison him.  Dot. 
I would my brother had been better advised, than to give his Land to a Prodigal.  Fid. 
Fitter indeed the right Heir should have had it: you might do well to turn your compassion upon him: a poor injured Gentleman, and stands equal in your blood.  Dot. 
No I'll marry a wife, and get an heir of mine own, I have made a motion to Master Little good the Usurer, about one of his daughters, and we are partly agreed, I am going to ask her good will in it.  Fid. 
Look you sir. Pray stand by, here he comes with his train.  Enter Careless, Captain, Lieutenant. Car. 
Is it not well resolved Captain?  Cap. 
Yes by the soul of Hercules, 'tis a good foresight, to sell all and prevent misfortunes. The world's full of uncertainties: Land may be barren, servants deceitful, make money I say, & what a man spends with his friends, shall ne'er perish.  Lieu. 
I say by the heart of valour, that man lives best at ease, that has no money at all.  Car. 
What shall he do then Lieutenant?  Lieu. 
By the faith of a soldier, for the exercise of his wits he may do any thing: if all trades fail he may turn Pimp, 'tis a noble profession to live by, if he can perform that office well, he need ask no more of his Genius.  Capt. 
Body of me, nor no better preferment.  Lieu. 
As I am a sinner 'tis a good science, a mathematical mystery of undermining holds, and when the breach is open, be the first man that shall enter.  Car. 
But I think there be so many of them, they can hardly live one for another.  Lieu. 
As I am virtuous 'tis grown into credit, and you have very good men that study it. Good Knights and Squires that have thrived by it.  Capt. 
Stab me, what sullen Saturn is that, looks so oblique upon us, as I am Martial I will confront his aspect.  Car. 
Good Captain be appeased, it is my Uncle, I can not avoid him: let me entreat your absence for a while, meet me at the horse-shoe.  Cap. 
Fire of my blood you shall rule me: come Lieutenant.  Exeunt Cap. Lieu.   

Actus I.  

Scena. VII.  Dotario, Careless, Fido. Dot. 
Shall I speak or hold my peace?  Car 
e'en which you please, good Uncle.  Dot. 
I 'tis all one to you, for any impression I shall make: would I could refrain to take notice of thee, but still nature over sways me, and affection breaks out into counsel but to no purpose.  Car. 
Troth uncle youth will have his swing.  Dot. 
I upon a Gallows, if you hold on, that will be the end of you. That I should live to see my brother's goods so misspent, the life of his labours sucked out by such Horseleeches.  Car. 
Horseleeches, do you know what you say? no, you do not apprehend the worth that dwells in these men: to see how a man may be mistaken in the distinction of virtue.  Fid. 
Nay sir, 'tis as I told you, you may as soon recall an arrow when 'tis flying, or a stone from precipice, as reclaim him.  Car. 
Oh uncle, that you should thus carp at my happiness, and traduce my Cameradoes, men of such spirit and valour.  Dot. 
Yes, Captain and Lieutenant, how a vengeance came they by these titles? fellows that have been only fleshed in the ruin of black pots, and glass windows, the very scum of all rudeness.  Car. 
Have you any money about you?  Dot. 
What to do?  Car. 
Bribe me to keep counsel: you are but a dead man if they know on't: you have puffed out your soul in their calumnies.  Fid. 
Hang them fellows so sordid, that no disgrace can stick upon them, they are choice company; for there's hardly the like of them. A man cannot discern the ground of their discourse for oaths, unless you were divorced from all reason, you would not be wedded to such acquaintance.  Car. 
Why how now mongrel, are you barking? by this air 'tis an indignity to my discretion, that is so happy in the election of their virtues: the only prime wits in town, things come so rarely from them, a man is kept in a perpetual appetite. I would not let them stay to offend you, neither can I endure their reproach. Farewell uncle.  Exit Careless. Dot. 
Well I will not trouble myself any more to look after him, I'll marry, and thrust him out of all, that's the conclusion.  
Desinit Actus primus.    

ACTVS II.  

SCENA I.  Spruse, Littlegood, Valeria. Spr. 
But are you certain of it?  Lit. 
I o'erheard it.  
When she did plot her own destruction,  
And sealed it with her hand, and kissed upon't.  
You know Aurelio?  Spr. 
Yes sir, was it he?  Lit. 
That Beggar, that undone thing.  Spr. 
Let me alone  
To fetch her off the quicksands, and then I'll board her,  
And steer her myself.  Lit. 
That I were so happy  
To know she loved you. housewife do you hear?  
Here is a Gentleman has Land and means,  
And wit, and beauty, more I wis then other:  
Make much of him, and what he says, be ruled by him.  Spr. 
Let me alone, I warrant you.  Lit. 
I leave you.  Exit Littlegood. Spr. 
Now all the powers of love assist me in it,  
To counterfeit a Passion and Dissemble.  
All my delight's to fool them, and then leave them.  
I serve your women, as the Hollanders  
Do by some towns they get; when they have won them,  
They slight them straight. Now I address myself.  
Lady how fare you? you are melancholy.  Val. 
If you do know't so well, why do you ask me?  Spr. 
'tis from the tender care I have of you:  
But an ill fate pursues my true endeavours,  
To have them still misconstrued: 'tis not well done,  
To lay the burden of your cruelty  
On my affection, and to make that faith,  
The passive subject of your dire disdain,  
That is so active in obedience.  Val. 
Pray let me counsel you.  Spr. 
Counsel, what's that?  
Not Phoebus with his art, or all the drugs  
Of Thessaly can ease my grief; the Sea  
Knows no such straight as I now labour in.  Val. 
Why what's the matter?  Spr. 
Oh my heart, my heart.  
Would you would rip it up, that you might see  
yourself enthroned, and all my faculties  
Paying their homage to your memory.  
I think I do it indifferently.  Val. 
All this and more, Lovers can speak at pleasure.  Spr. 
Propose a course how I might win belief:  
Were there a way to it, as deep with danger,  
As to the Centre, I will search it out.  
When I have nothing else to do.  Val. 
Your thoughts have found such easy utterance,  
That I suspect their truth, they seem to savour  
Of art, more than of passion. I have heard  
Great griefs are silent, neither do I find  
Those Symptoms of affection in your looks.  
You change no colour, and your joints are steady.  
Your eyes appear too full of petulancy,  
As if they did reflect with inward scorn,  
T'upbraid your falsehood.  Spr. 
Now by all my hopes,  
By all the rites that crown a happy union,  
And by the rosy tincture of your cheeks,  
And by your all subduing eyes, more bright  
Than heaven.  Val. 
Hold there.  Spr. 
I prize you 'bove the world.  
What should I say, when vows cannot prevail:  
If you persist, and still so cruel be,  
I'll swear there's no plague like love's tyranny.  
And all this while I do not care a pin for her.  Aside, Val. 
I have engaged it to your friend already.  Spr. 
But love makes no distinction.  Val. 
If you say so,  
I must debar my heart the knowledge of you.  Spr. 
This will not do, I must be more lascivious.  
Come my fair Venus, sit by thy Adonis.  
What do you start? are you afraid of love,  
That is all fair, and from whose brightest heaven,  
Are blown away all swollen clouds of despair?  
His brow is smooth, and all his face beset  
With banks full of delight, a golden Chain  
Of wanton smiles hangs round about his neck;  
And all his way before him strewed with roses.  
Come let us sit and dally, taste those pleasures.  
Love is no niggard, we may eat and surfeit.  
And yet our dainties still remain as fresh,  
As they were never touched.  Val. 
Is't come to that?  
I thought whither you tended. I am unskilful:  
Untaught in those deep, but ill mysteries.  Spr. 
I'll teach you all, and lead your wandering steps,  
Through all those ways, where to find the way  
Will be to lose it.  Val. 
I am very sorry,  
The Time's disease has so prevailed upon you.  
'tis the perfection now of compliment,  
The only end to corrupt honesty.  
To prostitute your oaths, and win our hearts  
To your belief, is the Court eloquence.  Spr. 
These are harsh tunes, and ill become your beauty:  
Whose proper passion should be wantonness.  
Why should you lose the benefit of youth,  
And the delights? give freedom to your will.  
When age and weakness mortifies your thoughts,  
You may correct this looseness.  Val. 
Sir I cannot  
Hear you with safety.  Spr. 
I must die then, I am slain, unless  
Those words, and smiles, that wounded me, do heal me.  Val. 
Had I known that, I'd have condemned them both,  
To silence and obscurity.  Spr. 
You had then,  
robbed nature of her best perfection.  
And that had been a sacrilege. Nay sweet,  
Your beauty is a thing communicable,  
And though you do impart, you may retain it.  Val. 
Sir I have summed th'accounts of all your cares,  
And I do find their number more than weight.  
Things but of custom with you, and your vows  
Are but a cloud of wind, and emptiness;  
Forced by the storm of lust. When it is over,  
And your thoughts calmed, than you will love that virtue,  
Which as a tie and Anchor did withhold you,  
From driving to destruction. So I leave you.  Exit Valeria. Spr. 
That ever any woman should be virtuous;  
I have enclosed a fire within my breast,  
Will burn this frame of nature into cinders,  
Her beauty has surprised me, I am caught  
In love; by this light, 'twere a mad jest now  
If I should turn honest, and woe her so:  
If she persists, I must do so believe't,  
And hate myself, as long as I live for it.  
Well I have played so long about the candle,  
That my wings are singed with it, she is honest  
I see it, and that something in this age.  
Out of these doubts some strange thing will arise,  
A strong disease must have strong remedies.    

Actus II.  

Scena II.  Littlegood, Crochet. Lit. 
Crochet where are you?  Cro. 
I am here sir.  Lit 
Crochet you know, that I am determined to marry my other daughter Aemilia, to old Dotario the Citizen.  Cro. 
Yes sir, and then she and I shall be both in one predicament.  Lit. 
How so man?  Cro. 
Why sir, for aught that I can perceive, she is like to have but a cold reversion, and that's the ordinary allowance for men of my function, there's not so much left of him, as will satisfy a Lady's appetite for once, he is picked to the very bones with age, and diseases.  Lit. 
'tis no matter so long as his purse is well crammed.  Cro. 
His purse that she looks after is lank enough I warrant it, it grieves me to the heart, that such a young beginner as my Mistress, should have no better hopes of trading.  Lit. 
Belike thou thinkst that Nature is uncharitable in him, no he has benevolence in store for her; what because he is old, I am old myself, man.  Cro. 
And if he were older, 'ttwere no great matter.  Lit. 
If I were older knave?  Cro. 
No sir, if he were older.  Lit. 
Why what then?  Cro. 
His death would the sooner make her honourable: for having one foot in the bed, and the other in the grave, if she be ruled by me, 'tis but her giving him a lift, and the next turn marry with a Lord.  Lit. 
Sayst thou me so?  Cro. 
Yes sir, a citizen's wife no sooner casts her rider, but one of your Court gallants mounts her presently.  Lit. 
The knave is very pleasant.  Cro. 
Why sir, your Citizens widows are the only rubbish of the kingdom, to fill up the breaches of decayed houses.  Lit. 
What's her preferment then, crotchet?  Cro. 
Why then sir, she shall be made a Lady at the least, and take place of her mother. She shall have clients wait at her gates with presents, and yet have their servile offices pass unregarded, she shall manage her husband's estate, and advise him in his office.  Lit. 
Is that all?  Cro. 
No sir, she shall have more privileges than that, to be as proud as she list, and have new ways to express it, she shall ride up and down in her Litter, and have a Coach, and four Horses follow after, full of Gentlemen Ushers and waiting women.  Lit. 
And yet the foolish girl will not perceive it.  Cro. 
Alas sir, though you and I have so much wit to look into these things, how should my young Mistress be capable of it, when her husband that shall be is not able to put the case to her?  Lit. 
Go, fetch her hither, I'll advise myself.  Exit Crot. 
O these perverse girls, that are led with nothing, but fancy foolish things, and yet have wit to be obstinate, if they set upon a toy, they must have it because they are wilful, than they are as changeable in love as a Chameleon, and think they can live by the air of it. They will venture to sell their father's fortunes and their own, for a night's lodging.    

Actus II.  

Scena III  Little good, Aemillia, Crochet. Lit. 
Come Aemilia, these showers are unseasonable. They will extinguish the torch, that should burn bright before thy nuptial; be not dismayed, you are young and so is Aurora, she looks fresh every morning: yet disdains not to kiss her old Tithou, and lies all night with him, and when she rises, betrays with her blushes, the wanton heat of her paramour.  Aemi. 
Good sir, think your power may command my duty, but not my affection.  Lit. 
Tempt not my patience, I would not willingly use the authority of a father to command, what I had rather win by entreaty.  Aemi. 
You know sir, the inconvenience still happens to these forced matches, they never come to good, and if you compel me to like of him, you must expect the same issue, you shall never make me any other precedent.  Lit. 
Not when I entreat you?  Aemi. 
I shall never love him.  Cro. 
And you know sir, what an ominous thing it is, when a woman does not love her husband, she will either cuckold him, or poison him, and so be burnt for a Martyr in wedlock. a Lit. She must fashion herself to love him, I have undertaken it.  Cro. 
And then I'll undertake for the tother.  Lit. 
Will she have her liberty restrained? will she renounce my protection? shall not I dispose of her? if not, let her use her pleasure, betray herself, like her other sister to beggary, be like Scylla, cut the purple hair of my life, and then turn Monster, let her.  Aemi. 
Oh me, what shall I do? would my life were a sacrifice.  Lit. 
I'll tell you what you shall do, be advised; refuse not a good offer, think of old Dotario, think how to love him, think of his wealth, think of his honour, think of me, think of yourself, think what will come after, if you be stubborn.  Cro. 
And whate'er you think to do, say nothing Mistress.  Lit. 
Well crotchet, I'll leave thee to persuade her whilst I fetch the old man to confirm it  Exit Littlegood. Aemi 
O my distracted thoughts, and the rash counsel  
Of love and hatred, when they are opposed  
By avarice of parents, that confine  
Their children's fancies to there sordid mind.  
Were the bright sun their of spring, they would join him,  
Unto the earth, if gold might be engendered.  
we in ourselves have no part, if debarred  
The election of our love, and our condition  
Is worse than beasts, whose will acknowledgeth  
No check in that; the Turtle takes her mate  
Without compulsion, and in Summer's prime,  
Each bird will choose out her own Valentine.  Cro. 
Well, Mistress you do not apprehend the good you may have, by marrying of an old man.  Aemi. 
Prithee what good?  Cro. 
First, besides the honour he shall confer upon you by his age, you shall not find him so fiery, and unruly as commonly your youths are, and thereupon being cold of his tempter, you may the easier manage him.  Aemi. 
Thy mirth comes importunely on my grief.  Cro. 
Then you shall be his darling, and he shall dote upon you, and though he strives to please you never so much, he shall lament, that he can do it no better, and acknowledge his weakness, that he comes short of your desert, and what he desires, and be sorry, that all he has, is too little for you.  Aemi. 
I perceive it well enough crotchet.  Cro. 
The only thing that you need fear him for, is his tongue, for they say old men are great talkers, but you'll match that member well enough, and for any other part about him, you'll have but little to do withal.    

Actus II.  

Scena IIII.  Enter to them Littlegood, Dotario. Lit. 
Look you here comes the old lecher, he looks as fresh as an old play new vampt, pray see how trim he is, and how the Authors have corrected him, how his tailor, and his Barber have set him forth; sure he has received another impression  Aemi. 
I think the fool will be tedious.  Lit. 
Well, now I have brought you together, here I'll leave you, when lovers parley, Parents are no fit Auditors; see that you use the Gentleman respectively, and though sir, she seem coy and deny you, impute it not to perverseness but modesty. maids in their first assaults consult with shame, in the next with weakness. So I leave you,  Exit Lit. Dot. 
Fair Mistress, I would ask you a question, if you please to answer me.  Aemil. 
No Mistress of yours Sir, yet if you ask nothing but what I please to answer, you may.  Dot. 
I would first demand your opinion of me.  Aemi. 
Truly I have no skill to make any conjecture by the outward appearance, but by the Title page of your face, I should judge you to be somewhat ancient.  Dot. 
Take my word for it, the Index is false printed, if you please to turn to the book, you shall find no such thing written.  Aemi. 
O 'tis worm eaten, time has cankered it, beside there be so many dashes, my understanding will not serve me to read it, and a woman has no use of her Clergy.  Dot. 
But love has renewed it sweet Lady, and this is another edition.  Aemi. 
How long is it since the copy has been altered?  Dot 
Let it not seem strange to you that I have felt this transformation, your form has wrought a miracle upon me, the pulchritude of your feature, that is able to extract youth out of age, and could make Aeson young again, without the help of Medea, it has put a fire into me, and I must impute it neither to Herbs, nor Philtrums, but to the influence, and power of your beauty.  Aemi 
A fire, 'tis a foolish one, that leads you without the precinct of your gravity, I strange, a man of your judgement should talk so preposterously.  Dot. 
Why sweet Lady?  Aemi. 
Sweet Lady, what a petulant word is there, for a man of your beard? a Boy of fifteen would not have spoke it without blushing, and there's a smile able to turn my stomach. I wonder you will make yourself so ridiculous.  Cro. 
If this be the best language she can afford him, 'twere safe for me not to hear it. I may be called for a witness.  Dot. 
Stay crotchet, whither goest thou?  Cro. 
I'll come presently sir, I'll come presently.  Exit Crot. Aemi. 
Now you are alone, I'll tell you what I think of you, you are an old doting fool, one that twenty years since, has drunk the Lethe of humanity, and forgot of what sex thou wert, worn out of all remembrance of thyself, thou hast a body, that a fever cannot heat, nor poison work upon, a face more rugged than winter, thy beard is moss, and thy skin so hard, that the perpetual dropping of thy nose cannot soften it.  Dot. 
These indignities are not to be endured, her abuses are more monstrous, than the prodigy she would make of me.  Aemi. 
And yet you would be in love forsooth, whom Cupid with all his strength is not able to pierce, you have not one poor open to let in an Arrow, more need have a cordial to comfort you.  Dot. 
Rank injuries, mock me to my teeth.  Aemi. 
If you had any.  Dot. 
I would your father heard you: he left no such thing in your Commission. How dare you do it?  Aemi. 
Yes and if I marry you, I'll use you accordingly, I'll have no mercy on thy age, I tell you before hand, that when it happens, it may not seem strange to you.  Dot. 
Well she may play with the line, I'll give her scope enough, but when I have her fast, I'll twitch her, and draw her as I list to me.  Aemi. 
Do but hear what I say to you, and it shall fall out, no Prognostication like it.  Dot. 
Sure 'tis some fury, it cannot be a woman she is so impudent.  Aemi. 
When I am your wife, if you are so hardy to venture on me, your whole study shall be to please me, and yet I will not grace it with acceptance; I will live as your Empress, lie a-bed, and command you, and your servants, and you shall not dare to anger me.  Dot. 
Not dare to anger you.  Aemi. 
No if you do, I will fill the house with noise, and deaf thee with clamours.  Dot. 
Sweet heart you shall have all content, I love a life these spirited wenches, that are all fire and motion, they stir a quickness in a man, infuse an activity.  Aemi. 
He will not be put off, I must terrify him farther: and for your estate, you shall not meddle with it, I'll take up your rents for you, and dispose of them, as I think fit; only I'll allow you to carry some farthings in your pouch to give to Beggars.  Dot. 
And what will you do with the rest sweeting?  Aemi. 
For the rest, I'll spend it upon myself in bravery: there shall not be a new fashion, but I'll have it. I'll look after nothing else; your house shall be a mart for all trades. I'll keep twenty continually at work for me; as Tailors, Perfumers, Painters, Apothecaries, Coach-makers, Sempsters, and Tire-women. Besides Embroiderers, and Pensions for intelligencers.  Dot. 
she'll waste all I have in a month: the expenses of an Army will not maintain her.  Aemi. 
Besides, I will have acquaintance with all the Ladies in Court, and entertain them with banquets, yet for all that I will make my complaint of you to them, traduce your infirmities, and they shall conspire against you, and pity me.  Dot. 
I had rather be under twenty Executions, than the lash of their tongue.  Aemi. 
Then you shall kiss me very seldom, and when I vouchsafe you the favour: and you shall do it not as a husband, but as a father, not a smack of lasciviousness.  Dot. 
What a sanctified creature shall I enjoy?  Aemi. 
I will lie with you the first year once a month, as a Parson uses to instruct his Cure, and yet not be questioned for neglect, or non residence: marry the next year, if you live so long, once a quarter shall suffice you.  Dot. 
The next year if I live so long? she thinks of my death already.  Aemi. 
These are the least of your evils. I will have one to cuckold you, and you shall take it for a courtesy, and use him the kindlier for it.  Dot. 
Oh me, I can endure it no longer, that word strikes cold to my heart: were I an enemy, and she had vanquished me, I would not yield to such Articles. I'll propose these conditions to her father, and see if he will allow them in all conscience to be reasonable.  Exit Dotario. Aemi. 
Master Careless promised to be here instantly. I'll tell him what a fine youth he has to his Uncle.  Enter Careless drunk. Car. 
Here is the Gulf that I wallows all my Land:  
And to this desperate Whirlpit am I reeling.  
And there's the smooth stream that must guide me to it.  
Were I as provident, as was Ulysses,  
That Siren there might sing me to my ruin.  
Save you fair Lady.  Aemi. 
Save you Master Careless.  Car. 
Will you hear me speak any wise sentences?  
I am now as discreet in my conceit,  
As the seven sophies of Greece, I am full  
Of Oracles, I am come from Apollo,  
Would he had lent me his Tripos to stand upon;  
For my two legs can hardly carry me.  Aemi. 
Whence come you, from Apollo?  Car. 
From the heaven  
Of my delight, where the boon Delphic God,  
Drinks sack, and keeps his Bacchanalias,  
And has his incense, and his Altars smoking,  
And speaks in sparkling prophecies; thence do I come.  
My brains perfumed with the rich Indian vapour,  
And heightened with conceits: from tempting beauties,  
From dainty Music and Poetic strains,  
From bowls of Nectar, and Ambrosiac dishes:  
From witty Varlets, fine Companions,  
And from a mighty continent of pleasure,  
sails thy brave Careless. Where's your father Lady?  Aemi. 
I thought I had been worthy salutation.  Car. 
These Ceremonies are abolished with me.  
I kiss none but my Punk, but in this humour,  
I'll kiss anybody. I'll marry thee;  
But not a penny jointure.  Aemi. 
Where I love,  
I will not stand upon conditions.  Car. 
I would accept this invitation,  
But thy father is a Usurer, a jew.  
And if I marry in his tribe I shall thrive,  
And I hate thriving. I am come to mortgage,  
To pawn, or sell Lady.  Aemi. 
Do you want money?  Car. 
Do I want money? let me construe this.  
'tis a good promising question, and requires  
A sober politic answer, yes I want money.  Aemi. 
I have not ready coin; but there's a jewel  
Will fetch you twenty pound.  Car. 
But do you dare trust me?  Aemi. 
I give it freely.  Car. 
Then I say thy father,  
In getting thee has redeemed all his sin.  
She has confirmed my love, and I will marry her.  
Let me survey it well, 'tis an Amethyst.  Aemi. 
Why do you ask?  Aemi. 
Because they say that stone  
Has secret virtue in it to recover,  
A man that's intoxicated, and I do find  
That I am not so drunk, as I was.  Aemi 
O Master Careless here has been your Uncle  
A wooing to me.  Car. 
What that piece of stockfish,  
That has kept Lint thus long, would have young flesh now.  Aemi. 
If he could get it.  Car. 
'tis such a rank Goat.  Aemi. 
I made such sport with him, and terrified him, how I would use him if I were his wife,  
That he is frighted hence.  Car. 
'tis well done of you, he upbraided me to  
That he would marry, but I'll cross his worship.  
we'll vex him ten times worse yet, I have plots  
Maturing in my head, shall crown thy wit,  
And make him desperate, that he shall die,  
And leave us nothing. I would not be troubled,  
With any of his wealth, no not so much,  
As to mourn for him, but I cannot stand  
Now to relate it. Come Aemilia.  
I have declared my mind, but when I'll do it,  
I'll in, and sleep, and dream upon't, and tell thee.    

Actus. II.  

Scena. VI.  Enter Littlegood, Mistress Fondling. Fond. 
Bring me to that, and I'll yield to any thing.  Lit. 
Nay, good wife hear me.  Fond. 
You shall pardon me: he is my son I hope, as well as yours, and he shall be fashioned after my humour: why, should you think to hinder my prospect from looking to him? I say he shall rank with the best, spend his money and learn breeding.  Lit. 
Do, make a Gallant of him or a Gull, either will serve, he may ride up and down, and have his Coach wait for him at Plays and Taverns, take up upon trust, consort with wits and swordmen, be afraid of Sergeants, and spend more for his Protection then would pay the debt: he may be a Stickler for quarrels, and compound them at his own charge: reel every night to his lodging, and be visited in the morning with borrowing Letters, dice at Ordinaries, and lend on all hands.: seal at all hours, or be beaten to it. These are gifts in a son, beyond art or nature, for a father to be proud of, or else he may run away with all he can get, and when 'tis gone, lie at a neighbour's house till his peace be made.  Fond. 
No you shall keep him still at home with you; he shall not dare to enlarge his Charter, to have any more wit than his father, let him sit in the shop with never a pair of cuffs on his hands, and play at Fox and Geese with the foreman, entertain customers, with a discourse as moth-eaten as your cloth, and not be able to look upon a Lady, but court some silly creature of his own tribe, with speeches out of books, ten times worse than any remnant; and after supper steal abroad and be drunk in fear, this you can be content with. Well, when he was a child, it was the prettiest talking thing, and the wittiest withal, the neighbours took such delight to hear it. There was a good Knight lay in my house then was so kind to him, but you ne'er knew the reason, since you have clean marred him that's apparent.  Lit. 
I'll do any thing wife that you will have me.  Fond. 
Yes when 'tis too late; and the custom of rusticity is grown into another nature with him, when his mind is settled upon the Lees of it, and the edge of his humour quite taken off, when learning has brought down his spirit, than you'll repent his restraint; has he not a pretty ingenuity?  Lit 
So much the worse, when 'tis corrupted: mark me what I say, give him the reins, and if Fiddlers sleep in a week, Taverns keep their doors shut, the Constable sit on a stall in peace, or wenches walk the streets for him (if he be like his father) ne'er credit me again.  Fond. 
So much the better, I would have it so, give him means to perform it, show yourself a loving father, and be true in your prophecy.  Lit. 
I must yield to her for my quietness' sake, was ever man thus tied to a chimaera, thus vexed with that should be his happiness. I have married with tumult, and begot my affliction, not one of my generation will be ruled; and for my wife, she has a tongue will run post sixteen stages together, and ne'er tire for it; with that she can work me to any agreement. Well take your son to your charge, do what you list with him: but for the wenches, I'll either choose them husbands, or else they shall trudge without any other Dowry, then what nature has bestowed on them, that's certain.  Fond. 
Within there, call your young Master hither Crotchet, he has been all this day at his study, makes the boy mopish with his scholership, for want of better exercise; as revelling, courting, feasting, and the like, he stands plodding and musing as if his eyes turned with a wire, it has poisoned his very complexion, he is grown fallow with it, I know not what would become of him, if I did not sometimes put money in his purse, and send him abroad, to sin for his recreation.  Lit. 
Sweet wife be pacified.  Fond. 
No, I'll teach you what 'tis to anger a woman that brought a Dowry with her.  Enter Crotchet, Lackwit. 
See what a Picture of formality you have made of him, come hither son Lackwit, what book have you there?  Lack. 
This is a book of Heraldry forsooth, and I do find by this book that the Lackwits are a very ancient name, and of large extent, and come of as good a Pedigree, as any is in the City; beside they have often matched themselves into very great families, and can quarter their Arms, I will not say with Lords, but with Squires, Knights, Aldermen, and the like, and can boast their descent to be as generous, as any of the Lafooles, or the john Dawes whatsoever.  Fond. 
What be the Arms son?  Lack. 
The Lackwits Arms, why they are three Asses rampant, with their ears prickant, in a field Or, and a ram's head for their crest, that's the Arms.  Fond. 
Well said son, stand for the credit of the house.  Lack. 
Nay, I will uphold it beside, though my father be a Citizen, yet I am a Gentleman's son by the mother's side.  Fond. 
I that he is I'll be sworn, the Foundlings are as good Gentlemen, as any be in the City, the boy has a Perilous head, how should he find out this I marvel?  Lack. 
Find it out, as if I were such a fool, I did not know my own Coat.  Fond. 
Yet husband, I never saw you wear one in my life.  Lit. 
Not a fool's coat, but I shall have one of your Spinning very shortly.  Lack. 
I'll tell you father if I lift now; I can go twenty degrees back like a crab, to find out the track of our gentility.  Fond. 
lo you there, can you be content thou man perverse to all reason, having a son of so large and prosperous hopes, that might stand up the glory of his kindred, of such pregnancy of wit and understanding, so rich in the qualities that can bear up a Gentleman, to let him sink, and not cherish him with those helps that might advance his gallantry. You have had your florishing season, and are now withered, your blossoms of beauty are blown off & therefore must be content out of that dry stalk to afford some sap to maintain his succession; pray how many young Gentlemen have you in this Town, that go in plush, and their fathers to blow in the country? shall we have worse precedents in the City? impart I say, and give him twenty pieces, and when they are gone give him twenty more.  Lit. 
What to do?  Fond. 
Will you disparage him, as if he knew not what to do with it? do you think that Fencers, Dancers, Horsematches (I'll have him versed in all these, and omit nothing that may demonstrate his breeding;) besides Mistresses, and implements that belong to them require, nothing?  Lit. 
Was ever any mother in this humour? that should reclaim her son from his ill courses, to animate him, and supply his riot: let her enjoy her follies, smart for them, and then repent; here hold, there's twenty pieces, I am sure all thrown away, they are in a consumption already, and will be dead, and drawn out by tomorrow. What thinkest thou Crotchet?  Crot. 
Nay sir they are condemned, that's certain, you have passed your judgement upon them, and my young Master must execute it.  Lit. 
I give it lost Crotchet, I give it lost; but stay, my daughters; I had need have Argus eyes to look about me, or the Dragons that watched the Hesperides: I am beset on all hands; my daughters are wily, my wife wilful, my son I know not what, with the fear of my money, do so distract me, that my wits are disjointed amongst them, all the remainder of my hopes is, if Valeria have proved tractable to Mr. spruce, and that Dotario has received comfort in his Aemilia. I labour with expectation till I go in, and be delivered.  Exit Littlegood. Fon. 
Stay husband, I'll go with you: but hark you son Lackwit, do you know to what purpose this gold was given you?  Lack. 
To no purpose at all, but I know, what I purpose to do with it.  Fond. 
What is't?  Lack. 
I purpose to make a medicine of it.  Fond. 
A medicine.  Lac. 
Yes I will dissolve it into Aurum potabile, and drink nothing but healths with it.  Fond. 
Then you are right.  Lac. 
Nay I will domineer, and have my humours about me too.  Fond. 
Do any thing, for the improvement of your discipline. Come Crotchet.  Exit Fondling. Lac. 
Stay Crotchet, do you perceive nothing? you dull animal look here.  Cro. 
ay sir, I hope you mean to give me one, or two of them.  Lac. 
No, I will not give, nor lend a friend a penny, there's no such confutation of a man's being a Gentleman; but when I am drunk, and have my wine and my whores about me, I'll spend twenty or thirty shillings upon you, but I will not give you a penny Crotchet.  Crot. 
Then farewell sir.  Lac. 
You know where to come to me, you shall find me in my pentificalibus.  Desinis Actus secundus.   

ACTVS III.  

SCENA I.  Aemilia, Valeria. Aemi. 
COme sister, though our liberty be straightened,  
Our mind stands free, without compulsion,  
There's none can make a rape upon our will.  
Well if they understood a women truly,  
They would not seek to curb so, whose nature  
Rejoices like a torrent, to make way  
Spite of impediments. Now if their wisdom  
Should let us alone, we might perhaps ourselves  
Find out the inconvenience, and prevent it,  
Which they like a false perspective would seek,  
To multiply upon us.  Val. 
I shall never  
Recall that faith, which I have plighted once  
To my Aurelio. I'll run all hazards,  
And violent attempts, to throw myself  
Into his arms.  Aemi. 
I would not have you leave him,  
Nor yet turn desperate. Now would I rather  
Get him by some device, I love a witty  
And an ingenuous trick above my life:  
And should take more delight to overreach them,  
Then to enjoy my purpose.  Val. 
But I dare not  
Play with my fortune so, nor trust adventures,  
If Fate would be so gracious to present  
An opportunity.  Aemi. 
Come fear it not.  
You see what a man they would put upon me,  
Might be my father. H' has less vigour in him,  
Than any Catamite. There's not reserved  
So much as one masculine grain in him.  
A fellow that's as bald, as a Looking-glass,  
And whose diseases are beyond Arithmetic:  
Not a joint of him free, a gouty numbness  
Has seized his feet and fingers, and there's all  
The stiffness he has left: and were I married  
I must spend all my life in rubbing of him  
With hot woollen clothes, and applying Plasters,  
And cataplasms, and trenchers to his belly;  
Must undergo the person of a Chirurgeon,  
Not of a wife: and yet I am not terrified:  
It moves me not, I make a jest of it;  
Because I mean t' abuse them all, and choose  
Where I like best.  Val. 
It is a happy spirit,  
That rules in you, I would I had one like it.  Aemi. 
Like me; thou hast not studied thyself so well:  
Nor haste that season of thy mother in thee.  
Observe her fashions, take example by them:  
Although her husband be penurious,  
Hard as the mettle, that he dotes upon.  
Yet she can make him malleable, and work him,  
And turn, and hammer him, and wire-draw him,  
And rule him with as much correction,  
As one would wish to govern. For my part;  
When I have stretched my brains, made all the shifts,  
The wit of woman can be pregnant of.  
And showed my love by such experience,  
As shall outstrip belief, all for his sake  
That shall enjoy me, which is Master Careless.  
And when he has me, if he shall presume,  
On former passages of my affection,  
To oversway me in the least desire,  
To contradict, and tempt my patience,  
I'll shake off all obedience, and forget it.  
I'll slight him, yet prevail.  Val. 
Alas my heart is  
Tender, and violable with the least weapons,  
Sorrow can dart at me.  Aemi. 
You are a fool,  
And every one that will can make you so:  
When was your sweet heart Master spruce here with you?  Val. 
But lately, and presented such a Scene  
Of protestations, and then varied it,  
So cunningly, that love and lust together  
Were interwoven with such subtle threads,  
That I could scarce distinguish them.  Aemi. 
Take heed,  
whate'er he speaks, it tends but to corrupt you,  
I'd join commerce of language with a Sphinx,  
Ere I'd deign to answer him. Master Careless  
Told me his humours, seems he boasted of it,  
He gave his character, the most perfidious,  
And love abusing creature in the world;  
That all his vows were treacherous: his smiles,  
His words, and actions, like small Rivulets,  
Through twenty turnings of loose passions,  
At last would run to the dead sea of sin.  Val. 
whate'er he says, I resolve ne'er to trust him.  Aemi. 
be wise, and constant, and then govern fate:  
And in the interim, howe'er matters fall,  
we I find a trick wench, how to cheat them all.    

Actus III.  

Scena. II.  Valeria, Aemilia, Spruse. Val. 
See here he comes again.  Spr. 
I come sweet Lady,  
To rear the trophies of your conquest up.  
And yield myself the greatest.  Val. 
What's the matter?  Spr. 
Your looks have ta'en me prisoner. I am captived,  
Bound with the golden chain of your loose hair,  
And on your frowns depends my destiny.  Val. 
'tis about the old matter; you may save  
This labour, or go seek some new device.  
In faith these stale exordiums can not take me.  Val. 
Indeed my sister, and I, know you well enough.  Spr. 
But Lady since my change you do not know me.  
I am now Metamorphized, and that fancy  
That roved, and was rebellious, by her power  
Is brought within command.  Val. 
I so you told me.  Spr. 
Here I present a sad oblation.  
A heart that bringeth its own fire with it,  
And burns before your beauty's deity.  
Offered up with as much devotion,  
As ever true love sacrificed any.  Val. 
Well you may jest with mortals, but I am not  
So blind, but I can see through all your mists:  
Were I a goddess, as you term me one,  
Sister to Phoebus, or armed like Minirva,  
I would transform you straight; and fix you up  
A monument, for your Hypocrisy.  Spr. 
Now by that sacred shrine, brighter than Venus.  
To whom I pay my Orisons: that form  
That fair Idea, that rules all my thoughts,  
thyself I mean, that spotless seat of pleasure:  
The continent of all perfection,  
This spring of love, that issues from my soul.  
Runs in a stream as pure, as are your virtues,  
Full fraught with zeal, immaculate and free  
From all adulterate mixtures.  Val. 
On my life.  
I cannot frame me to believe one word.  Aemi. 
Hold thy own there wench, and I warrant thee.  Spr. 
Phoebus, how have I angered thee, to lay  
Cassandra's curse on me that was not trusted:  
When she spoke true and most prophetically?  Aemi. 
Sir, he that is accustomed to deceive.  
gains this reward by it when he speaks truth,  
Not to be credited.  Spr. 
Observe me Lady.  
And mark the harmony, does it not sound  
Upon the string; as if my heart kept touch?  Val. 
And so it sounded first to the same tune.  Spr. 
That was ill set, this is a different passion.  Val. 
But 'tis all show; and nothing serious.  Spr. 
You can not judge by former evidence.  
It is not fit proof to confirm this motion,  
This is a true text, that a false gloss of it.  Val. 
But I shall never so interpret it.  Spr. 
What can I say more, than to swore I love you.  Val. 
But should you now dissolve your eyes to tears,  
Were every accent in your speech a sigh,  
And every gesture, every motion in you,  
An Hieroglyphic to commend that love:  
Had you the spells of it, and magic charms  
Set round about the circle of your arms,  
To draw me to you, I would seal my ears,  
Deaf as the sea, to shipwrecked mariners:  
And so I leave you to your better fortunes.  Exunt Valeria, Aemilia. Valeria loses her ring in a paper. Spr. 

Am I despised, and slighted? foolish girl,  
Th' haste lost thyself, that which is best in nature,  
Turns to the worst corruption, my scorned love  
Shall now convert to hatred. 'tis decreed,  
Fraud and revenge shall be my counsellors;  
What's here, a ring? she lost it now. I know it,  
The same Aurelio, wont to wear on's finger;  
He sent it as a gift, 'tis so, the poesy.   

In love I write  
All my grief, all my delight.   

The very same. Were I best poison it,  
And send it back to her? No, it shall serve  
To poison her good name; there's no foul fact,  
That Love, when it is injured, dares not act.   Exit.   

Actus III.  

Scena III.  Aurelio, Fido. Aur. 
Come honest Fido, thy best love supplies,  
Part of my hoped fortunes. That's true friendship,  
Misery cannot shake, which crown thy merit.  Fid. 
Sir, could my power produce forth any thing  
Worthy your acceptation, or my service,  
I would with hazard of my life perform it.  
So much I owe your virtues, so much pity  
Your injuries; but this poor task so easy,  
Consisting more of policy, than danger,  
Gives not my love an equal testimony.  Aur. 
You could not do an office more deserving,  
Or grateful to my soul, than to bring tidings  
How my love fares, each syllable she spoke,  
Though by an echo I receive the voice,  
Is able to inspire new life into me.  
How does she? is she well? and mindful of us:  
Speak it a thousand times; never did sound  
Touch a more gladsome ear.  Fid. 
By all circumstance  
I could conjecture, I read in her looks  
A strange disturbance. When I gave the ring,  
A Letter to her, as if joy and fear,  
Had run on several errands, and returned,  
Swift as her thoughts, and spoke her love in silence.  Aur. 
Th' hast seen the treasury of my happiness.  
Speak, am I rich or no?  Fid. 
she is a Mine,  
A store-house of all beauty, all content:  
Her brow a bank of pleasure; her bright eyes  
The chief and only mover of your love,  
So multiplied their flames, that they appeared  
To me most like a firmament of fires,  
Yet chaster than the Vestal; and below  
Clouded with sorrow, which dropped pearls for you,  
And does enclose a soul richer than it,  
Wherein is locked the wardrobe of all virtues;  
Yet sure that soul had left her mansion,  
But that she stays to bid you welcome thither.  Aur. 
And why should I be stayed from going to her?  
Why should a covetous eye watch o'er that wealth  
That is my right, I will go claim my due,  
And justify the seizure. Why should parents,  
That can give to their children, neither minds,  
Nor yet affections, strive to govern both?  
'Tis not justice: yet where should I complain?  
Love has no bar to plead at, nor no laws  
To rule us by, nor Court to judge our cause.    

Actus III.  

Scena IIII.  Enter Captain Whibble. atshe hat interrupts our quiet sorrow? Fid. 
Sir, this is Captain Whibble, the Town stale,  
For all cheating employments: a parasite  
Of a new sect: none of your soothing varlets,  
But a swearing Sycophant, that frights a man  
Into a belief of his worth; his Dialect  
Is worse than the report of a Cannon,  
And deafs a stranger with tales of his valour,  
Till his conclusion be to borrow money.  
His company is a Cipher in the reckoning,  
That helps to multiply it: your dear brother  
Admires his discipline, and will swear to it.  Aur. 
Is this one of his comrades?  Fid. 
Sir, this is  
His prime associate. I'll lay a hundred pound,  
I guess by his physiognomy his business,  
He is either trudging now unto a broker,  
Or to invite some new heir to a breakfast,  
To seal for the commodity; or else  
wandering abroad to skelder for a shilling  
Amongst your bowling alleys; most commonly  
There lies his scene: or perhaps man some whore,  
A province that he usually adorns.  Aur. 
Prithee good Fido, go and baffle him:  
Put an affront upon him, if his valour  
Prompt him to make resistance, I'll step out  
And second thee.  Fid. 
His valour? 'tis the least  
Thing to be feared, he has not one spark in him  
To kindle a true anger.  Fido justles him Cap. 
Sulphur of Styx,  
Can you not see? Death where be your eyes?  
You'd have me wash them in the channel, would you?  Fid. 
Yes very fain sir, if you durst attempt it.  Cap. 
Heart, do you stem me? and he had a beak  
He might have split me: body of jupiter,  
He ran me athwart the midships. Spirit of fury,  
I think that he has sprung a plank in me.  Fid. 
Then you may lie by the Lee, and mend it.  Cap. 
Horror of man, lay a Captain aboard.  
A man of war, and not cry amain to him?  Fid. 
How, you a Captain? I rather believe  
That you are one of those that upon service,  
Were seen to carry Tomkins in your Guns,  
And made a shift to discharge a league of:  
Was it not so? that might take up your bullet,  
And shoot again, and do no hurt with it.  
You a man of war?  Cap. 
'Slife do you question it?  
I'll tell thee Slave to thy astonishment,  
I have been styled, the rock of Pirates, I;  
I have ploughed up the Sea, till Bosphorus  
Has worshipped me; I have shot all the Gulfs,  
And seen the navel of the world, you stinkard.  Fid. 
How slave, and stinkard, since you are so stout,  
I will see your Commission ere I part.  Cap. 
Strength of my brains, see my Commission?  
I'll blow thee up like a deck. Son of Neptune,  
Off or I'll fire thee.  Fid. 
I am grappled with you,  
And will hang by your side, till you be calmer,  
And be so, or I'll lay my trident on you.  
Come to your tacklings.  Cap. 
'tis a bold active boy,  
I see there's nothing to be got but knocks by him.  
Give me thy hand old Rover, hoist up thy top Sail,  
And go in peace.  Fid. 
Sir this will not appease me,  
I must have satisfaction.  Cap. 
Reach me thy fist,  
And be reconciled: what thou dost not know me:  
Though I am valiant, yet 'tis out of the road  
Of my humour, to disgrace any man.  Fid. 
This will not satisfy me.  Cap. 
I say again,  
Give me thy wrist. Know me, and my lodging;  
I'll give thee a Supper: there's a good plump wench,  
My Hostess, a waterman's widow at the sign  
Of the red lettuce in Southwark, shall bid thee welcome.  Fid. 
But I must have you leave your swearing first,  
And be temperate.  Cap. 
Hear me honest Trojan.  
As I am virtuous, as I love my friends,  
That I may swear.  Fid. 
No, not as you are virtuous.  Cap. 
Why then on my word, I'll give thee a supper.  
What? I will not offend thee my good drumstick;  
I'll conform myself, come to me at night,  
And I'll be as good as my word, old Bracer.  Fid. 
But if I come, and lose my labour, what follows?  Cap. 
Then Teucer, in pure zeal and verity,  Fid. 
I'll belabour you the next time I meet you.  Cap. 
What Scuffler, dost thou think I'll fail my friends?  
No Hector I scorn it. I'll pawn my cloak first.  
Farewell Actorides.  Exit Captain. Enter Aurelio. Aur. 
What is he gone?  Fid. 
ay, and as glad he has escaped from me,  
As from the Syrtes.  Aur. 
How he bore it out  
With impudence?  Fid. 
Yes did you observe him?  
There's nothing can discountenance him, still  
This is his posture, he were excellent,  
To venture at a Lottery.  Aur. 
Why mischief?  Fid. 
I do not think he would ever draw a blank.  Aur. 
We must pursue the project. Sup with him  
At any hand.  Fid. 
The jest is behind to see,  
In what a miserable perplexity,  
He will be put to entertain us.  Aur. 
Come.  Exeunt.   

Actus III.  

Scena. V.  Dotario, Littlegood, Aemilia. Dot. 
You know father, for I must still call you so, how you charged your daughter to use me respectively.  Lit. 
Yes marry did I: and to show a double duty, as might suit with the reverence of your age, and honour of her husband.  Dot. 
Well, and as soon as you were gone, she had no more regard to me, than if I had been an old horse, or an old Servingman.  Lit. 
Why 'tis impossible she should transgress in such a high point of humanity.  Dot. 
Else there was some fury in her shape that did so. I am sure she shaped me out to be the ridiculousest old ass in Europe.  Lit. 
Her modesty would not permit it in her.  Dot. 
If my words have any weight in them; she set as light by me, as by the least feather in her Fan.  Lit. 
Why is this true Aemilia?  Aemi. 
No indeed sir.  Dot. 
How no indeed; do you deny it? O palpable, she reckoned up a whole Catalogue of abuses, and malicious practises, that she would assault me with, if I were her husband, the least of which were above all patience.  Aemi. 
Do you think sir, if I intended any such thing, I would have forewarned you?  Lit. 
No 'tis not likely.  Dot. 
That you had but heard the disgrace she put upon me, in calumniating the vigour, and ability of my person.  Lit. 
I cannot believe it.  Dot. 
And then terrified me, that the wind of her humour should be still against me, to cross me in every thing I desired, yet the course of my destiny should be more impetuous than before.  Aemi. 
The old Gentleman did but dream so.  Dot. 
Nay more, she said I was an old dry stump, that had not the least drop of moisture in me, yet by the virtue of her humidity, she would make my temples so supple, that they should sprout, and bud afresh.  Lit. 
Come she would not say so.  Dot. 
Yes, and that all my estate should be too little, to maintain her in prodigality, and invite acquaintance.  Aemi. 
Alas good Gentleman, I told him how other women used their husbands, but I would conform myself to obedience.  Lit. 
ay, that you might know what a blessing you had in her.  Dot. 
Oh was it so? I cry you mercy, I mistook you. Here take this Pearl for amends; I am sorry I have sinned against so sweet a simplicity.  Lit. 
Come I knew you were in an error.  Dot. 
Then to avoid all cavillation hereafter, see what I have provided.  Lit. 
What have you there?  Dot. 
I have here a Syngraphus, a writing with articles, that must be drawn between us, before there can be any copulation.  Lit. 
Wherefore, did you so?  Dot. 
Look you sir, I was in a little suspense of her behaviour, and therefore in relation of that, which I thought she objected, yet has since proved to be otherwise: notwithstanding these rules, which may so much conduce to my happiness, and have been so much advised upon with deliberation, I would have established.  Lit. 
Pray let's hear them.  Dot. 
They are only some sew propositions, and exceptions to be observed on her behalf, for the better security of my quiet, when I shall be married to her.  Lit. 
Now I conceive you, read them out.  Dot. 
First, that after Hymen has once joined us together, she shall admit of no man whatsoever, to entitle him with any suspicious name of friend, or servant: do you mark me.  Lit. 
Well proceed.  Dot. 
Next, if any of her old acquaintance come to visit her, as Nurses, midwives, and the like, creatures of secrecy, she shall return them word, she is not within, or otherwise accommodated.  Lit. 
Very good.  Dot. 
I'll have it written so upon the doors.  Lit. 
You may perceive by her silence, she will consent to any thing.  Dot. 
Then to avoid all occasions of writing Epistles, she shall receive none, nor have any Paper, Pen, Ink, or Wax in her closet.  Lit. 
That's somewhat hard.  Dot. 
She shall not have any masculine bawdy Picture hang in her Chamber, but shall take it down, and sell it away as a thing unprofitable, and an enticement of fantasy.  Lit. 
That in my conceit is very reasonable.  Dot. 
She shall bid no man to dinner, but I will invite them, and when they are set, she shall not cast amorous glances upon them, nor drink to them, nor lick her lips at them, nor show her teeth when she laughs, nor her tongue when she sneezes.  Lit. 
For all these, I'll engage myself.  Dot. 
Besides, she shall not take upon her, to contrary me in any thing, nor seem more or less wise than myself.  Lit. 
That's not much amiss neither.  Dot. 
She shall send no hieroglyphics, nor meat cut in Characters, nor tread upon any man's foot under the Table, nor when they are risen, give them her hand to kiss, or open her palm to have her fortune told her, nor yet show them her ring, or receive any of theirs, and read the poesies.  Lit. 
Is this all?  Dot. 
She shall know no language but her own, nor speak any equivocating word.  Lit. 
In my mind now these laws are very consonant to a good disposition, and if I were to marry myself, I'd propose the like.  Dot. 
And for her religion, she may pray to any innocent goddess, as Diana and the graces, but if she have any thing to say to Mars, Mercury, or Apollo, she shall acquaint me with it, and I will present her devotions.  Lit. 
Have you done now?  Dot. 
Last of all, when she is ready to go to bed, she shall not put out the candle to walk up and down in her smock, and shake her body in the dark, and if she be content, I take her as my own.  Lit. 
All these she shall subscribe to, if she be my daughter.  Dot. 
Why then we'll proceed to the Church?  Lit. 
Are you agreed or no?  Aemi. 
Pray let me speak one word with him in private.  Dot. 
Yes what you please sweet Lady, it is granted, were it a hundred pound to buy pins and petticoats.  Aemi. 
'tis not a thing Sir, of that dear expense:  
Though you were pleased to tax me for that crime.  
'Tis only this, time was, I could not love you;  
Though reason since, has rectified my judgement,  
And cleared my eyes, that I can see my good.  
Then I confess I made a solemn oath,  
None should enjoy my love; but he that durst  
Attempt to steal me; this is not intended,  
For any peril to you, but for safeguard  
Of my first vow, which I must needs perform.  
Now if you please to come at a set hour,  
None but yourself, and fetch me, I will yield  
To go with you, whither you shall command.  Dot. 
'Tis done bright Helen, I will be thy Paris,  
And fetch thee, though thou were't at Lacedaemon,  
And care not a pin, for all the power of Greece.  Lit. 
What are you agreed?  Dot. 
Yes, we are both agreed.  
Some few ceremonies, and then we have finish.  Exunt.   

Actus III.  

Scena VI.  Aurelio Fido. Aur. 
Fido, I am now advised upon a plot,  
If it succeed, shall crown my invention.  Fid. 
Something about the Captain.  Aur. 
Hang him Kastrill.  
I scorn to lose a thought on him; my brains  
Repine at his memory. 'tis a new device,  
The issue of extremity. 'tis thus,  
I will turn a desperate Gamester in love,  
And venture all upon one cast.  Fid. 
Take heed sir,  
There may be plots, but little policy,  
Fortune and love, are insolent, and ticklish.  Aur. 
Come I'll do it. I'll send thee with a letter  
Unto my Mistress, that shall make her mad.  Fido. 
How, make her mad, what do you expect from that: what can you gain by the loss of her wits?  Aur. 
I shall gain my desire.  Fido. 
And do you prize  
The satisfying of a lewd desire  
So much, to rob your Mistress of her senses?  
Can you accuse her of inconstancy?  
Or tax her of dishonesty? Or will you  
Prove false to her? what mischief do you intend?  
What hopes can you conceive, that may secure  
So great a sin from heaven's just punishment?  
Have you a drug or incantation,  
And think to make her senseless of her grief,  
With the privation of her understanding?  Aur. 
Not any of these.  Fido. 
If you do, you must employ  
Some other messenger. Let me advise you  
Keep her in her right mind while you have her:  
Love of itself is an illusive spirit,  
And will enough distract her without help.  Aur. 
She shall seem mad but in appearance Fido;  
And with that feigned frenzy move a pity  
From all, that must impute it to her sufferings.  Fid. 
'twere a mad jest: but is this all your plot?  Aur. 
No, this is not the main one, there's another  
Of greater consequence, and secrecy,  
For a sound mind to bear, and 'tis a burden  
Worthy thy care and honesty: Think not  
I am so desperate and heady, to launch forth  
Into those dangerous Seas without a Pilot,  
And I have chose thee for my Palinurus.  Fid. 
You never knew a man of less experience,  
I do not ken one Rock, or Shelf, and Love  
Has many.  Aur. 
'tis no matter, thou and I  
Will sink a Paean to loves victory.  Desinit Actus tertius.   

ACTVS IIII:  

SCENA I.  Careless, Captain, Lieutenant, Lackewit, four Wenches. Care. 
COme my voluptuaries, my sons of comfort,  
That know no sorrow, sing like Grasshoppers  
And fear no winter, nor no poverty;  
Lead on my moving pillars of delight,  
My Alchemists of pleasure, that convert  
All like yourselves: can make old Cato dance,  
And turn Fabricius to an Epicure,  
Should he behold you.  Cap. 
Thou sayst right Telemachus;  
'tis wine, and mirth that breed these raptures in thee.  
Body of jove, there's nothing but a rabble  
Of lean and starved imaginations  
Accompany sobriety: Some wine there,  
That I may court my Cockatrice.  Care. 
Good Captain  
Bid our noble friend welcome.  Cap. 
You know my humour,  
To men of ordinary pretence, I seldom  
Use to debase myself below the Nod  
Of salutation, but for your sake  
I receive him as a man deserving.  
Give me thy hand Cadmus.  Lack. 
I desire sir to incorporate myself into your acquaintance.  Car. 
'tis well said, do the like noble office to our friend here sweet Lieutenant.  Lieve. 
Sir he shall command my heart and hand on his occasions, I'll as soon draw in his quarrel, as to piss against a wall.  Care. 
These are the mirrors of the time old boy, that shall show you how to adorn your behaviour, that you may pass in all company with confidence of approbation.  Cap. 
And not err the breadth of a nail.  Liev. 
He shall be able to pass through the needles of all occurrences.  Lack. 
And they would but learn me to swear and take Tobacco, 'tis all I desire.  Care. 
Come they shall do it, and I must tell you, these suggestions in you are arguments of a generous disposition, whence do they flow I wonder?  Lack. 
That mother wit that put them in my head, has put money in my purse, and as far as that money will lead me, I will be bold and wise: I have my humours, and I scorn the pollution of the mechanics.  Care. 
How do you like these replies Captain?  Cap. 
Very well, by the faith of a soldier, excellent well, they are good relishing answers, and express an ebullition in his nature, swelling to conformity.  Lack. 
What, I will bear myself like a Gentleman.  Cap. 
ay, and the way to bear yourself like a Gentleman, is sometimes not to be able to bear yourself at all. Lieutenant, what say you?  Liev. 
I say by Hermes, he that has a fortune,  
And power to acquaint the world with his perfections,  
And seeks to smother them, let him die wretched.  Care. 
You have no other way then this, to render you worthy of society.  Cap. 
What, he may turn stinkard, and live in the Country with roots and bacon, and not drink a cup of good wine in a twelvemonth, nor know how the year goes about, but by observation of Husbandry. He may keep two couple of dogs and a Sparrow-hawk, and level his discourse by them. He may be styled a civil Gentleman, ten spheres below a fool: He may marry a knight's daughter, a creature out of fashion, that has not one commendable quality, more than to make a corner pie and a salad, no manner of courtship, but two or three dances, as old as monsieur, and can play a few Lessons on the Virginals that she learned of her Grandam: beside she is simple, and dull in her dalliance.  Care. 
He tells thee right my brave Frisker, they are lumpish girls, heavy in their sport, and cannot move with art.  Cap. 
There's a wench, has her Suburb tricks about her I warrant you: hold there Bellerophon, take thy Ocyrois, and mount her like Phlegon.  Lack. 
Now do I want some two or three good oaths, to express my meaning withal.  Liev. 
Captain, what think you, shall he be a brother?  Care. 
Yes he deserves it, let him be a brother.  
Give him the principles of the brotherhood.  Cap. 
Are you resolved to be a brother sir?  Lack. 
Any thing I, you shall make a blowing horn, or what you list of me.  Cap. 
Nothing can be suddenly perfect, but must aspire by progression, he must be practised in certain duties, before he can be an engrafted member of the fraternity.  Care. 
He shall do any thing that is requisite.  Cap. 
Well then, for the first two months we must dine every day at a Tavern, where it shall be lawful for any brother to bring his shadow with him; and besides the full income of wine and provision, to bespeak any superfluous dish that he affects: but that which shall most commend the discretion of your worth, is, that after the dissolution of the Feast, no man besides yourself must know what's to pay, or take notice of the reckoning.  Lack. 
I must pay all, must I?  Cap. 
You understand me rightly, and I applaud your capacity; from thence, we must have a Coach attend at the door, to carry us to a Play, and at night to a Bawdy-house.  Lack. 
And all at my charges?  Cap. 
What else? And if any brother need a Cloak, or a Suit, or so, you must not stay till he publish or intimate his wants; but presently, by the strength of your own Minerva, pick out the meaning, and take order to supply him: have you any credit with the Tradesmen?  Lack. 
Yes, I have a tailor that will trust me for any thing that I'll have him.  Cap. 
That tailor shall have custom, tell him so; and one thing more, now brother, for so I must call you, we must have all things in common, no difference in the possession of any thing.  Lack. 
Pray explain that rule to me, I do not understand you.  Cap. 
Why thus; this Hat is mine, and that yours, as you conceive now, but they are neither mine nor yours upon the premises: but may be transferred upon occasion to either, as thus, do you conceive me? 'tis usual amongst us.  Lack. 
'tis very well, is this all?  Cap. 
I'll make but one experiment more of your apprehension, and have done. Look you.  They shift cloaks. Lack. 
O I shall do this to a hair, and by the same consequence I shall be a Captain sometimes: shall I not?  Cap. 
Yes, when the date of your task is accomplished, you shall be any thing.  Care. 
'tis enough, this once a week will render him exact. Shall's have a song and a dance Captain?  Cap. 
Hang a Song, you see what little room we have for our mirth, and you would fill it up with air, would you?  Care. 
Nay, but by that air, I hold a Song very delightsome, the very place, as a man would say, and superficies of pleasure.  Cap, 
Prithee let it alone, by that element it charms me into melancholy.  Lack. 
Then good Captain let's have a Dance, for these Gentlewomen's sakes; beside there be many that come to see nothing else.  Cap. 
Why can you dance?  Lack. 
What a question is there to a man of quality? Yes I can dance, and that some that are here shall see and feel before we part; for I mean to shake my heels with that fervour, that it shall strike them into a fit of my love, shall be worse than any ague to them.  Cap. 
Say you so? we'll try that i'faith. Come on Squeakers, rack up our feet and ears to your Instruments.  Lack. 
What tune Captain?  Cap. 
Play us the fine Companion.  The Dance. 
Well said my effeminate Varlets, this was auspiciously performed.  Lack. 
I am afraid this dancing will breed spavins in my legs, this caper has put me in remembrance of a click in my back, I got at my last vaulting.  Cap. 
No thou art deceived my noble Hyacinth, 'tis a mystery will exalt thee Hylas, 'twill make thee rise I say, and put gold in thy purse, thou shalt follow the Court like a Baboon, when a thousand proper fellows shall shirk for their ordinary; 'twill make thee conversant with Ladies, and they shall give thee Diamonds to pawn, and thou shalt ride up and down in thy foot-cloth my little Dolphin Some wine there Tony: I called for wine an hour ago, and could get none.  Enter Drawer. 
Fill out sirrah. What's here the Epitome of a glass? By the womb of Bacchus, a score of them are too little for a draught.  Lack. 
O Lord Captain, nine such hornets are able to sting a man to death.  Liev. 
By Saint George he that dies so, dies valiantly.  Cap. 
What my bold Bravo, be not afraid, and thou wert dead 'twere nothing, I'll come but with a troop of Wenches: and a noise of Fiddlers, and play thee back like Orpheus. What's to pay Drawer?  Draw. 
Sir you have built a sconce since you came in of thirty pounds, and before you have any more, my Master intends to be satisfied.  Cap. 
What money have you brother?  Lack. 
Who I? O Lord brother Captain, I have not the third part of it.  Cap. 
No matter, I ne'er think upon such transitory reckonings: come, let's have a health, and my brother Lackwit shall begin it. Reach three joint stools hither Drawer.  Lack. 
What to do Captain?  Cap. 
I'll show you, you shall ascend here, and be Captain of this Fort: I'll ensconce you; come entrench yourself, and play from your Battery, and so every man round, there take your Lintstock in your hand, and give fire, now every man as far off as he can from the command of his Ordinance. Farewell brother.  Exeunt. Lack. 
Why Gentlemen, I hope you will not use me so, am your brother, why Gentlemen.  Cap. 
There Drawer, take him for a pawn, tell him when he has no money he must be served so, 'tis one of his chief articles.  Enter Crotchet. Cro. 
How now, what are you preaching o'er your cups? Now you are in your Pontificalibus indeed.  Lack. 
Good crotchet help me down, I shall break my neck else.  Cro. 
How came you there?  Lack. 
I know not, an ill hour of the brotherhood, I'll after them with a vengeance.  Draw. 
You must stay and pay the reckoning first, besides the Musicians expect something.  Lack. 
Who I pay the reckoning? 'Slight I came but now in.  Draw. 
That's all one, you were all of a nest, they are flown away, and there's none left but yourself.  Lack. 
'Sdeath the Captain is gone away with my Hat, and my cloak too, I tell thee I'll pay no reckoning.  Draw. 
'tis all one to me, if you can satisfy my Master so.  Lack. 
What shall I do crotchet?  Cro. 
Give him what you have, and if he will take your word for the rest, I'll excuse your Hat and cloak, and say you lost them in a skirmish; you must scratch your hands in half a dozen places with a pin.  Lack. 
I so I will, come sir, I'll go in and talk with your Master.  Cro. 
Besides, I have another business I came to tell you of, that you and I must do together, you shall reap the whole credit on't yourself, if you can manage it handsomely, 'twill gain you that reputation with your Father, that you shall never lose yourself while you live again.  Lack. 
What is't crotchet?  Cro. 
Go in and I'll tell you.  Exeunt.   

Actus IIII.  

Scena II.  Aurelio, Spruse. Aur. 
You much amaze me.  Spr. 
Sir perhaps I might  
With better judgement, and more thanks conceal  
So great a wickedness, but my true love to you  
Could not withhold it, you have read some stories,  
And these are things not unheard of in nature,  
No newness at all, the self same lust and pride,  
As well rules her that treads upon the flint,  
As her that rides upon the necks of slaves.  Aur. 
Stay let me pause awhile; she is a woman,  
Whose age and form might tempt me to distrust her,  
But yet her manners forbid me to believe it.  Spr. 
believe't? She is a close Adulteress,  
Of most strange exercise, a Fricatrice  
Insatiable: and has she none but you,  
That she can find to bait with her allurements,  
To cover her lewd projects? This moved me,  
I'd not have meddled else.  Aur. 
O do not wrong her,  
Good sir do not wrong her, it cannot be.  Spr. 
You have been still kept ignorant, for my part,  
I never yet expected better from them  
I count them but as ordinary chances,  
Trivial, and drawn out from the lap of Fortune.  
Believe me sir, there is no day so holy,  
That ceases to betray a woman's falsehood,  
My medicine works, I shall be even with her.  Aur. 
I sought at first to make her mad in jest,  
But now I'll make her mad in earnest: yet  
'tis not good to be too credulous; a word sir.  
I must have better proofs than your bare word,  
To justify this accusation;  
Her virtue must not stumble at a straw.  Spr. 
Sir 'tis not threats that can extort from me,  
More than I list to speak: I see you troubled,  
And therefore will not leave you in suspense;  
Know that I made myself experiment.  He shows the Ring. 
For all let this confirm you: this she gave me  
Upon the premises.  Aur. 
O I shall burst:  
Here is a sight to make the Sun run backward;  
Good sir forgive me, that I pressed you so,  
Consider't as your own case: were you he,  
That put your confidence, your happiness,  
All in a woman's love, and found her false?  Spr. 
I must confess I think it would afflict me:  
I'll leave you sir, I have discharged my conscience.  
But of more ill, than she has goodness in her.  Exit Spruse.   

Actus IIII.  

Scena. III.  Fido, Aurelio. Fid. 
How now what Planet struck? how do you sir?  
This 'tis to be in love: what alterations  
It breeds? it makes a man forget his friends.  
Come sir be merry, your project has took.  
She fell into her fit, soon as she read it,  
And tore the papers and talked idly, and showed  
The symptoms of the prettiest lunacy.  
What have you lost your speech? those folded arms,  
And frowns, express a sorrow, more than love.  
His eyes, though fixed upon their object, show  
The wandering sphere of his disturbed mind,  
Is whirled about in error. Pray look up sir.  Aur. 
I am not dumb, I have a care within me,  
Speaks to my troubled soul.  Fid. 
Why what's the matter?  Aur. 
O hear it then, and witness it for ever.  
When ere thou seest a woman, in whose brow,  
Are writ the characters of honesty,  
And calls the gods to justify her truth,  
Swear she's a Siren, and a Crocodile.  
Conclude her false, it is enough she vows,  
And speaks thee fair, the winds wait on her lips,  
Straight to disperse her oaths.  Fid. 
You do but jest sure  Aur. 
There is not one of them, that is the same  
She would appear to be; they all are painted.  
They have a Fucus for their face, another  
For their behaviour, their words, and actions.  Fid. 
Come come, these are but qualms of jealousy.  Aur. 
Give no faith to their brow: for in that green  
And flourishing field of seeming virtue, lurks  
A Snake of lust, in whose voluminous wreaths,  
Are folded up a thousand treacheries,  
Plots, Mischiefs, and dissimulations,  
That man ne'er thought of. For in wickedness,  
The wit of woman was ne'er yet found barren.  Fid. 
I think he means to be mad himself too:  
Your reprehensions are too general:  
For by these words your own Valeria suffers.  Aur. 
Why there's the sum of all that I have spoke,  
The abstract of all falsehood. 'tis a name, will  
Blister the tongue of fame, in her report  
Is drowned the memory of all wicked women.  Fid. 
Is your Valeria false?  Aur. 
Once my Valeria, but now mine no more,  
(For they are perished that have lost their shame)  
Is fall'n from virtue past recovery.  
The golden Organs of her innocence  
Are broke, not to be soldered  Fid. 
In my conscience  
You wrong her, this is nothing but th' abundance  
Of love; will you go and sup with the Captain?  
And drive away melancholy.  Aur. 
O no, my heart  
Is shut against all mirth.  Fid. 
Then I'll go seek  
Your brother out, and he shall go along with me:  
I'll show him with a perspective i'faith,  
What a brave Captain he has: he shall be  
In a disguise, as my Companion,  
Then if he will maintain a Paradox,  
That he is either valiant, or honest,  
I'll be made the scorn of their company.  Aur. 
But my fate guides me to the contrary:  
For if my Mistress do not honest prove,  
She has put a period to my life and love.    

Actus IIII.  

Scena IIII.  Lackwit, Crotchet. Crot. 
Come, be not dismayed, whate'er you say,  
I'll swear it: you must affirm you lost your hat  
And cloak in a skirmish.  Lack. 
So I will Crotchet.  
Mass thou wert not with us at the first neither.  Crot. 
Why what if I had sir?  Lack. 
Thou mightst have carried  
Away two or three of the captain's oaths with thee.  Crot. 
I can coin them myself without any treason I warrant you.  Lack. 
Oh Crotchet, I am thinking now, how bravely I'll live, when my father is dead.  Crot. 
Yes, pray let me hear you.  Lac. 
I have drawn the map of it already: I'll go every day in my cloak lined with plush, and my beaver hat, I'll keep my whores, and my running horses, and I'll maintain thee in as good a pied livery, as the best footman of them all goes in.  Enter Littlegood. Lit. 
You will sir, what ungracious villain could have said this? where's your cloak and your hat? yes you shall have money to spend another time.  Enter Fondling. Fond. 
How now what's the matter?  Lit. 
Look you, do you know this Gentleman?  Fond. 
How comes this about?  Crot. 
Nothing but the fortune of the wars forsooth: my young master has been in as stout a fray as ever the Genius of Fleetstreet trembled at.  Fond. 
How was it son?  Lack. 
Let crotchet relate. I scorn to be the trumpet of mine own valour, I.  Fond. 
Do, tell the story, crotchet.  Cro. 
Indeed he made them all run away, that I am certain of.  Fond. 
Nay but show us the manner of it.  Cro. 
Why forsooth I came at the latter end of the feast, and the beginning of the fray, and there my young Master was got above them all, and stood upon his Guard, and held his weapon in his hand so dreadfully, as it he would have poured down his fury upon any man that should come near him.  Fond. 
And will you be angry with him for this? 'twas well done, take no wrong of them, better lose all the clothes off from his back, than to keep a cloak for his cowardice.  Cro. 
Now is the time to move the other business.  Lack. 
Well mother, if you will give me twenty pound more, I'll do you such a piece of service, that you shall thank me for it as long as you live.  Fond. 
What is it son?  Lack. 
Nay you shall not know, before it be done: the conclusion shall crown it.  Fond. 
Well husband, give it this once, and I'll urge you no more, let's see how the Boy will employ it.  Lit. 
Yes, send one arrow after another and loose both.  Fond. 
Nay, but give it him for my sake, I am confident he has a good project; you have example for it in your trade. How many have you, that break daily, and yet their friends set them up two or three times one after another?  Lit. 
Once more you shall prevail with me. Here hold, but if this miscarry, nore ask me for a penny again.  Lack. 
I warrant you, come crotchet.  Fond. 
Must crotchet go with you?  Lack. 
Yes, 'tis a business that can not be done by one alone.  Cro. 
Well Mistress, pray throw an old shoe after us.    

Actus IIII.  

Scena V.  Fido, Careless disguised, Captain. Cap. 
Gentleman you are very welcome. What Hostess, come hither good Hostess.  Enter Hostess. Fid. 
You have a good handsome Hostess, I perceive Captain.  Cap. 
She is cleanly and good condition that's my comfort, and by the power of beauty, if a man were combustible, he might find in her eyes, that would kindle a conflagration.  Host. 
What Gentlemen be these Captain?  Cap. 
Peace good Hostess, I would not willingly proclaim their disgrace: one of them is a Gentleman, that I bastinadoed the other day; and now he is come to give me a Supper, to be reconciled to me, but take you no notice.  Fid. 
Captain here is a friend, that I would willingly commend to your acquaintance.  Cap. 
Sir as I am a true soldier, I embrace your love in him, and that's as much as I can say. Hostess these are not ordinary guests with you; therefore you must be respectful: and faith if you say the world Gentlemen, one of these nights, we'll every man procure as many of our acquaintance as we can, and be merry here at Supper for crowns a piece. What think you?  Fid. 
This is not the business we come about sir.  Cap. 
I know it well enough. Hostess, prithee good sweet, honey Hostess, step and buy us a joint or two of good meat, and a Capon, and lay it to the fire presently.  Host. 
Where's the money?  Cap. 
Death to my honour, do not question it, but do as I bid you.  Host. 
I have not sixpence in the world, the Cobbler had all I had, for mending of your boots.  Cap. 
Go you must make shift, and get more then.  Host. 
Why if these Gentlemen come to bestow a Supper on you, let them give me money aforehand.  Cap. 
Speak lower woman, art mad?  Host. 
I tell you I have not a penny in the house.  Cap. 
Speak lower I say. Go borrow it of thy neighbours, I'll see it paid.  Host. 
Yes and turn me behind the door for my reckoning; You have served me so I know not how often, no I have trusted you too much already: you have not paid me a penny for your lodging, since you came to my house, besides what I have lent you out of my purse.  Cap. 
Bane to my credit, you will exile me beyond the confines of reputation: go pawn some Pewter, or one of thy brass pots. 'Slight do not disgrace me, do any thing rather, take the sheets off from my bed.  Host. 
Yes, you care not what becomes of any thing. Why can you not ask them for money?  Cap. 
'Slife, a man may plot till his heart ache, and you still seek to cross me, you will undo me in my designs.  Host. 
You have more signs in your head, then hang at all the Alehouses in town again.  Cap. 
Prithee woman, hear me what I say. I know they come to spend upon me, and will crouch, and do any thing, yet when I out of my nobleness, and beyond expectation, shall use them so courteously, 'twill be such an engagement, that I can borrow ten or twenty pieces of them at my pleasure.  Host. 
I tell you I can not do it, nor I will not.  Exit Hostess. Cap. 
Faith Gentlemen I must entreat you to excuse me, my Hostess is not very well she tells me, and I think she is not so well stored with necessaries to entertain you, as I could wish; and indeed she has ne'er a spit in the house, therefore we'll defer it till tomorrow night, when 'twill be more convenient at a Tavern.  Fid. 
Well sir, your excuse shall prevail, we are not inexorable upon extremity.  Cap. 
In his you have won me to your observance for ever.  Fid. 
Captain I have another thing to propound to you, here is a friend of mine has lately received injury from one Master Careless, and upon debatement of the matter, this Gentleman is so apprehensive of his disgrace, that he can not possible put it up with safety of his reputation, and therefore desires to have it determined in plain field. Now as he is informed, his adversary accepts of it, and has chosen you for his patron in the quarrel.  Cap. 
By the shine of Phoebus, I wonder what strange impudence has possessed him. As I am a man to honour, I have brought him successively off from a hundred of these, to the peril of my life, and yet am daily obnoxious to new assaults for him.  Fid. 
Then you disclaim to have any hand in the action.  Cap. 
By the passion of valour, Gentlemen I'll tell you, I love a noble employment with my life, but for such a pitiful, drunken, shallow coxcomb, I hate to be seen in such a business.  Fid. 
Do you think no better of him, Captain? if he be so unworthy, I would advise you not to meddle with him.  Cap. 
By the faith of a Soldier, if he have any care of his credit, let him not deal with him, he will but defile himself with such an abject: I hold him to be so poor conditioned, I would not enter a Country Gentleman upon him.  Fid. 
Yet you keep him company, Captain.  Cap. 
I confess I have done, and my intendments were good in it; I saw him so raw, and young, I was induced to believe there might be some hopes of him: but after much impulsion, when I found him so unapt, and indocile in his own nature, I gave him lost, and so I esteem of him, by my life.  Careless puts off his disguise. Car. 
Oh thou treacherous villain, dost thou betray me to myself, and belie me to my face? how many quarrels have you brought me off from?  Cap. 
Never none by jove.  Car. 
I will not rail at you, but I will cudgel you, and kick you, you man of valour.  Cap. 
Hold as thou art a man of renown, thou wilt strike thy foot into me else, my body is as tender as a bog.  Car. 
Thou cowardly perfidious rascal: have I for this made thee my associate, paid for thy jeerings, and breaking of Tapsters, and Ostlers pates, fed thee at a charge a man might have built an Hospital; drenched thee with Sack, and Tobacco, as thy face can witness?  Cap. 
Oh hold as thou art worshipful.  Car. 
Come sir surrender your robes, that you have polluted with cozenage. Here Fido, take this hat and cloak: I will not leave him a covering for his knavery: these are the trophies of your treachery, these.  Cap. 
Nay good sir do not pillage me of all, stay till I get my own again.  Car. 
If Lackwit will restore them he may, else you must resolve to go bareheaded before your right worshipful fortune, with a truncheon in your hand like a Verger, and so I leave you. Come Fido now for my Mistress.  Cap. 
Well, those good qualities that are bred in a man, will never out of him that's my comfort.  

And since I am the scorn of Captains made,  
I'll seek a better and more thriving trade.     

Actus IIII.  

Scena. VI.  Aurelio, Spruse. Aur. 
Come sir, now I have found you, not the power,  
And strength of fate, shall pull you from my vengeance.  
And though I know thy life too mean a ransom  
For the redeeming of the priceless loss  
Of her abused honour, Yet what Nature  
Enables thee to pay, I'll take in part,  
And leave the execution of the rest  
Unto hell's justice.  Spr. 
What do you intend sir?  Aur. 
Look you: t' unfold your heart sir with this sword,  
And read the falsehood that is written in it.  
Come I must know the truth, and reason too,  
If there be reason for a wicked act.  Spr. 
You mean about Valeria?  Aur. 
The same.  
Still an ill conscience will betray itself,  
And sends forth many a scowling, fearful look,  
To descry danger; if he stand confident,  
And justify it to the face of terror,  
Than she is false.  Spr. 
I hear she is run mad.  Aur. 
Is, and the cause of her distemperature  
Is the reproach you put upon her honour.  Spr. 
The wound then is too deep, and an ill Fate  
Has driven the shaft of my intended malice  
Beyond the scope I aimed at.  Aur. 
Was it malice?  
That word has struck me both with joy and anger,  
Both in suspense, which should weight down the scale  
Of my deep burdened mind. What horrid baseness  
Durst so attempt to profane innocence?  Spr. 
It was my love to her.  Aur. 
What is his hate,  
Whose love has proved so ominous?  Spr. 
That love  
Being wronged, begot that hate.  Aur. 
Thou hast done ill.  
And like a foolish and young Exorcist,  
Hast conjured up a spirit of that fury,  
Thy art cannot allay.  Spr. 
Repentance may.  
I only meant to give her name a gash,  
That might be healed again without a scar,  
Or any spreading plaster of wide rumour,  
With help of her compurgators, but only  
To vex her.  Aur. 
What's the offence that did provoke  
This imputation? Did she ever wrong you?  
Malign your wit? Disgrace you before your Mistress?  
Disparage your behaviour? Had she done so,  
Yet this revenge were disproportionate.  Spr. 
Urge me no more, I cannot look on her  
Without such a reflection of my crime,  
As must give shame a lustre; there's no man  
But once in's life may sin besides his nature,  
Nay perhaps contrary: this is a deed  
I must abhor to justify.  Aur. 
You have given  
Almost a satisfaction.  Spr. 
'twas a scandal,  
Arose from my repulse, and has no witness  
Besides your ears; if it were silenced there,  
The world were ignorant of it; I hear  
She is run mad upon the grief, I am sorry  
Her punishment has outstripped my desires.  
I'll undertake, whate'er you shall propose,  
For the recovery of her wits, or honour.  Aur. 
And I'll make use of your kind proffer sir.  Spr. 
I will resign her where she most affects,  
And give you all assistance to obtain her.  Aur. 
You speak honestly, I shall employ you;  
I know you have that credit with her father,  
You may advise him in a thing that reason  
Shall seem to second; bring but this to pass,  
You have made requital for all injuries.  Spr. 
Show me the way, I'll do't; be you the mover,  
I'll be the instrument.  Aur. 
You are my Genius,  
My hope, my opportunity, my Fate;  
And in effecting this you cannot err,  
To make me happy, and recover her.  Desinit Actus quartus   

ACTVs V.  

SCENA I.  Lackwit with a Head-piece and a long sword, Crochet, Careless disguised like Dotario. Lack. 
HOw do I look now crotchet?  Cro. 
Very dreadfully: like a Citizen in a fray, as fear full as Priapus in a garden.  Lack. 
Well, and thou art sure there is but one of them, and he comes disguised like Dotario, to steal away my sister?  Cro. 
Yes sir, and this is the old Gentleman himself, and somebody has stole away his habit to abuse him.  Lack. 
That man that has done so shall think of me and this place as long as he lives for it: Go and give warning crotchet, that no man withstand me, unless he be weary of his life.  Cro. 
If any man be so hardy, let him take his chance.  Lack 
Let him expect my fury crotchet. I will batter any man that shall come near me, my fist is like a Sling, my head like a Ram, and my whole body an Engine, and I will make any man toothless that shall offend me.  Cro. 
Then you will make his mouth as unserviceable as your father's gummed velvet.  Lack. 
I long to exercise my puissance: thou art sure there is but one of them? stand by a little, and let me flourish with my sword, to animate my spirits; now whatsoever he is, that comes in my way, I pronounce him to be a miserable mortal.  Crochet pulls out 3 or 4 Napkins. 
What hast thou there crotchet.  Cro. 
I imagined there would be a great deal of blood spilled in the skirmish, and so I brought these to wipe the wounds, nothing else sir: look you here they come.  Enter Dotario, Aemilia. Lack. 
Give by crotchet, till I question them: it behooves a wise man to deal with words, before he descend to blows: what arrant knight are you sir? and whither do you travel with that damsel?  Cro. 
Press that point home.  Dot. 
O brother Lackwit, how came you so accoutred? or were you set here for a watchman to guard us?  Lack. 
No sir, I do not guard, nor regard any man, and yet I'll stand upon my guard, and this is the point I'll maintain.  Dot. 
What do you mean brother Lackwit?  Lack. 
How, I your brother? No, I scorn to have affiance with such a coney-catcher: you sir Nessus, deliver up your theft, or I will play the Hercules with you.  Dot. 
I am going to marry her, my name is Dotario, and this is your sister Aemilia.  Lack. 
ay, she is my sister, but you are a counterfeit, and have stolen her away.  Cro. 
Seize her for felons goods, she belongs to the Lord of the soil.  Lack. 
Thou villain, dost thou not know, if I were dead, and her other sister, she would be next heir, and than thou mightst be hanged for her?  Dot. 
But I had her consent, and her fathers, my name is Dotario your neighbour, that have fed you with custard and apple-pie a hundred times.  Lack. 
ay, this Gentleman has, but you have abused him, and took his wrong name upon you.  Dot. 
I am the same.  Cro. 
He lies, beat him for lying, what do you stay for?  Lack. 
I am considering with my eye, which part of him I shall first cut off.  Cro. 
Let's bind him fast, and then lay him upon his back, and geld him.  Lack. 
A match. Let's lay hold on him; what is he gone? how finely might my father have been cheated, and all we now, if I had not been: that's some roguing Servingman disguised I'll lay my life on't; if I be not fit to be chronicled for this act of discretion, let the world judge of it. Well crotchet, when I have married her to the right party, if my father does not give me forty pounds more, he shall marry the next daughter himself.  Cro. 
You must not be too sudden now in the opening of your plot, after you have married them.  Lac. 
Advise me good crotchet.  Cro. 
Why before you reveal your proceedings, you shall present yourself with a great deal of confidence, and promise of desert; walk up and down, with a joyful agony, and a trembling joy, as if you had escaped from a breach, or redeemed your country: then when you see them sufficiently filled with expectation, you may draw the curtain of your valour, and stound them with admiration.  Lack. 
So I will crotchet, come let us to the Church.  Exeunt.   

Actus. V.  

Scena. II.  Littlegood, Spruse, Fondling, Fido. Spr. 
Come Master Littlegood, be comforted,  
I have as great a share in the misfortunes  
Of your distracted daughter, as yourself.  Lit. 
O do not say so, she was all my joy.  Fido. 
Then men begin to understand their good,  
When they have lost it, and an envious eye  
Seeks after virtue when it is extinct,  
That hated it alive.  Lit. 
You have reason  
To pity me the more, and lament for her,  
Because I destined her in marriage to you.  Spr. 
And I had well hoped to have been made happy  
In her affection, a true Lovers griefs  
Transcend a parent's.  Lit. 
No, you are deceived,  
A parent is confined, and his joys bounded,  
And only limited to such a subject,  
And driven from thence, have nowhere else to rest on:  
For if his children be once taken from him,  
Which are the cause, than his delight and comfort,  
That are the effects, needs must vanish with them:  
But in a Lover it falls otherwise,  
Such as yourself, whose passion, like a dew,  
Can dry up with the beams of every beauty  
That shall shine warm upon you, need not prize  
The loss of any; you have no alliance,  
Nor natural tie commands you to love any,  
More than your fancy guides you; and the winds  
Have not so many turnings, nor the Sands  
So many shiftings, nor the Moon changes.  Fido. 
Sir you speak truth, upon my knowledge that,  
He is as slippery, as an Eel, in love,  
And wriggles in and out, sir, at his pleasure;  
He can as easily dispense with vows,  
As swear them; and can at a minute's warning,  
If an occasion serve, supply himself  
With a continual, and fresh entertainment  
Of a new Mistress.  Spr. 
Troth I must confess,  
I have been a little faulty that way.  Fon. 
And why would you sir, knowing this before,  
Suffer your daughter to be abused by him?  
Now by my life, I think, and 'twere not for me,  
You'd wind yourself into such Labyrinths,  
You'd not know how to extricate yourself.  Lit. 
Peace good Wife, since there is no remedy.  Spr. 
Do not despair, there is yet remedy;  
I know a scholar, a great Naturalist,  
Whose wisdom does transcend all other Artists,  
A traveller beside, and though his body  
Be distant from the Heavens, yet his mind  
Has pierced unto the utmost of the Orbs,  
Can tell how first the Chaos was distinguished,  
And how the Spheres are turned, and all their secrets,  
The motion and influence of the stars,  
The mixture of the Elements, and all  
The causes of the Winds, and what moves the earth,  
And then he has subjected to his knowledge  
The virtues, and the workings of all herbs,  
And is an Aesculapius in Physic,  
No grief above his art.  Lit. 
Can he heal mad folks?  Spr. 
Were they as mad as Ajax Telamon,  
That slew an Ox in stead of Agamemnon,  
he'll warrant them.  Fond. 
How should one speak with him?  Spr. 
I brought him with me, he is at the door.  
Prithee go call him Fido, you shall hear him,  
And as you like his speech, so credit him.  Enter Aurelio like a Doctor. Lit. 
Is this the man?  Spr. 
This is the Doctor sir.  
I am bold to make relation of your skill here  
To this old Gentleman, who has a daughter  
That is suspected to be mad.  Aur. 
Suspected, is she no otherwise?  Lit. 
She is stark mad.  Aur. 
It came by love?  Lit. 
Yes sure, what think you on't?  Au. 
An ordinary disease, and cure, in some things  
I am of an opinion that Stertinius  
The Stoic was, who held all the world mad.  Fond. 
As how, good Master Doctor?  Aur. 
Thus I prove it;  
What is ambition, and covetousness,  
Or luxury, or superstition,  
But madness in men? and these reign generally.  
Your Lawyer trots, and writes, as he were mad,  
His Client is madder than he; your Merchant that marries  
A fair wife, and leaves her at home, is mad:  
Your Courtier is mad to take up silks and velvets  
On ticket for his Mistress; and your Citizen  
Is mad to trust him.  Fido. 
Nay he is a rare man,  
And has done many and strange Cures sir.  Aur. 
I have indeed.  Fond. 
Pray relate some of them.  Aur. 
To satisfy your Ladyship, I will.  Fond. 
Yes good Sir, let us hear them.  Aur. 
Then I'll tell you. There was once an ginger brought mad before me, the circulations of the Heavens had turned his brains round, he had very strange fits, he would ever be staring, and gazing, and yet his eyes were so weak, they could not look up without a staff.  Spr. 
A jacob's staff you mean?  Aur. 
ay, and he would watch whole nights, there could not a star stir for him, he thought there was no hurt done, but they did it, and that made him look so narrowly to them.  Fond. 
How did you heal him sir?  Aur. 
Only with two or three sentences out of Picus Mirandula, in confutation of the act; and as many out of Cornelius Agrippa, for the vanity of it.  Fond. 
That was excellent.  Aur. 
The next was a Soldier, and he was very furious; but I quieted him, by getting his arrearages paid, and a Pension for his life.  Fond. 
You took a hard task in hand, Mr Doctor.  Aur. 
But the most dangerous of all was a Puritan Chandler, and he ran mad with illuminations, he was very strangely possessed, and talked idly, as if he had had a noise of bells in his head; he thought a man in a surplice to be the Ghost of Heresy, and was out of love with his own members, because they were called Organs.  Fond. 
O monstrous!  Aur. 
I and held very strange positions, for he counted Fathers to be as unlawful in the Church, as Plato did Poets in his Commonwealth, and thereupon grounded his conclusion for the lawfulness of whoredom; for he said that marriage, as it is now used, was the only ringleader of all mischief.  Fond. 
How did you heal him sir?  Aur. 
Why Lady with certain pills of sound doctrine, and they purged his ill humours.  Lit. 
That was very speedy.  Aur. 
Then there was a Musician that run mad with crotchets, the fit was so violent upon him, that he would nothing but sound perpetually.  Fond. 
How did you with him sir?  Aur. 
I served him as Hercules served his Master Linus, broke his Fiddle about his pate, and sent him away without ere a penny, and that brought his head in tune.  Fond. 
I'll remember this i'faith.  Aur. 
Then there was a Huntsman that was very wood, he would nothing but hoop and hollow, and was wonderfully in love with an Echo.  Fond. 
How did you reclaim him?  Aur. 
Why I served him in his own kind, he had a very handsome wench to his wife, and while he was playing the Cephalus abroad, and courting his Aura, I turned him into an Actaeon at home, set a fair pair of horns on his head, and made him a tame beast.  Fond. 
Husband that was excellent, was it not?  Aur. 
I cured a poet too, and indeed, they are a generation that are little better than mad at all times: I was fain to give him over, because himself, and others took such delight in his fury. I could not tell what to make of him, his disease was so pretty and conceited, and he was no sooner well, but he would presently fall into a relapse. I could make relation of a thousand such, as Painters, Alchemists and the like, but it would be tedious.  Lit. 
Nay sir, we are confirmed of your skill. Will you have my daughter brought forth to you sir, that you may see her in her fit?  Aur. 
No by no means, 'twill spend her spirits too much. I'll take her home with me, and anoint her brows with a little Helleborum, and some other receipts that I'll give her, and I'll warrant you, I'll bring her safe too in three hours, and well recovered.  Spr. 
Sir, you will do an office, that will not more deserve honour then reward.  Aur. 
Sir, I shall desire nothing but my pains for my satisfaction.  Fond. 
Good sweet Fido conduct him in, and go along with him, that if any hereafter shall be so averse, in his ignorance, to all goodness, as to question this miracle, you may be produced as a witness.  Lit. 
And what will you do sweet wife?  Fond. 
Why I'll stay here, and expect my son Lackwit, with his project. He sent me word he would come presently, and see where he enters.  Enter Lackwit, Crochet. Lack. 
Crochet, bid them stay without, till I call for them. Make room there, and let such produce there Game, that have good cards to show.  Fond. 
How now son Lackwit; whither away so furious?  Lack. 
I am sure all the wit and valour I had, was at stake for it.  Lit 
Why what's the matter  Lack. 
There was old shuffling and cutting amongst them, and I had not spied their knavery they might have put a trick upon us, faith.  Fond. 
Why were you at cards son?  Lack. 
No, I was at dice. I came the Caster with some of them I think, and I had like to have made their bones rattle for it. There was a Rook would have gone at In and In with my sister, if I had not made a third man, he would have swept all away, and wiped our noses when he had done.  Fond. 
Tell us how was it son?  Lack. 
No matter how; but if I have not played the wise man now, and done an act worthy of applause, let me be hissed off for my labour.  Lit. 
Let's hear, what is it?  Lack. 
If it be no more thanks worthy, I'll tell you at my leisure, when you have prepared your understanding.  Lit. 
What is it crotchet?  Lack. 
Peace sirrah, I'll have no man tell it but myself, because the praise of it belongs wholly to me; and I could but effect half a dozen more such exploits, I'd write my own Commentaries.  Fond. 
You put us too much into a longing, son.  Lack. 
Well I am content to open the sluices of your happiness; let them in crotchet, but take heed you be not too greedy of it, lest the sudden joy overwhelm you.  Enter Careless, Aemilia, Crochet. Lit. 
What's here, Master Dotario, and my daughter Aemilia, hand in hand, & married together? Nay then 'tis as I would have it. The boy has done well, and I must applaud him for it.  Lack. 
O must you so sir? Well, there they are Bark and Tree, but as I am a hairy beast, if I had not been, they had been as far asunder, as Temple bar and Algate.  Fond. 
How so son?  Lack. 
Why I'll show you. there was another Changeling as like to him in shape, as jupiter to Amphitrue, nay if I should say, as I am to, let me see what?  Cro. 
To a fool.  Lack 
No, to myself.  Cro. 
'tis all one.  Lack. 
That would have married her in his stead, and carried her away, if I had not prevented them.  Enter Dotario. 
Whether it be a shadow or a ghost, that haunts him in his own proper form, I know not, but there he comes again.  Lit. 
Why, how now son Dotario, you have made haste to beget one so like you already.  Dot. 
O sir, 'tis I am cheated, gulled, and abused, and which is worse, by one that says he is myself too.  Lit. 
Why what are you?  Dot. 
O sir I am that old Gentleman, that should have married your daughter, and there's an Asmodeus, a devil in my habit, that has beguiled me of her.  Crot. 
Come sir uncase, yourself; 'tis no glory for you to lurk any longer under the person of such a wretch.  Careless puts off his disguise. Dot. 
Who is here, my Nephew Careless? nay then 'tis ten times worse than I thought of: my disgrace will be as common as Conduit water, the very Tankard-bearers will mock at me, I shall be made their laughter at Taverns, the table talk at Ordinaries.  Car. 
Nay good Uncle do not think so ill of me, a brace of thousands shall chain up my tongue, that you may live as concealed as you please.  Dot. 
O sir you have proved yourself to be a fine Companion.  Lit. 
Nay hold up your head sir, this was your device, your master piece of wit, and valour? nay you may brag of it, the credit belongs to you.  Lack. 
Crotchet I would thou wert a post, that I might beat out my brains against thee.  Enter Fido, Aurelio, Valeria. Fid. 
Save you Gentlemen.  Spr. 
Look you sir; here's the Doctor, and your daughter already.  Lit. 
Well there's some comfort yet to make amends for the rest.  Fid. 
Come down on your knees sir.  Aurelio uncases. Lit. 
How now what are you?  Aur. 
Lately the Doctor, but now your son Aurelio.  Lit. 
What more gulleries yet? they have cozened me of my daughters, I hope they will cheat me of my wife too: have you any more of these tricks to show, ha?  Aur. 
No more sir, if we may obtain your favour for these, and think good sir what love may do; you have been young yourself.  Lit. 
Troth and so I have, and been as waggish as the best of you. Well Master Dotario, what shall we do? the boys have out stripped us, there's now no remedy, and my affection relents.  Dot. 
So does mine too, and I would do any thing, if I might be freed of this ignominy, that it might not be known what a fool this love has made of me.  Fid. 
I'll undertake for that sir if you will yield to a motion.  Dot. 
Any thing upon these terms.  Fid. 
Then thus: you are rich, and your Nephew Aurelio here is poor, yet he was borne to an inheritance; now do you but confer something presently upon him, and assure him the rest after your death, and I'll promise they shall observe you with as much obsequiousness, as you desire.  Dot. 
And what shall my Nephew Careless do?  Fid. 
Why Master Littlegood shall give him his Land again.  Dot. 
If he will do one, I'll do the other.  Fond. 
That he shall, I'll see that done upon my word.  Lit. 
I'll not stand against a good motion at any time.  Dot. 
Why then boys be happy in your Mistresses.  Car. 
Sir this speech from you is more comfortable than if Hymen had spoke it: and for my brother Lackwit I'll take him to my protection, and stand in his defence against all machinous Engines that shall be planted for the battery of his wit and fortune.  Crot. 
Pray sir will you get him his cloak and hat again that he lost in the skirmish.  Car. 
I so I will; Fido shall restore them to him.  Lack. 
Well I would know, how all these things had come to so good perfection but for me now.  Crot. 
Nay, if fortune should not favour such as you and I are, she would leave her old wont.  Enter Captain like an Host, Lieutenant with a jug and glass, Hostess. Car. 
What's my old Reformado come again?  Cap. 
Nay you need not fear me now, I am as mild as my beer: I am her husband and your Host till death.  Car. 
What turned Host?  Cap. 
Yes, and I thought it my duty to present you with the first fruits of my profession. Fill out a glass Tapster, that I may drink to this good company. Gentlemen you are all welcome.  Fid. 
Is this your Tapster Captain?  Cap. 
Yes, and does he not suit well with his function? he has learned already to run up stairs and down stairs, as nimble as a Squirill, and can answer to any man that shall call him, as loud and peremptorily as the best of them.  Car. 
That's a good entrance.  Cap. 
He is a little out of countenance at the first, but when you come to my house, you shall hear him speak in a big accent, what's to pay in the Lion? what's to pay in the Dragon? be not dismayed Tapster, be not dismayed.  Car. 
Well I perceive we must keep Holiday: there's nothing angers me now, but Master spruce is disappointed of his Mistress.  Spr. 
Take no care for that, I have more Mistresses than I can tell what to do with.  Car. 
Sir I have a sister, though she had no part in this business, yet for her beauty, virtues, and Dowry, may well deserve you: if you can like of her, I'll do what I can to obtain her for you.  Spr. 
Sir you shall command me in what you please, and my thanks for your love; and here I vow never to dissemble any more in this kind, but to be truly and sincerely affectionated to whosoever you shall commend me.  Car. 
Nay if you would not do so, you were unworthy of her.  

To gain a woman's love thus all may strive,  
But wealth shall be put back, when wit shall thrive.     
FINIS.