THE MALCONTENT.  
Augmented by Marston.  
With the Additions played by the King's majesties servants.  
Written by John Webster. 1604.  
AT LONDON Printed by V. S. for William Aspley, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard.   

BENIAMINI JONSONIO POETAE ELEGANTISSIMO GRAVISSIMO AMICO SVO CANDIDO ET CORDATO, JOHANNES MARSTON MUSARUM ALBINVS ASPERAM HANC SV AM THALIAM D. D.   

To the Reader.  
I Am an ill Orator; and in truth, use to indite more honestly then eloquently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I speak.  
In plainness therefore understand, that in some things I have willingly erreth, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names different from that Cities families: for which some may wittily accuse me; but my defence shall be as honest, as many reproofs unto me have been most malicious. Since (I heartily protest) it was my care to write so far from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I laid my Scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or living. Yet in despite of my endeavours, I understand, some have been most unadvisedly overcunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtility (as deep as hell) have maliciously spreadill rumours, which springing from themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I desire to satisfy every firm spirit▪ who in all his actions, proposeth to himself no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are always simple: to such I protest, that with my free understanding, I have not glanced at disgrace of any, but of those, whose unquiet studies labour innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend comely superiority, and established unity: for the rest of my supposed tartness, I fear not, but unto every worthy mind it will be approved so general and honest, as may modestly pass with the freedom of a Satire. I would fain leave the paper; only one thing afflicts me, to think that Scenes invented, merely to be spoken, should be inforcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive, is to do myself the wrong. But since others otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. I have myself therefore set forth this Comedy; but so, that my enforced absence must much rely upon the Printers discretion: but I shall entreat, slight errors in orthography may be as slightly over passed; and that the unhandsome shape which this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned, for the pleasure it once afforded you, when it was presented with the soul of lively action.  Sine aliqua dementia nullus Phoebus. I. M.  


Dramatis personae.  
Giovanni Altofronto Disguised Malevole sometime Duke of Genoa.  
Pietro jacomo Duke of Genoa.  
Mendozo A Minion to the Duchess of Pietro jacomo.  
Celso A friend to Altofront.  
Bilioso An old choleric Marshal.  
Prepasso A Gentleman Vsher.  
Ferneze A young Courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess.  
Ferrardo A Minion to Duke Pietro jacomo.  
Equato Guerrino Two Courtiers.  
Aurelia Duchess to Duke Pietro jacomo.  
Maria Duchess to Duke Altofront.  
Emilia Beancha Two Ladies attending the Duchess.  
Maquerelle An old Panderess.  
Pasarello Fool to Bilioso.    

THE INDUCTION TO THE MALCONTENT, AND the additions acted by the King's majesties servants.  
Written by john Webster.  Enter W. Sly, a Tyre-man following him with a stool. Tire-man. 
SIR, the Gentlemen will be angry if you sit hear.  Sly 
Why? we may sit upon the stage at the private house: thou dost not take me for a country gentleman, dost? dost think I fear hissing? I'll hold my life thou took'st me for one of the players.  Tyre.: 
No sir.  Sly 
By gods slid if you had, I would have given you but six pence for your stool: Let them that have stale suits, sit in the galleries, hiss at me: he that will be laughed out of a Tavern or an Ordinary, shall seldom feed well or be drunk in good company. Where's Harry Cundale, D: Burbidge, and with: Sly, let me speak with some of them.  Tyre.: 
An't please you to go in sir, you may.  Sly: 
I tell you no; I am one that hath seen this play often, & can give them intellegence for their action: I have most of the jests here in my table-book.  Enter Sinkclow. Sink: 
Save you Coose.  Sly: 
O Cousin, come you shall sit between my legs hear.  Sink: 
No indeed cousin, the audience than will take me for a viol de gamba, and think that you play upon me.  Sly: 
Nay, ther that I work upon you cousin.  Sink: 
We stayed for you at supper last night at my cousin Hony-moones the woollen Draper: After supper we drew cuts for a score of Apricoks, the longest cut still to draw an Apricoke: by this light 'twas Mistress Frank Hony-moones fortune, still to have the longest cut: I did measure for the women. What be these cousin?  Enter D: Burbidge, H: Cundale, I: Lewin. Sly: 
The Players. God save you.  Bur: 
You are very welcome.  Sly: 
I pray you know this Gentleman my cousin, 'tis Master Doomesdays son the usurer.  Cun: 
I beseech you sir be covered.  Sly: 
No in good faith for mine ease, look you my hat's the handle to this fan: Gods so, what a beast was I, I did not leave my father at home. Well, but I'll take an order with you.  Puts his feather in his pocket. Bur: 
Why do you conceal your feather sir?  Sly: 
Why? do you think I'll have jests broken upon me in the play to be laughed at: this play hath beaten all your gallants out of the feathers: Black friars hath almost spoiled black friars for feathers.  Sink: 
God's so, I thought 'twas for somewhat our gentlewomen at home counselled me to wear my feather to the play, yet I am loath to spoil it.  Sly: 
Why cousin?  Sink: 
Because I got it in the tiltyard: there was a Herald broke my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up & down the strand, and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it.  Sly: 
Do you hear sir, this play is a bitter play.  Cun: 
Why sir, 'tis neither Satire nor Moral, but the mean passage of a history: Yet there are a sort of discontented creatures that bear a stingeles●e envy to great ones, and these will wrest the doings of any man to their base malicious appliment: but should their interpretation come to the teste, like your marmasite, they presently turn their teeth to their tail & eat it.  Sly: 
I will not go so far with you, but I say, any man that hath wit, may censure (if he sit in the twelve-penny room:) and I say again, the play is bitter.  Bur: 
Sir you are like a Patron that presenting a poor scholar to a benefice, enjoins him not to rail against any thing that stands within compass of his Patron's folly: Why should not we enjoy the ancient freedom of poesy? Shall we protest to the Ladies that their painting makes them Angels, or to my young gallant, that his expense in the brothel shall gain him reputation? No sir, such vices as stand not accountable to law, should be cured as men heal tetters, by casting ink upon them. Would you be satisfied in any thing else sir?  Sly: 
I marry would 1  
I would know how you came by this play?  Cun: 
Faith sir the book was lost, and because 'twas pity so good a play should be lost, we found it and play it.  Sly: 
I wonder you would play it, another company having interest in it?  Cun: 
Why not Malevole in folio with us, as jeronimo in Decimo sexto with them. They taught us a name for our play, we call it One for another.  Sly: 
What are your additions?  Bur: 
Sooth not greatly needful, only as your salad to your great feast, to entertain a little more time, and to abridge the not received custom of music in our Theatre. I must leave you sir.  Exit Burbidge. Sink: 
Doth he play the Malcontent?  Cun: 
Yes sir.  Sink: 
I durst lay four of mine ears, the play is not so well acted as it hath been.  Cun: 
O no sir, nothing Ad Parminonis Suem.  Lew: 
Have you lost your ears sir, that you are so prodigal of laying them?  Sink: 
Why did you ask that friend?  Lew: 
Marry sir because I have heard of a fellow would offer to lay a hundred pound wager, that was not worth five bau-bees: 〈◊〉 in this kind you might venture four of your elbows: yet God defend your coat should have so many.  Sink: 
Nay truly, I am no great censurer, and yet I might have been one of the College of Crittickes once: my cousin here 〈◊〉 an excellent memory indeed sir.  Sly: 
Who I? I'll tell you a strange thing of myself, and I can tell you for one that never studied the art of memory, 'tis very strange too.  Cun: 
What's that sir?  Sly: 
Why I'll lay a hundred pound I'll walk but once down by the goldsmiths row in Cheap, take notice of the signs, and tell you them with a breath instantly.  Lew: 
'tis very strange.  Sly: 
They begin as the world did, with Adam and Eue.  
There's in all just five and fifty.  
I do use to meditate much when I come to plays too.  
What do you think might come into a man's head now, seeing all this company?  Cun: 
I know not sir.  Sly: 
I have an excellent thought: if some fifty of the Grecians that were crammed in the horse belly had eaten garlic, do you not think the Troyans' might have smelled out their knavery.  Cun: 
Very likely.  Sly: 
By God I would he had, for I love Hector horribly.  Sink: 
O but coz cousin.  
Great Alexander when he came to the tomb of Achilles  
Spoke with a big loud voice, O thou thrice blessed & happy.  Sly: 
Alexander was an ass to speak so well of a filthy cullion.  Lew: 
Good sir will you leave the stage, I'll help you to a private room.  Sly: 
Come cousin, let's take some Tobacco. Have you never a prologue?  Lew: 
Not any sir.  Sly: 
Let me see, I will make one extempore.  
Come to them and fencing of a congee with arms and legs.  
Be round with them.  
Gentlemen, I could wish for the women's sakes you had all soft 〈◊〉: and Gentlewomen, I could wish that for the men's sakes you had all more easy standings. What would they wish more but the play now, and that they shall have instantly.   

THE MALCONTENT. 
〈…〉   

ACTUS PRIMUS.  

SCE. PRIMA.  The vilest out of tune Music being heard. Enter Bilioso and Prepasso. Bilioso. 
WHy how now? are ye mad? or drunk? or both? or what?  Prae: 
Are ye building Babylon there?  Bili: 
here's a noise in Court, you think you are in a Tavern, do you not?  Prae: 
You think you are in a brothel house, do you not? This room is ill scented.  Enter one with a perfume. 
So, perfume, perfume; some upon me I pray thee: The Duke is upon instant entrance; so, make place there.   

SCENA SECUNDA.  Enter the Duke Pietro, Ferrardo, Count Equato, Count Celso before, and Guerrino. Pie: 
Where breath's that music?  Bilio: 
The discord rather than the Music is heard from the Malcontent Malevole's chamber.  Ferrar: 
Malevole.  Male: 

* Out of his chamber.  Yaugh, godaman what dost thou there: Dukes Ganymede juno's jealous of thy long stockings: shadow of a woman, what wouldst Weasel? thou lamb a Court: what dost thou bleat for? a you smooth chinned Catamite!  Pie: 
Come down thou ragged cur, and snarl here, I give thy dogged sullenness free liberty: troth about and bespurtle whom thou pleasest.  Mal: 
I'll come among you, you goatish blooded Toderers, as Gum into Taffeta, to fret, to fret: I'll fall like a sponge into water to suck up; to suck up. howl again. I'll go to church and come to you.  Pie: 
This Malevole is one of the most prodigious affections that ever conversed with nature; A man, or rather a monster; more discontent than Lucifer when he was thrust out of the presence, his appetite is unsatiable as the Grave; as far from any content, as from heaven: his highest delight is to procure others vexation, and therein he thinks he truly serves heaven; for 'tis his position, whosoever in this earth can be contented, is a flave and damned; therefore does he afflict all in that to which they are most affected; th' Elements struggle within him; his own soul is at variance within herself: his speech is halter-worthy at all hours: I like him; faith, he gives good intelligence to my spirit, makes me understand those weaknesses which others flattery palliates: hark, they sing;   

SCENA TERTIA.  Enter Malevole after the Song. 
Sceva: he comes: now shall you hear the extremity of a Malcontent: he is as free as air: he blows oves every man. And 〈◊〉, whence come you now?  Mal: 
From the public place of much dissimulation,  Pie: 
What didst there▪  Mal: 
Talk with a Usurer: take up at interest.  Pie: 
I wonder what religion thou art of.  Mal: 
Of a soldiers religion.  Pie: 
And what dost think makes most infidels 〈◊〉▪  Mal: 
Sects, sects, I have seen seeming Piety change her roabeso oft, that sure none but some archdivell can * shape her a petticoat.  Pie: 
of a religious policy.  Mal: 
But damnation on a politic religion: I am weary, would I were one of the Duke's hounds now.  Pie: 
But what's the common news abroad Malevole, thou dog'st rumour still?  Mal: 
Common news? why common words are, God save ye, Fare ye well: common actions, Flattery and Cozenage: common things, Women and Cuckolds: and how does my little Ferrardo a ye lecherous Animal, my little Ferret, he goes sucking up and down the palace into every hen's nest like a Weasel: and to what dost thou addict thy time to now, more than to those antic painted drabs that are still affected of young Courtiers, Flattery, Pride, and Venery.  Ferrar: 
I study languages: who dost think to be the best linguist of our age?  Mal: 
Phew, the Devil, let him possess thee, he'll teach thee to speak all languages, most readily and strangely, and great reason mary, he's travelled greatly in the world; & is every where.  Ferrar: 
Save i'th' Court.  Mal: 
ay, save i'th' Court: and how does my old muckhill overspread with fresh snow: 
To Bilioso.  thou half a man, half a goat, all a beast: how does thy young wife, old huddle?  bilis: 
Out you improvident rascal.  Mal: 
Do, kick thou hugely horned old Duke's Ox, good Master make-pleece.  Piet: 
How dost thou live now a days Malevole?  Mal: 
Why like the Knight S. Patrick Penlolians, with killing a spiders for my Lady's Monkey.  Pie: 
How dost spend the night, I hear thou never sleepest?  Mal: 
O no, but dream the most fantastical: O heaven: O fubbery, fubbery▪  Piet: 
Dream, what dreamest?  Mal: 
Why me thinks I see that signor pawn his foot-cloth: that Metreza her Plate: this madam takes physic: that other Me●●si●ur may minister to her: here is a Pander jeweld: there is a fellow in shift of Satin this day, that could not shift a shirt other night: here a Paris supports that Helen: there's a Lady Guinever bears up that sir Lancelot. Dreams, dreams, visions, fantasies, chimeras, imaginations, tricks, conceits, 
* To Prepasso.  Sir Tristram Trimtram come a fit Jack a napes with a whim-wham, here's a Knight of the land of Catita shall play at trap with any page in Europe; Do the sword-dance, with any Morris dancer in Christendom; ride at the Ring till the sin of his eyes look as blue as the welkin, and run the wild-goose chase even with Pompey the huge.  Pie: 
You run.  Mal: 
To the devil: now Signior Guerchino; that thou from a most pitied prisoner shouldst grow a most loathed flatterer: Alas poor Celso, thy star's oppressed, thou art an honest Lord, 'tis pity.  Equa: 
Is't pity?  Mal: 
I marry be't philosophical Equato, & 'tis pity that thou being so excellent a scholar by art, shouldst be so ridiculous a fool by nature: I have a thing to tell you Duke; bid us avaunt, bid 'em avaunt.  Pietro: 
Leave us, leave us, now sir what be't?  Exeunt all saving Pietro and Malevole. Mal: 
Duke thou art a Beco, a Cornuto.  Piet: 
How?  Mal: 
Thou art a Cuckold.  Piet: 
Speak; unshale him quick.  Mal: 
With most tumbler-like nimbleness.  Piet: 
Who? by whom? I burst with desire.  Mal: 
Mendoza is the man makes thee a horned beasts  
Duke 'tis Mendoza cornutes thee.  Piet: 
What conformance▪ relate, short, short.  Mal: 
As a Lawyer's beard,  
There is an old Crone in the Court, her name is Maquerelle,  
She is my mistress sooth to say, and she doth ever tell me,  
Blirt a rhyme; blirt a rhyme; Maquerelle is a cunning bawd, I am an honest villain, thy wife is a close drab, and thou at 〈…〉 cuckold, farewell Duke.  Piet: 
Stay, stay.  Mal: 
Dull, dull Duke, can lazy patience make lame revenge? O God for a woman to make a man that which God never created, never made!  Piet: 
What did God never make?  Mal: 
A cuckold: To be made a thing that's hoodwinked with kindness, whilst every rascal filips his brows; to have a coxcomb with egregious horns, pinned to a Lords back, every page sporting himself with delightful laughter, whilst he must be the last must know it; Pistols and Poniards, Pistols and Poniards.  Piet: 
Death and damnation!  Mal: 
Lightning and thunder!  Piet 
Vengeance and torture!  Mal: 
Catzo!  Piet: 
O revenge!  Mal: 
Nay, to select among ten thousand fairs,  
A Lady far inferior to the most,  
In fair proportion both of limb and soul:  
To take her from austerer check of parents,  
To make her his by most devoutfull rights,  
Make her commandress of a better essence  
Than is the gorgeous world even of a man.  
To hug her with as raised an appetite,  
As usurers do their delved up treasury,  
(Thinking none tells it but his private self▪)  
To meet her spirit in a nimble kiss,  
Distilling panting ardour to her heart.  
True to her sheets, nay diets strong his blood,  
To give her height of Hymeneal sweets.  Pie: 
O God  Mal: 
Whilst she lisps, & gives him some court quelquechose  
Made only to provoke, not satiate:  
And yet even then, the thaw of her delight  
Flows from lewd heat of apprehension,  
Only from strange imaginations rankness,  
That forms the adulterer's presence in her soul,  
And makes her think she eclipse the foul knaves loins.  Piet: 
Affliction to my blood's root.  Mal: 
Nay think, but think what may proceed of this,  
Adultery is often the mother of incest.  Piet: 
Incest.  Mal: 
Yes incest: mark, Mendoza of his wife begets perchance a daughter. Mendoza died. His son marries this daughter. Say you? Nay 'tis frequent, not only probable, but no question often acted, whilst ignorance, fearless ignorance clasps his own seed.  Piet: 
Hideous imagination!  Mal: 
Adultery? why next to the sin of Simony, 'tis the most horrid transgression under the cope of salvation.  Piet: 
Next to Simony?  Mal: 
ay, next to Simony, in which our men in next age shall not sin.  Piet: 
Not sin? Why?  Mal: 
Because (thanks to some churchmen) our age will leave them nothing to sin with. But adultery! O dullness! sue, should exemplary punishment, that intemperate bloods may freeze, but to think it. I would damn him and all his generation my own hands should do it; ha, I would not trust heaven with my vengeance any thing.  Piet: 
Any thing, any thing Male●ele thou shalt see instantly what temper my spirit holds; farewell, remember I forget thee not, farewell.  Exit Pietro. Mal: 
Farewell.  
Lean thoughtfulnes, a sallow meditation,  
Suck thy veins dry, distemperance rob thy sleep,  
The hearts disquiet is revenge most deep.  
He that gets blood, the life of flesh but spill,  
But he that breaks heart's peace, the dear soul kills.  
Well, this disguise doth yet afford me that  
Which kings do seldom hear, or great men use,  
Free speech: and though my state's usurped,  
Yet this affected strain gives me a tongue,  
As fetterlesse as is an Emperors.  
I may speak foolishly, I knavishly,  
Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion  
To poise my breath," for he that laughs and strikes,  
" Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again.  
Duke, I'll torment thee: now my just revenge,  
From thee than crown a richer gem shall part.  
Beneath God nought's so dear as a calm heart.   

SCENA QVARTA.  Enter Celso. Celso: 
My honoured Lord.  Mal: 
Peace, speak low; peace, O Celso, constant Lord,  
(Thou to whose faith I only rest disconered,  
Thou, one of full ten millions of men,  
That lovest virtue only for itself,  
Thou in whose hands old OPS may put her soul:)  
Behold for ever banished Altofront  
This Genoa's last years Duke, O truly noble,  
I wanted those old instruments of state,  
Dissemblance, and Suspect: I could not time it Celso,  
My throne stood like a point in midst of a circle,  
To all of equal nearness, bore with none:  
Reigned all alike, so slept in fearless virtue,  
Suspectless, too suspectless: till the crowd:  
(Still liquorous of untried novelties,)  
Impatient with severer government:  
Made strong with Florence: banished Altofront.  Celso: 
Strong with Florence, I, thence your mischief rose,  
For when the daughter of the Florentine  
Was matched once with his Pietro now Duke,  
No stratagem of state untried was left, till you of all▪  Mal: 
Of all was quite bereft,  
Alas Maria, too close prisoned:  
My true faithed Duchess i'th' Citadel.  Celestina: 
I'll still adhere, let's mutiny and die.  Mal: 
O no, climb not a falling tower Celso,  
'tis well held, desperation, no zeal:  
Hopeless to strive with fate (peace) Temporize.  
Hope, hope, that never for mak'st the wretchedst man,  
Yet bidst me live, and lurk in this disguise.  
What? play I well the free breathed discontent?  
Why man we are all Philosophical monarch or natural fools, Celso, the Courts after, the Duchess sheets will smoke for't ere it be long: Impure Mendoza that sharp nosed Lord, that made the cursed match linked Genoa with Florence now broad horns the Duke, which he now knows: Discord to Malcontents is very Manna, when the ranks are burst, than scuffle Altofront.  Celso: 
I but durst.  Mal: 
'tis gone, 'tis swallowed like a mineral, some way 'twill work, phewt I'll not shrink," Hees resolute who can no lower sink.  Bilioso Entering, Malevole shifteth his speech. Mal: 
O the father of Maypoles, did you never see a fellow whose strength consisted in his breath, respect in his office, religion on his Lord, and love in himself? why then behold.  Bilio: 
Signior.  Mal: 
My right worshipful Lerd,  
Your court nightcap makes you have a passing high forehead.  Bill: 
I can tell you strange news, but I am sure you know them already. The Duke speaks much good of you.  Mal: 
Go to then, and shall you and I now enter into a strict friendship?  Bili: 
Second one another.  Mal: 
Yes.  Bill: 
Do one another good offices.  Mal: 
Just, what though I called thee old Ox, egregious wittal, Broken-bellied Coward, Rotten Mummy,  
Yet since I am in favour:  Bil. 
Words of course, terms of disport.  
His grace presents you by me a chain, as his grateful remembrance for— I am ignorant for what, marry ye may impart: Yet howsoever— come— dear friend:  
Dost know my son?  Mal: 
Your son?  Bill: 
He shall eat woodcocks, dance jigs, make possets, and play at shuttlecock with any young Lord about the Court: he has as sweet a Lady too: dost know her little bitch?  Mal: 
'tis a dog man.  Bill: 
Believe me, a she bitch? O 'tis a good creature, thou shalt be her servant, I'll make thee acquainted with my young wife too: what, I keep her not at Court for nothing: 'tis grown to supper time, come to my table, that any thing I have stands open to thee.  Mal: 
How smooth to him that is in state of grace, — To Cel.  
How servile is the ruggedst Courtiers face.  
What Profit, nay what Nature would keep down,  
Are heaved to them, are minions to a crown.  
Envious ambition never sates his thirst,  
Till sucking all, he swells, and swells, and bursts.  Bill: 
I shall now leave you with my always best wishes, only let's hold betwixt us a firm correspondence, a mutuall-frendly-reciprocall-kinde of steddie-unanimous-hartily leagued.—  Mal: 
Did your sinniorship ne'er see a pigeon house that was smooth, round, and white without, and full of holes and stink within, ha' ye not old Courtier?  Bill: 
O yes, 'tis the form the fashion of them all.  Mal: 
Adieu my true Court-friend, farewell my dear Castilio.  Celestina: 
Yonder's Mendoza.  Exit Bilioso. Mal: 
True, the privy key.  Descries Mendoza. Cells: 
I take my leave, sweet Lord.  Exit Celso. Mal: 
'tis fit, away.   

SCENA QVINTA.  Enter Mendoza with three or four suitors. Men: 
Leave your suits with me, I can and will: attend my Secretary, leave me.  Mal: 
Mendoza, hark ye, hark ye. You are a treacherous villain, Good bye ye.  Men: 
Out you base borne rascal.  Mal: 
We are all the sons of heaven, though a Tripe wife were our mother; a you whoreson hot rained he Marmoset, Aegisthus didst ever hear of one Aegisthus?  Men: 
Gistus?  Mal: 
I Aegisthus, he was a filthy incontinent Fleshmonger, such a one as thou art.  Men: 
Out grumbling rogue.  Mal: 
Orestes, beware Orestes.  Men: 
Out beggar.  Mal: 
I once shall rise.  Men. 
Thou rise?  Mal. 
I at the resurrection.  
" No vulgar seed, but once may rise, and shall,  
" No King so huge, but fore he die, may fall.  Exit. Men. 
Now good Elysium, what a delicious heaven is it for a man to be in a Prince's favour: O sweet God O pleasure! O fortune! O all thou best of life! what should I think: what say? what do? to be a favourite? a minion? to have a general timorous respect, observe a man, a stateful silence in his presence, solitariness in his absence, a confused hum, and busy murmur of obsequious suitors training him; the cloth held up, and way proclaimed before him: Petitionary vassals licking the pavement with their slavish knees, whilst some odd palace lamprels that engender with snakes, and are full of eyes on both sides, with a kind of insinuated humbleness, fix all their delights upon his brow: O blessed state, what a ravishing prospect doth the Olympus of favour yield▪ Death, I cornute the Duke: sweet women, most sweet Ladies, nay Angels; by heaven he is more accursed then a devil that hates you, or is hated by you, and happier than a God that loves you, or is beloved by you; you preservers of mankind, life blood of society, who would live, nay who can live without you? O Paradise, how majestical is your austerer presence? how imperiously chaste is your more modest face? but O! how full of ravishing attraction is your pretty, petulant, langushing, laciviously-composed countenance: these amorous smiles, those soul-warming sparkling glances, ardent as those flames that singed the world by heedless Phaeton; in body how delicate, in soul how witty, in discourse how pregnant, in life how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how sociable, and in night how? O pleasure unutterable, indeed it is most certain, one man cannot deserve only to enjoy a beauteous woman: but a Duchess? in despite of Phoebus I'll write a sonnet instantly in praise of her.  Exit.  

SCENA SEXTA.  Enter Ferneze ushering Aurelia, Emillia and Maquerelle bearing up her train, Beancha attending all go out but Aurelia, Maquerelle and Ferneze. Aur. 
And be't possible? Mendoza slight me, possible?  Fer. 
Possible? what can be strange in him that's drunk with favour, Grows insolent with grace? speak Maquerelle, speak.  Maq: 
To speak feelingly, more, more richly in solid sense then worthless words, give me those jewels of your ears to receive my enforced duty, as for my part 'tis well 
* Ferneze privately feeds Maquerelles hands with jewels during this speech.  known I can put any thing; can bear patiently with any man: But when I heard he wronged your precious sweetness, I was enforced to take deep offence; 'tis most certain he loves Emilia with high appetite; and as she told me (as you know we women impart our secrets one to another,) when she repulsed his suit, in that he was possessed with your endeared grace: Mendoza most ingratefully renounced all faith to you.  Fer. 
Nay, called you, speak Maquerelle, speak.  Maq. 
By heaven witch: dried biscuit, and contested blushlessly he loved you but for a spurt, or so.  Fer. 
For maintenance.  Maq. 
Advancement and regard.  Aur. 
O villain! O impudent Mendoza.  Maq. 
Nay he is the rustiest jade, the foulest mouthed knave in railing against our sex: he will rail against women.  Aur. 
How? how?  Maq. 
I am ashamed to speak't, I.  Aur. 
I love to hate him▪ speak.  Maq. 
Why when Emillia scorned his base unsteddines the black throated rascal scolded, and said.  Aur. 
What?  Maq. 
Troth 'tis too shameless.  Aur. 
What said he?  Maq. 
Why that at four women were fools, at fourteen drabs, at forty bawds, at fourscore witches, and a hundred cats.  Aur. 
O unlimitable impudency!  Fer. 
But as for poor Ferneze's fixed heart,  
Was never shadeless meadow drier parched,  
Under the scorching heat of heavens dog,  
Then is my heart with your enforcing eyes.  Maq. 
A hot simile.  Fer. 
Your smiles have been my heaven, your frowns my hell,  
O pity then; grace should with beauty dwell.  Maq. 
Reasonable perfect bir-lady.  Aur. 
I will love thee, be it but in despite  
Of that Mendoza: witch! Ferneze: witch!  
Ferneze thou art the Duchess favourite,  
Be faithful, private, but 'tis dangerous.  Fer. 
" His love is lifeless, that for love fears breath,  
" The worst that's due to sin, O would 'twere death.  Aur. 
Enjoy my favour, I will be sick instantly & take physic, Therefore in depth of night visit.  Maq. 
Visit her chamber, but conditionally, you shall not offend her bed: By this diamond.  Fer. 
By this diamond—  Gives it to Maquerelle. Maq. 
Nor tarry longer than you please: By this ruby.  Fer. 
By this ruby.—  Gives again. Maq. 
And that the door shall not creak.  Fer. 
And that the door shall not creak.  Mal: 
Nay but swear.  Fer. 
By this purse.—  Gives her his purse. Maq. 
Go to, I'll keep your oaths for you: remember, visit.  Enter Mendoza reading a sonnet. Aur. 
Dried biscuit! look where the base wretch comes.  Men: 
Beauty's life, heavens model, loves Queen.  Maq. 
That's his Aemilia.  Men. 
Nature's triumph, best on earth.  Maq: 
Meaning Aemilia.  Men. 
Thou only wonder that the world hath seen.  Maq. 
That's Aemilia.  Aur: 
Must I then hear her praised Mendoza?  Men: 
Madam, your excellency is graciously encountered;  
I have been writing passionate flashes in honour of.—  Exit Fer. Aur: 
Out villain, villain: O judgement, where have been my eyes? what bewitched election made me dote on thee? what sorcery made me love thee? but be gone, bury thy head: O that I could do more than loath thee: hence worst of ill: No reason ask, our reason is our will.  Exit with Maquerelle. Men: 
Women? nay furies, nay worse, for they torment only the bad, but women good and bad.  
Damnation of mankind: breath, hast thou praised them for this? And be't you Ferneze are wriggled into smock grace? sit sure, O that I could rail against these monsters in nature, models of hell, curse of the earth, women that dare attempt any thing, and what they attempt, they care not how they accomplish, without all premeditation or prevention, rash in ask, desperate in working, impatient in suffering, extreme in desiring, slaves unto appetite, mistresses in dissembling, only constant in unconstancy, only perfect in counterfeiting: their words are feigned, their eyes forged, their sights dissembled, their looks counterfeit, their hair false, their given hopes deceitful, their very breath artificial▪ Their blood is their only God: Bad clothes, and old age, are only the devils they tremble at.  
That I could rail now!   

SCENA SEPTIMA.  Enter Pietro, his sword drawn. Pie: 
A mischief fill thy throat, thou fowl jawed slave: Say thy prayers.  Men: 
I ha' forgot 'em.  Pie: 
Thou shalt die.  Men: 
So shalt thou; I am heart mad.  Pie: 
I am horn mad.  Men: 
Extreme mad.  Pie: 
Monstrously mad.  Men: 
Why?  Pie: 
Why? thou, thou hast dishonoured my bed.  Men: 
I? come, come, sit, here's my bare heart to thee,  
As steady as is this centre to the glorious world.  
And yet hark, thou art a Cornuto; but by me?  Pie: 
Yes slave by thee.  Men: 
Do not, do not with tart and spleenful breath,  
Lose him can lose thee; I offend my Duke.  
Bear record O ye dumb and raw-aired nights,  
How vigilant my sleepless eyes have been,  
To watch the traitor; record thou spirit of truth,  
With what debasement I ha' thrown myself,  
To under offices, only to learn  
The truth, the party, time, the means, the place,  
By whom, and when, and where thou wert disgraced.  
And am I paid with slave? hath my intrusion  
To places private, and prohibited,  
Only to observe the closer passages,  
Heaven knows with vows of revelation,  
Made me suspected, made me deemed a villain?  
What rogue hath wronged us?  Pie: 
Mendoza, I may err.  Men: 
Err? 'tis too mild a name, but err and err,  
Run giddy with suspect, for through me thou know  
That which most creatures save thyself do know:  
Nay since my service hath so loathed reject,  
Before I'll reveal, shalt find them clipped together.  Pie. 
Mendoza, Thou knowst I am a most plain breasted man.  Men. 
The fitter to make a cuckold: would your brows were most plain too.  Pie. 
Tell me, indeed I heard thee rail.  Men. 
At women, true, why what cold phlegm could choose,  
Knowing a Lord so honest, virtuous,  
So boundless loving, bounteous, faire-shapt, sweet,  
To be contemned, abused, defamed, made cuckolo:  
heart, I hate all women for't, sweet sheets, wax lights, antic bed●postes, cambric smocks, villainous Curtains, arras pictures, oiled hinges, and all the tongue-tied lascivious witnesses of great creatures wantonness: what salvation can you expect?  Pie: 
Wilt thou tell me?  Men. 
Why you may find it yourself, observe, observe.  Piet. 
I ha' not the patience, wilt thou deserve me; tell, give it.  Men. 
Take't, why Ferneze is the man, Ferneze, I'll prove't, this night you shall take him in your sheets, wilt serve?  Pie. 
It will, my bozoms in some peace, till night.  Men. 
What?  Pie: 
Farewell.  Men. 
God how weak a Lord are you,  
Why do you think there is no more but so?  Pie. 
Why?  Men. 
Nay then will I presume to counsel you,  
It should be thus; you with some guard upon the sudden  
Break into the Prince's chamber, I stay behind  
Without the door, through which he needs must pass,  
Ferneze flies, let him, to me he comes, he's killed  
By me, observe by me, you follow, I rail,  
And seem to save the body: Duchess comes  
On whom (respecting her advanced birth,  
And your fair nature,) I know, nay I do know  
No violence must be used. She comes, I storm,  
I praise, excuse Ferneze, and still maintain  
The Duchess honour, she for this loves me,  
I honour you, shall know her soul, you mine,  
Then nought shall she contrive in vengeance,  
(As women are most thoughtful in revenge)  
Of her Ferneze, but you shall sooner know't  
Then she can think't.  
— Thus shall his death come sure,  
Your Duchess brain-caught; so your life secure.  Pie. 
It is too well, my bosom, and my heart,  
" When nothing helps, cut off the rotten part.  Exit. Men. 
" Who cannot feign friendship, can near produce the effects of hatred: Honest fool Duke, subtle lascivious Duchess, silly novice Ferneze; I do laugh at ye, my brain is in labour till it produce mischief, and I feel sudden throws, proofs sensible, the issue is at hand.  
" As bears shape young, so I'll form my devise,  
" Which grown proves horrid: vengeance makes men wise.  Enter Malevole and Passarello. Mal. 
Fool, most happily encountered, canst sing fool?  Passar. 
Yes I can sing fool, if you'll bear the burden, and I can play upon instruments, scurvily. as gentlemen do; O that I had been gelded, I should then have been a fat fool for a chamber, a squeaking fool for a tavern, and a private fool for all the Ladies.  Malevole 
You are in good case since you came to court fool; what guarded, guarded!  Passar. 
Yes faith, even as footmen and bawds wear velvet, not for an ornament of Honour, but for a badge of drudgery: for now the Duke is discontented I am feign to fool him asleep every night.  Mal. 
What are his griefs?  Passar. 
He hath sore eyes.  Mal. 
I never observed so much.  Passar. 
Horrible sore eyes; and so hath every Cuckold, for the roots of the horns spring in the eyeballs, and that's the reason the horn of a cuckold is as tender as his eye; or as that growing in the woman's forehead twelve years since, that could not endure to be touched. The Duke hangs down his head like a columbine.  Mal. 
Passarello, why do great men beg fools?  Passar. 
As the Welshman stole rushes, when there was nothing else to filch; only to keep begging in fashion.  Mal. 
Pew, thou givest no good reason,  
Thou speakest like a fool.  Passar. 
Faith I utter small fragments as your knight courts your City 〈◊〉 with jingling of his guilt spurs, advancing his bush coloured beard, and taking Tobacco. This is all the mirror of their knightly compliments: Nay I shall talk when my tongue is a going once; 'tis like a Citizen on horseback, evermore in a false gallop.  Mal. 
And how doth Maquerelle far nowadays?  Passar. 
Faith I was wont to salute her as our English women are at their first landing in Flushing; I would call her whore; but now that antiquity leaves her as an old piece of plasticke t'work by, I only ask her how her rotten teeth fare every morning, and so leave her: she was the first that ever invented perfumed smocks for the gentlewomen, and woollen shoes for fear of creaking: for the visitant, she were an excellent Lady, but that her face peeleth like Muscouie glass.  Mal. 
And how doth thy old Lord that hath wit enough to be a flatterer, and conscience enough to be a knave?  Passar. 
O excellent, he keeps beside me fifteen jeasters, to instruct him in the Art of fooling, and viters their jeastes in private to the Duke and Duchess; he'll lie like to your Swisser, or Lawyer; he'll be of any side for most money.  Mal. 
I am in haste, be brief.  Passar. 
As your Fiddler when he is paid,  
he'll thrive I warrant you, while your young courtier stands like Good-friday in Lent, men long to see it, because more fatting days come after it, else he's the leanest and pittifulst actor in the whole Pageant; Adieu Malevole.  Mal. 
O world most wild, when thy loose vanities  
Taught by this fool, do make the fool seem wise!  Passar. 
You'll know me again Malevole.  Mal. 
O I, by that velvet.  Passar. 
ay, as a pettifogger by his buckram bag,  
I am as common in the Court as an hostesses lips in the country; knights, and clowns, and knaves, and all share me: the Court cannot possibly be without me. Adieu Malevole.    

ACTUS: TWO:  

SCENA I:  Enter Mendoza with a sconce, to observe Ferneze's entrance, who whilst the Act is playing: Enter unbraced two pages before him with lights, is met by Maquerelle and convey 〈◊〉 The pages are sent away. Men. 
he's caught, the woodcocks head is i'th' noose,  
Now treads Ferneze in dangerous path of lust,  
Swearing his sense is merely deified.  
The fool grasps clouds, and shall beget Centaurs;  
And now in strength of panting faint delight,  
The Goat bids heaven envy him; good Goose,  
I can afford thee nothing but the poor comfort of calamity, Pity  
" Lust's like the plummets hanging on clock lines,  
" Will near ha' done till all is quite undone.  
Such is the course salt sallow lust doth run,  
Which thou shalt try; I'll be revenged. Duke thy suspect,  
Duchess thy disgrace, Ferneze thy rival ship  
Shall have swift vengeance; nothing so holy,  
No band of nature so strong,  
No law of friendship so sacred,  
But I'll profane burst, violate,  
Before I'll endure disgrace, contempt and poverty:  
Shall I, whose very hum struck all heads bare;  
Whose face made silence, creaking of whose shoe  
Forced the most private passages fly open,  
Scrape like a servile dog at some latcht door?  
Learn now to make a leg? and cry, beseech ye,  
Pray ye, is such a Lord within? be awed  
At some odd Ushers scofft formality?  
First seat my brains; unde cadis non quo refert;  
My heart cries, perish all: how! how! What fate  
" Can once avoid revenge, that's desperate,  
I'll to the Duke; if all should open, if! tush;  
" Fortune still dotes on those who cannot blush.   

SCENA SECUNDA.  Enter Malevole at one door, Beancha, Emilia and Maquerelle at the other door. Mal. 
Bless ye cast a Ladies: ha dip-sawce, how dost thou old Cole?  Maq. 
Old Cole?  Mal. 
I old Cole; me thinks thou liest like a brand under billets of green wood. He that will inflame a young wench's heart, let him lay close to her: an old Cole that hath first been fired, a pandress my half burnt lint, who though thou canst flame thyself, yet art able to set a thousand virgins tapers afire: and how doth janivere thy husband, my little periwinkle, is he troubled with the cough of the lungs still? does he hawk a nights still, he will not bite.  Bean. 
No by my troth, I took him with his mouth empty of old teeth.  Mal. 
And he took thee with thy belly full of young bones: Marry he took his maim by the stroke of his enemy.  Bean. 
And I mine by the stroke of my friend.  Mal. 
The close stock! o mortal wench: Lady, ha' ye now no restoratives for your decayed jasons? Look ye, crabs guts baked, distilled ox-pith, the pulverised hairs of a lions upper lip, jelly of cocke●sparrowes, he monkeys marrow, or powder of fox-stones. And whither are you ambling now?  Beancha 
To bed, to bed.  Mal. 
Do your husbands lie with ye?  Beancha 
That were country fashion i'faith.  Mal. 
Ha ye no foregoers about you: come, whither in good deed law now?  Beancha 
In good indeed law now, to eat the most miraculously, admirably, astonishable composed posset with three curds, without any drink: will ye help me with a he fox? here's the Duke.  The Ladies go out. Mal. 
Fried frogs are very good & French like too:—  to Bean.  

SCENA TERTIA.  Enter Duke Pietro, Count Celso, Count Equato, Bilioso, Ferrard, and Mendoza. Pietro 
The night grows deep and fowl, what hour be't?  Cello 
Upon the stroke of twelve.  Mal. 
Save ye Duke.  Pietro 
From thee; be gone, I do not love thee, let me see thee no more, we are displeased.  Mal. 
Why God be with thee, heaven hear my curse,  
May thy wife and thee live long together.  Pietro 
Be gone sirrah.  Mel. 
When Arthur first in Court began,— Agamemnon: Menelnm— was ever any Duke a Cornuto?  Pietro 
Be gone hence.  Mal. 
What religion wilt thou be of next?  Mend. 
Out with him.  Mal. 
With most servile patience time will come,  
When wonder of thy error will strike dumb,  
Thy bezeld sense, slaves I favour, I mary shall he, rise,  
" Good God how subtle hell doth flatter vice,  
" Mount● him aloft, and makes him seem to fly,  
" As Fowl the Tortoise mocked, who to the sky,  
" Th'ambitious shellfish raised; th'end of all,  
" Is only, that from height he might dead fall.  Bilioso 
Why when? out ye rogue, be gone ye rascal.  Mal. 
I shall now leave ye with all my best wishes.  Bilioso 
Out ye cur.  Mal. 
Only lets hold together a firm correspondence.  Bilioso 
Out.  Mal. 
A mutual friendly reciprocal perpetual kind of steady unanimous heartily leagued.  Bilioso 
Hence ye gross jawed pesantly, out, go.  Mal. 
Adieu pigeon house: thou Burr that only stickest to nappy fortunes, the Sarpego, the Strangury, an eternal uneffectual Priapism seize thee.  Bilioso 
Out rogue.  Mal. 
Mayest thou be a notorious wittolly pander to thine own wife, and yet get no office but live to be the utmost misery of mankind, a beggarly cuckold.  Exit. Pietro 
It shall be so.  Mend. 
It must be so, for where great states revenge,  
" This requisite the parts with piety,  
" And lost respect forbears, be closely dogged,  
" Lay one into his breast shall sleep with him,  
" Feed in the same dish, run in self faction,  
" Who may discover any shape of danger;  
" For once disgraced, displayed in offence,  
" It makes man blushless, and man is (all confess)  
" Moore prone to vengeance than to gratefulness.  
" Favours are writ in dust, but stripes we feel,  
" Depraved nature stamps in lasting steel.  Pietro 
You shall be leagued with the Duchess.  Equate 
The plot is very good.  Mend. 
You shall both kill, and seem the course to save.  Ferrard. 
A most fine brain trick.  Celso 
Of a most cunning knave.  tacitè: Pietro 
My Lords, the heavy action we intent,  
Is death and shame, two of the ugliest shapes  
That can confound a soul; think, think of it:  
I strive, but yet like him that 'gainst stone walls  
Directs his shafts, rebounds in his own face,  
My Lady's shame is mine; o God 'tis mine.  
Therefore I do conjure all secrecy,  
Let it be as very little as may be; pray ye, as may be.  
Make frightless entrance, salute her with soft eyes,  
Strain nought with blood, only Ferneze dies,  
But not before her brows: O Gentlemen,  
God knows I love her; nothing else, but this,  
I am not well. If grief that sucks veins dry,  
Rivels the skin, casts ashes in men's faces▪  
Be-dulls the eye, unstrengthens all the blood:  
Chance to remove me to another world,  
As sure I once must die: let him succeed:  
I have no child; all that my youth begot,  
Hath been your loves, which shall inherit me:  
Which as it ever shall, I do conjure it.  
Mendoza may succeed, he's noble borne,  
With me of much desert.  Celio 
Much.  tacitè: Pietro 
Your silence answers I,  
I thank you, come on now: o that I might die  
Before her shame's displayed! would I were forced  
To burn my father's Tomb, unheale his bones,  
And dash them in the dirt, rather than this:  
This both the living and the dead offends:  
" Sharp surgery where nought but death amends.  Exit with the others.  

SCENA QVARTA.  Enter Maquerelle, Emilia, and Beancha with the posset. Maq. 
Even here it is, three curds in three regions individually distinct.  
Most methodical according to art composed without any drink.  Bean: 
Without any drink?  Maq: 
Upon my honour, will you sit and eat?  Emilia: 
Good, the composure, the receipt, how be't?  Maq: 
'tis a pretty pearl, by this pearl, (how dost with me,) thus it is, seven and thirty yolks of Barbary hens eggs, eighteen spoonfuls and a half of the juice of cocksparrow bones, one ounce, three drams, four scruples, and one quarter of the syrup of Ethiopian dates, sweetened with three quarters of a poond of pure candid Indian Eringoes, strewed over with the powder of pearl of America, amber of Cataia, and lamb stones of Muscovia.  Bin. 
Trust me the ingredients are very cordial, and no question good, and most powerful in restoration.  Maq. 
I know not what you mean by restoration, but this it doth, it purifieth the blood, Imootheth the skin, enliveneth the eye, strengtheneth the vemes, mundifieth the teeth, comforteth the stomach, fortifieth the back, and quickeneth the wit; that's all.  Emilia: 
By my troth I have eaten but two spoonfuls, and me thinks I could discourse most swiftly and wittily already.  Maq: 
Have you the art to seem honest?  Bean: 
I thank advise and practise.  Maq. 
Why then eat me of this posset, quicken your blood, and preserve your beauty. Do you know doctor Plaster-face, by this cured, he is the most exquisite in forging of veins, sprightening of eyes, dying of hair, sleeking of skins, blushing of cheeks, surpheleing of breasts blanching and bleaching of teeth that 〈◊〉 made an old Lady gracious by torch light: by this curd law.  Be: 
We we are resolved what god has given us we'll cherish.  Maq. 
Cherish any thing saving your husband, keep him not too high, lest he leap the pale● but for your beauty, let it be your saint, bequeath two hours to it every morning in your closet: I ha' been young, and yet in my conscience I am not above five and twenty, but believe me, preserve and use your beauty; for youth and beauty once gone, we are like beehives without honey: out a fashion, apparel that no man will wear, therefore use me your beauty.  Emil. 
I but men say.  Maq. 
Men say? let men say what they will, life a woman, they are ignorant of your wants, the more in years, the more in perfection they grow: if they loose youth & beauty, they gain wisdom & discretion: But when our beauty fades, good-night with us: there cannot be an uglier thing to see, than an old woman, from which, O pruning, pinching, & painting, deliver all sweet beauties.  Bea. 
Hark, music.  Maq: 
Peace, 'tis in the Duchess bedchamber, good rest most prosperously graced Ladies.  Emilia: 
good-night sentinel.  Bea: 
Night dear Maquerelle.  Exeunt all but Maq. Maq. 
May my posset's operation send you my wit & honesty▪ And me your youth & beauty: the pleasingst rest.  Exit Maq.  

SCENA QVINTA.  A song. Whilst the song is singing, enter Mendoza with his sword drawn, standing ready to murder Ferneze as he flies from the Duchess chamber. All 
Strike, strike.  Aur. 
Save my Ferneze, O save my Ferneze.  Enter Ferneze in his shirt, and is received upon Mendozas sword. All 
Follow, pursue.  Aur. 
O save Ferneze.  Men. 
Pierce, pierce, thou shallow fool drop there.  
" He that attempts a Princes lawless love,  
" Must have broad hands, close heart, with Argos eyes,  
" And back of Hercules, or else he dies.  Thrusts his rapier in Fer. Enter Aurelia, Duke Pietro, Ferrard, Bilioso, Celso, and Equato. All 
Follow, follow.  Men: 
Stand off, forbear, ye most uncivil Lords.  Pie: 
Strike.  Men. 
Do not; tempt not a man resolved,  
Would you inhuman murderers more than death?  Aur. 
O poor Ferneze.  Men: 
Alas, now all defence too late.  Aur. 
he's dead.  Pie: 
I am sorry for our shame: go to your bed:  
Weep not too much, but leave some tears to shed  
When I am dead.  Aur. 
What weep for thee? my soul no tears shall find.  Pie: 
Alas, alas, that women's souls are blind.  Men: 
Betray such beauty, murder such youth, contemn civility.  
He loves him not that rails not at him.  Pie: 
Thou canst not move us: we have blood enough.  
And please you Lady we have quite forgot  
All your defects: if not, why then.  Aur. 
Not.  Pie. 
Not: the best of rest, good night.  Exit Pietro with other Courtiers. Aur: 
Despite go with thee.  Men: 
Madam, you ha' done me foul disgrace.  
You have wronged him much, loves you too much.  
Go to; your soul knows you have.  Aur. 
I think I have.  Men. 
Do you but think so?  Aur. 
Nay, sure I have, my eyes have witnessed thy loue●  
Thou hast stood too firm for me.  Men. 
Why tell me fair cheeked Lady, who even in tears,  
Art powerfully beauteous, what unadvised passion  
Struck ye into such a violent heat against me?  
Speak, what mischief wronged us? what devil injured us?  
Speak.  Aur. 
That thing near worthy of the name of man; Ferneze,  
Ferneze swore thou lov'st Emilia,  
Which to advance with most reproachful breath,  
Thou both didst blemish and denounce my love.  Men. 
Ignoble villain, did I for this bestride  
Thy wounded limbs; for this? O God for this?  
Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life,  
Ripped bare my throat unto the hangman's axe.  
Thou most dishonoured trunk— Emillia.  
By life I know her not— Emillia.  
Did you believe him?  Aur. 
Pardon me, I did.  Men. 
Did you? and thereupon you graced him.  Aur. 
I did.  Men: 
took him to favour, nay even clasped with him.  Aur: 
Alas I did.  Men: 
This night?  Aur: 
This night.  Men: 
And in your lustful twines the Duke took you▪  Aur: 
A most sad truth.  Men: 
O God O God how we dull honest souls,  
Heavy brained men are swallowed in the bogs  
Of a deceitful ground, whilst nimble bloods,  
Light jointed spirits spent, cut good men's throats,  
And scape; alas, I am too honest for this age,  
Too full of phlegm, and heavy steadiness:  
Stood still whilst this slave cast a noose about me;  
Nay then to stand in honour of him and her,  
Who had even sliced my heart.  Aur: 
Come, I did err, and am most sorry, I did err.  Men: 
Why we are both but dead, the Duke hates us.  
" And those whom Princes do once groundly hate,  
" Let them provide to die, as sure as fate,  
" Prevention is the heart of policy.  Aur: 
Shall we murder him?  Men: 
Instantly.  Aur: 
Instantly? before he casts a plot?  
Or further blaze my honours much known blot.  
Let's murder him.  Men: 
I would do much for you, will ye marry me?  Aur: 
I'll make thee duke: we are of Medici's.  
Florence our friend, in court my faction  
Not meanly strengthfull; the Duke then dead,  
We well prepared for change: the multitude  
Irresolutely reeling, we enforce:  
Our party seconded, the kingdom amazed,  
No doubt of swift success, all shall be graced.  Men: 
You do confirm me, we are resolute,  
To morrow look for change rest confident.  
'tis now about the immodest waste of night,  
The mother of moist dew with pallid light,  
Spreads gloomy shades about the numbed earth.  
Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischiefs birth;  
This man I'll get inhumde; farewell, to bed;  
I 〈◊〉 the pillow, dream, the Duke is dead.  Exit Aurelia 
So, so, good night, how fortune dotes on impudence,  
I am in private the adopted son of yond good Prince.  
I must be Duke; why if I must, I must,  
Most seely Lord, name me? O heaven!  
I see God made honest fools, to maintain crafty knaves:  
The Duchess is wholly mine too; must kill her husband  
To quit her shame; much; then marry her: I,  
O I grow proud in prosperous treachery!  
As wrestlers clip, so i'll embrace you all,  
Not to support, but to procure your fall.  Enter Malenole. Mal. 
God arrest thee.  Mend. 
At whose suit?  Mal. 
At the devils; ah you treacherous damnable monster!  
How dost? how dost, thou treacherous rogue?  
Ah ye rascal, I am banished the Court sirrah.  Mendoza 
Prithee let's be acquainted, I do love thee faith.  Mal. 
At your service, by the Lord law, shall's go to supper, let's be once drunk together, and so unite a most virtuously strengthened friendship, shall's Huguenot, shall's?  Mendoza 
Wilt fall upon my chamber to morrow morn?  Mal. 
As a raven to a dunghill; they say there's one dead here, pricked for the pride of the flesh.  Mendoza Ferneze: 
there he is, prithee bury him.  Mal. 
O most willingly, I mean to turn pure Rochel churchman, I.  Mendoza 
Thou church man! why? why?  Mal. 
Because I'll live lazily, rail upon authority, deny king's supremacy in things indifferent, and be a Pope in mine own parish.  Mend. 
Wherefore dost thou think churches were made?  Mal. 
To scour plowshares, I have seen oxen plow up Altars: Et nunc seges ubi Sion fuit.  Mendoza 
Strange.  Mal. 
Nay monstrous, I ha' seen a sumptuous steeple turned to a stinking privy; more beastly, the sacredst place made a dogs kennel: nay most inhuman, the stoned coffins of long dead christians burst up, and made hogs-troughs— Hic sinis Pri●ni. Shall I ha' some sack and cheese at thy chamber?  
Good night good mischievous incarnate devil, good night Mendoza, ah you inhuman villain, good-night, night fub.  Men. 
Good night: to morrow morn.  exit Mendoza. Mal. 
ay, I will come friendly Damnation, I will come:  
I do descry cross-points, honesty and courtship, straddle as far asunder, as a true Frenchman's legs.  Ferneze 
O!  Mal. 
Proclamations, more proclamations.  Ferneze 
O a Surgeon.  Mal. 
Hark, lust cries for a Surgeon, what news from Limbo?  
How doth the grand cuckold Lucifer?  Ferneze 
O help, help, conceal and save me.  Ferneze stirs, and Malevole helps him up and conveys him away. Mal. 
Thy shame more than thy wounds do grieve me far,  
" Thy wounds but leave upon thy flesh some scar;  
" But fame ne'er heals, still rankles worse and worse,  
" Such is of uncontrolled lust the curse.  
" Think what it is in lawless sheets to lie:  
" But O Ferneze, what in lust to die.  
" Then thou that shame respects, o fly converse  
" With women's eyes, and lisping wantonness:  
" Stick candles 'gainst a virgin walls white back,  
" If they not burn, yet at the least they'll black.  
Come, i'll convey thee to a private port.  
Where thou shalt live (o happy man) from court.  
The beauty of the day begins to rise,  
From whose bright form Nights heavy shadow flies,  
Now gins close plots to work, the Scene grows full,  
And craves his eyes who hath a solid skull.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS III.  

SCENA I.  Enter Pietro the Duke, Mendoza, count Equato and Bilioso. Pietro 
'tis grown to youth of day, how shall we waste this light?  
My heart's more heavy than a tyrant's crown.  
Shall we go hunt? Prepare for field.  Exit Equat● Mendoza 
Would ye could be merry.  Pietro 
Would God I could: Mendoza bid 'em haste:  
I would fain shift place; O vain relief!  exit Mendoza 
" Sad souls may well change place, but not change grief:  
As Dear being struck fly thorough many solliss,  
Yet still the shaft sticks fast, so;  Bilioso 
A good old simile, my honest Lord.  Pietro 
I am not much unlike to some sick man,  
That long desired hurtful drink; at last  
Swills in and drinks his last, ending at once  
Both life and thirst: O would I near had known  
My own dishonour! good God that men should  
Desire to search out that, which being found, kills all  
Their joy of life, to taste the tree of knowledge,  
And then be driven from out Paradise.  
Canst give me some comfort?  Bilioso 
My Lord, I have some books which have been dedicated to my honour, and I near read 'em, and yet they had very fine names: Physic for Fortune: Lozenges of sanctified sincerity, very pretty works of Curates, Scriveners and Schoolmasters Mary I remember one Seneca, Lucius Anneus Seneca.  Pietro 
Out upon him, he writ of Temperance and fortitude, yet lived like a voluptuous epicure, and died like an effeminate coward. Haste thee to Florence: here, take our Letters, see 'em sealed; away; report in private to the honoured Duke, his daughters forced disgrace, tell him at length,  
We know, too much due compliments advance,  
" There's nought that's safe and sweet but ignorance.  Exit duke Enter Bilioso and Bianca. Belioso 
Madam, I am going Ambassador for Florence, 'twill be great charges to me.  Bianca 
No matter my Lord, you have the lease of two manors come out next Christmas; you may lay your tenants on the greater rack for it: and when you come home again, I'll teach you how you shall get two hundred pounds a year by your teeth.  Belioso 
How Madam?  Bianca 
Cut off so much from housekeeping, that which is saved by the teeth, you know is got by the teeth.  Bilioso 
Fore God, and so I may, I am in wondrous credit Lady.  Bianca 
See the use of flattery, I did ever counsel you to flatter greatness, and you have profited well: any man that will do so shall be sure to be like your Scotch Barnacle, now a block, instantly a worm, and presently a great goose: this it is to rot and putrefy in the bosom of greatness.  Buioso 
Thovia rte ever my politician, O how happy is that olde● lord that hath a politician to his young Lady! I'll have fifty gentlemen shall attend upon me; mary the most of them shallbe Farmers sons, because they shall bear their own charges, and they shall go appareled thus, in sea-water green suits, ash-color 〈◊〉, wetchet stockings, and popinjay green feathers, will not the colours do excellent?  Bianca 
Out upon't, they'll look like Citizens riding to their friends at Whitsuntide, their apparel just so many several parishes.  Bilioso 
I'll have it so, and Passarello my fool shall go along with me, mary he shall be in velvet?  Bianca 
A fool in velvet.  Bilioso 
ay, 'tis common for your fool to wear satin, i'll have mine in velvet.  Bianca 
What will you wear then my Lord?  Bilioso 
Velvet too, mary it shall be embroidered, because I'll differ from the fool somewhat. I am horribly troubled with the gout, nothing grieves me but that my doctor hath forbidden me wine, and you know your Ambassador must drink. Didst thou ask thy doctor what was good for the gout?  Bianca 
Yes, he said, else, wine and women, were good for it.  Bilioso 
Nay, thou hast such a wit, what was good to cure it, said he?  Bianca 
Why the racke●al your Empirics could never do the like cure upon the gout the rack did in England: or your Scotch boot. The French Herlakeene will instruct you.  Bilioso 
Surely I do wonder, how thou having, for the most part of thy life time been a country body, shouldest have so good a wit.  Bian. 
Who I? why I have been a Courtier thrice two months.  Bili. 
So have I this twenty year, and yet there was a gentleman usher called me cocks-coombe other day, and to my face too: waste not a backbiting rascal? I would I were better travailed, that I might have been better acquainted with the fashions of several countrymen: but my Secretary, I think he hath sufficiently instructed me.  Bian. 
How my Lord?  Bili. 
Mary my good Lord quoth he, your Lordship shall ever find amongst a hundred Frenchmen, forty hot shots: amongst a hundred Spaniards, threescore bragarts: amongst a hundred Dutchmen, fourscore drunkards: amongst a hundred Englishmen, fourscore and ten madmen: and amongst an hundred Welshmen.  Bian. 
What my Lord?  Bili. 
Fourscore and nineteen gentlemen.  Bian. 
But since you go about a sad imbasie, I would have you go in black my Lord.  Bili. 
Why dost think I cannot mourn, unless I wear my hat in cypres like an Alderman's heir, that's vile, very old, in faith.  Bian. 
I'll learn of you shortly; O we should have a fine gallant of you, should not I instruct you: how will you bear yourself when you come into the Duke of Florence Court?  Bili. 
Proud enough, and t' will do well enough; as I walk up and down the chamber, I'll spit frowns about me, have a strong perfume in my jerkin, let my beard grow to make me look terrible, salute no man beneath the fourth button, and 'twill do excellent.  Bian. 
But there is a very beautiful Lady there, how will you entertain her?  Bili. 
I'll tell you that when the Lady hath entertained me: but to satisfy thee, here comes the fool: fool thou shalt stand for the fair Lady.  Enter Passarello. Pas. 
Your fool will stand for your Lady most willingly and most uprightly.  Bili. 
I'll salute her in Latin.  Pas. 
O your fool can understand no Latin.  Bili: 
I but your Lady can.  Passa. 
Why then if your Lady take down your fool, your fool will stand no longer for your Lady.  Bili. 
A pestilent fool: fore God I think the world be turned upside down too.  Pas. 
O no sir, for then your Lady, and all the Ladies in the palace should go with their heels upward, and that were a strange sight you know.  Bili. 
There be many will repine at my preferment.  Pas. 
O I, like the envy of an elder sister that hath her younger made a Lady before her.  Bili. 
The Duke is wondrous discontented.  Pas. 
ay, and more melancholic, than a usurer having all his money out at the death of a Prince.  Bili. 
Didst thou see Madam Floria to day?  Pas. 
Yes, I found her repairing her face to day, the red vpon the white showed as if her cheeks should have been served in for two dishes of Barbaries in stewed broth, and the flesh to them a woodcock.  Exit. Bili. 
A bitter fowl: Come Madam, this night thou shalt enjoy me freely, and to morrow for Florence.  Pas. 
What a natural fool is he that would be a pair of bodies to a woman's petticoat, to be trusst and pointed to them. Well, I'll dog my Lord, and the word is proper: for when I fawn upon him he feeds me; when I snap him by the fingers, he spits in my mouth. If a dogs death were not strangling, I had rather be one then a feruing-man: for the corruption of coin, is either the generation of a usurer, or a lousy beggar.   

SCENA SECUNDA.  Enter Malevole in some freeze gown, whilst Bilioso reads his Patent. Mal. 
I cannot sleep, my eyes ill neighbouring lids  
Will hold no fellowship: O thou pale sober night,  
Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense dost sleep:  
Thou that gives all the world full leave to play,  
Unbend'st the feebled veins of sweaty labour;  
The galleyslave, that all the toilsome day,  
Tugs at his oar, against the stubborn wave,  
Straining his rugged veins, shores fast:  
The stooping sithe-man that doth barb the field  
Thou makest wink sure: in night all creatures sleep,  
Only the Malcontent, that 'gainst his fate  
Repines and quarrels, alas he's goodman tell-clocke.  
His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan,  
Whilst others beds are down, his pillows stone.  Bili: 
Malevole.  Mal: 
Elder of Israel, thou honest defect of wicked nature and obstinate ignorance, 
To Bilioso.  when did thy wife let thee lie with her?  Bili: 
I am going Ambassador to Florence.  Mal: 
Ambassador? now for thy country's honour: prithee do not put up mutton & porridge in thy cloak-bag: thy young Lady wife goes to Florence with thee too, does she not?  Bili: 
No, I leave her at the palace.  Mal. 
At the palace? now discretion shield man, for God's love let's ha' no more cuckolds: Hymen begins to put off his saffron rob, keep thy wife i'the state of grace, heart a truth, I would sooner leave my Lady singled in a Bordello, then in the Genoa Palace, sin there appearing in her sluttish shape,  
Would soon grow loathsome, even to blushessence,  
Surfeit would cloak intemperate appetite,  
Make the soul scent the rotten breath of lust.  
When in an Italian lascivious palace, a Lady guardianless,  
Left to the push of all allurement,  
The strongest incitements to immodesty,  
To have her bound, incensed with wantor sweets,  
Her veins filled high with heating delicates:  
Soft rest, sweet music, amorous Masquerers, lascivious banquets, sin itself gilded o'er, strong phantafie tricking up strange delights, presenting it dressed pleasingly to sense, sense leading it unto the soul, confirmed with potent example, impudent custom, enticed by that great bawd Opportunity, thus being prepared, clap to her easy ear, youth in good clothes, well shaped, rich, fair-spoken, promising-noble, ardent blood-full, witty, flattering: Ulysses absent, O Ithacan, chastest Penelope hold out.  Bill: 
Mass I'll think on't, farewell.  Exit Bilioso. Mal: 
Farewell, take thy wife with thee, farewell.  
To Florence, 'em? it may prove good, it may,  
And we may once unmask our brows.   

SCENA TERTIA.  Enter Count Celzo. Celestina: 
My honoured Lord.  Mal: 
Celso peace, how be't? speak low, pale fears suspect that hedges, walls and trees have ears: speak, how runs all?  Cel. 
I faith my Lord, that beast with many heads  
The staggering multitude recoils apace,  
Though thorough great men's envy, most men's malice,  
Their much intemperate heat hath banished you.  
Yet now they find envy and malice near,  
Produce faint reformation.  
The Duke, the too soft Duke lies as a block,  
For which two tugging factions seem to saw,  
But still the iron through the ribs they draw.  Mal: 
I tell thee Celzo, I have ever found  
Thy breast most far from shifting cowardice  
And fearful baseness: therefore I'll tell thee Celzo,  
I find the wind begins to come about,  
I'll shift my suit of fortune, I know the Florentine whose only force,  
By marrying his proud daughter to this Prince,  
Both banished me, and made this weak Lord Duke,  
Will now forsake them all, be sure he will:  
I'll lie in ambush for conveniency,  
Upon their severance to confirm myself.  Celestina: 
Is Ferneze interred?  Mal: 
Of that at leisure: he lives.  Celestina: 
But how stands Mendoza, how be't with him?  Mal: 
Faith like a pair of snuffers, snibs filth in other men, and retains it in itself.  Celestina: 
He does fly from public notice me thinks, as a hare does from hounds, the feet whereon he flies betrays him.  Mal: 
I can track him Celso.  
O my disguise fools him most powerfully:  
For that I seem a desperate Malcontent,  
He fain would clasp with me; he is the true slave  
That will put on the most affected grace,  
For some wild second cause.  Enter Mendoza Celso 
he's here.  Mal. 
Give place.  
Illo, ho, ho, ho, art there old true penny?  Exit Celso. 
Where hast thou spent thyself this morning? I see flattery in thine eyes, and damnation in thy soul. Ha thou huge rascal▪  Men. 
Thou art very merry.  Mal. 
As a scholar futuens gratis: How doth the devil go with thee now?  Men. 
Malevole, thou art an arrant knave.  Mal: 
Who I, I have been a Sergeant man.  Men. 
Thou art very poor.  Mal: 
As job, an Alchemist, or a Poet.  Men: 
The Duke hates thee.  Mal: 
As Irishmen do bum-crackes.  Men: 
Thou hast lost his amity.  Mal: 
As pleasing as maids lose their virginity.  Me: 
Would thou wert of a lusty spirit, would thou wert noble.  Mal: 
Why sure my blood gives me I am noble, sure I am of noble kind; for I find myself possessed with all their qualities; love Dogs, Dice▪ and Drabs, scorn wit in stuff clothes, have ●eat my Shoemaker, knocked my Sempsters, cuckolded my Apothecary▪ and undone my Tailor. Noble, why not? since the stoic said, Neminem servum non ex regibus, neminem regem non ex servis esse ●ri●ndum, only busy fortune towses, and the provident chances blends them together; i'll give you a simil●●; Did you ere see a well with two buckets, whilst one comes up full to be emptied, another goes down empty to be filled; such is the state of all humanity: why look you, I may be the son of some Duke; for believe me, intemperate lascivious bastardy makes Nobility doubtful: I have a lusty daring heart Mendoza.  Mendoza: 
Let's grasp, I do like thee infinitely, wilt enact one thing for me?  Mal: 
Shall I get by it?  Gives him his purse. 
Command me, I am thy slave, beyond death and hell.  Men: 
Murder the Duke.  Mal: 
My hearts wish, my soul's desire, my fantasies dream,  
My bloods longing, the only height of my hopes, how  
O God how? o how my united spirits throng together▪  
So strengthen my resolve.  Mendoza 
The Duke is now a hunting.  Mal. 
Excellent, admirable, as the devil would have it, lend me, lend me, Rapier, Pistol, Crossbow; so, so, i'll do it.  Men. 
Then we agree.  Mal. 
As Lent & fishmongers, come a cape a pe, how in form  Men. 
Know that this weak brained duke, who only stands on Florence stilts, hath out of witless zeal made me his heir, and secretly confirmed the wreath to me after his life's full point.  Mal: 
Upon what merit?  Mendoza 
Merit! by heaven I horn him, only Ferne● ae● death gave me states life: tut we are politic, he must not live now.  Mal. 
No reason mary: but how must he die now?  Men: 
My utmost project is to murder the Duke, that I might have his state, because he makes me his heir; to banish the duchess, that I might be rid of a cunning Lacedaemonian, because I know Florence will forsake her, and then to marry Maria the banished duke nng wife, that her friends might strengthen me and my faction; this is all law.  Mal: 
Do you love Maria?  Men: 
Faith no great affection, but as wise men do love great women, to ennoble their blood, and augment their revenue ● to accomplish this now, thus now. The Duke is in the forest next the Sea, single him, kill him, hurl him in the main, and proclaim thou sawest wolves eat him.  Mal: 
Umh, not so good: me thinks when he is slain, to get some hypocrite, some dangerous wretch that's muffled, or with feigned holiness, to swear he heard the duke on some steep cliff lament his wife's dishonour, and in an agony of his hearts torture hurled his groaning sides into the swollen sea: This circumstance well made, sounds probable: and hereupon the Dutches.  Men. 
May well be banished: O unpeerable invention stare, Thou god of policy, it honeys, me.  Mal: 
Then fear not for the wife of Altofront, I'll close to her.  Men: 
Thou shalt, thou shalt, our excellency is pleased: why wert not thou an Emperor? when we are Duke, i'll make thee some great man sure.  Mal. 
Nay, make me some rich knave, and 'llle make myself some great man.  Mend. 
In thee be all my spirit, retain ten souls, unite thy virtual powers; resolve, ha, remember greatness: heart, farewell  Enter Celzo. 
" The fate of all my hopes in thee doth dwell.  Mal. 
Celzo, didst hear? O heaven, didst hear?  
Such devilish mischief, sufferest thou the world  
Carouse damnation even with greedy swallow,  
And still dost wink, still does thy vengeance slumber▪  
" If now thy brows are clear, when will they thunder▪  Exit.  

SCENA QVARTA  Enter Pietro, Ferrard, Prepasso, and three Pages. Ferr. 
The dogs are at a fault.  Cornets like horns. Pietro 
Would God nothing but the dogs were at it? let the Deer pursue safely, the dogs follow the game, and do you follow the dogs; as for me, 'tis unfit one beast should hunt an other; I ha' one chaseth me: and 't please you, I would be rid of you a little.  Ferr. 
Would your grief would as soon leave you as we to quietness.  Exeunt. Pie. 
I thank you; boy, what dost thou dream of now?  Page 
Of a dry summer my Lord, for here's a hot world towards: but my Lord, I had a strange dream last night.  Pietro 
What strange dream?  Page 
Why me thought I pleased you with singing, and then I dreamt you gave me that short sword.  Pietro 
Prettily begged: hold thee, i'll prove thy dream true, take't.  Page 
My duty: but still I dreamt on my Lord, and me thought, and 't shall please your excellency, you would needs out of your royal bounty give me that jewel in your hat.  Piet. 
O thou didst but dream boy, do not believe it, dreams prove not always true, they may hold in a short sword, but not in a jewel. But now sir, you dreamt you had pleased me with singing, make that true as I have made the other.  Page 
Faith my Lord, I did but dream, and dreams you say prove not always true: they may hold in a good sword, but not in a good song: the truth is, I ha' lost my voice.  Pietro 
Lost thy voice, how?  Page 
With dreaming faith, but here's a couple of Sirenical rascals shall enchant ye: what shall they sing my good Lord?  Pietro 
Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall be surely full of variety; old crotchets and most sweet closes, it shallbe humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly, one in all, and all in one.  Page 
All in one?  Pietro 
Birlady too many; sing, my speech grows culpable of unthrifty idleness, sing.   

SCENA QVINTA.  〈◊〉 Enter Malevole with Croffebow and Tistoll. 
A, so, so, sing, I am heavy, walk off, I shall talk in my sleep; walk off.  Exeunt Pages. Mal. 
Brief, brief, who? the Duke? good heaven that fools should stumble upon greatness! do not sleep Duke, give ye good morrow: you must be brief Duke; I am feed to murder thee, start not: Mendoza, Mendoza hired me, here's his gold, his pistol, crossbow, and sword, 'tis all as firm as earth: O fool, fool, choked with the common maze of easy idiots, Credulity, made him thine heir: what thy sworn murderer?  Pietro 
O can it be?  Mal. 
Can?  Pietro 
Discovered he not Ferneze?  Mal. 
Yes; but why, but why, for love to thee; much, much, to be revenged upon his rival, who had thrust his jaws awry, who being slain, supposed by thine own hands; defended by his sword, made thee most loathsome, him most gracious with thy loose Princess, thou closely yielding egress and regress to her, madest him heir, whose hot unquiet lust straight towzde thy sheets, and now would seize thy state, politician, wise man, death to be led to the stake like a bull by the horns, to make even kindness cut a gentle throat; life, why art thou numbed? thou foggy dullness, speak: lives not more faith in a home●hiusting tongue, than in those fencing tip tap Courtiers?  Enter Celso with a hermits gown and beard. Cel. 
Lord Malevole, if this be true.  Mal. 
If? come shade thee with this disguise, if? thou shalt handle it, he shall thank thee for killing thyself, come follow my directions, and thou shalt see strange sleights.  Pie. 
World whither wilt thou?  Mal. 
Why to the devil: come, the morn grows late,  
Astedi● quickens is the soul of state.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS QVARTUS  

SCE. PRIMA.  Enter Maquarelle knocking at the Lady's door. Maq. 
Medam, Medam, are you stirring Medam? if you be stirring Medam, if I thought I should disturb ye.  Page 
My Lady is up forsooth.  Maq. 
A pretty boy, faith how old art thou?  Page 
I think fourteen.  Maq. 
Nay, and ye be in the teens: are ye a gentleman borne? do you know me? my name is Medam Maquerelle, I lie in the old coney court.  
See here the Ladies.  Enter Beancha and Emilia. Bean. 
A fair day to ye Maquarelle.  Emil. 
Is the Duchess up yet Sentinel?  Maq. 
O Ladies, the most abominable mischance, O dear Ladies, the most piteous disaster, Ferneze was taken last night in the Duchess chamber: alas the Duke catched him and killed him.  Bean. 
Was he found in bed?  Maq. 
O no, but the villainous certainty is, the door was not bolted, the tongue-tied hatch held his peace: so the naked troth is, he was found in his shirt, whilst I like an errand beast, lay in the outward chamber, heard nothing, and yet they came by me in the dark, and yet I felt them not, like a senseless creature as I was. O beauties, look to your buske-pointes, if not chastely, yet charily: be sure the door be bolted: is your Lord gone to Florence's?  Bean. 
Yes Maquarelle.  Maq. 
I hope you'll find the discretion to purchase a fresh gown for his return: Now by my troth beauties I would ha' ye once wise: he loves ye, pish: he is witty; bubble: fair proportioned, meaw: nobly borne, wind: let this be still your fixed position, esteem me every man according to his good gifts, and so ye shall ever remain most dear, and most worthy to be most dear Ladies.  Emi. 
Is the Duke returned from hunting yet?  Maq. 
They say not yet.  Bean. 
'tis now in midst of day.  Emil. 
How bears the Duchess with this blemish now?  Maq. 
Faith boldly, strongly defies defame, as one that has a Duke to her father. And there's a note to you: be sure of a stout friend in a corner, that may always awe your husband. Mark the behaviour of the Duchess now: she dares defame, cries Duke, do what thou canst, I'll quite mine honour: nay, as one confirmed in her own virtue against ten thousand mouths that mutter her disgrace, she's presently for dances.  Enter Ferrard. Bean, 
For dances?  Maq. 
Most true.  Emil. 
Most strange: see, here's my servant young Ferrard: how many servants thinkst thou I have Maquerelle?  Maq. 
The more, the merrier: 'twas well said; use your servants as you do your smocks, have many, use one, and change often, for that's most sweet and courtlike.  Fer. 
Save ye fair Ladies, is the Duke returned?  Bean. 
Sweet sir no voice of him as yet in Court.  Fer. 
T is very strange.  Bean. 
And how like you my servant Maquorelle?  Maq. 
I think he could hardly draw Ulysses bow, but by my fidelity, were his nose narrower, his eyes broader, his hands thinner, his lips thicker, his legs bigger, his feet lesser, his hair blacker, and his teeth whiter, he were a tolerable sweet youth i'faith. And he will come to my chamber, I will read him the fortune of his beard.  Cornets sound. Fer. 
Not yet returned I fear, but  
The Duchess approacheth.  Enter Mendoza supporting the Duchess, Guerino: the Ladies that are on the stage rise: Ferrard Ushers in the Duchess, and then takes a Lady to tread a measure.  

SCENA SECUNDA.  Aur. 
We will dance, music, we will dance.  Guer. 
Les quanto (Lady) penses bien, passaregis, or Beanch●es brawl.  Aur. 
We have forgot the brawl.  Fer. 
So soon? 'tis wonder.  Guer. 
Why? 'tis but two singles on the left, two on the right, three doubles forward, a traverse of six round: do this twice, three singles side, galliard trick of twenty, coranto pace; a figure of eight, three singles broken down, come up, meet two doubles, fall back, and then honour.  Aur. 
O Dedalus! thy maze, I have quite forgot it.  Maq. 
Trust me so have I, saving the falling back, and then honour.  Enter Prepasso. Aur. 
Music, music.  Pre. 
Who saw the Duke? the Duke?  Enter Equato. Aur. 
Music.  Pre: 
The Duke, is the Duke returned?  Aur: 
Music.  Enter Celso. Celestina: 
The Duke is either quite invisible, or else is not.  Aur. 
We are not pleased with your intrusion upon our private retirement: we are not pleased: you have forgot yourselves.  Enter a Page. Celso 
Boy, thy master: where's the Duke?  Page 
Alas, I left him burying the earth with his spread joyless limbs: he told me, he was heavy, would sleep, bid me walk off, for that the strength of fantasy, oft made him talk in his dreams: I strait obeyed, not ever saw him since: but where so ere he is, he's sad.  Aur. 
Music, sound high, as is our heart, sound high.   

SCENA TERTIA.  Enter Malevole and Pietro disguised like and Hermit. Mal: 
The Duke, peace, the Duke is dead.  Aur: 
Music.  Mal: 
Is't music?  Men: 
Give proof.  Fer: 
How?  Celestina: 
Where?  Pre: 
When?  Mal. 
Rest in peace as the Duke does, quietly sit: for my own part I beheld him but dead; that's all: mary here's one can give you a more particular account of him.  Men. 
Speak holy father, nor let any brow within this \presence fright thee from the truth: speak confidently & freely.  Aur. 
We attend.  Pie. 
Now had the mounting suns al-ripening wings  
Swept the cold sweat of night from earth's dank breast,  
When I (whom men call thermite of the Rock,)  
Forsook my Cell, and clambered up a cliff,  
Against whose Base, the heady Neptune dashed  
His high curled brows: there 'twas I eased my limbs,  
When lo, my entrails melted with the moan  
Some one, who far 'bove me was climbed, did make:  
I shall offend.  Men: 
Not.  Aur: 
On.  Piet: 
Me thinks I hear him yet, O female faith!  
Go sow the ingrateful sand, and love a woman:  
And do I like to be the scoff of men?  
To be the wittal cuckold, even to hug my poison?  
Thou knowest O truth!  
Sooner hard steel will melt with Southern wind;  
A Seaman's whistle calm the Ocean;  
A town on fire be extinct with tears,  
Then women vowed to blushless impudence,  
With sweet behaviour and soft minioning,  
Will turn from that where appetite is fixed.  
O powerful blood! how thou dost slave their soul,  
I washed an Ethiope, who for recompense,  
Sullied my name. And must I then be forced  
To walk, to live thus black: must, must, fie,  
He that can bear with must, he cannot die.  
With that he sighed too passionately deep,  
That the Dull air even groaned: at last he cries,  
Smke shame in seas, sink deep enough: so dies.  
For than I viewed his body fall and souse  
Into the foamy main, O then I saw  
That which me thinks I see; it was the Duke,  
Whom strait the nicer stomached sea  
Belched up: but then.  Mal. 
Then came I in, but 'las all was too late,  
For even strait he sunk.  Pie: 
Such was the Duke's sad fate.  Celestina: 
A better fortune to our Duke Mendoza.  Onanes Mendoza. Cornets flourish. Enter a guard. Men. 
A guard, a guard, we full of hearty tears,  
For our good father's loss,  
For so we well may call him:  
Who did beseech your loves for our succession,  
Cannot so lightly over-iumpe his death,  To 〈◊〉. 
As leave his woes revengeless: * woman of shame,  
We banish thee for ever to the place,  
From whence this good man comes,  
Nor permit on death unto the body any ornament▪  
But base as was thy life, depart away.  Aur. 
Ungrateful.  Mendo. 
Away.  Aur. 
Villain hear me.  
Prepasso and Guerino lead away the Dutches.  Men. 
Be gone, my Lords address to public counsel▪  
'tis most 〈◊〉,  
The train of Fortune is borne up by wit.  
Away, our presence shall be sudden, haste.  All depart saving Mendoza, Malevole, and Pietro. Mal. 
Now you egregious devil, ha' ye murdering Politician, how dost Duke? how dost look now? brave Duke i'faith.  Men. 
How did you kill him?  Mal. 
Slatted his brains out, than sowft him in the briny sea.  Men: 
Brained him and drowned him too▪  Mal. 
O 'twas best, sure work:  
For he that strikes a great man, let him srtike home, or elseware, he'll prove no man: shoulder not a huge fellow, unless you may be sure to lay him in the kennel.  Men: 
A most sound brainpan.  
I'll make you both Emperors.  Mal: 
Make us christians, make us christians.  Men: 
I'll hoist ye, ye shall mount.  Mal: 
To the gallows say ye? Come: Praemium incertum petit certum scelus. How stands the Progress?  Men. 
here, take my ring unto the Citadel,  
Have entrance to Maria the grave Duchess  
Of banished Altofront. Tell her we love her:  
Omit no circumstance to grace our person, (do't.)  Mal. 
I'll make an excellent pander: Duke farewell, due, adieu Duke.  Exit Malevole. Men. 
Take Maquarelle with thee; for 'tis found,  
None cuts a diamond, but a diamond.  
Hermit, thou art a man for me, my confessor:  
O thou selected spirit, borne for my good,  
Sure thou wouldst make an excellent Elder in a deformed church.  
Come, we must be inward, thou and I all one▪  Pie. 
I am glad I was ordained for ye.  Men. 
Go to then, thou must know that Malevole is a strange villain: dangerous, very dangerous: you see how broad a speaks, a gross jawde rogue, I would have thee poison him: heels like a corn upon my great toe, I cannot go for him: he must be kored out▪ he must: wilt do't, ha?  Pie. 
Any thing, any thing.  
Men. Heart of my life, thus then to the Citadel,  
Thou shalt consort with this Malevole,  
There being at supper, poison him:  
It shall be laid upon Maria, who yields love, or dies:  
Sk●d quick like lightning.  Pie. 
" Good deeds crawl, but mischief flies.  Enter Malevole. Exit Pietro. Mal. 
Your divelships King has no virtue, the buff-captain, the sallo-westfalian gamon-faced zaza cries, stand out must have a stiffer warrant, or no pass into the Castle of Comfort.  Men: 
Command our sudden Letter: not enter? shalt, what place is there in Genoa, but thou shalt, into my heart, into my very heart: come, let's love, we must love, we two▪ soul and body.  Mal. 
How didst like the Hermit? a strange Hermit sirrah.  Men. 
A dangerous fellow, very perilcus: he must die.  Mal. 
ay, he must die.  Men. 
thou'st kil' him: we are wise, we must be wise.  Mal. 
And provident.  Men. 
Yea provident; beware an hypocrite.  
A Church man once corrupted▪ oh avoid  shoots under his belly. 
A fellow that makes Religion his stalking horse,  
He breeds a plague: thou shalt poison him.  Mal. 
Ho, this wondrous necessary: how?  Men. 
You both go jointly to the Citadel,  
There sup there poision him: and Maria,  
Because she is our opposite, shall bear  
The sad suspect, on which she dies, or loves us.  Mal: 
I run.  Exit Malevole. Men. 
We that are great, our sole self good still moves us.  
They shall die both, for their deserts craves more  
Than we can recompense, their presence still  
Imbraids our fortunes with beholdingness,  
Which weabhorre like deed, not doer: then conclude,  
They live not to cry out ingratitude.  
One stick burns other steel cuts steel alone:  
'tis good trust few, but O, 'tis best trust none.  Exit Mendoza.  

SCENA QVARTA.  Enter Malevole and Pietro still disguised, at several doors. Mal: 
How do you? how dost Duke?  Piet: 
O let the last day fall, drop, drop on our cursed heads;  
Let heaven unclasp itself, vomit forth flames.  Mal: 
O do not rend, do not turn player, there's more of them than can well live one by another already.  
What, art an infidel still?  Pie: 
I am amazed, struck in a swoon with wonder: I am commanded to poison thee.  Mal: 
I am commanded to poison thee at supper.  Pie. 
At supper?  Mal. 
In the Citadel.  Piet. 
In the Citadel?  Mal. 
Cross capers, tricks, truth a heaven, he would discharge us as boys do eldern guns, one pellet to strick out another: of what faith art now?  Pietro 
All is damnation, wickedness extreme, there is no faith in man.  Men. 
In none but usurers and brokers, they deceive no man, men take 'em for bloodsuckers, and so they are: now God deliver me from my friends.  Piet. 
Thy friends?  Maleu. 
Yes, from my friends, for from mine enemies i'll deliver myself. O, cutte-throate friendship is the rankest villainy: Mark this Mendoza, mark him for a villain; but heaven will send a plague upon him for a rogue.  Pietro 
O world!  Mal. 
World! 'tis the only region of death, the greatest shop of the Devil, the cruelest prison of men, out of the which none pass without paying their dearest breath for a fee, there's nothing perfect in it, but extreme extreme calamity, such as comes yonder.   

SCENA QVINTA.  Enter Aurelia, two Holberts before, and two after, supported by Celso and Ferrard, Aurelia in base mourning attire. Aur. 
To banishment, led on to banishment.  Pietro 
Lady, the blessedness of repentance to you.  Aur. 
Why? why? I can desire nothing but death, nor deserve any thing but hell.  
If heaven should give sufficiency of grace  
To clear my soul, it would make heaven graceless:  
My sins would make the stock of mercy poor;  
O they would tyre heavens goodness to reclaim theme  
judgement is just yet from that vast villain:  
But sure he shall not miss sad punishment  
Before he shall rule▪ On. to my cell of shame.  Pietro 
My cell 'tis Lady, where instead of masks,  
Music, tilts, tourneys, and such court like shows,  
The hollow murmur of the checkless winds  
Shall groan again, whilst the unquiet sea  
Shakes the whole rock with foamy battery:  
There Usherless the air comes in and out:  
The rheumy vault will force your eyes to weep,  
Whilst you behold true desolation:  
A rocky barrenness shall pierce your eyes,  
Where all at once one reaches where he stands,  
With brows the roof, both walls with both his hands.  Aurelia 
It is too good, blessed spirit of my Lord,  
O in what orb so ere thy soul is throne,  
Behold me worthily most miserable:  
O let the anguish of my contrite spirit  
Entreat some reconciliation:  
If not, o joy, triumph in my just grief,  
Death is the end of woes, and tears relief.  Pietro 
Belike your Lord not loved you, was unkind.  Aurelia 
O heaven!  
As the soul loved the body, so loved he,  
'twas death to him to part my presence,  
Heaven to see me pleased:  
Yet I, like to a wretch given o'er to hell,  
Broke all the sacred rites of marriage,  
To clip a base ungentle faithless villain.  
O God, a very Pagan reprobate:  
What should I say? ungrateful, throws me out,  
For whom I lost soul, body, fame and honour:  
But 'tis most fit; why should a better fate  
Attend on any, who forsake chaste sheets,  
Fly the embrace of a devoted heart,  
joined by a solemn vow fore God and man,  
To taste the brackish blood of beastly lust,  
In an adulterous touch? o ravenous immodesty,  
Insatiate impudence of appetite;  
Look, here's your end, for mark what sap in dust,  
What sin in good, even so much love in lust:  
joy to thy ghost, sweet Lord, pardon to me.  Celso 
'tis the duke's pleasure this night you rest in court.  Aur: 
Soul lurk in shades, run shame from brightsome skies, In night the blind man misseth not his eyes.  exit Mal. 
Do not weep▪ kind cuckold, take comfort man, thy betters have been Beccoes': Agamemnon Emperor of all the merry greeks that tickled all the true Trojans, was a Cornuto: Prince Arthur that cut off twelve King's beards, was a Cornuto: Hercules, whose back bore up heaven, and got forty wenches with child in one night.  Pietro 
Nay 'twas fifty.  Maleu. 
Faith forty's enough a conscience, yet was a Cornuto: patience, mischief grows proud, be wise.  Pietro 
Thou pinchest too deep, art too keen upon me.  Mal. 
Tut, a pitiful Surgeon makes a dangerous sore. I'll tent thee to the ground. Thinkest I'll sustain myself by flattering thee, because thou art a Prince? I had rather follow a drunkard, and hue by licking up his vomit, than by servile flattery.  Pietro 
Yet great men ha' dooned.  Mal. 
Great slaves fear better than love, borne naturally for a coal-basket, though the common usher of Prince's presence fortune hath blindly given them better place, I am vowed to be thy affliction.  Pietro 
Prithee be, I love much misery, and be thou son to me.  Enter Bilioso. Mal. 
Because you are an usurping Duke.  

* to Bilioso  Your Lordship's well returned from Florence.  Bil. 
Well returned, I praise my horse.  Mal. 
What news from the Florentines?  Bilioso 
I will conceal the great Duke's pleasure, only this was his charge, his pleasure is, that his daughter die, Duke Pietro be banished, for banishing his bloods dishonour, and that Duke Altofront be reaccepted: this is all, but I hear Duke Pietro is dead.  Mal. 
ay, and Mendoza is Duke, what will you do?  Bilioso 
Is Mendeza strongest?  Mal. 
Yet he is.  Bilioso 
Then yet I'll hold with him.  Mal. 
But if that A●tofrom should turn straight again?  Bilioso 
Why then I would turn straight again.  
'tis good run still with him that has most might:  
I had rather stand with wrong, than fall with right.  Mal. 
What religion will you be of now?  Bilt. 
Of the Duke's religion, when I know what it is▪  Mal. 
O Hercules!  Bili. 
Hercules? Hercules was the son of jupiter and Alkmena.  Mal. 
Your lordship is a very wittal.  Bilios. 
wittal?  Mal. 
ay, allwit.  Bilios. 
Amphitryo was a cuckold.  Mal. 
Your lordship sweats, your young Lady will get you a cloth for your old worship's brows.  Exit Biliosa. 
here's a fellow to be damned, this is his inviolable maxim, (flatter the greatest, and oppress the least:) a whoreson flesh-fly, that still gnaws upon the lean gawld backs.  Pietro 
Why dost then salute him?  Mal: 
I'faith as bawds go to church, for fashion sake: come, be not confounded, thou art but in danger to lose a dukedom: think this: This earth is the only grave and Golgotha wherein all things that live must rot: 'tis but the draft wherein the heavenly bodies discharge their corruption, the very muckhill on which the sublunary orbs cast their excrements: man is the slime of this dongue-pit, and Princes are the governors of these men: for, for our souls, they are as free as Emperors, all of one piece, there goes but a pair of shears betwixt an Emperor and the son of a bag piper, only the dying, dressing, pressing, glozing makes the difference: now what art thou like to lose?  
A jailers office to keep men in bonds,  
Whilst toil and treason, all life's good confounds.  Pie. 
I here renounce for ever regency:  
O Altofront, I wrong thee to supplant thy right:  
To trip thy heels up with a devilish slight.  
For which I now from throne am thrown, world tricks abjure:  
For vengeance thought comes slow, yet it comes sure.  
O I am changed; for herefore the dread power,  
In true contrition! do dedicate,  
My breath to solitary holiness,  
My lips to prayer, and my breasts care shall be,  
Restoring Altofront to regency.  Mal. 
Thy vows are heard, and we accept thy faith.  Enter Ferneze and Celso. undisguiseth himself. Altofront, Ferneze, Celso, Pietro. 
Banish amazement; come, we four must stand full shock of Fortune, be not so wonder-st●icken.  Pietro 
Doth Ferneze live?  Ferneze 
For your pardon.  Pietro 
Pardon and love, give leave to recollect  
My thoughts dispersed in wild astonishment:  
My vows stand first in heaven, and from hence  
I crave all love and pardon.  Mal. 
Who doubts of providence,  
That sees this change, a hearty faith to all:  
He needs must rise, can no lower fall:  
For still impetuous vicissitude  
Towzeth the world, then let no maze intrude  
Upon your spirits: wonder not I rise;  
For who can sink, that close can temporize?  
The time grows ripe for action, I'll detect  
My privat'st plot; left ignorance fear suspect:  
Let's close to counsel, leave the rest to fate,  
Mature discretion is the life of state.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS V.  

SCENA I.  Enter Bilioso and Passarello. Bili. 
Fool, how dost thou like my calf in a long stocking?  Passar. 
An excellent calf my Lord.  Bili. 
This calf hath been a reveler this twenty year, when monsieur Gundi lay here Ambassador, I could have carried a Lady up and down at arms end in a platter; and I can tell you there were those at that time, who to try the strength of a man's back, and his arm, would be coisterd: I have measured calves with most of the palace, and they come nothing near me; beside, I think there be not many armours in the Arsinall will fit me, especially for the headpiece. I'll tell thee.  Passar. 
What my Lord?  Bili. 
I can eat stewed broth as it comes seething off the fire; or a custard, as it comes reeking out of the oven; and I think there are not many Lords can do it: a good pomander a little decayed in the scent, but six grains of musk ground with rose-water, and tempered with a little civit, shall fetch her again presently.  Passar. 
O I, as a bawd with aqua vitae.  Bilioso 
And what dost thou rail upon the Ladies as thou wert wont?  Passar. 
I were better roast a live cat, and might do it with more safety. I am as secret to thieves as their painting: there's Maquarelle oldest bawd, and a perpetual beggar. Did you never hear of her tick to be known in the City?  Bilioso 
Never.  Pasa. 
Why she gets all the Picter-makers to draw her picture, when they have done, she most courtly finds fault with them one after another, and never fetcheth them: they in revenge of this, execute her in Pictures as they do in Germany, and hang her in their shops: by this means is she better known to the stinkards, then if she had been five times carted.  Bilios. 
Fore God and excellent policy.  Pasa. 
Are there any Revels to night my Lord.  Bilios. 
Yes.  Pas. 
Good my Lord give me leave to break a fellows pate that hath abused me.  Bilio. 
Whose pate.  Pasa. 
Young Ferrard my Lord.  Belis. 
Take heed he's very valiant, I have known him fight eight quarrels in five days, believe it.  Pasa. 
O is he so great a quarrelle? why then he's an arrant coward.  Bali. 
How prove you that?  Pasa. 
Why thus, He that quarrels seeks to fight; and he that 〈◊〉 to fight, seeks to die; and he that seeks to die, seeks never to fight more; and he that will quarrel and seeks means never to answer a man more, I think he's a coward.  Bili. 
Thou canst prove any thing.  Pas. 
Any thing but a rich knave, for I can flatter no man.  Bili. 
Well be not drunk good fool, I shall see you anon in the presence.  Exit. Enter Malevole and Maquarelle, at several doors opposite, singing. Mal. 
The Dutchmen for a drunkard.  Maq. 
The Dave for golden locks:  Mal. 
The Irishman for Whisky.  Maq. 
The Frenchman for the ()  Mal. 
O thou art a blessed creature, had I a modest woman to conceal, I would put her to thy custody, for no reasonable creature would ever suspect her to be in thy company: ha, thou art a melodious Maquerelle, thou picture of a woman, and substance of a beast.  Enter Pasarello. Maque. 
O fool will ye be ready anon to go with me to the revels; the hall will be so pestered anon.  Pasarello. 
I as the country is with Attorneys.  Male. 
What hast thou there fool.  Pasar. 
Wine, I have learned to drink since I went with my Lord Ambassador, I'll drink to the health of madam maquerelle.  Male. 
why thou wast wont to rail upon her.  Pasar. 
I but since I borrowed money of her.  
I'll drink to her health now as gentlemen visit brokers.  
Or as knights send venison to the City.  
Either to take up more money, or to procure longer forbearance.  Male. 
Give me the bowl I drink a health to Altofront out deposed duke.  Pasar. 
I'll take it so●now i'll begin a health to madam Maquerelle.  Male. 
Pew I will not pledge her.  Pasar. 
Why I pledged your Lord.  Mal. 
I care not.  Pasar. 
Not pledge madam Maquerelle, why then will I spew up your Lord again with this fools finger.  Male. 
hold I'll take it.  Maque. 
Now thou hast drunk my health; fool I am friends with thee.  Pasar. 
Art? art?  
When Griffon saw the reconciled que one,  
offering about his neck her arms to cast:  
He threw of sword and hearts malignant stream,  
and lovely her below the loins embraced.  
adieu madam Maqueaelle.  Exit Pasarello. Mal. 
And how dost thou think a this transformation of state now.  Maq. 
Verily very well, for we women always note, the falling of the one, is the rising of the other: some must be fat, some must be lean, some must be fools, and some must be Lords, some must be knaves, and some must be officers: some must be beggars, some must be Knights: some must be cuckolds, and some must be citizens: as for example, I have two court dogs the most fawning curs, the one called Watch, th'other Catch: now I, like lady Fortune, sometimes love this dog, sometimes raise that dog, sometimes favour Watch, most commonly fancic Catch: now that dog which I favour I feed, and he's so ravenous, that what I give he never chaws it, gulps it down whole, without any relish of what he has, but with a greedy expectation of what he shall have: the other dog, now:  Mal. 
No more dog, sweet Maquarelle, no more dog: and what hope hast thou of the duchess Maria, will she stoop to the Duke's lure, will she cow thinkst?  Maq. 
Let me see, where's the sign now? ha ye ere a calendar, where's the sign trow you.  Maq. 
Sign! why is there any moment in that?  Maq. 
O! believe me a most secret power, look ye a Chaldean or an Assyrian, I am sure 'twas a most sweet jew told me, court any woman in the right sign, you shall not miss: but you must take her in the right vain then: as when the sign is in Pisces, a Fishmonger's wife is very sociable: in Cancer, a Precisians wife is very flexible: in Capricorn, a Merchant's wife hardly holds out: in Libra, a Lawyer's wife is very tractable, especially, if her husband be at the term: only in Scorpio 'tis very dangerous meddling: has the Duke sent any jewel, any rich stones?  Enter Captain. Mal. 
ay, I think those are the best signs to take a lady in. By your favour signeor, I must discourse with the Lady Maria, Altofront's duchess: I must enter for the Duke.  Cap. 
She here shall give you interview: I received the guardship of this Citadel from the good Altofront, and for his use I'll keep't till I am of no use.  Mal. 
Wilt thou? O heavens, that a christian should be found in a Buff jerkin! captain Conscience: I love thee Captain.  Exit Captain. 
We attend, & what hope hast thou of this Duchess easiness?  Maq. 
'Twill go hard, she was a cold creature ever, she hated monkeys, fools, jeasters, & gentlemen-ushers extremely: she had the wild trick on't, not only to be truly modestly honourable in her own conscience, but she would avoid the least wanton carriage that might-incurre suspect, as God bless me, she had almost brought bed pressing out of fashion: I could scarce get a fine for the lease of a Lady's favour once in a fortnight.  Mal. 
Now in the name of immodesty, how many maidenheads hast thou brought to the block?  Maq. 
Let me see: heaven forgive us our misdeeds:  
here's the Duchess.   

SCENA SECUNDA.  Enter Maria and Captain. Mal. 
God bless thee Lady.  Mar. 
Out of thy company.  Mal. 
We have brought thee tender of a husband.  Mar. 
I hope I have one already.  Maq. 
Nay, by mine honour Madam, as good ha near a husband, as a banished husband, he's in an other world now. I'll tell ye Lady, I have heard of a sect that maintained, when the husband was a sleep, the wife might lawfully entertain another man: for then her husband was as dead, much more when he is banished.  Mar. 
Unhonest creature!  Maq. 
Pish, honesty is but an art to seem so: pray ye what's honesty? what's constancy? but fables feigned, odd old fools chat, devised by jealous fools, to wrong our liberty.  Mal. 
Mully, he that loves thee, is a Duke, Mendoza, he will maintain thee royally, love thee ardently, defend thee powerfully, marry thee sumptuously, & keep thee in despite of Rosiclere or Donzel deal Phoebo: there's jewels, if thou wilt, so; if not, so.  Mar. 
Captain, for God's sake save poor wretchedness  
From tyranny of lustful insolence:  
Enforce me in the deepest dungeon dwell  
Rather than here, here round about is hell.  
O my dearest Altofront, where ere thou breath,  
Let my soul sink into the shades beneath,  
Before I stain thine honour, this thou hast;  
And long as I can die, I will live chaste,  Mal. 
'Gainst him that can enforce, how vain is strife?  Mar. 
She that can be enforced has near a knife?  
She that through force her limbs with lust enrols,  
Wants Cleopatres asps and Portia's coals.  
God amend you.  Exit with Captain. Mal. 
Now the fear of the devil for ever go with thee. Marquerelle I tell thee, I have found an honest woman faith I perceive when all is done, there is of women, as of all other things: some good, most bad: some saints, some-sinners: for as now adays, no Courtier but has his mistress, no Captain but has his cockatrice, no Cuckold but has his horns, & no fool but has his feather: even so, no woman but has her weakness & feather too, no sex but has his: I can hunt the letter no farther: o God, how loathsome this toying is to me, that a duke should be forced to fool it: well, Stultorum plena sunt omnia, better play the fool Lord, then be the fool Lord: now, where's your slights Madam Maquarelle?  Maq. 
Why, are ye ignorant that 'tis said, a squeamish affected nicences is natural to women, and that the excuse of their yielding, is only (forsooth) the difficult obtaining. You must put her to't: women are flax, and will fire in a moment.  Mal. 
Why, was the flax put into thy mouth, & yet thou? thou set fire? thou inflame her?  Maq. 
Marry, but I'll tell ye now, you were too hot.  Mal. 
The fitter to have inflamed the flaxwoman.  Maq. 
You were to boisterous, spleeny, for indeed.  Mal. 
Go, go, thou art a weak panderess, now I see.  
Sooner earth's fire heaven itself shall waste,  
Then all with heat can melt a mind that's chaste.  
Go thou the Duke's lime-twig, I'll make the Duke turn thee out of thine office. what, not get one touch of hope, & had her at such advantage.  Maq. 
Now a my conscience, now I think in my discretion, we did not take her in the right sign, the blood was not in the true vein, sure.  Exit Enter Bilioso. Bili. 
Make way there the Duke returns from the inthronment Malevole.  Mal 
Out rogue.  Bil. 
Malevole.  Mal. 
Hence ye gross jawed pessantly, out go.  Bil. 
Nay sweet Malevole, since my return, I hear you are become the thing I always prophesied would be, an advanced virtue, a worthily employed faithfulness a man a grace, dear friend.  
Come; what? Si quoties peccant homines. If as often as courtiers play the knaves honest men should be angry. Why look ye, we must collouge sometimes, forswear sometimes.  Mal. 
Be dammed sometimes.  Bil. 
Right Nemo omnibus horis sapit. No man can be honest at all hours. Necessity often depraves virtue.  Mal. 
I will commend thee to the Duke.  Bil. 
Do let us be friends man.  Mal. 
And knaves man.  Bil. 
Right, let us prosper and purchase, our lordships shall live and our knavery be forgotten.  Mal. 
He that by any ways gets riches his means never shames him.  Bil. 
True.  Mal. 
For impudency and faithlessness are the main stays to greatness.  Bil. 
By the Lord thou art a profound lad.  Mal. 
By the Lord thou art a perfect knave. out ye ancient damnation.  Bil. 
Peace, peace, and thou wilt not be a friend to me as I am a knave, be not a knave to me as I am thy friend and disclose me, peace Cornets.   

SCENA TERTIA.  Enter Prepasso and Ferrard, two pages with lights, Celso and Equato, Mendozo in Duke's robes. Biltoso and Guerrino. exeunt all saving Malevole. Mend. 
On on, leave us leave us: stay, where is the Hermit?  Mal. 
With Duke Pietro, with Duke Pietro.  Men. 
Is he dead? is he poisoned?  Mal. 
Dead as the Duke is,  Mend. 
Good, excellent: he will not blab, secureness lives in secrecy, come hither, come hither.  Mal. 
Thou hast a certain strong villainous sent about thee, my nature cannot endure.  Men. 
Sent man? what returns Maria? what answer to our suit?  Mal. 
Cold frosty, she is obstinate,  Mend. 
Then she's but dead, 'tis resolute, she dies,  
Black deed only through black deed, safely fles.  Mal. 
Pew, per scelera semper sceleribus tutum est iter.  Mend. 
What art a scholar? art a politician? sure thou art an errand knave.  Mal. 
Who I? I have been twice an under sheriff, man.  Enter Malevole and Mendoza: Mend. 
Hast been with Maria.  Male. 
As your scrivener to your usurer I have dealt about taking of this commodity, but she's could-frosty.  
well I will go rail upon some great man, that I may purchase the bastinado, or else go marry some rich Genoan lady and instantly go travail.  Mend. 
Travail when thou art married.  Mal. 
I 'tis your young Lords fashion to do so, though he was so lafy being a bachelor, that he would never travail so far as the University yet when he married her tales of, and Catsoe for Ingland.  Mend. 
And why for Ingland.  Mal. 
Because there is no Prothelhouses there.  Mend. 
Nor Courtesans.  Mal. 
Nether; your whore went down with the stews and your punk came up with your Puritan.  Men. 
Canst thou empoison? canst thou empoison?  Mal. 
Excellently, no jew, Apothecary, or Politian better▪ look ye, her's a box, whom wouldst thou empoison? her's a box which opened, & the fume taken up in condites, thorough which the brain purges itself, doth instantly for 12. hours space, bind up all show of life in a deep cesles sleep: here's another which being opened under the sleeper's nose, chokes all the power of life, kills him suddenly.  Enter Cels. Men. 
I'll try experiments, 
Seek to poisoned Malevole.  'tis good not to be deceived: so, so, Catzo.  
Who would fear that may destroy, death hath no teeth, or tongue,  
And he that's great, to him are slaves  
Shame, Murder, fame and wrong.  Celzo? Cel. 
My honoured Lord.  Men. 
The good Malevole, that plain-tongued man, alas, is dead on sudden wondrous strangely, he held in our esteem good place. Celso see him buried, see him buried.  Cel. 
I shall observe ye.  Men. 
And Celso, prithee let it be thy care to night  
To have some pretty show, to solemnize  
Our high instalement, some music, maskery:  
we'll give fair entertain unto Maria  
The Duchess to the banished Altofront:  
Thou shalt conduct her from the Citadel  
Unto the Palace, think on some Maskery,  Cel. 
Of what shape, sweet Lord?  Men. 
Why shape? why any quick done fiction,  
As some brave spirits of the Genoan Dukes,  
To come out of Elysium forsooth,  
Led in by Mercury, to gratulate  
Our happy fortune, some such any thing, some far fet trick, good for Ladies, some stale toy or other, no matter so't be of our devising.  
Do thou prepared, 'tis but for a fashion sake,  
Fear not, it shall be graced man, it shall take.  Cel. 
All service.  Men. 
All thanks, our hand shall not be 〈◊〉 to thee farewell.  
Now is my treachery secure, nor can we fall:  
Mischief that prospers men do virtue call,  
I'll trust no man, he that by tricks gets wreaths,  
Keeps them with steel, no man securely breathes,  
Out of deserved ranks the crowd will mutter, fool:  
Who cannot bear with spite, he cannot rule,  
The chiefest secret for a man of state,  
Is, to live senseless of a strenghles hate.  Mal. 
Death of the damned thief: 
Starts up and speaks.  I'll make one i'the mask, thou shalt ha' some  
Brave spirits of the antic Dukes.  Cel. 
My Lord, what strange delusion?  Mal. 
Most happy, dear Celso, poisoned with an empty box? I'll give thee all anon: my Lady comes to court, there is a whirl of fate comes tumbling on, the Castle's captain stands for me, the people pray for me, and the great leader of the just stands for me: then courage Celso.  
For no disastrous chance can ever move him,  
That leaveth nothing but a God above him.  Enter Prepasso and Bilioso, two pages before them Maquar: Beancha and Emilia. Bil. 
Make room there room for the Ladies: why gentlemen, will not ye suffer the Ladies to be entered in the great chamber? why gallants? and you sir, to drop your Torch where the beauties must sit too,  Pre. 
And there's a great fellow plays the knave, why dost not strike him?  Bil. 
Let him play the knave a God's name, thinkst thou I have no more wit then to strike a great fellow: the music. more lights, reveling, scaffolds: do you hear? let there be oaths enough ready at the door, swear out the devil himself, Let's leave the Ladies, and go see if the Lords be ready for them.  All save the Ladies depart. Maq. 
And by my troth Beauties, why do you not put you into the fashion, this is a stale cut, you must come in fashion: look ye, you must be all felt, felt and feather, a felt upon your bare hair: look ye, these tiring things are justly out of request now: and do ye hear? you must wear falling bands, you must come into the falling fashion: there is such a deal a pinning these ruffs, when the fine clean fall is worth all: and a gen, if you should chance to take a nap in the afternoon, your falling band requires no poting stick to recover his form believe me, no fashion to the falling I say.  Bean. 
And is not signior S. Andrew a gallant fellow now.  Maq. 
By my maidenhead la, honour and he agrees aswell together as a satin suit and woollen stockings.  Emil. 
But is not Marshal Make-rome my servant in reversion, a proper gentleman.  Maq. 
Yes in reversion as he had his office, as in truth he hath all things in reversion: he has his Mistress in reversion, his clothes in reversion, his wit in reversion: and indeed is a suitor to me, for my dog in reversion: but in good verity la, he is as proper a gentleman in reversion as: and indeed, as fine a man as may be, having a red beard and a pair of wrapped legs.  Bean. 
But I saith I am most monstrously in love with count Quidlibet in Quodlibet, is he not a pretty dapper unydle gallant?  Maq. 
He is even one of the most busy fingered Lords, he will put the beauties to the squeak most hideously.  Bill: 
Room, make a lane there, the Duke is entring●stand handsomely for beauty's sake, take up the Ladies there. So, cornets, cornets.   

SCENA QVARTA.  Enter Prepasso joins to Bilioso, two pages and lights, Ferrard, Mendozo, at the other door two pages with lights, and the Captain leading in Maria, the Duke meets Maria, and clo, seth with her, the rest fall back. Men. 
Madam, with gentle ear receive my suit,  
A kingdoms' safety should o'er poise flight rites,  
Marriage is merely Nature's policy:  
Then, since unless our royal beds be joined,  
Danger and civil tumult frights the state.  
Be wise as you are fair, give way to fate.  Mar. 
What wouldst thou, thou affliction to our house?  
Thou ever devil, 'twas thou that banishedst my truly nobleLord.  Men: 
I?  Mar. 
ay, by thy plots, by thy black stratagems,  
Twelve Moons have suffered change since I beheld  
The loved presence of my dearest Lord.  
O thou far worse than death, he parts but soul  
From a weak body: but thou, soul from soul  
Disseverest, that which Gods own hand did knit.  
Thou scant of honour, full of devilish wit.  Men. 
we'll check your too intemperate lavishness I can will.  Mar. 
What Canst?  Men. 
Go to, in banishment thy husband dies.  Mar. 
He ever is at home that's ever wise,  Men. 
Youst never meet more, reason should love controuble,  Mar. 
Not meet?  
She that dear loves, her love's still in her soul.  Men 
You are but a woman Lady, you must yield,  Mar. 
O save me thou innated bashfulness,  
Thou only ornament of woman's modesty.  Men. 
Modesty, Death I'll torment thee,  Mar, 
Do, urge all torments, all afflictions try,  
I'll die my Lords, as long as I can die,  Mend. 
Thou obstinate, thou shalt die. Captain, that Lady's  
life is forteified to justice, we have axamined her,  
And we do find, she hath empoisoned  
The reverend hermit: therefore we command  
Severest custody. Nay, if you'll does no good,  
Youst does no harm, a tyrants peace is blood.  Mar. 
O thou art merciful, O gracious devil,  
Rather by much let me condemned be  
For seeming murder, than be damned for thee.  
I'll mourn no more, come girt my brows with flowers,  
revel and dance; soul, now thy wish thou hast,  
Die like a Bride, poor heart thou shalt die chaste.  Enter Aurelia in mourning habit. Aur. 
Life is a frost of could felicity,  
And death the thaw of all our vanity,  
Wast not an honest Priest that wrote so?  Men. 
Who let her in?  Bili. 
Forbear.  Pre. 
Forbear  Aur: 
Alas calamity, is every where.  
Sad misery despite your double doors,  
Will enter even in court.  Bili. 
Peace.  Aur. 
I ha' done? one word, take heed, I ha' done.  Enter Mercury with loud music. Mer. 
Cillenian Mercury, the God of ghosts,  
From gloomy shades that spread the lower coasts,  
Calls sour high samed Genoan Dukes to come  
And make this presence their Elysium:  
To pass away this high triumphal night,  
With song and dances, courts more soft delight.  Aur. 
Are you God of ghosts, I have a suit depending in hell betwixt me and my conscience, I would fain have thee help me to an advocate.  Bil. 
Mercury shall be your lawyer, Lady.  Aur. 
Nay faith, Mercury has too good a face, to be a right lawyer.  Pre. 
Peace, forbear: Mercury presents the mask.  Cornets: The Song to the Cornets, which playing, the mask enters. Malevole, Pedro, Ferneze, and Celso in white robes, with Duke's Crowns upon laurel, wreaths, pistolets and short swords under their robes. Men. 
Celso, Celso, count Maria for our love; Lady, be gracious, yet grace.  * Mar. 
With me Sir? 
Malevole takes his wife to dance.   Mal. 
Yes, more loved than my breath:  
With you I'll dance.  Mar. 
Why then you dance with death,  
But come Sir, I was near more apt to mirth.  
Death gives eternity a glorious breath:  
O, to die honoured, who would fear to die.  Mal. 
They die in fear, who live in villainy.  Mend. 
Yes believe him Lady, and be ruled by him.  * Pietro. 
Madam, 
Pietro takes his wife Aurelia to dance.  with me?  Aur. 
Wouldst then be miserable?  Pietro. 
I need not wish.  Aur. 
O yet forbear my hand, away, fly, fly,  
O seek not her, that only seeks to die.  Pietro. 
Poor loved soul.  Aur. 
What, wouldst court misery?  Pietro. 
Yes.  Aur. 
she'll come too soon, O my grieved heart!  Pietro. 
Lady, ha' done, ha' done.  
Come, let's dance, be once from sorrow free.  Aur. 
Art a sad man.  Pietro. 
Yes sweet.  Aur. 
Then we'll agree.  Ferneze takes Maquerelle. and Celso Beancha: then the Cornets sound the measure, one change and rest. Fer. 
Believe it Lady, 
To Beancha.  shall I swear, let me enjoy you in private, and I'll marry you by my soul.  Bean. 
I had rather you would swear by your body: I think that would prove the more regarded oath with you.  Fer. 
I'll swear by them both, to please you.  Bean. 
O, damn them not both to please me, for God's sake.  Fer. 
Faith, sweet creature, let me enjoy you to night, and I'll marry you to morrow fortnight, by my troth la.  Maq. 
On his troth la, believe him not, that kind of coney-catching is as stale as sir Oliver Anchovies persumde jerkin: promise of matrimony by a young gallant, to bring a virgin Lady into a fools paradise: make her a great woman, and then cast her off: 'tis as common as natural to a Courtier, as jealousy to a Citizen, gluttony ot a Puritan, wisdom to an Alderman, pride to a Tailor, or an empty hand-basket to one of these sixpeny damnations: of his troth la, believe him not, traps to catch polecats.  Mal. 
Keep your face constant, 
To Maria.  let no sudden passion speak in your eyes.  Mar. 
O my Altofront.  Pietro. 
A tyrant's jealousies  
are very nimble, you receive it all.  Aur. 
My heart, though not my knees, doth umbly fall, 
Aurelia to Pietro.   
Low as the earth to thee.  Pietro. 
Peace, next change, no words.  Mar. 
Speech to such, ay, O what will affords?  Cornets sound the measure over again: which danced they unmask. Men. 
Malevole?  They environ Mendozo, bending their Pistols on him. Mal. 
No.  Men. 
Altofront, Duke Pietro, Ferneze. hah?  All. 
Duke Altofront, Duke Altofront.  Cornets a flourish. Men. 
Are we surprised? what strange delusions mock Our senses, do I dream? or have I dreamt.  They seize upon Mendozo. 
This two days space? where am I?  Mal. 
Where an arch-vilaine is.  Men. 
O lend me breath, till I am fit to die.  
For peace with heaven, for your own soul's sake,  
Vouchsafe me life.  Pietro. 
Ignoble villain, whom neither heaven nor hell, goodness of God or man, could once make good.  Mal. 
Base treacherous wretch, what grace canst thou expect That 〈◊〉 grown impudent in gracelesness.  Men. 
O life!  Mal. 
Slave, take thy life.  
wert thou defenced through blood and wounds,  
the sternest horror of a civil fight  
Would I achieve thee: but prostrate at my feet  
Iscorne to hurt thee: itis the heart of slaves  
That deigns to triumph over peasant's graves.  
For such thou art, since birth doth near enrol  
A man 'mong monarch, but a glorious soul.  
O I have seen strange accidents of state,  
The flatterer like the ivy clip the Oak,  
And waste it to the heart: lust so confirmed  
That the black act of sin itself not shamed  
To be termed Courtship.  
O they that are as great as be their sins,  
Let them remember that th'inconstant people,  
Love many men merely for their faces,  
And outward shows: and they do covet more  
To have a sight of these then of their virtues,  
Yet thus much let the great ones still conceal,  
When they observe not Heavens imposed conditions,  
They are no men, but forfeit their commissions.  Maque. 
O good my Lord, I have lived in the Court this twenty year, they that have been old Courtiers and come to live in the City, they are spited at and thrust to the walls like Apricocks, good my Lord.  Bili. 
My Lord, I did know your Lordship in this disguise, you heard me ever say if Altofront did return I would stand for him: beside 'twas your Lordship's pleasure to call me Wittol and Cuckold; you must not think but that I knew you I would have put it up so patiently.  
§ You o'erjoyed spirits wipe your long wet eyes, 
* To Pietro & Aurelia.   
Hence with this man: an Eagle takes not flies.  kicks out Mend. 
You to your vows: 
To Pietro & Aurelia.  And thou unto the suburbs.  To Maq. To Bilioso. 
You to my worst friend I would hardly give:  
Thou art a perfect old knave, all pleased live.  

* To Celso & the Captain.  You two unto my breast: thou to my heart.  To Maria. 
The rest of idle actors idly part,  
And as for me I here assume my right,  
To which I hope all's pleased: to all goodnight.  Cornets a flourish. Exeunt omnes. 
FINIS.     

An imperfect Ode, being but one staff, spoken by the Prologue  
TO wrest each hurtless thought to private sense,  
Is the soul use of ill bred Impudence:  
immodest censure now grows wild,  
all overrunning.  
Let Innocence be near so chaste,  
Yet at the last  
She is defiled.  
With too nice-brained cunning.  
O you of fairer soul  
control  
With an Herculean arm  
this harm:  
And once teach all old freedom of a pen,  
Which still must write of fools, whilst writes of men.