The pleasant and fine conceited Comedy of two Italian Gentlemen, with the merry devices of Captain Crack-stone.  

Actus prima.  

Scena prima.  Enter Fortunio and Captain Crack-stone, Fortunio showing very sad countenance. Fortunio. 
HE that discloseth to a friend the secrets of his mind:  
Doth rob himself of liberty, beside we daily find,  
That others counsels will by such in every ear be blown:  
As have no power when time requires, to smother all their own  
Heavy and sad thou seest I am, but why my heart is sore:  
Of courtesy content thyself and ask me that no more.  Crack-stone. 
¶ Heavy in deed and as heavy as lead,  
Either it is some of these same bremy quavers, or some kind of pricksong that runs in his head.  
Hear you Master Fortunio, by the honour of a Soldier, by the glory of a Captain:  
By all the Pole-axes and tormenters, that these hands have slain,  
Do but scour your mind to me, and shut up your grief:  
Either I'll find you some ease, or you shallbe hanged for a thief.  
You know I am a good fellow, nothing venture nothing have,  
If I had not put my carcase to the Gibbet, I had not been thus brave.  
So now, if you venture not to show some trusty body your mind:  
It will be very long ere the dresser you find.  
And so peradventure you shall never be sped:  
For when the Cook is out of the way, you must go supperless to bed.  Fortunio. 
¶ How findeth he redress, that breaks his mind unto a fool?  
Or what is learned, where folly sets the wiser sort to school?  
Yet sith he braves it with the best, in every company:  
And knows where every gallant loves, and sees the remedy,  
I will not stick to let him know the secrets of my heart:  
And make him partner of my pain, and privy to my smart.  
do you know Victoria?  Crack-stone. 
¶ Do not I know her? what think ye?  
As though ere a proper gentlewoman in Naples were out of acquaintance with me?  Fortunio. 
¶ Her have I seen of late, and often by her window past:  
From which she let a letter fall, which taking up in haste,  
I read, and found within described the frantic fits of love:  
Whether it were for me, or any else I cannot prove.  
Whether she feign and bait her hooks the simple to beguile:  
Cannot be found, till wit by line have measured every wile.  
I know she loved Fedele once, before he went to Spain:  
And means perhaps to love him still, sith he's returned again.  
do thou but sift him for my sake, and haunt out his desire:  
And doubtless thou shalt have of me, thy captain's pay for hire.  Crack-stone. 
¶ If this be all Sir, let me alone,  
About your business you may be gone.  
I will feel signor Fedele's mind very cunningly:  
And return you an answer of this gear presently.  Fortunio. 
¶ Gramercy, be trusty.  Crack-st. 
¶ As trusty as steel:  
I have no fault but one, I am somewhat short in the heel.  Fortunio. 
¶ Miraccommando. Exit.  Crack-st. 
¶ Basilus Codpiece for an old Manus,  
You shall not have her at rack and manger I trow:  
Somewhat by this for mine own proportion I know.  
When two bones are at strife for a dog, it is commonly seen:  
That the third comes and takes it, and wipes their mouths clean.  
I mean as you see me in this bravality:  
To be a suitor to Victoria with all profligality.  
I brought Butter and Cheese hither to victual the Camp a great while:  
Many times I would nick them of their measure, and the Soldiers beguile.  
Like a crafty knave, by this means I got so much gain:  
That I bought this apparel of a Captain that was slain.  
And wearing the same abroad as you see:  
The Soldiers all the town over, make a Captain of me.  
One calls me Captain Cheese, another Captain Crust:  
another brave Crack-stone, take which name ye lust.  
The Gentlemen are every one glad of my company:  
Because I have such a wild worm in my head, as makes them all merry.  
The women they love me, Victoria is chief:  
But she hath been somewhat strange of late, therefore to be brief,  
I thought some straws were in the pad, that she looked so coy:  
But now have at her again, with a fresh head in my toy.  
I will first underproyn Sir Fedele his mind to understand:  
See good luck, his Schoolmaster and her Maid are at hand.  
As both of them friendly together do walk:  
I will sneak into a corner and harken to their talk. step aside.   

Actus prima Scena secunda.  Enter Pedante the Parasite, attired in a gown and cap like a Schoolmaster, and with him Attilia. Attilia. 
I Pray you master Schoolmaster let me be gone:  
I have haste on my way, I'll be at home again anon.  Pedante. 
¶ Sweet heart and bag pudding go you so swiftly?  
Have with you then, do ye lack any company?  Attilia. 
¶ In faith Sir no.  Pedante. 
¶ I pray you tell me one thing before you part,  
I think you be somewhat weatherwise by your art.  
do you know me by acquaintance, or guess you by aim?  
That you hit so right on my office in stead of my name?  Attilia. 
¶ I have seen you before if I am not beguiled:  
You have been Schoolmaster to master Fedele ever since he was a child.  Pedante. 
¶ True sweet heart, but I pray thee be not angry with me▪  
But give me leave a little while to move a question to thee.  
What is your name, and where do you dwell?  Attilia. 
¶ Soft, there lay a straw, that will I not tell.  
Alas poor Attilia, what means he by this?  
If I stay with him long, my mistress Victoria her servant will miss.  
About your business good Sir, I pray you get you away:  
I purpose not to tell you my name this day.  Pedante. 
¶ Be not so strange fair Lady, I know your name very well,  
And the name of your mistress, and the place where you dwell.  Attilia. 
¶ If you do, much good do it you, I can tarry no longer:  Pedante. 
¶ Then I perceive I shall be driven to try who is the stronger. stop her.  
I shall tell you one thing if it please you to stay:  Attilia. 
¶ Speak your mind quickly, a word and away,  Pedante. 
¶ be not angry I beseech you, to hear that is true,  
You are the fairest Creature that ever I did view.  Attilia. 
¶ What follows of this?  Pedante. 
¶ I like you, and love you, before all the  
Creatures that ever I knew,  Attilia. 
¶ What ill luck is this? I see nothing that makes me to love and like you.  Pedante. 
¶ You might if you tried me, for I come of the siniters:  Attilia. 
¶ Great barkers are none of the greatest biters.  Pedante. 
¶ Good mistress Attilia, because you have haste:  
I will talk with you more, when your business is past.  
If I can be spared from my Master so long, soon at night:  
I will resort to your house, and lay my meaning wide open before your sight.  Attilia. 
¶ Farewell Sir Pedante, look you be not too quick: Exit.  Pedante. 
¶ What a drunken wooer am I that gave her never a lick,  
This falls out pat for my Master Fedele, and comes in the nick.  
By cogging and counterfeiting love, as you see:  
If Attilia be so mad, as to like and love me,  
By her all the juggling of her mistress I shall know:  
And find whether any new comers, have set my Master beside the cushion or no.  Crack-stone. 
¶ This is as excrement for my proposition as can be desired,  
Soon at night like the Schoolmaster will I be attired.  
First come, first served, if the maid be so friendly to let me in:  
Then Sa Sa Sa, the battle will begin.  
With that Magnaniminstrelsy and mercy, that in me doth flow:  
I'll make a conflict of the Mistress, and let the maid go.  
Farewell silly Schoolmaster. this Injunction is not found in his Adverb I trow. Exit.  Pedante. 
¶ These tidings willbe joyful to my master I am sure,  
Who for love of Victoria suffers many a sharp shower:  
Enter Fedele .lo where he comes walking by himself alone,  
With his head full of thoughts, and his heart full of moan.  
Rouse up your wits Sir, what are you asleep?  
Never be so base minded to a woman to creep.  
See, see, your cap on your head, good manners forgot,  
Now you are come to your own swinge, you know me not.  
do your duty to your master, good nurture is best:  
In via virtutis non progredi, regredi est.  Fedele. 
¶ Alas my care so closeth up my sight:  
That all is lost, wherein I should delight.  Pedante. 
¶ You know that it may be said of me, which was said of Ulysses,  
Multorum hominum mores qui vidit et urbes.  
Therefore if you desire me your cares to relieve:  
The best counsel I can, to you I will give.  Fedele. 
¶ You know Victoria is the cause of all my secret smart:  
Victoria's beauty is the worm, that gnaws me to the heart.  
What counsel now?  Pedante. 
¶ Did not I teach you long ago out of tragical Seneca:  
His golden saying, dvo omnium malorum foemina?  
Did I not cause you with your pen in the margin of your book, to mark that place:  
And yet will you be tooting on a beautiful face?  
Which no otherwise vanisheth, and away doth go:  
Then water, that never returns to the spring, from whence it did flow.  
Beauty is so tickle a foundation to bear any frame:  
And love so uncertain, that it throws the house on his head that built the same.  
Whereupon I gave you a good lesson of old:  
Every letter thereof would be written in Gold.  
Quod inuat exiguum est, plus est quod laedit amantes:  
They know what I mean that are versificates  Fedele. 
¶ If this cold comfort in my need, be all that I shall have:  
Out of my sight. No succour at thy hands I mean to crave.  Pedante. 
¶ Adultus juvenis tandem custode remoto:  
Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper.  
The right course of the world, now he runs upon wheels:  
Had I known this when you were a boy, I would have hampered your heels.  
It were a good deed to set all your fortune at even and odd:  
And let you alone till you are beaten with your own rod.  
But the love that I bear to you every day:  
Will not suffer me to see this good wit cast away.  
Some tidings I have for you, therefore be not afraid:  
I am grown in acquaintance with Victoria's maid.  
By whom I trust in the end to know:  
What Suitors to her Mistress resort too and fro.  
If nobody else do follow the game:  
The spark that you left in her breast, will break out in a flame.  Fedele. 
¶ Thanks good Pedante, get thee home and leave me here a space:  
To try if I may meet with fair Victoria in this place.  Pedante. 
¶ I know where to prick that the vain may bleed:  
See how fair he doth speak, when his humour I feed.  
This passeth Prosodia, Sintaxis and all,  
'tis the way to my profit to stoop to his call. Exit.  Fedele. 
¶ Here was I wont to meet with her, and here I mean to walk:  
And sound her meaning if I may, by moving her to talk.  Victoria setteth open the Casement of her window and with her Lute in her hand playeth, and singeth this ditty. Victoria. 


If love be like the flower that in the night,  
When darkness drowns the glory of the Skies:  
Smells sweet, and glitters in the gazer's sight,  
But when the gladsome Sun begins to rise,  
And he that views it, would the same embrace:  
It withereth, and loseth all his grace.   

Why do I love and like the cursed Tree,  
Whose buds appear, but fruit will not be seen:  
Why do I languish for the flower I see?  
Whose root is rot, when all the leaves be green.  
In such a case it is a point of skill:  
To follow chance, and love against my will.    speak. 
Ah poor Victoria, here it was thy guise,  
To stand and see Fortunio passing by:  
Whose lovely shape hath caught me by mine eyes,  
And means to make me prisoner while I die.  
To gaze on him was life to me before:  
His absence death, because I see no more.  Fedele. 
¶ Oh greedy love that never feeleth glut,  
How have I boasted of Victoria's grace?  
With fear at last from favour to be shut,  
And lose the light of such a shining face?  
Shall neither tears, nor toil, nor broken sleep:  
Have force enough a lady's love to keep?  Victoria. 
¶ And hath Fortunio now forgot the way.  
Which by my window learned of late to walk:  
See the disturber of my peace this day,  
Fedele comes to proffer me some talk.  
Sith he is here, his patience I will prove:  
Whom for Fortunio's sake I cannot love.  Fedele. 
¶ I serve a Mistress whiter than the snow,  
Straighter than Cedar, brighter than the Glass:  
Finer in trip and swifter than the Roe,  
More pleasant than the Field of flowering Grass.  
More gladsome to my withering joys that fade:  
Than Winter's Sun, or summers cooling shade,  
Sweeter than swelling grape of ripest wine,  
Softer than feathers of the fairest Swan:  
smother than jet, more stately than the Pine,  
Fresher than Poplar, smaller than my span.  
Clearer than Beauty's fiery pointed beam:  
Or icy crust of Crystals frozen stream.  
Yet is she curster than the Bear by kind,  
And harder hearted than the aged Oak:  
More glib than Oil, more fickle than the wind,  
Stiffer than Steel, no sooner bent but broke.  
lo thus my service is a lasting sore:  
Yet will I serve although I die therefore.  Enter Victoria. Victoria. 
¶ Now must I either food him off with feigned courtesy:  
Or else be coy in talk, to rid me of his company. she offereth to depart & he stayeth her.  
Sir Fedele well met, and so farewell, I must away:  
My business is such as will not suffer me to stay.  Fedele. 
¶ Mistress Victoria: let us have one word before ye go,  
Oh love, oh death, between you both, vouchsafe to rid my woe.  Victoria. 
¶ A wonder sure it is to see, how gentlemen complain:  
What cark, what care, what hell on earth, for women they sustain.  
Your peace is war, your sleep is watching, and your ease is toil:  
Your life is death, your mirth is moan, and your success a foil.  
These words are used for ornaments to beautify your style:  
And these I think you follow, poor Victoria to beguile.  Fedele. 
¶ If for your sake alone, more than for any other dame:  
I were not thus tormented, then, I grant I were too blame.  
But sith your golden graces are the cause of all my grief:  
Give ear and credit to my plaint, and yield me some relief.  Victoria. 
¶ If this be true, why did you part? and stay so long in Spain:  
Delay breeds loss, either I thought you would not come again.  
Or else that change of company would alter your delight,  
And absence put me out of mind, that shut me out of sight.  
Did not I say, that your departure would my death procure?  Fedele. 
¶ You did.  Victoria. 
¶ And could you make me then to feel so sharp a shower?  Fedele. 
¶ Need hath no law, the matter touched my land and life so near:  
That I was forced against my will, to stay no longer here.  
But sith I have dispatched, according to mine own desire:  
Lo here I am to serve you still, in bitter frost, or fire.   

Actus prima Scena tertia,  Enter Attilia, Maid to Mistress Victoria, with Pamphila, Maid to Mistress Virginia, and Medusa the Enchantress with her box of enchantments under her arm. Victoria. 
Depart Fedele for this time, come to me soon at night,  
I will consider better of your plaint and heavy plight.  
My maid and other company doth press into this place:  
It were not good to make them all, acquainted with your case.  Fedele. 
¶ A thousand thanks, this in your ear, let that the token be, Exit.  Victoria. 
¶ I know your meaning Sir, farewell, refer the rest to me.  
Alas poor soul, he little knows, how cold a suit he hath,  
He must be dallied with a while, for fear of after scathe.  Attilia. 
¶ And must you seek Fedele out?  Pamphila. 
¶ I must.  Attilia. 
¶ But to what end?  Pamphila. 
¶ To crave of courtesy, that he would stand my Mistress friend.  Attilia. 
¶ Mistress Virginia:  Pamphil. 
¶ The same.  Attilia. 
¶ In what matter I pray.  Pamphil. 
¶ That's counsel unto you, I must not every thing bewray.  
And yet by her, so bitter is the taste of love, I find:  
That gall were sweeter to the mouth, and better to the mind.  
¶ I have the Hare on foot.  Attilia. 
¶ But know you where Fedele is?  Pamphila 
¶ Him at his house, or walking in the street you shall not miss.  Attilia. 
¶ Farewell, I will go seek him straight. Exit.  Pamphila 
¶ Yet find him not too soon:  Attilia. 
Alas poor soul, her suit is cold before it be begun,  
Lo here the common fault of love, to follow her that flies:  
And fly from her that makes pursuit, with loud lamenting cries.  
Fedele loves Victoria, and she hath him forgot:  
Virginia likes Fedele best, and he regards her not.  Medusa. 
¶ O foolish love, and lovers that look not to their state,  
But swim against the tide, and then repent when 'tis too late.  
If we could learn to seek to them, that unto us do sue:  
The match were made, and we should have no cause at all to rue.  
When we be coy, and hold our friends aloof at cap and knee:  
The Mart is marred, and every eye our folly then doth see.  
¶ What talk you there Attilia?  Victoria. 
¶ No hurt at all to you.  Attilia. 
¶ What news?  Victoria. 
¶ Good, sweet, and joyful news, Mistress I bring you now.  Attilia. 
¶ Hast thou met with Fortunio?  Victoria. 
¶ Not so.  Attilia. 
¶ Then what's the news?  Victoria. 
¶ As I was walking through the streets alone:  Attilia. 
Devising how to find a remedy to cure your moan,  
I met Medusa with her box and trinkets as you see:  
Whose cunning shortly shall devise, the way to set you free.  Victoria. 
¶ No way without Fortunio.  Attilia. 
¶ Fortunio you shall have:  
Be not afraid therefore in this: this woman's aid to crave.  
She can enchant, and work wonders, by magic's learned art:  
She can with words, with charms and herbs, give you Fortunio's heart.  
Make much of her.  Victoria. 
¶ Ah fool, I know that love is such a passion of the mind:  
As neither Airy Sprites can rule, nor force of Magic bind.  Attilia. 
¶ Yet try her cunning, sith that I have brought her into place,  Victoria. 
¶ Medusa, will thy drugs procure a pining lover grace?  Medusa. 
¶ Mistress, they will.  Victoria. 
¶ Open thy box and let me see thy store:  
Let me have that shall pleasure me, I'll pay thee well therefore.  Medusa. 
¶ Here is an Egg of a black Hen, a quill plucked from a Crow,  
Who with this pen writes on this Egg, a charm that I do know  
And names the party whom they like: the same shall love again,  
What think you of this remedy?  Attilia. 
¶ This remedy is vain.  
Look farther yet into your box, some other medicine prove:  
Because my Mistress cares not for the single juice of love.  
She craveth more, she must enjoy the party she desires:  Victoria. 
¶ Fie, hold thy peace.  Attilia. 
¶ Else hath she not the thing that she requires.  Medusa. 
¶ Lo here a spoonful of a virgins milk,  
Incorporated with a piece of dough:  
Powdered with cinders of fine Spanish Silk,  
And steeped in the liquor of a Slow.  
On th'one side write Venus and Cupid's name:  
On tother his that loved, then take the same  
And broil it on the coals unto a crust,  
Basting it well with honey drops and oil:  
Give it to him you love, to kindle lust,  
And then your suit shall never suffer foil.  
This will so bind the gallant whom you choose:  
That he shall near himself hereafter loose.  Attilia. 
¶ All this is to no purpose, yet methinks you are too wide:  
What pleasure can my Mistress have so long as he is tied?  Victoria. 
¶ She means not tied in hand or foot, but bound to be my slave:  
In all the services and duties that I mean to crave.  Medusa. 
¶ Here are two hearts, the one was taken out of a black Cat:  
The other from a Pigeon: here is the blood of a Bat.  
Here is a piece of Virgin wax, here's an enchanted Bean,  
To make you go invisible,  Victoria, 
¶ You know not what I mean.  Attilia. 
¶ These things are pretty, but they are not for my Mistress fit,  
For if she be invisible, I pray what profits it?  
She shall behold the man, whom she delighteth most to see:  
But being hid: she never can enjoy his company.  
Yet show us more.  Medusa. 
¶ here's things will make men melt in fits of love,  
A wanton goats brain, and the Liver of a purple Dove.  
A cocks eye, and a capon's spur, the left leg of a Quail:  
A Goose bill, and a gander's tongue, a mounting Eagles tail.  
But sith they must be taken in th'increasing of the Moon:  
Before the rising of the Sun, or when the same is down.  
And closely wrapped in Virgin parchment on a Friday night:  
I will not trouble you with these.  Victoria. 
¶ Of more let's have a sight.  Medusa. 
¶ Here is the Image of a man, made out in Virgin wax,  
Which being pricked, or toasted in the flame of burning Flax.  
He that you love shall come and throw himself before your feet:  
More humble than a Lamb, to do what you shall think is meet.  Victoria. 
¶ O that is it.  Attilia. 
¶ This is it must do my Mistress good:  
By Images it must be wrought, Love is a holy Rood.  Medusa. 
¶ We must withdraw ourselves aside, and work it out of sight:  Victoria. 
¶ Enter my house, the Sun is set, & now begins the night. Exeunt   
The first Act being ended, the Consort of Music soundeth a pleasant Galliard.   

Actus secunda.  

Scena prima.  Enter Captain Crack-stone, disguised like a Schoolmaster, in the apparel of Pedante., with a book in his hand. Crack-stone. 
Soft, for it is night, I must not make any noise I trow:  
methinks this apparel makes me learned,  
which of all these Stars do I know.  
Yonder is the green Dog, and the blue Bear,  
Harry Horners Girdle, and the lions ear.  
methinks I should spout Latin before I beware,  
Argus mecum insputare?  
Cur Canis tollit poplitem,  
Cum mingit in parietem?  
Alice tittle tattle Mistress Victoria's Maid:  
If I speak like the Schoolmaster, she will never be afraid.  
As soon as she opens the door to let me in:  
With my Ropericall aliquanci I will begin.  
Swinum, Velum, Porcum. Graye-goosorum iostibus:  
Enter Fedele and Pedante .Rentibus dentibus, lofadishibus, come after us.  
I have bewrayed myself I think with speaking so high:  
This is Sir Fedele that is so nigh.  
Till he be past it were not good for me to appear:  
Therefore I'll slip into the Temple, and hide me in the Tomb that standeth here.  Fedele. 
¶ Too strange it is, that when I should rejoice,  
A chilling fear doth flit through every vain:  
And when I hope to hear Victoria's voice,  
Doubt throws me down into despair again.  
The comfort that she gave me, was so cold:  
That for my life I dare not be too bold.  Pedante. 
¶ Degeneres animos timor arguit, faint heart never won fair Lady they say:  
And Amor odit inertes, take that by the way.  
Seeing she appointed this time, forward with a courage, never stand you in doubt:  
Imagination many times fetcheth wonders about.  
Not because it changeth the course of the thing you would find:  
But because it doth rule and govern the mind.  Fedele. 
¶ I shiver still, come bear me company,  
Until thou seest me nearer to the door:  
Thy speech doth give me comfort mightily,  
And eggs me on unto it more and more.  Pedante. 
¶ Andate allegramente, you are right under her window now:  
What shall I do, will you have me to leave you?  Fedele. 
¶ Not so, but stay until thou seest me in:  
To give the sign I purpose to begin.  Heer let him either taste a Flute or whistle, at the sound whereof: Victoria comes to the window, and throws out a letter, which Fedele taketh up, and reads it at the lamp which burneth in the Temple. 
What meaneth this? a letter: woe is me,  
Where shall I read it? light within the Temple I do see.  Pedante. 
¶ This greeting methinks is none of the best:  
I see by his countenance he likes not the rest.  Fedele. 
¶ Ah cruel Dame that can dissemble so,  
Die poor Fedele, life thou must forego.  Pedante. 
¶ What news in your letter Sir, tell me?  Fedele. 
¶ Read it thyself and see.  Pedante readeth the Letter 
La mia mala fortuna m'ha fatto d'avenire cosa che meglio sarebbe ch'io non fussi nata, m'incresce non poter attenderui la promessa, ma piú mi duole, che mi sia tolta la commodita del vedervi, perô se m'amate, non passate may piú di qua, perch sarete causa della mia rovina.  
This is strange upon strange, your days are out worn, Pedante interprets the Letter.  
"My fortune is such, that it had been better for me I had never been borne.  
" I am sorry that I can not stand to my word:  
"And more sorry, that fortune to me will not your presence afford.  
" Sith I am robbed of your company whom most I desire:  
"If you love me come no more this way, for breeding my trouble, and kindling of fire.  
Here is a sleeveless answer with all my heart,  
You have your errand Sir, now when you will you may depart.  Fedele. 
¶ It cannot be, but that Victoria hath another love:  
Therefore I purpose presently, her privy sleights to prove.  Pedante. 
¶ You are the fearfullest gentleman that ever I knew:  
It is impossible that should be true.  
Your own doubtfulness tangles you still in the briars,  
Did I never teach you: That a woman denies that in show, which in deed she desires.  
Are all those horrible oaths which so oft she hath sworn,  
Any likelihood that she would leave you forlorn?  
Remember her tears and her pitiful looks:  
If she love you not still, I dare burn my books.  Fedele. 
¶ No no, her oaths and tears, and looks, and all thou canst repeat  
Were but as shadows finely cast, to cover her deceit.  
But sith I find her as she is, I will revenge the wrong:  
Or die the death in this attempt, because I live too long.  Pedante. 
¶ You are too hasty a Soldier, too the battle to go,  
If you will be revenged ere your enemy you know.  Fedele. 
¶ Mine enemies I purpose straight to try,  
Hide thee within some privy corner here:  
Be diligent to mark who passeth by,  
And if that any other man appear  
Either to enter, or to issue out,  
Mark what he is, and put me out of doubt. Exit.  Pedante. 
¶ Farewell Sir, commit the care to my hand,  
As close as I can, in this place I will stand.  
Unseen unto any, yet viewing of all:  
A pretty scout set to take a knave in a pitfall.  
Yonder come some, whatsoever they be,  
Stand close Pedante, that nobody see.   

Actus secunda. Scena secunda.  Enter Medusa, Victoria, and Attilia, disguised like Nuns, with lighted Tapers in their hands. Crack-stone lifts up his head out of the Tomb, and ducks down again, speaking this as followeth. Crack-st. 
¶ A rope on these passengers, I am in a miserable plight,  
I think I shall not get out of this place this night.  Medusa. 
¶ 'tis almost one o'clock, the fittest hour to bind the Sprites:  
And compass every thing, that best may further your delights.  Victoria. 
¶ Then let us go.  Pedante. 
¶ O che cricca di vacche? What cattle have we hear?  
Be they women, or devils in the likeness of women that appear?  Attilia. 
¶ Mistress take heed we be not spied, for that may breed us harm:  Victoria. 
¶ No, no, but like a sort of Nuns unto the Church we swarm.  Medusa. 
¶ Enter the Chapel, we will make as though we meant to pray:  Victoria 
¶ Read good Medusa.  Pedante. 
¶ Ah miserable Pedante, would I were away,  
I quiver so fast, that I feel no ground:  
'tis a company of witches I hold forty pound.  Victoria, 
¶ When begin you sweet heart?  Attilia. 
¶ Make haste you had need,  
The day will approach, and the night gone with speed.  Pedante. 
¶ A rope on them all, they go a caterwauling I trow,  
Whom they mean to torment I would gladly know.  Medusa. 
¶ This water and this oil I have, is conjured as you see,  
In the name of those Sprites that written on this Image be.  
Now must I write the name of him whom you so much do love:  
Then bind these sprites, him to the like affection for to move.  
I charge you as you mean to purchase favour in his sight:  
And by the virtue of mine art, tell me his name aright.  
¶ Fortunio.  Victoria. 
¶ That's he that doth my master Fedele disgrace,  Pedante. 
And this is Victoria disguised in place.  Medusa. 
¶ Your name upon the breast, his on the forehead must I write,  
Then conjure, now it is the stillest time of all the night.  Victoria. 
¶ Do so.  Medusa. 
¶ I conjure thee thou waxen Image here,  
By Venus' fruitful womb that Cupid bore:  
That in Fortunio's name thy force appear,  
To comfort fair Victoria full of care.  
That by the virtue of mine Art thou be:  
In this her grief a present remedy:  
I conjure thee Fortunio at the length,  
By head, eyes, ears, thy liver and thy heart:  
Thy Guts, thy veins, flesh, blood, bones, sinews, strength,  
Thy lights, thy lungs, feet, hands, and every part.  
That presently thy breast be set on fire:  
And all thy bowels boil with hot desire.  
Look that by night thou take no quiet rest,  
By day thou loath thy comfortable food:  
Let every joy be daggers to thy breast,  
See, hear, and touch nought that may do thee good.  
Till fancy make thee for a lover meet,  
And throw thee down before Victoria's feet.  
Look that she never pass out of thy mind,  
But paint her heavenly face in every thought:  
Love her above all Creatures of her kind,  
Prosper not, till by thee her joys be wrought.  
But waste as this melts at the candle's flame:  
Amen, fiat, fiat, in Cupid's name.  Victoria. 
¶ What have you done? and is the Spirit come up that you do call?  Pedante. 
¶ The greatest Fiend of hell come and take you all.  Medusa. 
¶ With oil of Virgin wax I thee anoint,  
And sign, and mark thee with the holy Cross:  
In Venus' name, I water every joint.  
That love by thee may never suffer loss.  Victoria. 
¶ Now have you done?  Medusa. 
¶ It must be pricked, and set in greater heat:  
Then the Spirits bound, before it do the feat.  Attilia. 
¶ Make haste.  Medusa. 
¶ I Conjure you ye Sprites, whose names are on this Image writ:  
And now rehearse you one by one, in order as you sit.  
Nettabor, Temapttor, Vigilator, Somniator, Astarot, Berliche,  
Buffon, Amachon, Suchon, Sustani, Asmodeus.  Pedante. 
¶ Ottomanus, sophy, Turk, and the great Cham:  
Robin goodfellow, Hobgoblin, the devil and his dam.  
O vi possono portar in precipitio.  Medusa. 
¶ I conjure you, you foul infernal knot of baser Sprites,  
By the most Mighty power and force of that great God of love:  
Both by the Bow and dreadful dint of all his feathered Flights,  
And by his wings, and by the smoke of lovers' scalding sighs.  
And by the smart and sorrow, that this troubled dame doth prove:  
By all the Planets that our hearts, to hate or liking move.  
By the desires of her that hath Victoria unto name:  
By Venus' Fillet, and the golden pleasures of her game.  
Break loose I say, and trudge with hasty foot out of your den,  
Hunt and pursue, bestir yourselves to seek Fortunio out:  
Forsake with speed the stinking fog of that your ugly fen,  
Possess, and chase him, see that you return no more again,  
Till you have brought him down and humbled him, if he be stout,  
drive him with your tormenting gnaw, the City round about.  
Go make his bed of Thistles, and his seat of pricking thorn:  
Until you bring him hither unto her that is forlorn.  Victoria. 
¶ Have you done Medusa?  Medusa. 
¶ Now must I stick a needle in his heart,  
And prick him with the point, before we part.  Attilia. 
¶ I pray you prick him well.  Medusa. 
¶ If that I strike the needle through, the gentleman will die:  Victoria. 
¶ Then spare him good Medusa, touch him tenderly.  Heer they throw their candles into the Tomb where Crack-stone lieth. Medusa. 
¶ Now have I done, follow and throw your Tapers out of hand,  
Into this Tomb that as you see, hard by us here doth stand:  
Set fire unto their feet, and toast the corpses of the dead,  
That long have slept within this place since they were buried.  Victoria. 
¶ But will this make him come, and then submit himself to me?  Medusa. 
¶ Mistress it will, and you th'event thereof shall shortly see:  Crack-stone riseth out of the Tomb with one candle in his mouth, and in each hand one. The women and Pedante sly, crying the devil the devil. The women let fall the Image, and Crack-stone taketh it up. 
¶ All is mine, ho, ho. ho. All is mine,  Crack-stone. 
devils were smocks, in this latter time.  
Such sights, as among the bones of the dead in this Tomb I have seen:  
Would have made any man but myself, out of his wits to have been.  
Good Lord: once methought I saw my Grandam trot round about me in her grey petticoat and her red cap,  
Never since I was borne, was I taken in such a trap.  
Another time methought I saw the souls, of all them that died for love,  
Cry out upon Lady Vengeance, one that was such a fair woman as nothing could move.  
Little Cuprit himself in the bottom of hell:  
Cursed fair Lady Pilcher, for burning his skin with a lamprel.  
This conjugation put me in a terrible fear,  
If it had continued longer, Termagant, Rawhead, Roast-meat, and Eatbread, and all the armies of Devils had been here.  
What's this? somewhat I perceive they have let fall for haste,  
An Image in wax very prettily cast.  
Fortunio is written in the forehead of the same,  
And jump upon his belly Victoria's name.  
This falleth out very well for me,  
I'll send this to Fedele that he and Fortunio the same may see.  
This will make them to hate her wonderfully,  
Then shall I have her in spite of the pie.  
What have we here? a needle in his heart,  
And names of Augrem writ round about it with Margaris' art.  
Nettabor, Temptator, Vigilator, and buffoon.  
They come, they come, they come, 'tis time to be gone. Run away.   

Actus secunda. scena tertia.  Enter victoria and Attilia. Victoria. 
¶ In such a fear at rising of the spirits we all were cast,  
That being scared, we lost our way and Image too at last.  
I marvel where Medusa is?  Attilia. 
¶ She took her to her heels,  
And time I trow, for all the world methought did run on wheels.  Victoria. 
¶ Sith this enchanting takes no place, go seek Fortunio straight,  
And tell him that to speak with him his pleasure I do wait.  
A word or two will serve my turn, go seek him out of hand,  Attilia. 
¶ Where shall I seek him? for I know not where his house doth stand.  Victoria. 
¶ By the Piazza, there I am sure that thou shalt see him walk,  
Spending the time with one or other of his friends in talk.  Attilia. 
¶ I go. Exit.   

Actus secunda. scena quarta.  Enter Fedele whispering with Pedante. Victoria. 
¶ I was so troubled in my mind, with fright of sudden fear,  
That yet I feel my sinews shake, and tremble everywhere.  
Alas look where Fedele comes, I cannot scape unseen,  
He is importunate, I know not how to rid me of him clean.  Fedele. 
¶ Ah cursed dames, their love is like a flame,  
Quivering in th'air between too blasts of wind,  
Borne here and there, by either of the same.  
Yet properly to none of both inclined.  
Hate and disdain is painted in their eyes,  
Deceit and treason in their bosom lies.  
Their promises are made of brittle glass,  
Ground with a fillip to the finest dust,  
Their thoughts as streaming rivers swiftly pass.  
Their words are oil, and yet they gather rust.  
Their virtues mount like billows to the skies,  
And vanish straight out of the gazer's eyes.  
True are they never found but in untruth,  
Constant in nought, but in inconstancy,  
The common foes of weal, and floods of ruth.  
Devouring cankers of man's liberty.  
Here doth the stain of modesty abide:  
And shroudingly desires herself to hide.  
But get thee straight to Sir Fortunio.  
Will him to come and speak a word with me,  
Haste and post haste with speed see that thou go,  
That he this treachery may quickly see.  
meanwhile on her whose face begins to glow:  
The burden of my breast I mean to throw.  Pedante. 
¶ Then take you this Image of wax that you see,  
Crackstone the Captain delivered it to me.  
Being his turn as he said for to watch this night,  
And breaking up sentinel when it began to be light.  
This Image he told me in the street he found,  
Lying hard by the chapel upon the ground.  
This is the same that was made to enchant Fortunio,  
Behold it and see whether I say truth or no.  Fedele. 
¶ He plows the seas, and fishes in the land,  
And loseth all the labour of them both,  
He fondly rears his fortress on the sand.  
That builds his trust upon a woman's troth.  
But get thee hence about thy business,  
That I may talk with this my good mistress.  Pedante. 
¶ A Dio. Exit.  Victoria. 
¶ Well met good Sir Fedele, what's the cause  
Of these your troubled looks that I behold,  
What rain is threatened by these stormy flaws:  
Which by your gate, and gesture you unfold?  
Is love the spark that kindles all this fire:  
Or do you lack the fruit of your desire?  Fedele. 
¶ The cause that sets my gestures out of frame.  
Is in yourself if you do search the same.  Victoria. 
¶ And why good Sir?  Fedele. 
¶ What make you here so early in the street?  Victoria. 
¶ My longing thoughts did prophesy, that here I should you meet.  Fedele. 
¶ Not me but Sir Fortunio: you know this I am sure: Show her the Image.  
And what by magic you have done, his favour to procure.  
I never thought so fair a dame, had been so foul within,  
But sith continued service, had no force thy grace to win:  
Be sure unthankful wretch, perjured and most disloyal dame:  
I will not rest, before I be revenged of the same.  
This to Fortunio presently I purpose shall be shown:  
And open brute of thy reproach, throughout the City blown.  
All that in Naples dwell this day, shall wonder at this deed,  
And every wounding tongue shall make thine honour now to bleed.  
myself will help to tear the heart, out of thy body quick,  
And give thy crimson coloured blood, unto the dogs to lick.  
So lively will I blaze thee out, to every gazer's eye:  
That though thy carcase rot and waste, thy shame shall never die.  
As busy will I be to plague thee more than is expressed:  
As thou wast cunning to deceive the man that loved thee best.  Victoria. 
¶ I think you are disposed to jest, and make some trial here,  
How trimly you can tread aloft to thunder in mine ear.  
For when I slide into myself, and there examine well,  
What I have done, I find I never from Fedele fell.  
And yet I see your heart still works, by which I do suspect,  
Some Sycophants would make you, your Victoria to reject.  
But patience is a virtue, as the worthiest wits do say,  
My love to you, deserves not that you uttered here this day.  Fedele. 
¶ Yes that, and more, in thee's no truth, love, faith, nor loyalty,  
But lies, dissembling, falsehood, hate, sin, shame, and sorcery.  
bestir thyself, enchant, and conjure now and do thy worst,  
The day thou knewst us both, shall shortly be by thee accursed.  Victoria. 
¶ I am not privy unto this, nor know Fortunio.  
Ah poor Victoria thou art caught, alas what shall I do?  
Now counsel me Attilia, Attilia, is not here:  
Where be my gallants now, will not Crack-stone appear?  
Now is the time for thee Crack-stone my heart to gain,  
Oh save my life, and him dispatch that doth mine honour stain.  
do this and then I will be thine, and listen to thy suit,  
But till that I may speak with him, 'tis best that I be mute.  
Farewell Sir, be not rash, but judge, I cannot answer much:  
More you shall know when time hath tried, my truth by perfect tuch. A Dio. Exit.  Fedele. 
¶ A diavolo.  
As I have known thee, so shall Sir Fortunio know thee straight,  
For whom I sent, and here he comes, whose coming I do wait.   

Actus secunda. Scena quinta.  Enter Fortunio with Pedante. Pedante. 
¶ Est mora damnosa, pray let us away,  
For yonder my Master your coming doth stay.  Fortunio. 
¶ Sir Fedele God save you.  Fedele. 
¶ And you Sir Fortunio,  
I was so bold to charge my man, unto your house to go.  
Matters of weight I have to you, of friendship to impart:  Fortunio. 
¶ My leisure serves, and I will stand, to here with all my heart.  Fedele. 
¶ Not so, but sith it asketh time, if you will take the pain,  
To walk with me unto my house, there will I tell you plain.  
Both what I saw and heard of late, which toucheth you so near:  
That you will give me thanks I know, when you the matter here  Fortunio. 
¶ Go when you please I'll bear you company, Exeunt Fedele & Fortunio arm in arm.  Fedele. 
¶ Pedante you may walk abroad, till Dinner draweth nigh.  Pedante. 
¶ With a good will Sir, that's the thing I desire,  
But if I meet not Attillia, the fat is in the fire.  
For my masters sake, I began to love her in jest,  
And may chance to swallow a Gudgeon in earnest.  
For love is a Fox, he beginneth at first by dalliance and play:  
Then increaseth his gettings every day. Enter Attilia.  
Oh deus adiunxit nostris sua numina votis.  
Behold I beseech you my delicate Mistress.  Attilia. 
¶ How prove you that?  Crack-st. 
¶ I am so terebinthinal and play such reaks when I come to the field:  
That mine enemies choose, rather to murder themselves then to yield.  
Whereby their Damned souls have so pestered all hell:  
That there's no room left for women to dwell.  
Thus being thrust out of the place that is theirs by right:  
They are constrained into heaven to take their flight.  Attilia. 
¶ I confess that this benefit is so great,  
That my tongue is not able your praise to repeat.  Crack-st. 
¶ Besides that, I have as good luck as any man of my life,  
To find favour and friendship in Gentlewomen's eyes.  
I thank them they flout me to my face, when no other they mock,  
This was my father's craft, for he ever made my Mother to wrap me in her smock.  
Give me good luck and throw me into the Seas,  
Where women take a pitch, it is easy to please.  Attilia. 
¶ Truth Sir, but will you go too my Mistress with me,  Crack-st. 
¶ With an almond heart my girl I will follow thee. Exeunt.  
The second Act being ended, the Consort soundeth again.    

Actus tertia,  

Scena prima.  Enter Mistress Virginia, with Pamphila her maid. Pamphila. 
mistress I may, and will once more go seek him if you please:  
Although I fear his answer will return you little ease.  
What though he loved you first? you see his suit falls to the ground,  
And by this small pursuit, thinks you are as good lost as found.  
He stoopeth to Victoria's lure, but she hath cast him of,  
He bows, and creeps to her, she turns his labour too a scoff.  Virginia. 
¶ How canst thou tell?  Pamphila. 
¶ Even yesterday I heard it of her maid:  Virginia. 
¶ If it be so, then is he justly plagued from above,  
And feels that hell of mind, which all forsaken Ghosts do prove  
Yet can I not believe it Pamphila, before I see,  
And gather by his answer, that he hath forsaken me.  
Therefore go seek him out again.  Pamphil. 
¶ Mistress it shall not need, Ent. Fedele.  
lo where he walks as sad as though his heart within did bleed.  Virginia. 
¶ Step to him straight.  Pamphil. 
¶ Master Fedele, if you knew as well  
To love: and her that loves you, to relieve,  
As you are skilful in deceit to dwell.  
And to torment whom you should never grieve.  
Happy were she that bears you in her breast,  
Happy were you of such a pearl possessed.  Fedele. 
¶ What meaneth this?  Pamphila. 
¶ Talk with my mistress Sir, and you shall know,  Fedele. 
¶ Then to thy mistress Pamphila, I go.  
Mistress Virginia, what's the cause I pray,  
That you did send of late to seek me out?  
If you have any thing to me to say,  
Speak, that I may resolve you of the doubt.  Pamphila. 
¶ Fedele, now behold thy cruelty,  
Her voice is stopped, and doth for sorrow die.  Virginia. 
¶ I never thought Fedele to have found,  
Your show of faith in promises forgot:  
Your liking dead, and buried in the ground,  
myself cast off as though you knew me not.  
To love in jest and turn it to a scorn,  
Is not the nature of a Gentle borne.  Fedele. 
¶ Mistress, I love you as I did before,  
As dearly as the dearest friend you have,  
Or as a brother, would you any more?  
Command of me what courtesy may crave.  
If Fancies lurking poison you remove,  
And be not shipped in Seas of raging love.  
Whose great companions are discord and wrath,  
Flattery, Deceit, Treason and Cruelty:  
Heaviness of mind, grief, penury, and scathe:  
Unrest, suspicion, fear, and jealousy,  
Consuming hunger, and an endless thirst,  
A living death, life dying with the first.  Virginia. 
¶ Ah Pamphila, I find thy words are true,  
The more in liking I did think him bound:  
The looser he, and hunteth after new,  
His talk was nothing but an empty sound.  
Those virtues now, I see he doth despise:  
That once did paint my picture in his eyes.  
If justice Palace stand above the skies,  
And angry gods do look into our life:  
Some plague no doubt, for him they will devise,  
And scourge him with some storm of bitter strife.  
Although he vaunt of conquest here a while,  
'tis not praise worthy a woman to beguile.  
Come Pamphila I'll learn to set him light,  
That so dissembles with a double tongue,  
Help to convey me straight out of his sight,  
Whose wandering choice hath done me double wrong.  
Farewell Sir, as we met, we mean to part.  Pamphila. 
¶ This greeting answers unto his desert. Exeunt Verg. & Pam.  Fedele. 
¶ So quickly gone? farewell, all women for Victoria's sake,  
And on them all for her, revenge I mean to take.  
Busy they are with pen to write our vices in our face,  
But negligent to know the blemish of their own disgrace.  
Gestures and looks in readiness, at their command they have,  
Mirth, sorrow, fear, hope, and what other passion you can crave.  
Hence riseth every cloud in love, this breedeth all the strife,  
Snares to our feet, devouring cankers, these are unto life.   

Actus tertia. Seena secunda.  Enter Pedante with the rob on his arm. Pedante. 
¶ Ridetur chorda qui semper aberrat eadem.  
I cannot abide Sir, to harp still upon one string,  
It is too Cuckoo-like they say, one song continually to sing.  
It were good for you to learn quickly in what clef you should take your part,  
And be speedily revenged on her that strikes such a dagger to your heart.  
Oh they are full of deceit, cogging, flattery, foisting, twiddle-twaddle, and I know not what,  
This Genus demonstrativam, is such a bottomless sea, you will never have done if you enter into that.  
The dispraise of women is so great, that without doubt,  
All the tongues in the world are not able to set it out.  
'tis one of my precepts, to be short and sharp in word and blow,  
When they anger you, bid the devil take them all, and make no more ado.  Fedele. 
¶ Waste thou so near Pedante?  Pedante. 
¶ I heard you well enough.  
I think I must bring you to Copia rerum again for change of stuff,  
Leave these exclamations, and crying out upon women now,  
If you look well to yourself, the fault is in you.  
You would needs love, though in your last lecture among your sententiae, similitudines and dicendi flores.  
I made you write this in your paper book, Littore quot conchae, tot sunt in amore dolores.  Fedele. 
¶ Thou didst in deed Pedante, and I have not it forgot,  Pedante. 
¶ Now you find it by proof, I believe you will not.  
But let this matter pass, and tell me Sir, how with Fortunio you speed,  
Did you touch him so near that his heart did bleed?  Fedele. 
¶ Oh no, for in Victoria he hath such confidence,  
That he excuseth her, and now mistrusteth my pretence.  pedant. 
¶ What remedy then?  Fedele, 
¶ I know not, for he saith, except that I can plainly prove,  
That other men besides himself Victoria doth love.  
He was, and is, and will be hers, so long as he doth live,  pedant. 
¶ Accidit in puncto, quod non contingit in anno, very good counsel for this I can give.  
Do you see this brave rob?  Fedele. 
¶ I do, very well,  pedant. 
¶ But why I have brought it, you cannot tell,  Fedele. 
¶ No trust me.  pedant. 
¶ Did not I tell you that for your sake I began to curry favour with Victoria's maid?  Fedele. 
¶ In deed Pedante, I remember such a thing you said.  pedant. 
¶ She took order this very day with me, Put on the rob.  
That disguised on this manner, as by and by you shall see.  
even thus Sir behold, I should come this night,  
Disguised that no man might know me by sight.  
And beg an alms at the door, she would let me in straight,  
And make me a posset for my labour, that so well can weight.  
We shall be as merry as cup and can, when I am once there,  Fedele. 
¶ What's this to me?  Pedante. 
¶ Tush take you no care:  
Look that some pretty corner, by you may be espied,  
Where you and Fortunio yourselves may hide.  
Be both of you here about the midst of the night,  
That when I come out, both of you of me may have a sight.  
I at departure will bid Victoria farewell,  
Commend my entertainment, and say it doth excel.  
This will make him to think as soon as I am gone,  
That Victoria loveth not him alone.  Fedele. 
¶ O excellent.  Pedante. 
¶ See what an old Fox these rotten rags shrouds,  
I can play the knave and convey it in the clouds.  
But hear you Sir?  Fedele. 
¶ What sayst thou?  Pedante. 
¶ Hold fast Master Fortunio, till I be out of his reach,  
lest he cut me in pieces when he hears me preach.  Fedele. 
¶ Fear not, be sure he shall not stir before I see thee gone,  
Farewell, and thanks to finish this, I will to him anon. Exit.  Pedante. 
¶ Adieu Sir, If Apollo the very brother of Diana and Jupiter's son,  
For the love of a Lady that was hard to be won.  
Thought it no shame in a shepherds weed,  
himself to debase, the sooner to speed.  
Should I that am not worthy to bear out Apollo's chamberpot, think any scorn,  
That these rascally rags by me should be worn.  
So long as I do it my suit for to move:  
And further my Master with my slavering love.  
Quod exemplo fit, jure fieri putant, Tully doth say,  
Whose authority is a privilege to follow this way.  
Therefore god Apollo whose example I take,  
Vouchsafe to stay the course of thy Chariot a while for my sake.  
Suffer not thy horses to hasten the day,  
But prolong the night, as when jupiter thy father with Alcmena lay.  
Peradventure I may get a young Hercules as well as he,  
But for very sin and shame too, so it should be.  
If I speed well this day, I will shut up my school door every year,  
It shall be festival to my Scholars, to make good cheer.  
They shall play if they will, from morning tonight,  
During that time, they shall not be constrained to come in my sight.  
This will be cake and pudding to them that are truantly,  
And care not how little they take for their money.  
A begging Pedante, I a-begging I go, Beg at Virginia's gate.  
Tic, toc, fate una limosina, á un poverino.  
¶ What bold beggar have we at the gate, Pamphila comes Pamphila. to the door.  
Art thou not ashamed to go a-begging so late?  Pedante. 
¶ No good mistress, it is no shame at all,  
But the greatest honour that unto a man may fall.  
For an Alms is a gift, and a gift is a token of reverence I trow,  
And reverence is, when our superiors we know.  
Thus I being presented of all men with alms as you see,  
Reverenced of all men of force I must be.  Pamphila. 
¶ For reasoning so deeply, no Alms shall you have,  
Because I will not honour such a beggarly knave. Exit.  Pedante. 
¶ Farewell and be hanged, there I was overreached with a crooked measure,  
Wit bought at this rate is an excellent treasure.  
Beginnings are hard, this proverb is old,  
Therefore at some other Body's door I mean to be bold.  
Tic, toc, fate limosina: popoli mei benedetti, Beg at Victoria's gate.  
Che iddio v'aiuterá, nelle vostre tribulationi.  
Tic, toc, chi la diua over la fara dire, Enter Crackstone out of Victoria's house.  
Di bvona morte non potrà morire.  Crack-st 
¶ What sturdy knave have we here in the street,  
To beg at this time of the night? Sirrah 'tis not meet.  
Pack hence Sirrah I advise you, lest I give you a souse,  
Or take thee by the heels and throw thee over the house.  Pedante. 
¶ Good master beat not the poor, when they make their moan,  
'tis not long since your courage was as cold as a stone.  Crack-st 
¶ What saucy knave, methinks he doth prate,  
Dost thou know to whom thou speakest, or at whose gate?  Pedante. 
¶ No good master, be good to me, I beseech you, for I have done,  
I were best to be quiet till he be gone.  Crack-st. 
¶ We have many good startops made here in the city,  
For publishing these vagary knaves that go up and down idly  
See how he is scaped, and shrinketh aside,  
My looks are too big for him too abide.  
'tis a wonder to see how they crouch wheresoever I come,  
If I stand they stoop, if I speak they are dumb.  
Mistress Victarrogantie hath sent for me,  
Her chaplain against Fedele to be.  
If I kill him for her sake, and put him to shame,  
She hath promised me her love, to reward the same.  Pedante. 
¶ Oh, Traditora.  Crack-st. 
¶ How am I bound to Mars, that when my stomach so swells that I am driven to lay out my heart in my hose,  
He sows up my gorget with the slaughter of my foes.  
I'll go put on my Horslittor, & the rest of mine Armour straight,  
And here about her house for him I will weight.  
Every night she saith, he comes sneaking here by,  
But if he come now, I will handle him trimly. Exit.  Pedante. 
¶ Go goodman Goose, provide you, & arm you as well as you can,  
Lay about you, and play the proper man.  
In tempore veni, I came hither in the nick,  
My master shall speedily hear of this trick.  
Yet will I go forward with my business as I decreed,  
And try how well of my purpose I am like to speed.  
Tic toc, una limosina all poveretto,  
Date Signora per l'amour di Dio.  Attilia. 
¶ Who is there?  pedant. 
¶ Your charity good mistress,  Attilia. 
¶ Enter and take it,  pedant. 
¶ God reward you good mistress, I will not forsake it. Exit.  
The third Act being done, the Consort sounds a solemn Dump.    

Actus quarta.  

Scena prima.  Enter Medusa and Pamphila. 
O Happy is I trust that doctor's soul by whom I learned,  
This famous Art, and easily by it my living earned.  
O that he knew how dear his life and learning was to me,  
O that he could but for his death my grief and sorrow see.  pamphila. 
¶ Medusa, if I did not fear my honour and my name,  
Would soon be lost hereby, and turn my credit into shame.  
I would become thy Scholar, but I blush to speak of it,  Medusa. 
¶ No Pamphila, for such a mistress thou art far unfit.  
What talk'st thou of thy name, and honour likely to be lost,  
By learning of mine Art? which should be honoured of the most.  
And more esteemed than Physic.  Pamphila. 
¶ Why?  Medusa. 
¶ That's easy to be proved,  
For, as by Physic's learned skill, diseases be removed.  
So by my cunning, every smart that doth afflict the mind,  
Is put to chase, for every grief, a remedy I find.  Pamphila. 
‡ And have you any salve for love?  Medusa. 
¶ I have.  Pamphila. 
‡ Whereof is it made?  Medusa. 
¶ Of divers things, simple, and mixed, according to my trade.  Pamphila. 
¶ Then if for love, or money, you will grant me my request,  
Let me once by your cunning see, my mistress have some rest.  Medusa. 
¶ Whom serve you then?  Pamphila. 
¶ Forsooth, I serve mistress Virginia.  Medusa. 
¶ Yet farther, let me crave your name.  Pamphila. 
¶ My name is pamphila.  Medusa. 
¶ What's her disease?  Pamphila. 
¶ Nothing but love.  Medusa. 
¶ How fareth she with it?  Pamphila. 
¶ Sad, sick, and sore, with sorrow pined, and dispossessed of wit.  Medusa. 
¶ Whom loveth she?  Pamphila. 
¶ Fedele.  Medusa. 
¶ And how long hath she been so?  Pamphila. 
¶ I know not, yet I guess, that she sickened a year ago.  Medusa. 
¶ What if I help her? tell me who shall please me for my pain?  Pamphila. 
¶ My self, because unknown to her, I seek her health to gain.  Medusa. 
¶ A loving servant, go thy ways and leave it all to me.  
But hark thee.  Pamphila. 
¶ What?  Medusa. 
¶ Let me have passage to her lodging free.  
That when she little thinks thereof, my Medicines I may make,  
By virtue of the which, her wounded heart may comfort take.  
The less she looks for remedy, the more is her delight, when 'tis obtained.  Pamphila. 
¶ Then let's be gone.  Medusa. 
¶ Content, for it is night.  
And yonder comes Fedele with Fortunio hand in hand,  
To shun suspect, they shall not see us talking here to stand. Exit.   

Actus quarta. Scena secunda.  Enter Fedele and Fortunio together. Fedele. 
¶ Come Sir Fortunio, now is the time to put you out of doubt,  
Whether Victoria love you, or your dealings do but flout.  
Here let us shroud ourselves a while, that standing out of sight,  
We may perceive what lovers haunt Victoria's house by night.  Fortunio 
¶ Agreed, this is the fittest time to pass the street,  
And give her music at her window, for a gallant meet.  Fedele. 
¶ Whist, for her door begins to creak,  Fortunio. 
¶ It doth in deed. Enter Pedante disguised, coming forth of Victoria's house.  Fedele. 
¶ I see.  Fortunio. 
¶ A man methinks, O let me go.  Fedele. 
¶ Stay Sir, be ruled by me,  Pedante. 
¶ O delicate Victoria so long as I live,  
For this entertainment, great thanks will I give.  
The remembrance of the sweetness of this night so well passed,  
Will feed me with honey while my life doth last. Exit.  Fortunio. 
¶ A villain, let me go Fedele, let me go I say:  
I will revenge this injury before he get away.  Fedele. 
¶ Not so, for raising of a tumult in the street so late,  
And troubling of the watch that stand armed at every gate.  Fortunio. 
¶ Out strumpet, I will make thee now a mirror to this town,  
A pointing stock to every one that passeth up and down.  Fedele. 
¶ How will you be revenged?  Fortunio. 
¶ By sword, and sheath it in her breast,  Fedele. 
¶ Be not too swift to serve her so, I think it were not best.  Fortunio. 
¶ And why?  Fedele. 
¶ Because that if you kill her, than yourself you do defame,  
Discredit her, and put her house, and kindred unto shame.  
Thus you shall ever walk in fear of those you never saw,  
Besides, her friends will trip at you, by danger of the law.  Fortunio. 
¶ How shall I be revenged then?  Fedele. 
¶ Give her a Fico out of hand,  Fortunio. 
¶ So should I scape, but the revenge in little steed would stand.  
For she should die, and none should know the villainy she did,  
But every tongue ere long shall talk of that, that I have spied.  
Some other way I will devise,  Fedele. 
¶ Do so, for I'll be gone. Exit.  Fortunio. 
¶ And I will see what this Victoria saith to me anon,  
Who is there within? Knock at her door.   

Actus quarta. Scena tertia.  Enter Victoria and Attilia to Fortunio. Attilia. 
¶ Mistress, behold Fortunio.  Victoria, 
¶ I come to him, welcome good Sir.  Fortunio, 
¶ Out Hypocrite, no, no,  
How do you like your other love?  Victoria. 
¶ I like of none, but you.  Fortunio. 
¶ Tush, hold your peace, I had as live you told me that it snew.  
even now came one out of thy house, who bidding thee farewell,  
Triumphed of thy courtesy, and said it did excel.  Victoria. 
¶ Come hither maid, what have you done? tell me, why do you weep?  Attilia. 
¶ 'tis no matter mistress, you think I let in my companions when you are a sleep.  
¶ But seeing you have no better confidence in me,  
Pay me my wages, I'll be gone, your servant no longer will I be.  
Seeing you go about, me so much to disgrace,  
Provide for yourself, I can have more wages in another place.  Victoria. 
¶ Peace peevish fool, I think not so, yet let me ask I pray,  
Because to slander me, you hear what Fortunio doth say.  Attilia. 
¶ I force not what he saith, I know my conscience to be clear,  Victoria, 
¶ And so is mine, although so stoutly he reprove me here.  Fortunio. 
¶ Then had I neither listening ears to hear, nor eyes to see,  
sith they fail not, I'll credit them, and give no heed to thee.  
But trust to it, and look for it, thou shalt repent at last,  
That ere thou bleared'st Fortunio's sight with such a juggling cast.  Victoria. 
¶ It booteth not to speak to him, he is in such a heat,  
But I durst lay my life Fedele wrought this feat.  Attilia. 
¶ It may be so.  Fortunio. 
¶ Thy falsehood and thy Sorcery, at length I have perceived,  
But by thy subtle train, no longer will I be deceived.  Victoria. 
¶ I said, it was Fedele's deed, but Crack-stone is too slow,  
To cut him off, before this rumours root begin to grow.  Attilia. 
¶ Mistress, I'll seek Crack-stone, and haste him to the deed,  
Else I perceive that very ill, yourself is like to speed.  Victoria. 
¶ Do so, and till I see Fortunio's angry mood be passed,  
'tis best out of his presence to convey myself in haste.  
Farewell Sir Fortunio, think as you find me. Exeunt Victo. & Attilia.  Fortunio. 
¶ I will, and will revenge it as far as you bind me.  
Fie heartless wretch, slothful, and that that's more,  
Yet unrevenged, why did I stay my hand?  
Why did I not her faithless body gore?  
Whiles in my power before me she did stand.  
Why did I not for to fulfil my vow:  
Do that, which none would cover nor allow?  
Her treason makes my raging thoughts to swell,  
Beyond the bounds of all humanity,  
Her falsehood drives the Furies out of hell.  
To practice strange and extreme cruelty.  
Yet neither rancorous force, nor ugly fiend,  
Hath scourge enough for such a double friend.  
But yet before revenge my fury take,  
I'll offer service to Virginia.  
lest every dame here after me forsake,  
When it is known how I used Victoria.  
Good luck, Medusa here methinks I see,  
A cunning broker, very fit for me.   

Actus quarta. Scena quarta.  Enter Medusa, with a peddlers Basket under her arm, to Fortunio. Medusa. 
¶ My toil so great, reward so small, that every man doth give,  
Hath made me weary of my trade, uncertain how to live.  Fortunio. 
¶ Well met Medusa, whether goest thou with thy Pack so late?  Medusa. 
¶ I was abroad to sell my wares, at every lady's gate.  
But being overtaken thus by night, I hie me home,  
Till Fortune send a better market, for the world is done.  Fortunio. 
¶ What hast thou sold?  Medusa. 
¶ Nothing but words,  Fortunio, 
¶ What hast thou got?  Medusa. 
Nothing but wind:  Fortunio. 
¶ That market thou might'st well have kept, and yet have left thy Pack behind,  Medusa. 
¶ Not so, for by the carriage that within my pretty Pack I have,  
I enter in those ladies' chambers, that I find both fine and brave.  
And under colour of the trifles I bear about to sell,  
I plead for such as you good Sir, that feel by love the force of hell.  Fortunio. 
¶ What hast thou there?  Medusa. 
¶ Calls Gorgets, Hears, Powders to make a Ball,  
Vallentia Gloves, and Venice Rolls, to rub the teeth withal.  
Laces, Purses, Rings, Busks, wires, and Glasses fine,  
bracelets, Perfumes, Stilled waters, Sops in wine.  
pings, Bodkins, Stays, and other kind of stuff,  
No more but tell me what you lack, and you shall have enough.  
A thousand knacks I have, to utter, which I must be slow,  
Because they are so secret, as becomes not you to know.  Fortunio. 
¶ Neither am I importunate, to wring it out of thee,  
Yet must I crave thee now, to show thyself a friend to me.  Medusa. 
¶ Wherein?  Fortunio. 
¶ Even in the love that I to fair Virginia bear.  Medusa. 
¶ I doubt it is too hard a task, she loves Fedele so,  
That she by no means can be won, Fedele to forego.  Fortunio. 
¶ Yet do thy best, to move my suit.  Medusa. 
¶ The best I can I will,  
And ransack every corner of my wits to show my skill.  
Either it must be done by craft, or Magic, which you please,  Fortunio. 
¶ By Craft, or Magic, which you list, so I may purchase ease.  Medusa. 
¶ Sir, first by deceit I'll try how I can bring the same about,  
If shifts do fail, Enchanted herbs shall put you out of doubt.  
I will unto her lodging straight, and stay your coming there,  
Within an hour or half, to follow, see you do not fear.  
I'll tell her that I mean to bring Fedele to her bed,  
When lights are out, and sleep is crept into her father's head.  
When you are in and half unbraced, a tumult will I make,  
And call her father up, you in her chamber there to take.  
You know age will suspect the worst, and when he sees you so,  
Will force you then to marry her, whether she will or no.  
Besides, when that the brute here of is blown in every place,  
Fedele and all other suitors, will forsake the chase.  
lo, thus by subtlety you shall possess the dame you craved,  
And yet by me when all is told, her honour shall be saved.  Fortunio. 
¶ This is as well as can be wished, depart I pray thee straight.  Medusa. 
¶ I go, forget not you to come. Exit.   

Actus quarta. Scena quinta.  Enter Fedele with Pedante, and with them, two Watchmen with Bills. Fortunio. 
¶ Upon thee will I weight.  
See where Fedele comes, because he shall not me suspect,  
I will avoid the streets a while, that nothing me detect. Exit.  Fedele. 
¶ And is it so Pedante?  Pedante. 
¶ It is as I tell ye.  
Attilia told me, that her mistress had made a request,  
To Crack-stone, to sheath his sword in your breast.  
Besides I go as you know, disguised to the house for another intent,  
I saw him come thence, bragging what he would do, in the streets as he went.  Fedele. 
¶ Alas poor soul, I know he dare scarce look a fly in the face,  
But seest thou this? I will provide my Captain to disgrace.  
Come on my friends, go you and set this net at the Lanes end,  
For when he comes, my sword upon this Gallant will I bend.  
And cry aloud arm, arm, as though our enemies had the wall,  
He hearing this, will take his heels and let his anger fall.  
We will pursue him so, that we will drive him to the net,  
When he is in, pull you the cords, for that same purpose set.  
And make him fast, then will we lead him hampered in the same,  
With mirth and glee about the town, to put him to the shame.  
Go set it up.  Watchmen 
¶ We will.  Pedante. 
¶ Ah, Sirrah, I perceive we shall go a batfowling this night,  
I would the Captain would come, that of this pretty sport I might have a sight.  Fedele. 
¶ Whist, not a word, for he is at hand,  
Come let us both privily in ambush stand.   

Actus quarta. Scena sexta.  Enter Captain Crack-stone, armed like a Champion. Crack-st. 
¶ Now shall my valourosity appear unto all,  
How I can kill men, and serve a woman at her call.  
My greatest grief is, that in doing this feat,  
I am sure my honour will not be so great.  
As when I give a charger to my foes in the open field,  
Or put Cities into sacks, and make thousands to yield.  
To bring Fedele to the Counter, is but to fight with a fly,  
There is neither praise, pride, nor providence in the victory.  
Therefore take heed Crack-stone what you do,  
You hazard your good name, your honour stands on tip toe.  
To kill a Gentleman that never ought me malice, is more than cruelty,  
And to kill him for a woman, will bring me utterly to infancy.  
Shall I kill him then? peradventure yea: shall I let him go?  
Peradventure I may, peradventure no.  
Oh single devise, here is a brain I believe,  
Able to shoot birdbolts of inventions, from my head into my sleeve.  
I will make a great noise before Victoria's door in the street,  
As though at this present with Fedele I did meet.  
Then will I run to her house amain,  
And make her believe that Fedele is slain.  
Then before that she hear any news of his life,  
I'll have her to the Priest, and make her my wife.  
Have even at it as well as I can, Fight with the Air.  
Ah Villains, thus many of you set upon a naked man.  
Draw on my good fellows and spare not, strike home,  
Ah cowardly dastards, so soon be you gone?  Fedele. 
¶ Arm, Arm, Arm.  Pedante. 
¶ Kill, kill, kill.  Fedele. 
¶ Down with Crack-stone.  Pedante. 
¶ Give me a Bill. Here Crack-stone runs into the net, Fedele after him; leaving Pedante on the stage.  Fedele. 
¶ Follow, follow.  Crack-st. 
¶ Out alas where am I now?  Pedante. 
¶ Fast enough by this time I trow.  
Is this my lusty kill Cow, that will eat up so many men at a bit,  
And when he deals with a shadow will not stand to it?  Enter Fedele and two or three other, leading Crack-stone in the net, singing. 

BE still my mates, that keep the gates,  
When every watch is set:  
Your luck is nought, your friends have caught,  
Your Captain in a net.  
Heigh ho Crack-stone, heigh ho Crack-stone.  
A Nodie, a Nodie, a Nodie, we have,  
Heigh hoe, Crack-stone, lusty and brave.  
‡ Now soldiers all, forsake the wall,  
Your foes have got the town,  
Manhood is fled, God Mars is dead,  
Your Captain is a clown.  
Heigh ho Crack-stone, Heigh ho Crack-stone,  
A Nodie, a Nodie, a Nodie, we have,  
Heigh ho Crack-stone, lusty and brave.   Victoria out at her window. 
Attilia, come hither straight, some stir is in the street,  
methinks I hear the noise of men, and trampling of their feet.  Fedele. 
¶ Ah Sir, you meant to kill me you, to please Victoria,  
But now I trust to make of thee a poor Crack-stone, if I may.  Crack-st 
¶ If that victorious Prince of battle god March-beer, had not been a sleep,  
I had made you every one into corners to creep.  
'tis the Fortune of war, luck runs not ever to one side,  
Therefore I am content the prickatory to abide.  
I am not strong sampire to break out of your hands,  
But oh that some little hungry Mouse, would gnaw asunder my bans.  
I would give you such a frezado, or canvasado, take which you please  
As should be small to your comfort, and little to your ease.  Pedante. 
¶ Oh what this Captain would do, if he were out of his skin,  
Till his courage be cooler, I pray you hold him in.  Attilia. 
¶ Mistress, I can not tell what is best to be said,  
Once more I perceive you are betrayed.  
I see that Fedele and his friends have your Champion beset,  
And now both to his shame and yours, he is caught in a net.  Victoria. 
¶ Art thou sure that it is so?  Attilia. 
¶ Have an eye to the end.  Fedele. 
¶ Now let us show him to Victoria, his dearest friend. Here they bring him singing unto Victor. window.  Pedante. 
¶ Then let him be led through every street in the town,  
That every crackrope, may throw rotten eggs at the clown.  Fedele. 
¶ Hoe, Victoria if thou be awake, rise & look out I pray,  Crack-st. 
¶ The hunt is up,  
And fools be fledged before the perfect day. Shrink in & look out again.  Victoria. 
¶ Who calls?  Fedele. 
¶ Fedele: See the Champion, whom you set to murder me,  
This deed throughout the City, shortly shall dishonour thee.  Victoria. 
¶ Out, I defy him.  Fedele. 
¶ What sayest thou Attilia?  Attilia. 
¶ He is a knave, I deny him.  Crack-st 
¶ Thou art a Drab and a Quean, if my name be Crack-stone, you say?  
I was requested to this, both by thee and Victoria.  Attilia. 
¶ By my mistress and me good man Coward, do you know what  
Take that Sir, your face was not washed yesterday. Empty a chamber pot on his head.  Crack-st 
¶ A rope on all whores, will you drink any Ale,  
I think she crowned me with a pottle of stale.  
This drink was ill brewed, and might have been spared,  
The very grains of the Malt, sticks fast to my beard.  Pedante. 
¶ You will tell me more anon, when every maid in this town,  
Hath emptied her alms box on the top of your crown.  Crack-st 
¶ Alas good master Fedele, as you are a Gentleman, no farther let me go,  
I shall be choked with this dole, if you handle me so.  
Consider I am a man, subject to the same pressing-iron of the mind that other men are,  
For the love of a woman, overwhelmed with care.  
I confess I am as you are, flesh & blood, and loved Victoria so well,  
That I could have been content for her sake, to have gone quick to hell.  
Therefore forgive me, and if I take not your part, and be revenged upon her, before I do rest,  
Set the gunshot of tyranny to the bulwarks of my breast.  
Cut off my Rams horns, and break into the belfry,  
And bless the cursed days of my virginity.  Pedante. 
¶ He rolls in his Rhetoric as an Ape in his tail,  
Wind and tide at commandment, he flies with full sail.  Fedele. 
¶ So that thou seek all means thou canst, Victoria to deface,  
And blaze her in each company, and strike her in disgrace.  
I let thee go. Let him out of the net.  Crack-st 
¶ Unhood me I pray,  
I am as weary of my carriage as a Dog of his day.  Pedante. 
¶ Slack the cords there my masters, give him sea-room in haste,  
Close air is not wholesome for Gallants to taste.  Crack-st 
¶ Now I begin to feel my heart by little & little rise out of my hose,  
Yet the scent of this water, is still in my nose.  
I think I am the perplexionablest man that lives at this day,  
For I would feign be revenged of Victoria, and I know not which way.  Pedante. 
¶ Follow my counsel, and be ruled by me,  
Then shalt thou see Captain, what I'll do for thee.  
I'll teach thee a way, to cry quittance with her before it be long,  
And make her recant her chattering at window with another song.  Crack-st 
¶ Gramercy Pediculus, thou art the comfortablest fellow that ever I did see,  
I think thou wast borne under some merry Planet, in the time of diversity.  Fedele. 
¶ Now sith Victoria's name is like for ever to be lost,  
Further revenge I will not seek, as I to her did boast.  
Because that as myself unjustly served Virginia.  
So am I now justly requited by Victoria.  
Therefore Pedante go, and pardon of Virginia crave,  
And tell her that I will be hers,  Pedante. 
¶ That's it she would have.  
But I beseech you Sir, tarry till the day be light,  
I am loath to go stumbling in the streets this night,  Fedele. 
¶ Then till the morning let it rest, but early see thou rise,  
And do my message in the meekest sort thou canst devise.  
Mean while we'll home and take a sleep, Exit with them that held the net .for I am overwatched.  Pedante. 
¶ Very well Sir, bear you the net after,  
I have some business with the Captain to be dispatched.  
Now master Captain come with me, for as soon as my master to bed I have brought,  
You shall see what a thing for you I have wrought.  
And because you have determined on Victoria to revenge your wrong,  
It must be done this night or never, time do not prolong.  
As her flattery this night, bring did you in bands,  
So this night I shall deliver her into your hands.  Crack-st. 
¶ Then let us away and ourselves provide,  
Thou knowest the proverb, nobody tarries for the tide. Exeunt.   
The fourth Act being ended, the Consort soundeth a pleasant Allemaigne.   

Actus quinta.  

Scena prima.  Enter Fortunio alone. 
I Know Virginia loves Fedele best,  
Medusa likewise may be sent to flout:  
myself her favour never yet possessed,  
If none of these, yet all may make me doubt.  
How service should with bright triumphing face,  
Disperse the clouds, that put my joys to chase.  
Yet if Fedele be not liked alone,  
Or if Medusa of true promise be:  
Or fair Virginia will be moved by moan.  
If not all these, yet one may pleasure me.  
Therefore, to give the watch word I'll begin, Whistle.  
Good luck, the door opens, I'll enter in. Exit.  Enter Atilia. Attilia. 
¶ Take heed Attilia, was not that Fortunio thou didst see?  
'tis now midnight, so late abroad i'th' street what maketh he?  
I see Pedante is not here, I muse he meets me not,  
I little thought he could so soon his promise have forgot.  
If he be master of his word, and love me as his life,  
The time is come to show the same, and take me for his wife.   

Actus quinta. Scena secunda.  Enter Pedante and Crack-stone with the beggars weed. 
Come on Sir apace, what makes you so slack?  
Presently put me this rob on your back.  
Now get you up along the street, and be not afraid,  
There shall you meet Victoria, in the apparel of her maid.  
Thinking you thus disguised, to be Fortunio,  
Very ready you shall find her with you to go.  
When you have her, hold fast, for she will not resist,  
Woe her, wed her, bed her, and use her as you list.  
Either now or never, your desire you shall have,  
Or be revenged on the entertainment that out of her window to you she gave.  Crack-st. 
¶ See the force of love, how it is able for a need,  
To shroud a brave mind in a base kind of weed.  
Master Pediculus, or Pedantonie, I am not very prospect in your name,  
If this gear fall out, I shall be bound while I live, to thank you for the same.  Pedante. 
¶ I would not be he that should so courageous a Captain, and valiant Gentleman deceive.  
Therefore try me, & trust me, for this time I purpose to take my leave  Crack-st. 
¶ Farewell little Pastry, Exit .If I may meet with Mistress Victoriarie here.  
Thinking that Fortunio in this place, to her will appear.  
Either I will make her incant the former words that she spoke,  
When she defied me, & denied that she willed me to kill Fedele for her sake.  
Or I will back beat her, & belly beat her too too pitifully,  
You know love is a fire, and they say fire and water hath no mercy.  
But first I will speak her fair, because to be plain,  
Commonly fair fools make words and persuasions to be feign.  Attilia. 
¶ Alas how long in the street shall I for my Pedante stay?  
He promised to meet me here, and steal me quite away.  
somebody in the street I hear, I trust the same is he,  
And so I do persuade me, by the beggars weed I see.  Crack-st 
¶ I'll believe Pediculus again another day,  
For yonder in Alice tittle tattles 'parel the Mistress doth stay,  
O that I had some of pediculus' School-butter to make me a lip salve,  
Or could but wet my tongue in his inkhorn, for women will hearken when we speak brave.  
O thou that carriest a ball of wild fire in thine eye, to burn up my heart,  
What shall I say more, to set out my smart.  
The time will not suffer to show my prosperity,  
Therefore I commit you to the Gods for lack of brevity.   

Actus quinta. Scena tertia.  Enter Sbirri the Captain of the watch, with some Soldiers, and with him Mistress Victoria. Attilia. 
¶ See how Pedante counterfeits Crack-stone in talk,  
Thereby we shall escape, and through the watch in safety walk.  Victoria. 
¶ Captain Sbirri, this night my maid Attilia ran away,  
Her I beseech you, if she be not passed the watch, to stay.  
Some thing I doubt that she hath stolen, and carried to her mates,  
Therefore I pray beset the streets, and all the city gates.  Sbirri. 
¶ Mistress Victoria I will, but somebody I see,  Victoria. 
¶ Step to them both and take them straight, for sure the same is she.  Crack-st. 
¶ Come mine own Paragon, I know thou hast tarried for me all this while,  
Therefore follow me straight, lest the liquorish Soldiers meet us, and me beguile.  Sbirri. 
¶ Soft not to fast, but stay I charge you in the PRINCE's name,  Crack-st 
¶ God save the PRINCE's grace, and put his enemies to shame.  
We are the king's friends, I would you should well know,  
Therefore trouble us no farther, but let us go.  
The king's head is occupied with matters of great importunity,  
I know he is not conswapted, at this time to speak with me.  
We are peaceable people, we have no weapons here,  
We are neither drunk nor sober, nor make any steer.  
Get you to your places, keep the watch as you should,  
And we'll to our lodging you may be bold.  Sbirri. 
¶ Nay Sir, we will know your name, and eke the place where you have been,  
Whether you go, night-walkers here are very seldom seen.  Crack-st 
¶ Then I pray you, what make you abroad so late?  
'tis longing to your office to keep the gate.  
As for our names, I know of no such commencement you have,  
Why you should be so perceant the same to crave.  Attilia. 
¶ We have been forth at supper Sir, i'the town with a good friend,  
And now we are returning home, nigh at our journey's end.  Victoria. 
¶ What Minion, are you there indeed?  Attilia. 
¶ My Mistress, out alas,  
Behold Pedante we are ta'en, how shall we do to pass?  Crack-st, 
¶ I hold forty pound I am Uncled, I would Pediculus were here,  
I would meet with the scald Squitterbe-booke for this gear.  Sbirri. 
¶ Is this your maid?  Crack-st 
¶ It is.  Sbirri. 
¶ Lay hold on her with speed,  
Let us see what Vagabond is hid within this weed.  
Crack-stone? Whowe?  Crack-st. 
¶ And whowe too then, did you never see man before?  
I am not taken in devoutry, therefore wonder no more.  Attilia. 
¶ A halter come to him, is it he?  Sbirri. 
¶ Sorry I am good Captain, you in such a case to see.  
here you are taken with this maid, which is like to be taught  
Of felony, and accessary you with her are caught.  Crack-st. 
¶ I steal nothing from women but their honesty:  
Which is as good, as he that robs the Printer of a Bible, because he would study Divinity.   

Actus quinta. Scena quarta.  Enter Fortunio running half unready, after him Ottaviano the father to mistress Virginia, and Medusa with a spit in her hand, and to them Fedele and Pedante, with weapons in their hands. Ottaui. 
¶ Stop, stop.  Sbirri. 
¶ What meaneth this? come bend your weapons at them all,  
Whom shall we stop? and what's the cause that makes you thus to call?  Fedele. 
¶ Pedante, take thy sword, Fedele and Pedante speak out at a window within .arise let's go into the street,  
Some wondrous broil I doubt there is,  Pedante. 
¶ I am so fast wrapped in the upper sheet.  
That I can not get out, I pray you make not such haste,  
Till you think that the hottest of the broil be past.  Fortunio. 
¶ Stay Captain, lay no hands on me, a Gentleman I am,  
And will not flit,  Ottaui. 
¶ Woe worth the time that to my house he came.  Sbirri. 
¶ Ottaviano, what's the cause of your lamenting cry?  
Let's know, hath Sir Fortunio done you any injury?  Enter Fedele and Pedante with weapons. Fedele. 
¶ Come quickly man, let's see this Pageant ere it take an end,  Pedante. 
¶ He that breaks me of my sleep, is none of my friend,  Virginia. 
¶ Ah wretch that am I alas, and half undone,  Pedante. 
¶ What strange kind of broil is this that is begun?  Ottaui. 
¶ Is it Fortunio in deed? This is thy treachery, Medusa.  Medusa. 
¶ Mine, alas good Sir, you do me injury,  
I grant that after I had brought my young mistress to bed,  
Feeling the sleep shut up mine eyes, and drooping with my head,  
I laid me down to take my rest, and so with haste forgot,  
To lock the doors about the house, and how it comes God wot,  
I can not tell, but when I fet a nap and woke again,  
I heard a bustling in the dark, and then did I complain.  
And cried aloud to you for help, whereat immediately,  
This Gentleman withdrew himself, and forth began to fly.  Pedante. 
¶ Master.  Fedele. 
¶ What sayst thou?  Pedante. 
¶ Your cake is dough,  Fedele. 
¶ It kills me to think on it: the greater my woe.  Crack-st 
¶ This is luck nidget with all my heart,  
¶ I am glad, that I have somebody to take my part.  
But oh that my hands were at liberality now to strike,  
I would set my Gramariner a lesson to pike.  Ottaui. 
¶ Ah Sir Fortunio, use you thus the man that loved you best,  
Take him, this villainy shall not be turned to a jest.  Sbirri. 
¶ Quiet yourself Ottaviano, sith it is so past,  
The brute will not be called back so long as life doth last.  
His punishment makes not your daughter as she was before,  
But give her unto him to wife, and talk of it no more.  
His living is as good as yours, make up the match with speed,  Ottaui. 
¶ Need hath no law, I am content, if they be both agreed.  Virginia. 
¶ Alas I never knew the man, he never touched me yet,  
I love Fedele, and he alone is for Virginia fit?  Fedele. 
¶ I'll take no wife at second hand, thanks for your courtesy,  
Let him that hath possessed your honour, wear the same for me.  Pedante. 
¶ In every Tennis Court in the world, false play it is found,  
To take up the Ball at the second rebound.  Fortunio. 
¶ Virginia, if that you can be content,  
To like of him that loves you in his heart:  
Give me your hand, and if your mind be bent,  
To marry me, I never mean to part.  
My life, and living, more you can not crave,  
Remaineth yours, do now but ask and have.  Virginia. 
¶ I thank you Sir, in that it pleaseth you to use me so,  
My promise was nigh granted to Fedele long ago.  Fortunio. 
¶ But he hath now forsaken you.  Fedele. 
¶ Virginia, you are free,  
Assure yourself, your marriage never shall be staid by me.  Virginia. 
¶ Then if you love I will be yours.  Fortunio. 
¶ Shall I have your good will?  Ottaui. 
¶ You have.  Fortunio. 
¶ I love you then, and mean to love you still.  Medusa. 
¶ Now man and wife, Ottaviano harken unto me,  
Although this Gallant in Virginia's chamber you did see.  
Yet is her honour as it was, unspotted by the same,  
And kept by me, which ever had regard unto her name.  
Fortunio made his moan and said, he loved Virginia best,  
Virginia for Fedele's sake could never take her rest.  
His mind was on Victoria, Virginia light esteemed,  
Now that Virginia's life and liberty might be redeemed.  
I brought Fortunio to the house when she was fast a sleep,  
And close this night into her chamber both of us did creep.  
I made him to unbrace himself, and presently did call  
For you to come, as though some greater matter did befall.  
You came, he fled, and now is taken in Fedele's sight,  
As though Virginia had dishonoured been by him this night.  
Which is not so, but this was done to blear the gazer's eyes,  
To pleasure him, and save her life, this thing did I devise.  Pedante. 
¶ O mischievous head, master did you hear this gear,  
Such a girl is worth gold in a dear year.  Crack-st. 
¶ I Ipse tipse, tittle, tittle este amen,  
Such a wench is not be found in the world again.  
I have heard it often, and now I do prove,  
That women are subtle worms for the convariance of love.  Ottaui. 
¶ If this be true I joy?  Fortunio. 
¶ Else take my head,  
I came not nigh Virginia, although she were in bed.  Fedele. 
¶ Fortunio you are quit with me, for when we lay in scout,  
To watch by fair Victoria's house, who passed in and out.  
It was my man disguised, that issued forth out of the same,  
That for the nonce by me was set, to call Victoria by her name.  
He went unto Attilia, with counterfeited love,  
That by his means, from fair Victoria I might you remove.  
You seeing him, and hearing when he came forth, what he said,  
Thought he had been with her, when he had been but with the maid.  
Whereat you stormed, and left the chase of her that loved you dear,  
Which is no grief at all to me, that hopes to win her here.  
Therefore Victoria now forget Fortunio which is lost,  
And love Fedele, who for you, yet never spared cost.  
Let fall thy wrath, for give me too, that means to be thine own,  
'tis seldom seen but wars have end, when foes are overthrown.  Victoria. 
¶ Sith you have so prevented me, and perfect love protest,  
I will put up the injury, and yours for ever rest.  Crack-st, 
¶ My nose is jointed, I may go shoe the Gosling now if I will,  
He that eats with the devil without a long spoon, his fare will be ill.  
What spirits of the Buttery were abroad this night,  
I have been so hard hearted to mine enemies, that I think all the Gods of love ought me a spite.  
I grant I am none of these fine Criminadoes, that can tumble in a Gentlewoman's lap, and rumble in her ear,  
But without vantage be it spoken, I am as góod as the best at the push of a spear.  
I can cut and flash to make mine enemies to bleed.  
And prick it proudly I tell you, when I am surmounted upon my steed.  Sbirri. 
¶ Mistress Victoria, now I see this only rests to know,  
What shall be done unto your maid, or shall we let her go?  Victoria. 
¶ Sith with Crack-stone this night, you took my maid so short,  
To prison with her if you please, to cut off her resort.  Attilia. 
¶ Good mistress bear with me, I took no hurt by him at all,  
But mean to tell you justly how the matter did befall.  
The Schoolmaster that on Fedele ever doth attend,  
Promised to marry me this night, my servile life to end.  
Upon whose word, from you I fled, and staid for him in the street  
Where I against my will, with this Crack-stone did meet.  Crack-st 
¶ Bowl to thy bias, master Pediculus, I pray you take your wife,  
You and I for this matter will not stand at strife.  
Are you remembered what you said when you consulted with me,  
To come hither in this 'parel secretly.  Pedante. 
¶ What master Crack-stone, and mistress Attilia, you are welcome to the butts,  Crack-st 
¶ Welcome with a knaves name, I beshrumpe your guts.  Pedante. 
¶ Why so Sir?  Crack-st. 
¶ Didst not thou tell me, that in this 'parel mistress Victoria I should see.  
This night in the street to be compensed of my injury,  Pedante. 
¶ So you may if you please, take your eyes in your hand,  
Turn about Sir, and see where Victoria doth stand.  
And as for Attilia, as you brew, so bake,  
I am not so base minded your leavings to take.  Attilia. 
¶ Why master Pedante, will you serve me so?  Pedante. 
¶ I must I perceive whither I will or no.  Crack-st. 
¶ Draw Villain.  Sbirri. 
¶ Soft there Crack-stone, be not too rash to proffer fight,  
You and this maid together in the dark were ta'en this night.  
The matter is suspicious, sith he forsaketh her,  
To take her to your wife no time you should defer.  
We cannot force her upon him, sith she was ta'en with you.  
And howsoever you cloak it, none your meeting can allow.  Crack-st 
¶ Well sith there is no remorse of conscience to be found,  
How sayst thou Alice tittle tattle, art thou content by love to be bound?