THE REBELLION: A TRAGEDY: As it was acted nine days together, and divers times since with good applause, by his Majesty's Company of Revels.  
Written by THOMAS RAWLINS.  
LONDON: Printed by I. Okes, for Daniel Frere, and are to be sold at the Sign of the Red Bull in Little Britain. 1640.   

The Actors Names.  

A Cupid.  
King of Spain.  
Antonio a Count.  
Machvile a Count.  


Three Spanish Colonels.  
Alerzo.  
Fulgentio.  
Pandolpho.    
Petruchio. Governor of Filford.  
Raymond a moor General of the French Army.  


Three French Colonels.  
Leonis.  
Gilberty.  
Firenzo.    
Sebastiano, petruchio's Son, in the disguise of a Tailor called Giovanno.  
Old Tailor.  
Vermin his man.  
Three Tailors more.  
Captain of the Bandetty.  
Two Ruffians and a Brave.   


Philippa the Moor's wife.  
Auristella Machvile's wife.  
Evadne Antonio's Sister.  
Aurelia sebastiano's Sister.  
Nurse Attendant on Evadne.  
Attendants.   

The Scene Seville.     

To the Worshipful, and his honoured Kinsman, Robert Ducie, of Aston, in the County of Stafford Esquire: Son to Sir Robert Ducie, Knight and Baronet Deceased.  
Sir,  
NOt to boast of any perfections, I have never yet been Owner of Ingratitude, and would be loath Envy should tax me now; having at this time opportunity to pay part of that debt I owe your love. This Tragedy had at the presentment a general Applause; yet I have not that want of modesty, as to conclude it wholly worthy your Patronage; although I have been bold to fix your name unto it. Yet however, your Charity will be famous in protecting this Plant, from the breath of Zoilus; and forgiving this my confidence: and your acceptance cherish a study of a more deserving Piece, to quit the remainder of the engagement: In  
Your Kinsman ready to serve you. Thomas Rawlins.   

To the Reader.  
REader, if Courteous, I have not so little faith as to fear thy censure; since thou knowest youth hath many faults, whereon I depend: although my ignorance of the Stage is also a sufficient excuse; if I have committed any, let thy Candour judge mildly of them; and think not those voluntary favours of my friends (by whose compulsive persuasions I have published this) a commendations of my seeking, or through a desire in me to increase the Volume; but rather a care, that you (since that I have been over entreated to present it to you) might find therein something worth your time. Take no notice of my name, for a second work of this nature shall hardly bear it. I have no desire to be known by a threadbare Cloak, having a Calling that will maintain it woolly. Farewell.   

To his loving friend the Author, upon his Tragedy The Rebellion.  
TO praise thee friend, and show the reason why,  
Issues from honest love; not flattery.  
My will is not to flatter, nor for spite  
To praise, or dispraise; but to do thee right.  
Proud daring Rebels, in their impious way  
Of Machiavellian darkness; this thy Play  
Exactly shows; speaks thee Truths Satirist,  
Rebellions Foe, Times honest Artist.  
Thy continued Scenes, Parts, Plots, and Language can  
Distinguish (worthily) the virtuous Man  
From the vicious villain, Earth's fatal ill,  
Intending mischievous Traitor Machiavel.  
Him and his treacherous Complices, that strove  
(Like the Gigantic rebel's war 'gainst Jove)  
To disenthrone Spain's King, (the heavens anointed)  
By stern death all were justly disappointed,  
Plots meet with Counterplots, revenge, and blood,  
rebel's ruin, makes thy Tragedy good,  
Nath. Richards.   

To his worthy Esteemed Mr. Thomas Rawlins on his Rebellion.  
I May not wonder, for the world does know,  
What Poets can, and oft times reach unto.  
They oft work miracles: No marvel than  
Thou mak'st thy tailor here a Nobleman:  
Would all the Trade were honest too but he  
Hath learned the utmost of the Mystery,  
Filching with cunning industry, the heart  
Of such a beauty, which did prove the smart  
Of many worthy Lovers, and doth gain  
That prize which others laboured for in vain.  
Thou mak'st him valiant too, and such a spirit,  
As every Noble mind approves his merit.  
But what Renown thoust given his worth, 'tis fit  
The world should render to thy hopeful wit,  
And with a welcome Plaudit entertain  
This lovely issue of thy teeming brain.  
That their kind usage to this birth of thine,  
May win so much upon thee for each line  
Thou hast bequeathed the World thou'lt give her ten  
And raise more high the glory of thy Pen,  
Accomplish these our wishes, and then see,  
How all that love the Arts will honour thee.  
C. G.   

To my friend Mr. Rawlins, upon this Play, his Work.  
FRiend, in the fair completeness of your play.  
Y'ave courted Truth; in these few lines to say  
Something concerning it, that all may know  
I pay no more of praise than what I owe.  
'Tis good, and merit much more fair appears  
Apparelled in plain praise, then when it wears  
A complemental gloss. tailor's may boast  
Th'ave gained by your young Pen what they long lost  
By the old Proverb, which says, Three to a man:  
But to your vindicating Muse, that can  
Make one a man, and a man Noble, they  
Must wreaths of bays as their due praises pay.  
Robert Davenport.   

To the Author on his Rebellion.  
THy Play I ne'er saw: what shall I say then?  
I in my vote, must do as other men,  
And praise those things to all, which common Fame  
Does boast of, such a hopeful growing flame,  
Which in despite of flattery shall shine,  
Till Envy at thy Glory do repine:  
And on Parnassus cliffy top shall stand,  
Directing wandering wits to wished for Land;  
Like a Beacon o'th' muse's Hill remain,  
That still doth burn, not lesser light retain.  
To show that other wits, compared with thee,  
Is but Rebellion i'th' highest degree.  
For from thy Labours (thus much I do scan)  
A Tailor is ennobled to a man.  
R. W.   

To his dear friend, Mr. Thomas Rawlins.  
TO see a Springet of thy tender age,  
With such a lofty strain to word a Stage;  
To see a Tragedy from thee in print,  
With such a world of fine Meanders in't,  
puzzles my wondering soul: for there appears  
Such disproportion twixt thy Lines and Years.  
That when I read thy Lines, methinks I see  
The sweet tongued Ovid fall upon his knee,  
With (Parce precor) every line, and word,  
Runs in sweet numbers of its own accord:  
But I am wonder-struck, that all this while  
Thy unfeathered quill should write a Tragic style.  
This above all my admiration draws,  
That one so young should know Dramatic Laws.  
'Tis rare, and therefore is not for the span,  
Or greasy thumbs of every common man.  
The Damask Rose that sprouts before the Spring  
Is fit for none to smell at, but a King.  
Go on sweet friend, I hope in time to see  
Thy Temples rounded with the Daphnean Tree.  
And if men ask who nursed thee, I'll say thus,  
It was the Ambrosian Spring of Pegasus.  
Rob. Chamberlain.   

To his Friend Mr. Thomas Rawlins, on his Play called the Rebellion.  
I Will not praise thee Friend, nor is it fit,  
lest I be said to flatter what y' have writ.  
For some will say, I writ to applaud thee,  
That when I print thou mayst do so for me.  
Faith they're deceived, thou justly claimest thy bays.  
Virtue rewards herself; thy work's thy praise.  
T. jourdan.   

To the Author, Master Thomas Rawlins.  
KInd friend excuse me that do thus intrude,  
Thronging thy Volume with my lines so rude.  
Applause is needless here, yet this I owe  
As due to th' Muses: thine ne'er sued (I know)  
For hands, nor voice, nor pen, nor other praise  
whatsoe'er by mortals used, thereby to raise  
An author's name eternally to bliss;  
Were't rightly scanned (alas) what folly 'tis:  
As if a poet's single work alone,  
Wants power to lift him to the spangled Throne  
Of highest jove: or needs their lukewarm fires,  
To cut his way or pierce the circled Spheres.  
Foolish presumption! whosoever thou art,  
Thus fondly deemest of Poets princely Art.  
Here needs no paltry petty Pioneers skill  
To fortify; nay thy mellifluous quill  
Strikes Momus with a maze, and silence deep,  
And doomed poor Zoilus to the Leathean sleep.  
Then ben't dismayed, I know thy Book will live,  
And deathless Trophies to thy name shall give.  
Who doubts, where Venus and Minerva meet  
In every line, how pleasantly they greet?  
Strewing thy paths with Roses, red and white,  
To deck thy Silver-streams of fluent wit;  
And entertain the graces of thy mind.  
O may thy early head be sweet shelter find,  
Under the umbraes of those verdant bays:  
Ordained for sacred Posies sweet lays.  
Such are thy lines, in such a curious dress,  
Composed so quaintly; that if I may guess,  
None save thine own should dare t'approach the Press.  
I. Gough.   

To the ingenious Author.  
A Sour and austere kind of men there be,  
That would outlaw the laws of Poesy;  
And from a commonwealth's well governed Lists,  
Some grave and too much severe Platonists,  
Would exclude Poets: and have enmity  
With the soul's freedom, ingenuity.  
These are so much for wisdom, they forget  
That Heaven allow'th the use of modest wit.  
These think the Author of a jest alone,  
Is the man that deserves damnation:  
Holding mirth vicious, and to laugh a sin:  
Yet we must give these Cynics leave to grin.  
What will they think, when they shall see thee in  
The plains of fair Elysium? sit among  
A crowned troop of Poets? and a throng  
Of ancient Bards, which soul-delighting Choir;  
Sings daily Anthems to Apollo's Lyre.  
Amongst which thou shalt sit; and crowned thus,  
Shalt laugh at Cato and Democritus.  
Thus shall thy bays be superscribed; my Pen  
Did not alone make Plays, but also men.  
E. B.   

To his friend of the Author.  
Bless me you sacred Sister. What a throng  
Of choice encomion's pressed? such as was sung  
When the sweet singer Stesichorus lived;  
Upon whose lips the Nightingale survived.  
What makes my sickly fancy hither high  
(Unless it be for shelter?) when the eye  
Of each peculiar Artist makes a quest  
After my slender judgement: then a Jest  
Dissolves my thoughts to nothing, and my pains  
Has its reward in adding to my stains.  
But as the River of Athamas can fire  
The sullen wood, and make its flames aspire,  
So the infused comfort I receive  
By th' tie of friendship, prompts me to relieve  
My fainting spirits; and with a full sail,  
Rush 'mongst your argosies despite of hail,  
Or storms of Critics, Friend, to thee I come,  
I know th' hast harbour, I defy much room:  
Besides, I'll pay thee for't in grateful Verse,  
Since that thou art wit's abstract, I'll rehearse:  
Nothing shall wool your ears with a long Phrase,  
Of a sententious folly; for to raise  
Sad Pyramids of flattery, that may be  
Condemned for the sincere prolixity.  
Let Envy turn her Mantle, and expose  
Her rotten entrails to infect the Rose,  
Or pine like greenness of thy extant wit:  
Yet shall the homer's Shield demolish it.  
Upon thy Quill as on an eagle's wing,  
Thou shalt be led through th' air's sweet whispering:  
And with thy Pen thou shalt engrave thy name,  
(Better than Pencil) in the List of fame.  
I. Tatham.   

On Master Rawlins and his Tailor in the Rebellion.  
IN what a strange dilemma stood my mind,  
When first I saw the Tailor? and did find  
It so well fraught with wit: but when I knew  
The Noble Tailor to proceed from you;  
I stood amazed, as one with thunder struck.  
And knew not which to read; you, or your Book.  
I wonder how you could, being of our race,  
So Eaglelike look Phoebus in the face.  
I wonder how you could, being so young  
And teeming yet, encounter with so strong  
And firm a Story, 'twould indeed have proved  
A subject for the wisest, that had loved  
To suck at Aganippe. But go on,  
My best of friends, and as you have begun  
With that is good, so let your after times  
Transcendent be. Apollo he still shines  
On the best wits; and if a Momus chance  
On this thy Volume scornfully to glance,  
Melpomene will defend, and you shall see,  
That Virtue will at length make Envy flee.  
I. Knight.   

To his Ingenious Friend Mr. Rawlins, the Author of the Rebellion.  
WHat need I strive to praise thy worthy frame,  
Or raise a Trophy to thy lasting name?  
Were my bad wit with Eloquence refined,  
When I have said my most, the most's behind.  
But that I might be known for one of them,  
Which do admire thy wit, and love thy pen.  
I could not better show forth my good will,  
Than to salute you with my Virgin Quill.  
And bring you something to adorn your head  
Among a throng of friends, who oft have read  
Your learned Poems, and do honour thee:  
And thy bright Genius. How like a curious tree  
Is thy sweet fancy, bearing fruit so rare  
The Learned still will covet. Momus no share  
Shall have of it; but end his wretched days  
In grief, 'cause now now he seeth th' art Crowned with bays.  
Jo. Meriell.   

THE REBELLION: A TRAGEDY.  Enter severally, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho. Alerzo. 
Colonel  Ful. 
Signior Alerzo.  Aler. 
Here.  PAn. 
Signiors well met:  
The lazy morn has scarcely trimmed herself  
To entertain the Sun; she still retains  
The slimy tincture of the banished night:  
I hardly could discern you.  Aler. 
But you appear fresh as a City Bridegroom,  
That has signed his wife a warrant for the  
Grafting horns; how fares Belinda,  
After the weight of so much sin? you lay with her  
tonight; come, speak, did you take up on trust,  
Or have you pawned a Colony of Oaths?  
Or an embroidered Belt? or have you ta'en  
The courtier's trick, to lay your sword at mortgage?  
Or perhaps a Feather? 'twill serve in traffic,  
To return her Ladyship, a Fan, or so.  Pan. 
You're merry.  Ful. 
Come be free,  
Leave modesty for women to gild  
Their pretty thriving Art of plenitude,  
To enrich their husband's brows with cornucopiaes:  
A Soldier and thus bashful!  
Pox be open.  Pan. 
Had I the Pox good Colonel, I should stride  
Far opener then I do:  
But pox o'the fashion.  Aler. 
Count Antonio. To them enter Antonio.  Ful. 
Though he appear fresh as a bloom  
That newly kissed the Sun, adorned with pearly  
Drops, flung from the hand of the rose fingered morn,  
Yet in his heart lives a whole Host of valour.  Pan. 
He appears  
A second Mars.  Aler. 
More powerful since he holds Wisdom  
And Valour captive. Whilst they salute Antonio enters Count Machvile.  Ful. 
Let us salute him.  Mach. 
Hallow close they strike,  
As if they heard a winged thunderbolt, threatened his death  
And each ambitious were to lose his life;  
So it might purchase him a longer being:  
Their breath engenders like two peaceful winds,  
That join a friendly league, and fill the air  
With silken music.  
I may pass by and scarce be spared a look,  
Or any else but young Antonio.  
Rise from thy scorching Den thou soul of mischief.  
My blood boil hotter than the poisoned flesh  
Of Hercules clothed in the Centaurs shirts:  
Swell me revenge, till I become a hill  
High as Olympus' cloud dividing top;  
That I might fall, and crush them into air.  
He observe. Exit behind the hangings.  Ant. 
Commandy the all  
This little World I'm Master of contains,  
And be assured 'tis granted; I have a life,  
I owe to death; and in my country's causes I should—  Ful. 
Good sir no more,  
This ungrateful Land owes you too much already.  Aler. 
And you still bind it in stronger Bonds.  Pan. 
Your noble deeds, that like to thoughts outstrip  
The fleeting clouds, dash all our hopes of payment:  
We are poor but in unprofitable thanks;  
Nay that cannot rehearse enough your merit.  Ant. 
I dare not hear this; pardon bashful ears  
For suffering such a scarlet to o'erspread  
Your burning Portals.  
Gentlemen your discourses taste of Court,  
They have a relish of known flattery;  
I must deny to understand their folly:  
Your pardon, I must leave you,  
Modesty commands.  Ful. 
Your honour's vassals.  Ant. 
O good Colonel be more a Soldier,  
Leave compliments for those that live at ease,  
To stuff their Table Books; and o'er a board,  
Made gaudy with some Pageant, beside custards,  
Whose quaking strikes a fear into the eaters,  
Dispute 'em in a fashionable method.  
A soldier's language should be as his calling,  
(Ruff) to declare he is a man of fire.  
Farewell without the straining of a sinew,  
No superstitious cringe; adieu Exit.  Aler. 
is't not a hopeful Lord?  
Nature to him has chained the people's hearts;  
Each to his Saint offers a form of prayer  
For young Antonio.  Pan. 
And in that loved name pray for the Kingdoms good.  Ful. 
Count Machiavel. Machvile from behind the hangings.  Aler. 
Let's away.  Exeunt: manet Matchvill. 
Heart wilt not burst with rage, to see these slaves  
Fawn like to whelps on young Antonio,  
And fly from me as from infection? Death,  
Confusion, and the list of all diseases, wait upon your lives  
Till you be ripe for Hell; which when it gapes  
May it devour you all: stay Machvile,  
Leave this same idle chat, it becomes woman  
That has no strength; but what her tongue  
Makes a Monopoly, be more a man,  
Think, think; in thy brains mint  
Coin all thy thoughts to mischief:  
That may act revenge at full.  
Plot, plot, tumultuous thoughts, incorporate;  
Beget a lump howe'er deformed, that may at length  
Like to a Cub licked by the careful Dam,  
Become like to my wishes perfect vengeance.  
Antonio, I Antonio; nay all  
Rather than lose my will, shall headlong fall  
Into eternal ruin; my thoughts are high,  
Death sit upon my brow; let every frown,  
Banish a soul that stops me of a crown. Exit.  Enter Evadne and Nurse. Evad. 
The tailor yet returned Nurse?  Nur. 
Madam not yet.  Evad. 
I wonder why he makes gowns so imperfect  
They need so many says.  Nur. 
Truly, insooth, and in good deed la Madam  
The stripling is in love deep, deep in love.  Evad. 
Ha,  
Does his soul shoot with an equal Dart  
From the commanding Bow of love's great God,  
Keep passionate time with mine? or has aside.  
She spied my error to reflect with eager beams  
Of thirsty love upon a tailor, being myself  
Borne high?— I must know more.  
In love good Nurse; with whom?  Nur. 
Hey-hoe, truly madam 'tis a fortune,  
Cupid good lad, praised be his godhead for't  
Has thrown upon me, and I am proud on't;  
O 'tis a youth jocund as sprightly May,  
One that will do discreetly with a wife,  
Board her without direction from the stars,  
Or counsel from the Moon to do for Physic;  
No, he's a back;— O 'tis a back indeed.  Evad. 
Fie this becomes you not.  Nur. 
Besides, he is of all that conquering Calling,  
A tailor madam; O 'tis a taking Trade:  
What Chambermaid, with reverence may  
I speak, of those lost Maiden heads,  
Could long hold out against a tailor?  Evad. 
You're uncivil.  Nur. 
What aged Female, for I must confess I am  
Worn threadbare,  
would not be turned and live a marriage life  
To purchase Heaven?  Erad. 
Heaven—  Nur. 
Yes my dear Madam Heaven, whither  
My most sweet Lady but to Heaven? hell's a  
tailor's warehouse; he has the Keys, and sits  
In triumph cross legged o'er the mouth:  
It is no place of horror.  
There's no flames made blue with Brimstone;  
But the bravest silks, so fashionable:  
O I do long to wear such properties.  Evad. 
Leave your talk,  
One knocks, go see. Knocks within.  Nurs. 
O 'tis my love. I come. Exit.  Evad. 
A tailor, fie, blush my too tardy soul,  
And on my brow place a becoming scorn,  
Whose fatal sight may kill his mounting hopes.  
Were he but one that when 'twas said he's borne,  
Had been borne noble, high,  
Equal in blood to that our House boasts great;  
I'd fly into his arms with as much speed,  
As an air cutting arrow to the stake.  
But O he comes, my fortitude is fled.  Enter Nurse and Giovanno with a Gown. Gio. 
Yonder she is and walks, yet in sense strong enough to maintain Argument, she's under my cloak; for the best part of a Lady as this age goes is her Clothes; in what reckoning aught we Tailors to be esteemed then, that are the master workmen to correct nature? You shall have a Lady in a Dialogue with some gallant, touching his Suit, the better part of man, so suck the breath that names the skilful Tailor as if it nourished her. Another Dona fly from the close embracements of her Lord, to be all over measured by her Tailor. One will be sick forsooth, and bid her maid deny her to this Don, that Earl, the other marquess, nay to a Duke; yet let her tailor lace and unlace her gown, so round the skirts to fit her to the fashion: here's one has in my sight made many a noble Don to hang the head, Dukes and Marquesses, three in a morning break their fasts on her denials; yet I, her Tailor, blessed be the kindness of my loving stare, am ushered; she smiles and says I have stayed too long, and then finds fault with some slight stitch, that eyelet hole's too close, then must I use my Bodkin 'twill never please else; all will not do, I must take it home, for no cause but to bring it her again next morning. we Tailors are the men spite o'the Proverb, Ladies cannot live without. 
It is we  
That please them best, in their commodity:  
There's magic in our habits, Tailors can  
Prevail 'bove him, honour styles best of man.   Evad. 
Bid him draw near.  Nur. 
Come hither love, sweet chuck  
My Lady calls.  Gio. 
What means this woman? sure she loves me too,  
Tailors shall speed had they no tongues to woo:  
Women would sue to them.  Evad. 
What have you done it now?  Gio. 
Madam your gown by my industry  
Is purged of errors.  Evad. 
Lord what a neat methodical way you have  
To vent your Phrases; pray when did you commence?  Gio. 
What mean you Madam?  Evad. 
Doctor I mean, you speak so physical.  Nur. 
Nay Madam 'tis a youth, I praise my stars  
For their kind influence, a woman may be proud on,  
And I am.  
O 'tis a youth in print, a new Adonis,  
And I could wish, although my glass tells me  
I'm wondrous fair, I were a Venus for him.  Gio. 
O Lady, you are more fairer by far.  Nur. 
La you there Madam.  Gio. 
Where art thou man? art thou transformed?  
Or art thou grown so base that  
This ridiculous witch should think I love her?  Evad. 
Leave us.  Nur. 
I go  
Duck, I'll be here anon,  
I will Dove. Exit.  Gio. 
At your best leisure.  
Protect me manhood, lest my glutted sense  
Feeding with such an eager appetite on  
Your rare beauty, breaking the sluices,  
Burst into a flood of passionate tears;  
I must, I will enjoy her, though a  
Destroying clap from jove's Artillery were the reward:  
And yet dull-daring fir by your favour no,  
He must be more than savage can attempt aside.  
To injure so much spotless innocence:  
Pardon great Powers the thought of such offence.  Evad. 
When Sabastiano clad in conquering steel,  
And in a phrase able to kill, or from a coward's heart  
Banish the thought of fear; would me,  
Won not so much upon my captive soul  
As this youth's silence does: aside.  
Help me some power out of this tangling maze,  
I shall be lost else.  Gio. 
Fear to the breast of women,  
Build thy throne on their soft hearts;  
Mine must not be thy slave.  
Your pleasure Madam.  Evad. 
I have a question must be directly answered  
No excuse, but from thy heart a truth.  Gio. 
Command me Madam, were it a secret  
On whose hinges hung the casements of my life,  
Yet your command shall be obeyed; to the least  
Scruple.  Evad. 
I take your word,  
My aged Nurse tells me you love her,  
Answer; is't a truth?  Gio. 
She's jealous, I'll try;  
As Oracle.  Evad. 
(Ha)  Gio. 
'tis so, I'll further; I love her Madam,  
With as rich a flame as Anchorites  
Do Saints they offer prayers too:  
I hug her memory as I would embrace  
The breath of jove, when it pronounced me  
Happy; or Prophet, that should speak my  
After life great, even with adoration deified.  Evad. 
My life, like to a bubble i'th' air,  
Dissolved by some uncharitable wind,  
Denies my body warmth: your breath  
Has made me nothing. she faints.  Gio. 
Rather let me lose all external being.  
Madam, good Madam.  Evad. 
You say you love her.  Gio. 
Madam, I do.  
Can any love the beauty of a stone,  
Set by some curious Artist in a Ring,  
But he must attribute some to  
The File that adds unto the lustre?  
You appear like to a gem, cut by the  
Steady hand of careful Nature, into such  
Beauteous Tablets, that dull Art,  
Famous in skilful flattery, is become  
A Novice in what Fame proclaimed him Doctor;  
He can't express one spark of your great lustre.  
Madam, 'those Beauties that, but studied on  
By their admirers, are deified, serve  
But as spots, to make your red and white  
Envied of cloistered Saints.  Evad. 
Have I ungrateful man, like to the Sun,  
That from the Heavens sends down his  
Cherishing beams on some religious plant,  
That with a bow the worship of the  
Thankful, pays the preserver of his life,  
And growth: But thou, unthankful man,  
In scorn of me, to love a calendar of many  
Years.  Gio. 
Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious Rite,  
The Heathens used to pay their gods, I offer up.  
A life, that until now ne'er knew a price;  
Made dear because you love it.  Evad. 
Arise; it is a Ceremony due unto none but heaven.  Gio. 
Here I'll take root, and grow into my grave,  
Unless dear god less you forget to be  
Cruel to him adores you with a zeal,  
Equal to that of Hermits.  Evad. 
I believe you, and thus exchange a devout vow,  
Humbly upon my knees, that though the  
Thunder of my brother's rage should force divorce,  
Yet in my soul to love you; witness all  
The winged inhabitants of the highest heaven.  Gio. 
If sudden lightning, such as vengeful jove  
Clears the infectious air with, threatened to  
Scorch my daring soul to Cinders, if I  
Did love you, Lady, I would love you, spite  
Of the dogged Fates, or any power  
Those cursed Hags set to oppose me.  To them enter Nurse. Evad. 
Be thyself again.  Nurs. 
Madam, your Brother.  Evad. 
Fie, you have done it ill, our brother, say you?  
Pray you take it home and mend it.  Gio. 
Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave.  
Love I am made thy envy; I am he  
This Votress prays unto, as unto thee:  
tailors are more than men; and here's the odds,  
They make fine Ladies; Ladies make them gods:  
And so they are not men, but far above them:  
This makes the Tailors proud; then Ladies love them. Exit.  antony meets him. Ant. 
What's he that past?  Evad. 
My tailor.  Ant. 
There's something in his face I sure should know.  
But sister to your Beads; pray for distressed Scivel;  
Whilst I mount some watch tower,  
To o'erlook our enemies, religious laws  
Commands me fight for my loved country's cause. Exit.  Evad. 
Love bids me pray, and on his Altars make  
A Sacrifice, for my loved tailor's sake. Exit.  Alarum. Enter Raymond, Philippa, Leonis, Gilberty, and Fyrenzo. Ray. 
Stand.  Leo. 
Stand.  Gil. 
Stand.  Fir. 
Give the word through the Army, stand there.  Within. 
Stand, stand, stand, stand hoe.  Ray. 
Bid the Drum cease, whilst we embrace our love:  
Come my Philippa, like the twins of war,  
Laced in our freely Cornets, we're become  
The envy of those brain begotten gods,  
Mouldy Antiquity lifted to Heaven:  
Thus we exchange our breath; kisses.  Phil. 
My honoured Lord,  
Duty commands, I pay it back again,  
'Twill waste me into smoke else,  
Can my body retain that breath, that would  
Consume an Army, dressed in a rougher habit.  
Play deliver (come I'm a gentle thief)  
The breath you stole.  Ray. 
Restore back mine— So, go pitch our tent, we'll  
Have a Combat i'th' field of love, with thee  
Philippa, ere we meet the foe: thou art  
A friendly enemy. How say my Lords,  
Does not my Love appear,  
Like to the issue of the brain of jove,  
Governess of Arms and Arts, Minerva?  
Or a selected beauty from a troop of Amazons.  Lords. 
She is a Mine of valour.  Phil. 
Lords spare your praises till like Bradament,  
The mirror of our Sex, I make the foe.  
Of France and us, crouch like a whelp,  
Awed by the heaving of his Master's hand;  
My heart runs through my arm, and when I deal  
A blow, it sinks a soul:  
My sword flies nimbler than the bolts of jove,  
And wounds as deep: Spain; thy proud host shall feel  
Death has bequeathed his office to my steel.  
Ray. Come on brave Lords, upon your general's word,  
Philippa loves no parley, like the sword. Exeunt.  Enter Giovannno, old tailor, Virmine, and two more. Gio. 
Come bullies, come; we must forsake the use of nimble shears, and now betake us to our Spanish needles, Stelletto blades, and prove the Proverb lies, lies in his throat: one Tailor can erect sixteen, nay more, of upstart Gentlemen, known by their Clothes, and leave enough materials in hell to damn a broker.  Old. 
We must to the wars my boys.  Virm. 
How Master, to the wars?  Old. 
I to the wars Virmine, what sayst thou to that?  Virm. 
Nothing, but that I had rather stay home: O the good penny bread at breakfasts that I shall lose! Master, good Master let me alone, to live with honest john, noble John Black.  2 Tay. 
Wilt thou disgrace thy worthy calling, Virmine?  Virm. 
No, but I am afraid my calling will disgrace me: I shall be gaping for my morning's loaf, and dram of Ale; I shall; and now and then look for a cabbage leaf, or an odd remnant to clothe my bashful buttocks.  Old. 
You shall.  Virm. 
Yes marry; why I hope poor Vermin must be fed, and will be fed, or I'll torment you.  Gio. 
Master I take privilege from your love to hearten on my fellows.  Old, 
ay, I; do, do good boy. Exit.  Gio. 
Come my bold fellows, let us eternize,  
For our Countries good, some noble act  
That may by time be Registered at full;  
And as the year renews, so shall our fame  
Be fresh to after times: the tailor's name,  
So much trod under, and the scorn of all  
Shall by this act be high whilst others fall.  3 Tay. 
Come Vermin, come.  Virm. 
Nay if virmine slip from the back of a Tailor, spit him with a Spanish Needle; or torment him in the louse's Engine: your two thumb nails. Exit all but Giovanno.  Gio. 
The City sieged, and thou thus chained  
In airy fetters of a lady's love;  
It must not be, stay, 'tis Evadne's love;  
Her life is with the City ruined, if the  
French become victorious:  
Evadne must not die, her Chaster name  
That once made cold, now doth my blood inflame. Exit.  

Act Second.  

Scene I. A Table and Chairs.  Enter (after a shout crying Antonio,) the Governor and Count Machvile. Gov. 
HEll take their spacious throats, we shall ere long  
Be pointed as a prodige;  
Antonio is the man they load with praise,  
And west and as a cipher to advance  
Him by a number higher.  Mach. 
Now Machvile plot his ruin, aside.  
It is not to be borne; are not you our  
Masters substitute? then why should he  
Usurp a privilege without your loave,  
To preach unto the people a Doctrine  
They ought not hear:  
He incites 'em not to obey your charge,  
Unless it be to knit a friendly league  
With the opposing French; laying before 'em  
A troop of feigned dangers will ensue,  
If we do bid 'em battle.  Gov. 
Dares he do this?  Mach. 
'Tis done already;  
Smother your anger and you shall see, here  
At the Counsel board he'll break into a  
Passion;— which I'll provoke him to.— aside  To them Antonio, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho: they sit in Counsel. Gov. 
Never more need, my worthy partners, in  
The dangerous brunts of Iron war, had we  
Of Counsel: the hot reigned French, led by that  
Haughty moor, (upon whose sword sits  
Victory enthroned) daily increase;  
And like the Army of another Xerxes,  
Make the o'er burdened earth groan at their weight.  
We cannot long hold out; nor have we hope  
Our Royal Master can raise up their Siege  
ere we be forced to yield:  
My Lord your counsel 'tis a desperate grief.  Mach. 
And must my Lord find undelayed release?  
Noble Commanders since that wars grim god,  
After our sacrifice of many lives,  
Neglects our offerings, and repays our service  
With loss; 'tis good to deal with policy.  
He's no true Soldier that deals needless blows  
With the endangering of his life; and may  
Walk in a shade of safety, yet o'erthrow  
His towering enemy.  
Great Alexander made the then known world  
Slave to his powerful will, more by the help  
Of politic wit,  
Than by the ruff compulsion of the sword.  
Troy that endured the Grecians ten years' Siege,  
By policy was fired, and became  
Like to a lofty Beacon all on flame.  Gov. 
Hum, hum.  Mach. 
Suppose the French be marked for conquerors:  
Stars have been crossed, when at a natural birth  
They dart prodigious beams; their influence  
Like to the flame of a new lighted Tapor,  
Has with the breath of policy been blown  
Out, even to nothing.  Ful. 
Hum, hum.  Aler. 
This has been studied.  Pan. 
He's almost out.  Gov. 
Good,  
But to the matter;  
Your counsel.  Mach. 
'Tis this my Lord;  
That straight before the French have pitched their Tents,  
Or raised a work before our City walls;  
As yet their ships have not o'er spread the sea,  
We send a Regiment that they with speed  
Land on the Marshes, and begird their backs,  
Whilst we open our Gates, and with astrong assault  
Force 'em retreat into the arches of death  
So the revengeful earth shall be their tomb,  
That did ere while trample her teeming womb.  Gov. 
Machvile speaks Oracle;  
What says Antonio?  Ant. 
Nothing.  Gov. 
How?  Ant. 
Nothing.  Mach. 
It takes: revenge,  
I hug thee; young Lord thou 'art lost. aside.  Gov. 
Speak, Antonio your counsel.  Ant. 
Nothing.  Gov. 
How?  Ant. 
So;  
And could my wish obtain a sudden grant  
From you Tribunal, I would crave, my senses  
Might be all steeped in Lethe, to forget  
What Machvile has spoken.  Mach. 
Ha, it takes unto my wish. aside.  
Why Antonio?  Ant. 
Because you speak  
Not like a man, that were possessed with a  
Mere soldier's heart; much less a soul guarded  
With subtle sinews: O madness, can there be  
In nature such a prodigy so senseless,  
So much to be wondered at,  
As can applaud or lend a willing ear  
To that my blushes do betray I've been  
Tardy to hear? your childish policy.  Gov. 
Antonio you're too bold; this usurped liberty  
To abuse a man of so much merit, is not  
Seemly in you: nay I'll term it sauciness.  Ant. 
Nay then my Lord, I claim the privilege  
Of a counsellor, and will object.  
This my Prophetic fears, whispered my heart:  
When from a watch Tower I beheld the French  
Erect their spears; which like a mighty Grove  
Denied my eyes any other object:  
The tops showed by a stolen reflection from  
The Sun like Diamonds, or as the glorious  
Guilder of the day, should deign a lower visit,  
Than my warm blood; that used to play like  
Summer, felt a change; Gray-bearded winter  
Froze my very soul, till I became  
Like the Pyrenian Hills, rapt in a robe of Ice:  
My Attic fears froze me into a statue.  Aler. 
Cowardly Antonio.  Ful. 
I have lost my faith,  
And can behold him now without a wonder.  Gov. 
Antonio, you're too long and wrack our patience;  
Your counsel?  Ant. 
I feared, but what? not our proud enemies,  
No, did they burden all our Spanish world:  
And I, poor I; only survived to threat defiance  
In the monsieurs teeth, and stand Defendant  
For my country's cause; naked, unarmed.  
I'd through their bragging Host, and pay my life  
A Sacrifice to death, for my loved country's safety.  Aler. 
Fulgentio thou hast not lost  
Thy faith?  Ful. 
Noah, i'm reformed he's valiant.  Go. 
Antonio your counsel.  Ma. 
I your counsel.  An. 
Our foes increase to an unreckoned number:  
We less than nothing, since we have no hope  
To arrive a number, that may cope with  
Half their Army.  
'Tis my counsel we strike a league:  
'Tis wisdom to sue peace, where powerful Fate  
Threatens a ruin: left repent too late.  Ful. 
'Tis godlike Counsel.  Aler. 
And becomes the tongue of young Antonio.  Gov. 
Antonio let me tell you, you have lost  
Your valiant heart; I can with safety now  
Term you a Coward.  Ant. 
Ha.  Gov. 
Nay more,  
Since by your Oratory, you strive  
To rob your Country of a glorious conquest;  
That may to after times beget a fear,  
Even with the thought should awe the trembling  
World: you are a Traitor.  An. 
Ha my Lord, Coward and Traitor, 'tis a damned lie,  
And in the heart of him dares say't again  
I'll write his error.  M. 
'Tis as I would have't.  Fu. 
Noble Antonio.  Aler. 
Brave spirited Lord.  Fu. 
The mirror of a Soldier.  Go. 
O are you moved sir, has the deserved name  
Of Traitor pricked you?  An. 
Deserved?  Go. 
Yes.  M. 
Yes.  An. 
Machvile thou liest; hadst thou a heart  
Of hardened steel, my powerful Arm  
Should pierce it.  They fight all in a confused manner: Antonio kills the Governor. Machvile falls. Aler. 
The Governor  
Slain by Antonio's hand?  Fu. 
No, by the hand of justice; fly, fly my Lord.  Aler. 
Send for a Chirurgeon to dress Count Machvile,  
He must be now our Governor; the King  
Signed it in the dead Governors Commission. Exeunt sol.  An. 
Now I repent too late my cash contempt,  
The horror of a Murderer will still  
Follow my guilty thoughts, fly where I will. Exit Antonio.  Mach. 
I'm wounded, else Coward Antonio  
Thou shouldst not fly from my revengeful Arm:  
But may my curses fall upon thy head  
Heavy as thunder; mayst thou die  
Burdened with ulcerous sins, whose very  
Weight may sink thee down to Hell:  
Beneath the reach of smooth-faced mercy's arm.  A shout within crying Antonio. 
Confusion choke your rash officious throats,  
And may that breath that speaks his loathed name  
Beget a Plague, whose hot infectious air  
May scald you up to blisters, which foretell  
A purge of life: up Machvile,  
Thoest thy will, howe'er cross Fate  
Divert the people's hearts; they must perforce  
Sue to that Shrine our liking shall erect.  
The Governor is dead, Antonio's lost  
To any thing but death; 'tis out glad fate,  
To gripe the staff of what we looked for state.  
My bloods ambitious, and runs through my veins  
Like nimble water through a Leaden Pipe  
Up to some barren Mountain: I must have more,  
All wealth in my thoughts to a Crown is poor.  Enter Giovanno, Evadne and Nurse. Gio. 
'Tis a near Gown and fashionable  
Madam; is't not love?  Nur. 
Upon my Virginity wonderful handsome:  
dear, when we are married I'll have such a one;  
Shall I not chicken? ha.  Gi. 
What else, kind Nurse.  Nur. 
Truly you Tailors are the most sanctified members  
Of a Kingdom:  
How many crooked and untoward bodies have  
You set upright, that they go now so straight in their  
Lives and conversation, as the proudest on them all?  Gi. 
That's certain, none prouder.  Evad. 
How mean you sir?  Gi. 
Faith Madam your crooked movables in artificial bodies, that rectify the deformity of nature's overplus, as bunching backs, or scarcity, as scanty shoulders, are the proudest creatures; you shall have them jet with it an undaunted boldness; for the truth is, what they want in substance they have in air: 
They will scold the Tailor out of his Art,  
And impute the defect of nature to his want  
Of skill, though his labour make her appearance  
Pride worthy.   Nur. 
Well said my bird's eye, stand for the credit of  
Tailors whilst thou livest; wilt thou not Chuck?  
Ha, sayst thou my dear?  Gi. 
I were ungrateful else.  Evad. 
Nurse pray leave us, your presence makes your  
Sweet heart negligent of what he comes about;  
Pray be won to leave us here.  Nur. 
Madam your will's obeyed:  
Yet I can hardly pass from thee my love.  
At such a sudden warning.  Gi. 
Your eager love may be termed dotage,  
For shame confess yourself to less expressions:  
Leave my Lady.  Nur. 
A kiss and then I go, so; farewell my Duck. Exit.  Gi. 
Death she has left a scent to poison me;  
Love her said she, is any man so mad, to hug a disease,  
Or embrace a colder Image the Pygmalion's  
Or play with the bird of  
Frosty antiquity, not I:  
Her gums stink worse than a Pest-house,  
And more danger of infecting.  
As I'm a mortal Tailor; and your servant Madam,  
Her breath has tainted me I dare not salute  
Your Ladyship.  Evad. 
Come you are loath to part with't 'tis so sweet.  Gi. 
Sweet say you Madam, a muster of diseases  
Can't smell worse, than her rotten teeth.  
Excuse my boldness, to defer your longing;  
Thus I am new created with your breath. Kisses.  
My gaping pores will ne'er be satisfied.  
Again— they still are hungry.  Evad. 
My dear friend, let not thy lovely person  
March with the scolding peace affrighting Drum:  
War is too cruel: come I'll chain  
You here, here in my arms; and stifle you  
With kisses; you sha' not go— by this you sha' not go,  Gi. 
By this I must.  Evad. 
I'll smother that harsh breath. They kiss.  Gi. 
Again I countercheck it.  Enter Antonio as pursued, sees them and stands amazed. Ant. 
O sister, ha!  
What killing sight is this! cannot be she.  
Sister.  Evad. 
O my dear friend, my brother, we're undone.  Ant. 
Degenerate girl, lighter than wind or air;  
Canst thou forget thy birth? or 'cause thou'rt fair  
Art privileged, dost think with such a zeal  
To grasp an under shrub? dare you exchange  
Breath with your Tailors, without fear of vengeance  
From the disturbed ghosts of our dead Parents,  
For their blood's injury? or are your favours  
Grown prostitute to all? my unkind Fate  
Grieves me not half so much, as thee forgetful.  Gi, 
Sir if on me this language, I must tell you,  
You are too rash to censure. My unworthiness that makes  
Her seem so ugly in your eyes, perhaps  
Hangs in these clothes, and's shifted off with them.  
I am as noble, but that I hate to make  
Comparisons, as any you can think worthy  
To be called her husband.  An. 
Shred of a slave thou 'liest.  Gi. 
Sir I am hasty too; yet in the presence of my  
Mistress can use a temper.  An. 
Brave; your mistress.  Enter Machvile with Officers. Ma. 
Lay hold on him,  
Ere we presume to meet the enemy  
we'll purge the City; lest the wrath of heaven  
Fall heavy on us: Antonio I arrest thee  
Of Capital treason, 'gainst the King and Realm.  
To prison with him.  Evad. 
O my lost brother!  Gi. 
'Tis but an error, treason d'ye call it; to kill  
The Governor in heat of blood, and not intended?  
For my Evadne's sake, something I'll do  
Shall save his life. Exit.  Ma. 
To prison with him.  An. 
Farewell Evadne, as thou lovest the peace  
Of our dead Ancestors, cease to love  
So loathed a thing; a Tailor,  
Why? 'tis the scorn of all; therefore be ruled  
By thy departing Brother, do not mix  
With so much baseness:  
Come Officers, bear me e'en where you please,  
My oppressed conscience nowhere can have ease. Exit with Officers.  Ma. 
Lady we here enjoin you to  
Your Chamber as a prisoner, to  
Wait a further censure; your brother's  
Fault has pulled a punishment upon your head,  
Which you must suffer.  Evad. 
'e'en what you please, your tyranny can't bear  
A shape so bad to make Evadne fear:  
Strong innocence shall guard my afflicted soul,  
Whose constancy shall tyranny control. Exeunt.  A noise within crying Rescue, Rescue. Enter Antonio and Guard, to them Giavanno and Tailors and Rescues him; and beat them off. Enter a Officer meeting Machvile. Of. 
A troop of Tailors by force have ta'en  
Antonio from us, and have borne him (spite  
Of the best resistance we could make) unto some  
Secret place, we can not find him.  Ma. 
Screech owl dost know what thou hast said?  
Death, find him or you die: O my cross stars,  
He must not live to torture our next sense,  
But die; though he had no fault but innocence. Exit.  Enter Giovanno, Antonio, and the old Tailor. Gi. 
Can this kindness merit your love?  
Do I deserve your sister?  An. 
My sister! worthy Tailor; 'tis a gift lies not in me to give: ask something else, 'tis thine, although it be gained with the quite extinguishing of this; this breath you gave me.  Gi. 
Have not I—  An. 
Speak no further, I confess you have been all unto me, life, and being; I breathe but with your licence: will no price buy out your interest in me, but her love? I tell thee Tailor, I have blood runs in me, Spain cannot match for greatness, next her Kings. Yet to requite thy love I'll call thee friend, be thou Antonio's friend; a favour nobles have thirsted for: will this requite thee?  Gi. 
Sir this may, but—  An. 
My sister thou wouldst say most worthy Tailor, she is not mine to give; honour spoke in my dying Father, 'tis a sentence that's Registered here, in Antonio's heart, I must not wed her, but to one in blood calls honour Father: Prithee be my friend, forget I have a sister; in love I'll be more than a brother; tho' not to mingle blood.  Gi. 
May I not call her mistress?  An. 
As a servant, far from the thoughts of Wedlock.  Gi. 
I'm yours, friend I am proud on't; you shall find,  
That though a Tailor, I'ave an honest mind.  
Pray Master help my Lord unto a Suit, his life  
Lies at your mercy.  1 Tay. 
I'll warrant you.  An. 
But for thy men.  1 Tay. 
O they are proud in that they rescued you,  
And my blood of honour; since you are pleased  
To grace the now declining Trade of Tailors,  
By being shrouded in their homely clothes,  
And deck a Shopboard with your noble person;  
The taunting scorns, the foul mouthed  
World, can throw upon our needful Calling  
Shall be answered:  
They injure honour, since your honour is a  
Noble practitioner in our Mystery.  Gi. 
Cheer up Antonio, take him in,  
The rest will make him merry; I'll go try  
The temper of a sword upon some Shield  
That guards a foe.  
Pray for my good success. Exit.  1 Tay. 
Come, come my Lord leave melancholy  
To hired slaves, that murder at a price:  
Yours was—  An. 
No more, flatter not my sin.  1 Tay. 
You are too strict a convertite, let's in. Exit.  After a confused noise within, Enter Raymond, Leonis, Gilberty hastily. Ra. 
What means this capering Echo?  
Or from whence did this so lively Counterfeit  
Of Thunder, break out to liberty?  Gil. 
'Tis from the City.  Ra. 
It cannot be, their voice, should outroar jove;  
Our Army like a Basilisk, has struck  
Death through their eyes; our number like a wind,  
Broke from the Icy prison of the North,  
Has froze the Portals to their shivering hearts;  
They scarce have breath enough to speak't: A shout within.  
They live.  Gil. 
'tis certainly from thence.  Leo. 
You're deceived, poor Spaniards fear  
Has changed their elevated Gate to a dejection  
Their Planet struck.  Ra. 
'Tis from our jocund Fleet, my Genius prompts me;  
They have already ploughed the unruly seas,  
And with their breasts, proof 'gainst the battering  
Waves dashed the big billows into angry froth,  
And spite of the contentious full mouthed gods  
Of Sea and wind, have reached the City frontiers,  
And begirt her Navigable Skirts.  
Again: 'tis so. again within.  Gil. 
My Creeds another way;  
I have no faith but to the City.  Alarum. Enter a Soldier bloody. Leo. 
Here's one,  
Now we shall know: ha! he appears  
Like one composed of horror.  Ra. 
What speaks thy troubled front?  Leo. 
Speak crimson Metor.  Ra. 
Speak Prodigy, or on my sword thou fallest.  Sol. 
The bold Spaniards, setting aside all cold acknowledgement  
Of any odds, or notice of the number our Army  
Is made proud with, sends from their Walls  
More lightning, than great jove affrights  
The trembling world with, when the air  
Is turned to mutiny.  Ra. 
Villain thou liest;  
'Twere madness to believe thee.  
Foolish Spain, may like those Giants, that  
Heaped hill on hill, mountain on mountain,  
To pluck jove from heaven, who with  
A hand of vengeance flung 'em down beneath  
The centure, and those Cloud contemning Mounts,  
Heaved by the strength of their ambitious Arms,  
Became their Monuments: so Spain's rash  
Folly, from this arm of mine, shall find their  
Graves amongst the rubbish of their  
Ruined Cities. Enter a second soldier.  
What another! thy hasty news?  2 Mess. 
The daring enemies have through their gates  
Made a victorious sally; all our troops  
Have jointly like the dust before the wind,  
Made a dishonoured flight: Hark Alarum within.  
The Conquering foe makes hitherward.  Ra. 
Run to my Tent, fetch my Philippa:  
Slave why movest thou not?  2 Mess. 
The enemy's upon us.  Ra. 
Shall I send thy coward soul down the strikes him.  
Vaults of Horror: fly Villain, or thou diest.  Alarum. Enter Machvill, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, with Philippa prisoner, Giovanno with Tailors. Mach. 
Let one post to my Castle, and conduct my Lady,  
Tell her I have a prisoner would become proud  
In her forc't captivity to wait upon her beauty:  
Fly, let not the tardy clouds outsail thee.  Phil. 
Canst thou proud man think that Philipa's  
Heart, is humbled with her fortunes, (no didst thou  
Bring all the rough tortures  
From the world's Childhood) to this hour invented,  
And on my resolute body, proof against pain,  
Practised Sicilian tyranny.  
My Giant thoughts should like a cloud of wind,  
Contemning smoke, mingle with heaven:  
And not a look so base, as to be pitied, shall  
Give you cause of triumph.  Al. 
'Fore heaven a fiery girl.  Ful. 
A Masculine spirit.  Pan. 
An Amazon.  Ra. 
See my Phillipa, her rich colour's fled and like that foul  
The furrow fronted Fates have made an Anvil  
To forge diseases on, she's lost herself  
With her fled beauty; yet pale as she stands,  
She adds more glory to our churlish foe,  
Than bashful Titan to the Eastern world.  
Spaniards, she is a Conquest; Rome,  
When her two necked Eagles, awed the world  
Would have swum through their own blood to purchase:  
Nor must you enjoy that gem, the superstitious gods  
Would quarrel for, but through my heart.  
Courage brave friends, they're valiant that can fly  
I'th' mouth of danger; 'tis they win, though die.  Gia. 
This moor speaks truth,  
Wrapped in a voice of thunder.  Ra. 
Speak, my Philippa, what untutored slave  
Durst lay a rugged have upon thy softness?  Phi. 
'Twas the epitome of Hercules:  
No big Colossus, yet for strength far bigger:  
A little person great with matchless Valour.  Ra. 
What pains thou takest to praise  
Thine enemy.  Phi. 
'Twere sin to rob him, that has wasted so  
His blood for praise: this noble Soldier, he  
'Twas made me captive; nor can he boast  
'Twas in an easy combat; for my good  
Sword, now ravished from mine arm, forced crimson  
Drops, that like a gory sweat, buried  
His manly body in oblivion: those that were  
Skilled in his Effigies, as drunk with Lethe, had  
Forgot 'twas he; till by the drawing of the  
Rueful curtain they saw in him their error.  Ra. 
A common Soldier owner of a strength worthy  
Such praise? Dares he cope with the  
French General single?  Phi. 
My Lord, you must strike quick and sure  Ra. 
Why pause you? my Philippa must not stay,  
captivity's infection.  Ma. 
We have the day.  Ra. 
Not till you conquer me: which if my arm  
Be not by Witchcraft robbed of his late strength,  
Shall spin your labour to an ample length.  Ma. 
Upon him then.  Gia. 
Ods is dishonourable combat: my lads  
Let's one to one; I am for the moor.  Ale. 
Thee.  Ful. 
Tailor, you are too saucy.  Gia. 
Saucy?  Aler. 
untutored groom, Mechanic slave.  Gia. 
You have protection, by the Governors presence,  
Else my plumed Ostriches, 'tis not your feathers,  
More weighty than your heads, should stop  
My vengeance, but I'd text my wrong  
In bloody Characters upon your pampered flesh.  Ful. 
You would?  Gia. 
By Heaven I would.  Ful. 
You'd be advised, and render up your life a Sacrifice to patience.  Gia. 
Musk-Cat, Ido make your Civet worship stink first in your perfumed Buff.  Ale. 
Phlegmatic slave.  Gia. 
Blood less Commanders.  Fu. Pa. Ale. 
How.  Gia. 
So.  Fu. Pa. Ale. 
Let's reward his boldness. They fall upon Giavanno.  Ma. 
Whence this rashness?  Ra. 
Blessed occasion: let's on 'em. The French whisper.  The French fly upon 'em: They turn to their guard, and beat 'em off.   

Act Third.  

Scene I.  Enter Mach. Ful. Pan. Aler, Giavanno with Raimond Prisoner, and the rest of the Tailors. 
All the Tail. A Tailor, a Tailor, a Tailor.  Gia. 
Raimond you're now my prisoner:  
Blind Chance has favoured where your thoughts,  
And hope she meant to ruin  
From our discord, which heaven has made victorious,  
You meant to strike a harmony should glad you.  Ale. 
'Tis not to be borne: a Tailor! Whisper.  Ful. 
'Twas an affront gales me to think on't:  
Besides his saucy valour might have ruined all  
Our forward fortunes, had the French been  
Stronger: let him be banished.  Mac. 
It shall be so;  
My fears are built on grounds  
Stronger than Atlas' shoulders: this same Tailor  
Retains a spirit like the lost Antonio;  
Whose sister we will banish in pretence of  
Love to Justice; 'tis a good snare, to trap the  
Vulgar hearts: his, and her goods, to guild my  
Lawless doings, I'll give the poor, whose tongues  
Are i'their bellies: which being full,  
Is tipped with heartless prayers; but empty,  
A falling Planet is less dangerous; they'll down to  
Hell for curses. You Tailor.  Gia. 
My Lord.  Ma. 
Deliver up your prisoner.  Gia. 
You're obeyed.  Ma. 
So: now we command on forfeit of thy  
Life, you be not seen in any ground our  
Master's Title circles, within three days,  
Such a factious spirit we must not nourish:  
lest like the Fables Serpent, grown warm  
In your conceited worth, you sting  
Your country's Breasts, that nursed your valour.  Gi. 
This my reward?  Aler. 
More than thy worth deserves.  Gi. 
Pomander box thou liest.  Ful. 
Go purge yourself; your Country vomits you.  Gi. 
Slaves you're not worth my anger.  Ful. 
Go vent your spleen 'mongst satyrs, pen a  
Pamphlet, and call't the Scourge of greatness.  Aler. 
Or Spain's ingratitude.  Gi. 
Ye are not worth my breath,  
Else I should curse you; but I must weep,  
Not that I part from thee unthankful Spain,  
But my Evadne, well, it must be so:  
Heart keep thy still tough temper spite of woe. Exit.  Ma. 
My house shall be your prison,  
Attend 'em Colonel. Exit, Raimond, Philippa, Alerzo, Ful, Pana. mariet Tailors.  Ful. 
Please you walk?  1 Tay. 
My servant banished.  3 Tay. 
Famist master? nay saith and a Tailor  
Come to be famished, 'tis a hard World:  
No bread in this world here hoe, to save  
The renowned Corpse of a Tailor from famishing?  
'Tis no matter for drink, give me bread.  2 Tay. 
Thou hast a gut would swallow a peck Loaf.  3 Tay. 
I marry would it with vantage; I tell truth,  
And as the Proverb says: shame the Devil;  
If our Hell afford a Devil, but I see none  
Unless he appear in a delicious remnant of  
Nim'd Satin, and by my faith that's a courteous  
Devil, that suffers the Brokers to hang him  
In their ragged Ward robe; and used to sell his  
Devilship for money: I tell truth, a Tailor  
And lie, faith I scorn that.  1 Tay. 
Leave your discovery.  3 Tay. 
Master, a Traveller you know is famous for lying,  
And having traveled as far as hell;  
May not I make description of the unknown Land?  1 Tay. 
My brain is busy,  
Sebastiano must not tread an unknown Land  
To find out a Grave; unfortunate Sebastiano,  
First to lose thyself in a disguise, unfitting for thy  
Birth, and then thy Country for thy too much valour:  
There's danger in being virtuous, in this Age  
Led by those sinful Actors, the plunged stage,  
Of this vice-bearing World, would headlong fall  
But charitable virtue bears up all.  
I must invent, I ha''t, so:  
As he's a Tailor; he is banished Spain,  
As Sebastiano 'tis revoked again. Exit cum suis.  Enter Machvile solus. Ma. 
How subtle are my springes, they take all?  
With what swift speed unto my Chaffy bait  
Do all Fowls fly, unto their hasty ruin?  
Clap, clap your wings, and flutter greedy fools,  
Whilst I laugh at your folly; I have a wire  
Set for the moor, and his ambitious Consort;  
Which if my wife would second, they are sure. Enter Auristella.  Au. 
What must she second?  Mach. 
Art thou there my love? we're in a path  
That leads us to a height, we may confront  
The Sun, and with a breath extinguish common  
Stars; be but thou ruled, the light  
That does create day to this City  
Must be derived from us.  Au. 
You are my soul, and to my airy  
Wings, add quicker Feathers: what task  
would not I run, to be called Queen?  
Did the life blood of all our Family  
Father and Mother, stand as a quick wall  
To stop my passage to a Throne,  
I'd with a Poniard open their Azure veins,  
And squeeze their active blood up into Clods,  
Till they become as cold as winter's snow;  
And as a bridge upon their trunks I'd go.  Ma. 
Our souls are twins, and thirst with equal heat  
For Deity: Kings are in all things Gods  
Saving mortality.  Au. 
To be a Queen, what danger would I run?  
I'd spend my life like to a Barefoot Nun;  
So I might sit above the lesser stars  
Of small Nobility, but for a day.  Mach. 
'Tis to be done sweet love an nearer way;  
I have already with the sugared baits  
Of Justice, liberality, and all  
The Fox like gins, that subtle Statesmen  
Set to catch the hearts o'th' giddy multitude:  
Which if it fail, as cautious policy  
Forbids, I build too strongly on their drunk  
Uncertain Votes, I'd have thee break with  
My great Prisoners Wife, as I will  
Do with him; promise the states equal  
Divided half himself shall rule:  
So that if need compel us to take Arms,  
We may have forces from the Realm of France,  
To seat us in the Chair of Government.  Au. 
I never shall endure to walk as equal  
With proud Philippa, no; ambitious soul  
boil in a thirsty flame of total glory:  
I must be all, without a second flame  
To dim our luster.  Mach. 
Still my very soul, thinkest thou I can endure  
Compeditor, or let an Aethiop sit by Machvil's side,  
As partner in his honour? no, as I have seen  
I' the Commonwealth of Players, one that did act  
The Theban Creon's part; with such a life  
I became ravished, and on Raimond mean,  
To plot what he did one the caviling boys of Oedipus.  
Whilst we grasp the whole dignity.  Au. 
As how sweet Machvile?  Mach. 
It is not ripe my love,  
The King I hear applauds my justice:  
Wherefore I have sent order that Count Antonio  
Once being taken, be sent to Fill-ford Mill;  
There ground to death.  Au. 
What for his wife?  Mach. 
Thy envy: she I have banished,  
And her goods to guard a shower of curses  
From my head, I'ave given the poor.  Au. 
Good policy, let's home to our designs:  
I hate to be officious, 'yet my frown  
Shall be dissolved to flattery for a Crown. Exit.  Mach. 
Attend your Lady— so her forward spleen, Tickled with thought of greatness makes the Scene attempts run smooth: the haughty moor shall be the Lader, on whose servile back I'll mount to greatness, If calm peace deny me easy way.  
Rough War shall force it, which done, Raimond  
And his Philippa must go seek an Empire in  
Elysium; for to rule, predominance belongs  
Alone to me: slaves are unworthy rule,  
What state would set a Crown upon a a Mule? Exit  Antonio disguised sitting in a Closet. 
My soul is heavy, and my eyelids feel  
The weighty power of lazy Morpheus:  
Each element that breathes a life within me  
Runs a contrary course, and conspire  
To counterfeit a Chaos: whilst the frame  
And weak supporters of my inward man  
(Crack) as beneath the weight of Atlas' burden:  
A sudden change, how my bleared eyelids strive  
To force a sleep 'gainst nature. O you Powers  
That rule the better thoughts, if you have aught  
To act on my frail body, let it be with eagle's  
Speed; or if your wills so please,  
Let my fore past and undigested wrongs  
o'erwhelm my thoughts, and sink me to the ground  
With their no less than deaths remembrances.  
Cease bastard slave, to clog my senses  
With the leaden weights of an unwilling sleep; unless  
Thy raw-boned brother join his force, and make  
A separation twixt my airy soul,  
And my all earthly body:  
I am o'er come, heaven work your wills, my breath,  
Submits to this us 'twould submit to death. Sleeps.  Soft Music, Love descends half way then speaks. 
Sleep entranced man, but be  
Wakeful in thy fancy; see  
Love hath left his Palace fair,  
And beats his wings against the air,  
To ease thy panting breasts of ill:  
Loves a Physician, our Will  
Must be obeyed; therefore with haste  
To Flanders fly, the echoing blast  
Of Fame shall usher thee along,  
And leave thee pestered in a throng  
Of searching troubles, which shall be  
But Bugbears to thy constancy.  Enter from one side death, and from the other side Aurelia, Death strikes three times at Antonio, and Aurelia diverts it. Exit severally. 
What this same shadow seems to be,  
In Flanders thou shalt real see;  
The Maid that seemed to conquer Death,  
And give thee longer leaf of breath,  
Dotes on thy air; report hath been  
Lavish in praising thee unseen.  
Make haste to Flanders, time will be  
Accused of slothfulness, if she  
Be longer tortured: do not stay,  
My power shall guide thee on the way. ascended.  Enter Giovanno and the old Tailor. Gio. 
He is asleep.  Old Tay. 
See how he struggles, as if some visions  
Had assumed a shape fuller of horror  
Than his troubled thoughts.  Gio. 
His conscience gripes him to purpose: see he wakes;  
Let us observe.  Ant. 
Stay gentle power, leave Hostage that thy promise  
Thou'lt perform,  
And I will offer to thy deity  
More than my lazy heart has offered yet.  
But stay Antonio, can thy easy faith  
Give credit to a dream? an airy vision,  
Framed by strangling fancy, to delude weak  
Sense with a gay nothing? recollect thyself,  
Advise thee by thy fears, it may force hence  
This midnight's shade of grief;  
And guild it with a morn as fall of joy.  
As does bright Phoebus to our Eastern World,  
When blushing he arises from the lap  
Of Seagreen Thetis to give a new day birth.  Gio. 
Why how now friend, what talking to thyself?  Ant. 
O Giovanno 'tis my unpartial thoughts,  
That rise in war against my guilty conscience;  
O it stings me!  Old Tay. 
Be more a man, shrink not beneath a weight  
So light, a child may bear it; for believe me,  
If my Prophetic fear deceive me not,  
You had done an act, Spain should for ever praise  
Had you killed Machvile to.  Ant. 
As how good Master? I must call you so;  
This is your Livery.  Old. 
O you're noble Tailor. But to Machvile  
It was my chance, being sent for, by his wife  
To take the measure of their noble prisoner;  
Who when I came was busy, being placed  
Into a room, where I might easily hear  
Them talk of Crowns, and Kingdoms;  
And of two that should be partners in this  
End of Spain.  Gio. 
Who were they?  Old. 
Machvile and Raimond, at last Machvile laughed  
Saying, for this I made the Governor  
To cross Antonio at the Counsel board:  
Knowing that one must, if not both should die.  Ant. 
Did he say this?  Old. 
He did, and added more under a feigned show  
Of love to Justice, banished your sister.  Gio. 
Is Evadne banished?  Old. 
She is, and as I guess to Flanders, her woman too has left her.  Ant. 
Nay droop not friend; Host, pray tell proud  
Machvile, I have a sword left to chastise  
A Traitor: come, let's go seek Evadne.  Gio. 
O Antonio, the sudden grief almost, distracts  
Thy friend; but come, let's go each several,  
And meet at Fill-ford: if thou findest Evadne,  
Bear her unto the Castle. Exit.  Ant. 
Farewell good master. Exit.  Old. 
O you honour me.  
Bootless were all persuasions, they'll not stay.  
I'll to the King; this treason may become  
Like a disease, out of the reach of Physic:  
And may infect past care if let alone. Exit.  Enter Raymond and Philippa: Phi. 
Erect thy head my Raymond, be more tall  
Than daring Atlas, but more safely wise:  
Sustain no burden but the politic care:  
Of being great; till thou achieve the City's  
Axletree, and wave it as thou list.  Ray. 
Hast thou no skill in Magic, that thou hits  
So just upon my thoughts, thy tongue is tipped  
Like Nature's miracle; that draws the steel  
With unresisted violence: I can not keep  
A secret to myself, but thy prevailing  
Rhetoric ravishes and leaves my breast  
Like to an empty Casket, that once was blessed  
With keeping of a jewel I durst, not trust the  
Air with, 'twas so precious: pray be careful.  Phi. 
You do not doubt me?  Ray. 
No, were you a woman made of such course ingrediances as the common, which in our trivial phrase we call mere women; I would not trust thee with a Cause so weighty, that the discovery did endanger this, this hair; that when 'tis gone a Lynx cannot miss it: but you are— I want expressions, 'tis not common words can speak you truly, you are more than woman.  Phi. 
My Lord you know my temper, and how to  
Win upon my heart.  Ray. 
I must be gone, and post a messenger,  
France must supply what wants to make thee great;  
An Army my Philippa, which these people  
Snoring in pride of their last victory,  
Do not so much as dream on?  
Nor shall, till they be forced to yield their voices  
At our election; which will be ere long.  Phi. 
O 'tis an age, I'd rather have it said,  
Philippa then a prisoner were dead. Exit.  Enter a Criminal judge and Officers, with Antonio, Petrucio and Aurelio meet him with servants. Iud. 
Captain Petruchio, take this condemned man  
Into your charge, it is Antonio once a  
Spanish Count, till his rash folly, with his  
Life made forfeit of his honour; he  
Was found travelling to your Castle,  
'Twas heaven's will that his own feet  
Should with a willing pace conduct him to his ruin:  
For the murder he must be ground to death  
In Filford Mill, of which you are the Governor:  
Here my Commission in its end give strength to yours,  
He's your charge: farewell,  
His death must be with speed. Exit with his.  Ant. 
Deceive me not good glasses, your lights  
In my esteem never till now was precious,  
'Tis the same, I 'tis the very same  
I sleeping saw.  Au. 
Is this the man Fame speaks so nobly of?  
O love, Aurelio never until now  
Could say he knew thee; I must dissemble it.  Pet. 
Come sir to my Castle.  Au. 
Fie on you sir, to kill a Governor it is a fact  
Death cannot appear too horrible to punish.  Ant. 
Can this be truth? O shallow, shallow man  
To credit air, believe there can be substance  
In a cloud of thickened smoke, as truth hid in a dream;  
Yes there is truth, that like a scroll fetched from  
An Oracle, betrays the double dealing of the gods;  
Dreams that speak all of joy do turn to grief,  
And such bad Fate deludes my light belief.  Pet. 
Away with him Exeunt.  Aurelius solus. 
Oft have I heard my brother with a tongue  
Proud of the Office, praised this lovely Lord;  
And my trapped soul old with a eager haste  
Draw in the breath, and now: O Aurelia,  
Buried with him must all thy joy thou hast  
For ever sleep; and with a pale consumption,  
Pitying him wit thou thyself be ruined?  
He must not die, if there be any way  
Revealed to the distressed, I will find it:  
Assist a poor lost Virgin some good power,  
And lead her to a path, whose secret tract  
May guide both him and me unto our safety.  
Be kind good wits, I never until now  
Put you to any trouble; 'tis your Office,  
To help at need this little world you live by:  
Not yet! O dulness! do not make me mad—  
I have't blessed brain; now shall a woman's wit  
Wrestle with Fate, and if my plot but hit:  
Come off with wreaths, my duty nay may all,  
I must forsake lest my Antonio fall. Exit.    

Act Fourth.  

Scene 1.  Enter Giovanno mad, solus. 
NOt find Evadne I sure some wanton wind  
Has snatched her from the earth into the air;  
Smooth Zephers feigns the tresses of her hair,  
Whilst slick Favonious plays the fawning slave;  
And hourly dies, making her breasts his grave:  
O false Evadne, is Giovanno's love  
That has outdone all merit for thy sake  
So light, that wind outweighs it?  
No, no; no; Evadne is all virtue,  
Sweet as the breath of Roses; and as chaste,  
As Virgin Lilies in their infancy:  
Down you deluding Ministers of Air:  
Evadne is not light, though she be fair:  
Dissolve the counterfeit: ha, ha, ha, ha.  
See how they shrink: why so, now I will love you:  
Go search into the hollows of the earth,  
And find my love, or I will chain you up  
To eternity: see, see; who's this? O I know him now.  
So, ho, ho: so, ho, ho, not hear?  
'Tis Phoeton: no, 'tis an heir got  
Since his father's death, into a Cloak of gold  
Outshines the Sun; the headstrong horses  
Of Licentious youth have broke their Reins  
And drawn him through the Signs of all libidinousness,  
See, from the whorish front of Capra,  
He's tumbling down as low as beggary.  
O, are you come grim Tartars Radamanth  
Go ask of Pluto if he have not ta'en  
Evadne to his smoky Commonwealth,  
And ravished her? begone, why stir you not?  
Ha, ha, ha, the devil is afraid.  Evad. 
Help, a Rape. Within.  Ban. 
Stop her mouth.  Gia. 
Who calls for help? 'tis my Evadne; I  
It was her voice that gave the Echo life;  
That cried a Rape: Devil dost love a wench?  
Who was thy Pander, ha? What saucy friend  
Durst lay his unpared Fangs on my Evadne?  
Come I'll swim unarmed o'er Acheron,  
And sink grim Charon in his fiery Boat.  Evad. 
Murder: a Rape. Within.  Gia. 
I come, I come. Exit.  Enter the Banditoes dragging Evadne by the hair; she drops a Scarf. Exeunt. Enter Giovanno again. Gio. 
I cannot find her yet,  
The King of Flames protests she  
Is not there: but hang him Rogue,  
They say he'll lie; O how my glutted spleen  
Tickles to think how I have paid the slave?  
I made him lead me into every hole:  
Ha, ha, ha, what crying was there there?  
Here on a Wheel, turned by a Fury's hand,  
Hangs a distracted Statesman, that had spent  
The little wit Heaven to strange purpose lent him,  
To suppress right, make beggars, and get means  
To be a Traitor. Ha, ha, ha, and here  
A Usurer fat with the curses of so many heirs  
His Extortion had undone, sat to the Chin  
In a warm bath, made of new melted gold;  
And now and then a draught passed through his throat:  
He fed upon his god; but he being angry  
Scalded his Chops. Right against him  
Stood a fooled Gallant, chained unto a post,  
And lashed by Folly for his want of wit.  
The reeling drunkard and plump glutton stood  
Making of faces, close by Tantalus:  
But drank and fed on Air.  
The whoremaster tied to a painted Punk,  
Was by a Fury termed insatiate Lust,  
Whipped with a blade of fire. And here—  
What's here! 'tis my evadne's vale; 'tis hers I know't:  
Some slave has ravished my Evadne: Well,  
There breaths not such an impious slave in hell:  
Nay, it is hers, I know it too too plain:  
Your breath is lost, 'tis hers, you speak in vain. Exit.  Thunder and Lightning. Enter the Bandetoes with Evadne by the Hair. Capt. 
Come, bring her forward, tie her to that tree,  
Each man shall have this turn: Come Minion,  
You must squench the raging flames of my  
Concupiscence: what do you weep, you  
Puritanical Punk: I shall tickle mirth  
Into you by and by: Trotter, good Trotter post  
Unto my Cell, make compound of Muskadine  
And eggs; for the truth is, I am a Giant in my  
Promises but in the act a Pigmy: I am old, and  
Cannot do as I have done; good Trotter  
Make all convenient speed.  Trot. 
Faith Master if you can't, here's them that can ferret in a coney burrow without a provocative, I'll warrant you: good Master let me begin the health.  Cap. 
No more I say: it is a parcel of excellent Mutton:  
I'll cut it up myself: come Minion. Exit Trot.  The Captain takes his dagger and minds it about her hair, and sticks it in the ground: Thunder and Lightning. Evad. 
Kill me; Oh kill me: Rather let me die,  
Than live to see the jewel that adorns  
The souls of virtuous Virgins ravished from me.  
Do not add sin to sin, and at a price  
That ruins me, and not enriches you,  
Purchase damnation: do not, do not do't:  
Sheath here your sword, and my departing soul,  
Like your good Angel, shall solicit heaven  
To dash out your offences: let my flight  
Be pure and spotless: do not injure that,  
Manhood would blush to think on. it is all  
A Maid's Divinity: wanting her life  
She's fair corpse: wanting her chastity,  
A spotted soul of living infamy.  Cap. 
Hang Chastity.  3 Ban. 
A very voice. Enter Trotter.  Trot. 
O Captain, Captain, yonder's the mad Orlando the furious, and I think he takes me for— What do you call him?  Cap. 
What Meder?  Trot. 
1, 1, Meder: the Devil Meder him, he has so nuddled me— O here he comes; I'll be gone. Exit.  Enter Giovanno. Gio. 
Stay Satire; stay; you are too light of foot,  
I cannot reach your paces, prithee stay.  
What Goddess have you there? sure 'tis Evadne:  
Are you the Dragons that ne'er sleep but watch  
The golden fruit of the Hesperides:  
Ha, than I am Hercules; fly ye?  
Sure that face dwelled on evadne's shoulders.  He beats them off, and unbinds Evadne, Evad. 
O thou preserver of near lost Evadne,  
What must my weakness pay?  Gio. 
'Tis, 'tis she; she must not know I'm mad.  Evad. 
Assist me some good power, (it is my friend)  
Make me but wise enough to resolve myself.  Gio. 
It may be 'tis not she; I'll ask her name.  
What are you called sweet goddess?  Evad. 
They that know me mortal, term me Evadne.  Gio. 
'tis she: ay, ay, 'tis she.  Evad. 
Pray you sir, unto the bond of what I owe you,  
Which is a poor distressed virgin's life, add  
This one debt: what are you?  Gio. 
Not worth your knowledge: I am a poor,  
A very, very poor despised thing: but say  
I pray, are you sure your name's Evadne?  Evad. 
'tis questionless my Tailor. I am she,  
(Receive me to your arms) not altered  
In my heart, though in my clothes.  Gio. 
I do believe you, indeed I do; but stay I don't  
Are you a Maid, a Virgin, pray tell me?  
For my Evadne could not tell me a lie; speak,  
I shall love you, though that jewel's gone.  Evad 
I am as spotless, thank your happy self  
That saved me from those Robbers, as  
The child which yet is but a jelly, 'tis so young.  Gio. 
No more, no more, trust me I do believe you.  
So many slaves, whose flaming appetites,  
Would in one night ravish a throng of Virgins,  
And never feel degression in their heat.  
I'll after and murder all.  Evad. 
How do you?  Gio. 
Well, very well: be like you think I'm mad.  Evad. 
You look distractedly.  Gio. 
'tis but your thoughts, indeed I me wondrous well.  
How fair she looks after so foul a deed?  
It cannot be she should be false to me:  
No, thou'rt mad to think so. Fool, O fool,  
Thinkst thou those slaves, having to fair a mark  
Would not be Shooting? yes, they would, they have,  
Evadne is fly-blown, I cannot love her.  Evad. 
What say you sweet?  Gio. 
The innocence that sits upon the face  
Says she is chaste, the guilty cannot speak  
So evenly as she does: guilty, said, I!  
Alas it were not her fault, were she ravished.  
O madness, madness, whither wilt thou bear me?  Evad. 
His fences are unsettled; I'll go seek  
Some holy man to rectify his wits.  
Sweet will you go unto some Hermit's Cell?  
You look as you lacked rest.  Gio. 
She speaks like to an Angel, she's the same  
As when I saw her first, as pure, as chaste.  
Did she retain the substance of a sinner,  
For she is none, her breath would then be sour,  
And betray the rankness of the act but  
Her chaste sighs beget as sweet a dew  
As that of May.  
Why weeps Evadne, truly I'm not mad?  
See, I am tame, pray lead me where you please. Exeunt.  A Banquet is set forth, Enter Petruchio, Aurelia, with two servants bringing Antonio, asleep in a Chair, and set him to the Table. Pet 
The drink has done its part effectually,  
'Twas a strong powder that could hold his senses  
So fast that this removing so full of noise,  
Had not the power to wake him.  Aur. 
Good Father let Aurelia, your daughter,  
Do this same act of Justice, let me tread the pin:  
The fact of his being so foul, so hateful,  
Has lent me through a maid such fortitude.  Pet. 
Thou hast thy wish, do't boldly, 'tis a deed  
That in the ignorance of elder ages,  
Would be thought full of merit:  
Be not daunted.  Aur. 
I have a thought tells me it is religious,  
To sacrifice a murderer to death;  
Especially one that did act a deed,  
So generally accounted odious.  Pet. 
By holy (jaques) I'm a governor.  
And should my life; (though, by the hand of him  
My duty does call King) be struck i'th' air;  
My injured corpse should not forsake the earth  
Till I did see't revenged: be resolute; thy foot  
Is guided by a power, that though unseen,  
Is still a furtherer of good attempt.  Aur. 
Pray sir lend me the Key of the back ward,  
For though my conscience tells me 'tis an act  
I may hereafter boast off; yet I'll pass unto our  
lady's Chapel when 'tis done, to be confessed  
Ere I am seen of any.  Pet. 
I am proud to see thee so well given.  
Take 'em girl, and with 'em take my prayers.  Aur. 
He wakes, pray leave me sir. Exit Pet.  
So I'll make fast the door,  
Goodness bear witness 'tis a potent power  
Outweighs my duty.  Ant. 
Amazement! oh what tentors do you stretch?  
O how this alteration wracks my reason, i'm  
To find the Axletree on which it hangs?  
Am I asleep?  Aur. 
Shake thy wonder off, and leave that seat,  
'Twas set to sink thy body for ever  
From the eyes of humane sight;  
To tell thee how would be a fatal means  
To both our ruins— briefly my love  
Has broke the Bands of nature with my father,  
To give your being.  Ant. 
Happy, happy vision, the blessed preparative  
To this same hour, my joy would burst me else.  Aur. 
Receive me to thy arms.  Ant. 
I would not wish to live but for thee, life were  
A trouble; welcome to my soul.  Au. 
Stand, I have a Ceremony, to offer to our  
ere ere we go.  She takes Dug and tie sit to the Chair, she stamps: The Chair and Dog descends, a Pistol shot within: a noise of a Mill. 
Had not my love like a kind branch  
Of some o'er looking tree, catched thee,  
Thou'dst fallen, never to look upon the world again.  Ant. 
What shall I offer to my life, preserver?  Aur. 
Only thy heart, Crowned with a wreath of love,  
Which I will ever keep; and in exchange  
Deliver mine.  Ant. 
Thus I deliver, in this kiss receive't.  Aur. 
In the same form Aurelia yields up hers.  Ant, 
What noise is that? A noise.  Aur. 
I fear my Father.  Ant. 
What's to be done?  Aur. 
Through the back ward, of which I have  
The Key; we'll suddenly make scape,  
Then in two Gowns of which I am provided,  
we'll clothe ourselves till we be past all fear.  Ant. 
Be't as you please, 'tis my good genius will  
Thee I obey: command, I'll follow still. Exeunt.  Enter Petruchio with servants. Pet. 
She's gone unto her prayers, may every bead  
Draw down a blessing on her; that like seed  
May grow into a Harvest: 'tis a girl  
My age is proud of, she's indeed the Model  
Of her dead Mother's virtues, as of shape.  
Bear hence this Banquet. Exit with the Banquet.  Giovanno is discovered sleeping in the lap of Evadne. Evad. 
Thou silent god, that with the leaden Mace  
Arresteth all (save those prodigious birds)  
That are Fates Heralds to proclaim all ill;  
Deaf Giovanno, let no fancied noise  
Of ominous Screech owls, or night raven's voice  
Affright his quiet senses: let his sleep  
Be free from horror, or unruly dreams;  
That may beget a tempest in the streams  
Of his calm reason: let 'em run as smooth,  
And with as great a silence, as those do  
That never took an injury; where no wind  
Had yet acquaintance: but like a smooth Crystal,  
Dissolved into a water that never frowned,  
Or knew a voice but music.  Enter Antonio and Aurelia in Hermit's gowns. 
Holy Hermits, for such your habits speak you,  
Join your prayers with a distressed Virgins;  
That the wits of this distracted young man  
May be settled.  Ant. 
Sure 'tis my sister, and that sleeping man  Giovanno. 
She loves him still. He wakes.  Gio. 
O what a blessedness am I bereft of!  
What pleasure has the least part of a minute  
Stolen from my eyes: methought I did embrace  
A Brother and a friend; and both Antonio.  Evad. 
Blessed be those gentle powers that—  Gio. 
What Evadne— have deceived my eyes,  
Take heed Evadne, worship not a dream,  
'Tis of a smoky substance, and will shrink  
Into the compass of report; that 'twas:  
And not reward the labour of a word  
Were it substantial: Could I know but see  
That man, of men; I'd by my practice  
Of Religious prayers, add to the Calendar  
One Holiday, and keep it once a year.  Ant. 
Behold Antonio.  Evad. 
Brother. To Antonio.  Aur. 
Brother. To Giovanno.  Ant. 
What earthquake shakes my heart,  
With what a speed she flew into his arms!  Evad. 
Some power that hearkens to the prayer of virgins,  
Has been distilled to pity at my Fortunes;  
And made Evadne happy.  Aur. 
Now my longing that was grown big,  
Is with your sight delivered of a joy,  
That will become a Giant; and overcome me.  
Welcome, thrice welcome brother.  Ant. 
Ha, her brother! Fortune has bound me  
So much in their debts, I must despair to pay 'em:  
Twice has my life been by these twins of goodness  
Plucked from the hand of death; that fatal enmity  
Between our houses here shall end,  
Though my Father at his death commanded me  
To eternity of hatred:  
What tie binds stronger than Reprieve from death?  
Come hither friend; now brother, take her,  
Thou hast been a noble Tailor.  Gio. 
Be moderate my joys, do not o'er whelm me  
Here take Aurelia, may you live happy:  
O Antonio this, this was the cause of my disguise;  
Sebastine could not win Evadne's love,  
But Giovanno did; come now to our father's Castle.  Ant. 
Pardon me; there is a bar that does  
Concern my life forbids you as a friend,  
To think on going to any place  
But to, the tailor's house, which is not far:  
Come, as we go I will relate the cause.  Aur. 
Do good brother.  Evad. 
Go good Sebastiano.  Gio. 
Sebastine is your Page, and bound to follow,  
Lead on.  Ant. 
O noble temper I admire thee! may  
The world bring forth such Tailors every day. Exeunt.  Enter three Tailors on a Shop board. 1 Tay. 
Come, come let's work;  
For if my guesses point the right, we shan't  
Work long.  3 Tay. 
I care not how soon, for I have a notable  
Stomach to bread.  2 Tay 
Dost hear, I suspect that Courtier my master  
Brought in last night, to be the King;  
Which if it be bullies, all the bread in the  
Town shan't satisfy us, for we will eat  
Cum privilegio.  1 Tay. 
Come let's have a device, a thing, a song Boy  3 Tay. 
Come an air—  The Song. 1 Tay, 
'Tis a merry life we live,  
All our work is brought unto us;  
Still are getting, never give;  
For their Clothes all men do woe us:  
Yet unkind they blast our Names,  
With aspersions of dishonour:  
For which we make bold with their Dames,  
When we take our measure on her.  All Tay. 
For which we, etc.  Enter Antonio, Giovanno, and the old Tailor, 
Old Tay. You see the life we live, cease.  Ant. 
O 'tis a merry one.  Gio. 
It is no news to me, I have been used to't.  Old Tay. 
Now for discovery, the King as yet  
Is ignorant of your names, and shall be  
Till your merits beg your pardon.  
My Lord you are for Machvile; take this gown.  Ant. 
Pray for success. Exit Ant.  Old Tay. 
You in this French disguise for proud Philippa;  
This is her garment. I hear the King, be gone:  
The French man's folly sit upon your tongue. Exeunt.  Enter the King, Evadne and Aurelia. King. 
Believe me Tailor you have outstripped the Court,  
For such perfections lives not everywhere,  
Nature was vexed as she's a very shrew,  
She made all others in an angry mood;  
These only she can boast for Masterpieces:  
The rest want something or in mind or form,  
These are precisely made: a Critic Jury,  
Of cavilling Arts cannot condemn a scruple.  Aur. 
But that your entrance in this formal speech  
Betrayed you are a Courtier; I had been angry  
At your Rank flattery.  King. 
Can you say so?  Evad. 
Sir, she has spoke my meaning.  King. 
Friend, what are those beauties called? aside.  Old Tay. 
Your grace's pardon.  King. 
Are they Oracle, or is the knowledge fatal?  
But that I know thy faith, this denial  
Would conjure a suspicion in my breast;  
Use thy prerogative, 'tis thy own house  
In which you are a King; and I your guest.  
Come ladies. Exeunt.  Enter Antonio disguised like a Physician. 
This habit will do well, and less suspected;  
Rapt in'is cover lives a kingdom's plague,  
They kill with licence; machvile's proud dame  
'Tis famed is sick, upon my soul, howe'er  
Her health may be the Aguesh commons cry;  
She's a disease they groan for: this disguise  
Shall sift her Ebon soul, and if she be  
Infectious, like a megrom, or rot limb;  
The sword of Justice must divide the joint  
That holds her to the States endangered body.  
she comes.  Enter Machvile with Auristella leaning on his arm, with two Servants. Mach. 
Look up my Auristella;  
Better the Sun forsake his course to bless,  
With his continuing beams the Antipodes,  
And we grovel for ever in eternal night,  
Than death eclipse thy rich and stronger light.  
Seek some physician, horror to my soul, she faints;  
I'd rather lose the issue of my hopes, than Auristella.  Ant. 
Issue of his hopes, strange; aside.  Mach. 
The crown's enjoinment can yield no content,  
Without the presence of my Auristilla.  Ant. 
crown's enjoyment, O villain,  Mach. 
Why stir you not? fetch me some skilful man,  
My Kingdom shall reward him; if his Art  
Chain her departing soul unto her flesh,  
But for a day, till she be crowned a Queen:  
Fly, bring him unto this walk.  Ant. 
Stay,  
Most honoured Count, (now for a forged link aside.  
Of flattery to chain me to his love;)  
Having with studious care gone o'er the Art  
Folly terms Magic, which more sublime souls  
Skilled i'the Stars, know is above that mischief;  
I find you're borne to be 'bove vulgar greatness,  
Even to a Throne: but stay, let's fetch this Lady.  Mach. 
All greatness without her is slavery.  Ant. 
Use modest violence.  Au. 
Oh.  Ant. 
Stand wider, give her air.  Mach. 
Godlike Physician, I and all that's mine,  
Will at thy feet offer a sacrifice.  Ant. 
Forefend it goodness; ay, nay all;  
ere many hours makes the now young day  
A type of sparkling youth; shall on their knees  
Pray for your highness.  Mach. 
Look up my Auristella, and be great;  
Rise with the Sun, but never to decline,  Aur. 
What have you done?  Mach. 
Waked thee to be a Queen.  Aur. 
A Queen! O don't dissemble; you have robbed me  
Of greater pleasure, than the fancied bliss  
Elysium owns: O for a pleasure real, that  
would appear in all unto my dream: that I may  
Frown, and then kill; smile, and create again.  
Were there a Hell, as doting age would have,  
To fright from lawless courses heed less youth:  
For such a short lived happiness as that,  
I would be lost unto eternity.  Mach. 
The day grows old in hours:  
Come Auristella to the Capital;  
The Graybeard Senate shall on humble knees,  
Pay a Religious Sacrifice of praise  
Unto thy demi Deity: the Stars  
Have in a general Senate made thee Queen  
Of this our world: Great master of thy Art,  
Confirm my love.  Ant. 
Madam—  Mach 
Nay hear him love, believe me he's a man  
That may be Secretary to the gods;  
He is alone in Art, 'twere sin to name  
A second; all are dunces to him.  Ant. 
How easy is the faith of the ambitious.  Mach. 
Follow me to the Counsel. Exit.  Au. 
Are you the man my husband speaks so high of?  
Are you skilled i'the Stars?  Ant. 
Yes Madam.  Au. 
Your habit says, or you abuse the custom,  
You're a Physician?  Ant. 
Madam i'm both.  Au. 
Andye find no let that stops my rising.  Ant. 
Not any.  Au. 
Away, your skill is dull, dull to derision.  
There is a Star fixed i'the heaven of greatness,  
That sparkles with a rich and fresher light,  
Than our sick and defective Taper.  Ant. 
It may be so, the horiscope is troubled;  Au. 
Confusion take your horiscope and you.  
Can you with all your Art advise my fears,  
How to confound this constellation.  Ant. 
Death how she conjures;  
Madam I must search into the Planets.  Au. 
Planet me no planets; be a Physician,  
And from your study of industrious poisons,  
Fetch me your best experienced speedy one,  
And bring it to me straight: what 'tis to do,  
Like unresolved riddles hid from you. Exit.  Ant. 
Planet said I; upon my life no planet  
Is so swift as her ne'er resting evil,  
That's her tongue: well I'll not question  
What the poisons for, if for herself,  
The common Hangman's eased the labour of a blow,  
For if she live her head must certain off;  
The poison I'll go get, and give it her,  
Then to the King:  
If Sebastiano's Frenchified disguise  
Purchase the like discovery, our eyes  
Will be too scanty; we had need to be  
All eye, to watch such haughty villainy. Exit.  Enter Giovanno and Philippa. Gio. 
Begare Madam me make de gown so brave; O, de hole vorle vorke be me patron, me ha' vorke for le grand Duchess le Shevere, le Royne de Francia, Spanea de Angleter an all d'fine Mademoiselles.  Phi. 
Nay monsieur to deprive desert of praise, is unknown Language, troth I use it not; nay it is very well.  Gio. 
Be me trot a Madam never do ill, de English man do ill, de Spanere do, de Dutch, de all do ill, but your Franch man, and begare he do incomparable brave.  Phi. 
You're too proud on't  Gio. 
Begare me no proud I'd vorle, me speak be me trot de trut, ang me no lie; metra Madam begare you have de find bode a de vorle, O de fine brave big ting me have ever measure, me waire fit it so pat.  Enter Raimond. Phi. 
Welcome my Lord,  
Shall I still long, yet lose my longing still?  
Is there no Art to mount the lofty seat?  
No Engine that may make us ever great?  
Must we be still styled Subjects, and for fear  
Our closest whispers reach the owing care,  
Not trust the wind? Ray. Be calm my love,  
Ha, who have we here an eves dropper.  Gio. 
Me Signior, Be povera ientle homa a Franch  
A votre commandment.  Phi. 
My Tailor,  Gio. 
We monsieur de Madam Tailor.  Ray. 
Some happy genius does attend my wishes,  
Or spirit like a Page conducts unto me  
The Ministers, whose sweet must sent me easy.  
Come hither French man, canst thou rule thy tongue?  
Art not too much a woman?  Gio. 
No begar me show something for de man.  Ray. 
Or canst thou be like a perverse on, profess doggedness?  
Be as a dead man dumb, briefly be this:  
A friend to France, and with a silent speed,  
Post to our now approaching armed friends:  
Tell them that Raimond e'er the hasty Sand  
Of a short hour be spent, shall be impaled,  
And on his brow a Deputy for France,  
Support a golden wreath of Kingly cares:  
Bid 'em make haste to pluck my partner down  
Into his Grave; be gone, as thou nursest  
In thy breast thoughts that do thirst  
For nobleness: be secret and thou'rt made;  
If not, thou'rt nothing. Mark, 'tis Raimond says it:  
And as I live, I breathe not, if my deeds  
Appear not in a horror 'bove my words.  Gio. 
Begar me no nedde threaten; me be as close to your secret, or my Lady's secrets as de skin to de flesh; de flesh to de bone: if me tell me de— vat, de ye call de modero de Dog, de Bich; call me de son o de Bich.  Enter Fulgentio. Ful. 
Count Machvile waits your honour i'th' Hall.  Ray. 
Do't, and be more than common in our favour;  
Here take this Ring for thy more credit:  
Farewell, be quick and secret. Exeunt.  Gio. 
Folly go from my tongue, the French so nigh,  
And thou half ruined Spain, so wretchedly provided;  
Strange, yet not, all Countries have bred monsters:  
'Tis a Proverb as plain as true, and aged as 'tis both:  
One tainted Sheep mares a whole flock.  
Machvile that tainted beast, whose spreading ills  
Infecteth all; and by infecting kills.  
I'll to the Franch, what he intends to be  
Our ruin; shall confound their villainy. Exit.    

Act Fifth.  

Scene 1.  Enter the King, Antonio, old tailor, Evadne, Aurelia, the King and Antonio whisper. King. 
FOr this discovery be still Antonio,  
The frowning Law, may with a furrowed face  
Hereafter look upon; but ne'er shall touch  
They condemned body. Here from a king's hand,  
Take thy Aurelia; our command shall smooth  
The rising billows of her Father's rage,  
And charm it to a calm: let one be sent  
To certify our pleasure, we would see him.  Old Tay. 
Your graces Will shall be in all obeyed.  King. 
Thy loyal love, makes thy King poor.  Old Tay. 
Let not your judgement, Royal sir, be questioned,  
To term that love, was but a subject's duty. Exit.  King. 
You sent the poison, did you?  Ant. 
Yes, and it like your grace, the Apothecary  
Called it a strong provocative to madness.  King. 
Did not he question what you used it for?  Ant. 
O my disguise saved him that labour, sir,  
My habit, that was more Physician than myself,  
Told him 'twas to dispatch some property  
That had been tortured with five thousand drugs  
To try experiment: another man  
shan't buy the quantity of so much Ratsbane  
Shall kill a Flea, but shall be had forsooth  
Before a Justice, be questioned; nay, perhaps  
Confined to peep throw an Iron grate:  
When your Physician may poison, who  
Not, cum privilegio: it is his trade.  Enter Giovanno. Evad. 
O my Sebastine.  Gio. 
Peace my Avadne, the King must not yet know me.  Evad. 
My brother has already made you known.  Gio. 
will't please your Highness?  King. 
What Sabastiano, to be still a King  
Of Universal Spain, without a Rival?  
Yes, it does please me, and you ministers  
Of my still growing greatness, shall ere long  
Find I am pleased with you, the boldly durst  
Pluck from the fixed arm of sleeping Justice  
Her long sheathed sword; and whet the rusty blade  
Upon the bones of Machville, and his  
Confederate Rebels.  Gio. 
That my Lord is yet to do, let him mount higher.  
That his fall may be too deep for a resurrection;  
They're gone to the great Hall, whither wilt please your  
Grace disguised to go, your person by our care shall be  
Secure. Their French troops I have sent as useless into  
France, by virtue of Raimond's Ring, which he gave  
Me to bid the General by that token  
To march to this City.  King. 
What say the Colonels will they assist me?  Ant. 
Doubt not my Lord.  King. 
Come then, let's go guarded, with such as you  
'Twere sin to fear, were all the world untrue. Exeunt.  Enter Tailors. Old. 
Now for the credit of Tailors.  3 Tay. 
Nay, Master and we do not act as they say,  
With any Players in the Globe of the world,  
Let us be baited like a Bull for a company of  
Strutting Coxcombs: nay we can act I can tell you.  Old. 
Well I must to the King; see you be perfect,  
I'll move it to his Highness. Exit.  1 Tay. 
Now my Masters are we to do; d'ye mark me, do—  3 Tay. 
Do; what do? Act, act, you fool you, do said you, what do? you a Player, you a Plasterer, a mere dirt dauber; and not worthy to be mentioned with Virmine, that exact Actor: do, I am ashamed on't, fie.  2 Tay. 
Well said Virmine, thou ticklest him i'faith.  4 Tay. 
Do, pha.  1 Tay. 
Well play; we are to play a play.  3 Tay. 
Play a play a play, ha, ha, ha; O egregious nonsensical widgeon, thou shame to our cross-legged corporation; thou fellow of a sound, play a play; why forty pound golding of the beggar's Theater speaks better, yet has a mark for the sage audience to exercise their dexterity, in throwing of rotten apples whilst my stout Actor pockets, and then eats up the injury: play a play, it makes my worship laugh i'faith.  2 Tay. 
To him Virmine, thou bit'st him i'faith.  1 Tay. 
Well, act a Play before the King.  2 Tay. 
What play shall we act?  3 Tay. 
To fret the French the more, we will act strange but true, or the straddling monsieur, with the Neopolitan Gentleman between his legs.  2 Tay. 
That won't act well.  3 Tay. 
O giant of incomparable ignorance: that won't act well, ha, ha, that won't do well, you Ass you.  2 Tay. 
You bit him for saying do: Virmine leave biting you'd best.  1 Tay. 
What say you to our Spanish Bilbo?  3 Tay. 
Who jeronimo?  1 Tay. 
I.  3 Tay. 
That he was a mad rascal to stab himself.  1 Tay. 
But shall we act him?  2 Tay. 
I let us do him.  3 Tay. 
Do again, ha.  2 Tay. 
No, no, let us act him.  3 Tay. 
I am content.  1 Tay. 
Who shall act the Ghost.  
3 Why marry that will I, I Virmine.  
1 Thou dost not look like a Ghost.  
3. A little player's deceit: flower will do't; Mark me,  
I can rehearse, mark me rehearse some:  
When this eternal substance of the soul  
Did live imprisoned in my wanton flesh,  
I was a Tailor in the Court of Spain.  2 Tay. 
Courtier Virmine in the Court of Spain.  3 Tay. 
ay, there's a great many Courtiers Virmine indeed:  
Those are they beg poor men's livings;  
But I say, tailor Vermin is a Court tailor.  2 Tay. 
Who shall act jeronimo?  3 Tay. 
That will I:  
Mark if I do not gape wider than the widest  
Mouthed Fowler of them all, hang me:  
"Who calls jeronimo from his naked bed: haugh!  
Now for the passionate part—  
" Alas it is my son Horatio.  1 Tay. 
Very fine: but who shall act Horatio?  2 Tay. 
ay, who shall do your son?  3 Tay. 
What do, do again: Well I will act Horatio.  2 Tay. 
Why you are his father.  3 Tay. 
Pray who is fitter to act the son, than the father  
That begot him.  1 Tay. 
Who shall act Prince Belthazer and the King?  3 Tay. 
I will do Prince Belthazer too: and for the King  
Who but I? which of you all has such a face for a King,  
Or such a leg to trip up the heels of a Traitor?  2 Tay. 
You will do all I think.  3 Tay. 
Yes marry will I; who but Virmine? yet I will  
Leave all to play the King:  
Pass by jeronimo.  2 Tay. 
Then you are for the King?  3 Tay. 
I bully I.  1 Tay. 
Let's go seek our fellows, and to this gear.  3 Tay. 
Come on then. Exeunt.  A table and stools set. Enter Brave, 
Men of our needful profession, that deal in such commodities as men's lives, had need to look about 'em 're they traffic: I am to kill Raimond, the Devils cozen german, for he wears the same complexion: but there is a right Devil that hath hired me, that's Count Machvile. Good Table conceal me, here will I wait my watchword: but stay, have I not forgot it (Then) I then is my arm to enter. I hear them coming.  Goes under the table. Enter the King, Antonio, old Tailor, Evadne, Aurelia, above. Machvile, Raimond, Philippa, Auristella, Giovanno, the Colonels, with a guard below. Mach. 
Pray take your seats.  Ray. 
Not well, prithee retire.  Phi. 
Sick, sick at heart.  Au. 
Well wrought poison, O how joy swells me.  Ant. 
You see my Lord the poison is boxed up. above.  Phi. 
Health waste upon this Royal company.  King. 
Knows she we are here?  Ant. 
O no my Lord, 'tis to the twins of treason:  
Machvile, and Raymond.  Ful. 
Royal there's something in't.  Aler. 
It smells rank o'th' Traitor.  Pan. 
Are you i'th' wind on't?  Au. 
Will you leave us?  Phi. 
I cannot stay; O I am sick to death. Exit.  Au. 
Or I'll ne'er trust poison more.  Mach. 
Pray seat yourselves  
Gentlemen, though your deserts have merit They sit above the Table.  
And your worths have deserved nobly;  
But ingratitude, that should be banished  
From a PRINCE's breast, is Philip's favourite.  King. 
Philip Traitor, why not King? I am so.  Ant. 
Patience good my Lord; I'll down. Exit.  Mach. 
It lives too near him:  
You that have ventured with expense of blood,  
And danger of your lives, to rivet him  
Unto his Seat with peace: you that in War  
He termed his atlases, and pressed with praises  
Your brawny shoulders; called you his Colossuses,  
And said your looks frighted tall war  
Out of his territories: now in peace,  
The issue of your labour: this bad man,  
Philip I mean, made of ingratitude,  
Won't afford a name, that may distinguish  
Your worthy selves from Cowards:  
Civet Cats spotted with rat's dung,  
Or a face like white Broth, strewed o'er with Currants  
For a stirring Caper, or itching Dance; to  
Please my Lady Vanity, shall be made  
A smock Knight.  King. 
Villain, must our disgrace mount thee?  Ful. 
To what tends this?  Aler. 
What means Count Machvile? Enter Antonio below.  Au. 
To be your King; fie on this circumstance,  
My longing will not brook it: say,  
Will you obey us as your Kings and Queens. aside.  Ful. 
My Lord Antonio.  Ant. 
Confine yourselves, the King is within hearing; therefore make show of liking machvile's plot: let him Mount high, his fall will be the deeper: my life you shall be safe.  Au. 
Say, are you agreed?  Ray. 
If not we'll force you to't:  
Speak French man, are our forces i'th' City?  Gio. 
we monsieur.  Aler. Ful. Pan. 
We acknowledge you our King.  
King More Traitors.  Mach. 
Why then. The brave stabs Raymond.  Ray. 
Ha, from whence this sudden Mischief?  
Did you not see a hand armed with the fatal  
Ruin of my life.  Gio. 
None paw Signior.  Mach. 
Ha, ha, ha; lay hold on those French Soldiers,  
Away with them. Exeunt guard with the French Colonels.  Ray. 
Wast thy plot Machvile? go laughing to thy grave.  Au. 
Alas my Lord is wounded. Stabs him.  Ray. 
Come hither French man, make a dying man  
Bound to thy love; go to Philippa,  
Sickly as she is bring her unto me;  
Or my flying soul will not depart in peace else:  
Prithee make haste: yet stay, I have not breath  
To pay thy labour.  
Shrink ye, you twin-born atlases, that bear  
This my near ruined world; have you not strength  
To bear a curse, whose breath may taint the air,  
That this Globe may feel a universal plague.  
No, yet bear up, till with a vengeful eye  
I outstare day, and from the dogged sky  
Pluck my impartial Star: O, my blood  
Is frozen in my veins— farewell revenge— me— dies.  Aler. 
They need no Law.  Ful. 
Nor Hangman.  Pan. 
They Condemn, and execute without a Jury.  Enter Philippa mad. Phi. 
I come, I come; nay fly not, for by Hell  
I'll pluck thee by the Beard, and drag thee thus  
Out of thy fiery Cave. Ha, on yonder hill  
Stand troops of devils waiting for my soul:  
But I'll deceive 'em, and instead of mine,  
Send this same spotted Tigers. Stabs Auristellae.  Au. 
Oh.  Phi. 
So, whilst they to hell  
Are posting with their prize, I'll steal to Heaven:  
Wolf dost thou grin? ha, is my Raymond dead?  
So ho, so ho: come back  
You sooty Fiends that have my Raymond's soul,  
And lay it down, or I will force you do't:  
No, won't you stir? by Styx I'll bait you for't:  
Where is my Crown? Philippa was a Queen,  
Was she not ha? Why so, where is my Crown:  
O you have hid it— ha, wa''t thou Over throws the Table.  
That robbed Philippa of her Raymond's life?  
Nay I will nip your wings, you shall not fly;  
I'll pluck you by the guarded front: and thus  
Sink you to hell before me. Stabs the Brave.  Bra. 
Oh, oh.  Phi. 
What down, ho, ho, ho:  
Laugh, laugh, you souls that fry in endless flames;  
Ha, whence this chillness— must I die— nay then,  
I come, I come, nay weep not for I come:  
Sleep injured shadow, O death strikes dumb. dies.  Au. 
Machvile thy hand, I can't repent, farewell:  
My burdened conscience sinks me down to hell. dies.  Mach. 
I cannot tarry long, farewell; we'll meet  
Where we shall never part: if here be any  
My life has injured, let your charity  
Forgive declining Machvile: I am sorry.  Ant. 
His penitence works strongly on my temper.  
Of disguise, see falling Count: Antonio forgives thee.  Mach. 
Antonio, O my shame,  
Can you whom I have injured most pardon my guilt?  
Give me thy hand yet nearer, this embrace  
Betray's thee to thy death: ha, ha, ha. Stabs him.  
So weeps the Egyptian monster when it kills,  
Washed in a flood of tears; couldst ever think  
Machvile's repentance could come from his heart;  
No, down Colossus Author of my sin,  
And bear the burden mingled with thine own, Enter the King. Aur. Evad. old Tay.  
To finish thy damnation.  King. 
Accursed villain, thou hast murdered him  
That holds not one small drop of loyal blood:  
But what is worth thy life.  Evad. 
O my brother.  Gio. 
Give him some air, the wound cannot be mortal.  Au. 
Alas he faints, O my Antonio:  
Cursed Machvile, may thy soul—  Ant. 
Peace, peace Aurelia; be more merciful:  
Men are apt to censure, and will condemn  
Thy passion, call it madness, and say thou  
want'st Religion: nay weep not sweet,  
For every one must die: it was thy love,  
For to deceive the Law, and give me life:  
But death you see has reached me, O, I die;  
Blood must have blood, so speaks the Law of Heaven:  
I slew the Governor, for which rash deed;  
Heaven, fate, and man, thus make Antonio bleed. dies.  Mach. 
Sleep, sleep great heart, thy virtue made me ill  
Authors of vice, 'tis fit the vicious kill:  
But yet forgive me, Oh, my great heart  
Dissolves like snow, and lessons to a rheum,  
Cold as the envious blasts of Northern wind:  
World how I loved thee, 'twere a sin to boast;  
Farewell, I now must leave thee; my life  
Grows empty with my veins: I cannot stand, my breath  
Is as my strength, weak; and both seized by death:  
Farewell ambition catching at a Crown,  
Death tripped me up, and headlong threw me down. dies.  King. 
So falls an exhalation from the sky,  
And's never missed because unnatural;  
A birth begotten by incorporate ill:  
Whose usher to the gazing World is wonder.  Enter Petruchio. 
Alas good man, thou'rt come unto a sight  
Will try thy temper, whether joy or grief  
Shall Conquer most within thee; joy lies here  
Scattered in many heaps: these when they lived,  
Threatened to tear this balsam from our brow,  
And rob our Majesty of this elixir: points to his Crown.  
is't not my right? was not I heir to Spain?  Pet. 
You are our Prince, and may you live  
Long to enjoy your right.  King. 
But now look here, 'tis plain grief has a hand  
Harder than joy; it presseth out such tears.  
Nay rise.  Pet. 
I do beseech your Grace not to think me  
Contriver of Antonio's scape from death,  
'Twas my disloyal daughter's breach of duty.  King. 
That's long since pardoned.  Pet. 
You're still merciful.  King. 
Antonio was thy son, I sent for thee  
For to confirm it, but he is dead:  
Be merciful, and do not curse the hand  
That gave it him, though it deserve it.  Au. 
O my griefs, are you not strong enough  
To break my heart? pray tell me, tell me true;  
Can it be thought a sin? or is it so,  
By my own hand to ease my breast of woe?  King. 
Alas poor Lady; rise, thy Father's here.  Pet. 
Look up Aurelia, ha, why do you kneel?  Gio. 
For a blessing.  Pet. 
Why she is not Aurelia, do not mock me.  King. 
But he is Sebastiano and your son;  
Late by our hand made happy by enjoying  
The fair Evadne dead Antonio's sister:  
For whose sake he became a Tailor,  
And so long lived in that mean disguise.  Pet. 
My joy had been too great if he had lived,  
The thrifty heavens mingle our sweets with gall;  
lest being glutted with excess of good,  
We should forget the giver. Rise Sebastiano  
With thy happy choice, mayst thou live crowned  
With the enjoyment of those benefits,  
My prayers shall beg for: rise Aurelio,  
And in some place blessed with religious prayers,  
Spend thy left Remnant.  Au. 
You advise well: indeed it was a fault  
To break the bonds of duty, and of law;  
But love, O Love; thou whose all conquering power,  
Builds Castles on the hearts of easy maids,  
And makes 'em strong unto attempt those dangers:  
That but rehearsed before, would fright their souls  
Into a Jelly. Brother, I must leave you;  
And Father, when I send to you a note, that shall  
Desire a yearly stipend to that holy place  
My tired feet has found to rest them in;  
Pray confirm it.  
And now great King Aurelia begs of you,  
To grace Antonio in the mournful March  
Unto his grave, which be where you think fit:  
We need not be interred both in one Vault.  King. 
Blessed Virgin, thy desires I will perform.  Au. 
Then I leave you, my prayers shall still attend you  
As I hope yours shall accompany me.  
Father your blessing, and ere long expect  
To hear where I am entertained a Nun  
Brother, and Sister, to you both adieu;  
Antonio dead, Aurelia marries new. Exit.  Pet. 
Farewell girl, when I remember thee,  
The Beads I drop shall be my tears. Enter Vermine in a Cloak for the Prologue.  King. 
She's to all virgins a true mirror;  
They that would behold true love, reflect on her:  
There 'tis ingrossed.  3 Tay. 
Great King, our Grace—  Old Tay. 
The King is sad, you must not act.  3 Tay. 
How? not act?  
Shall not Vermin act?  Old Tay. 
Yes you shall act, but not now;  
The King is indisposed.  3 Tay. 
Well then, some other time; I Virmine  
The King will act before the King.  Old. 
Very good, pray make your Exit.  3 Tay. 
I'll muster up all the Tailors in the The King and Gio. whisper.  
Town, and so tickle their sides.  Old. 
Nay thou'rt a right Virmine, go be not  
Troublesome. Exit Virmine.  Gio. 
Upon my truth and loyalty great King,  
What they did was but feigned, merely words  
Without a heart: 'twas by Antonio's Counsel.  King. 
Thou art all truth: rise. The Colonels kneel.  Omnes. 
Long live King Philip in the calm of peace,  
To exercise his Regal Clemency.  King. 
Take up Antonio's body, and let the rest  
Find Christian burial: mercy befits a King,  
Come trusty Tailor,  
And to all Countries let swift Fame report,  
King Philip made a tailor's house his Court.  Old. 
Your grace much honours me.  King. 
We can't enough pay thy alone deserts,  
Kings may be poor, when Subjects are like thee,  
So fruitful in all loyal virtuous deeds:  
March with the Body we'll perform all Rights,  
Of sable Ceremony: that done,  
We'll to our Court, since all our own is won.  Exeunt.   
FINIS.