THE school OF compliment.  
AS IT WAS ACTED by her Majesty's Servants at the Private house in Drury Lane.  — Haec placuit semel— 
By. J. Shirley  
LONDON, Printed by E. A. for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Crane. 1631.   

TO THE TRULY NOBLE GENTLEMAN, WILLIAM TRESHAM Esquire.  
SIr, I have long cherished a desire, by some worthy testimony, to express how much I honour you: But after a tedious expectation, hopeless to meet with an occasion to make me so fortunate; I resolved, rather than to hazard the censure of neglect, to snatch any opportunity of presenting my services. This (which to me hath no name, but what your bounty shall bestow) having pleased you upon the Stage, coming into the world, offereth itself to kiss your hand. If you be merciful, I am upon even terms with the world beside, and will study next to reach your mind with imaginations of a higher nature. In the mean time, grow you up, and ripen yourself for Honour; the flowings of your blood will instruct you how to merit; while I rest content with my ambition, if I may still write myself,  Your devoted Servant, I. Shirley.  

THE school OF compliment.  
prologue.  
IT is a principle by Nature wrote  
In all our understanding, there is not end.  
One Art or action, but it must tend  
And move from some beginning to its  
The Soldiers that wear the honoured bays  
Upon their brows, and glorious Trophies raise  
To fame on pile of wounds, knew a time when  
They sucked at war. Your Muse inspired men  
And of diviner earth, sacred for wit,  
Crept out of their first elements to it:  
The goodliest Harvest had first seed and hope,  
Ere it could lade with an enriching crop  
The rural team, th'exactest building first  
Grew from a stone, though afterward it durst  
Wrap his fair head in clouds: nothing so true,  
As all things have beginning: upon you  
Dwell candid application; this Play is  
The first fruits of a Muse, that before this  
Never saluted Audience, nor doth mean,  
To swear himself a Factor for the Scene.  
Though he employ some hours he only prays  
You take it as first borne, although he says,  
He meant it not his heir, since 'tis unjust  
One should have all, as in the Law it must.  
Accept then a beginning; all men know,  
He first kissed bays, that wore them on his brow.   


Drammatis Personae.  
Cornelio, an ancient Gentleman.  
Infortunio, a Gentleman lover of Selina.  
Rufaldo, an old Merchant.  
Antonio, son to Cornelio, in love with Hilaria.  
Gasparo, a Gentleman a Lover of Felice.  
jenkin, a Welshman.  
Bubulcus, a rich Gull, in love with Hilaria.  
jocarello, jenkin's Page.  
Gorgon, Antonio's Servant.  
Ingeniolo, a justice's clerk.  
Orlando Furioso, a Roarer.  
An old Countryman.  
Off his son.  
Servingman.  
shepherds.  
Selina Cornelio's daughter.  
Felice, her sister.  
Hilaria, Rufaldo's daughter.  
Delia, a Chambermaid.  
Medulla, a Country Gentlewoman.  
shepherdesses.    

THE school OF compliment.  


Scena prima.  Enter Antonio and Gasparo. Antonio. 
Sirrah, this Welshman is in love with my sister Selina, and hath chosen me for his Prolocutor.  Gasp. 
O! this Love will make us all mad, thou knowest I loved a sister of thine once, but heaven knows where she is, I think she loved me too, dost think she did not?  Gasp. 
Well, thy father has reason to curse himself, beside some that she and I have.  Ant. 
Nay, nay, thou'lt fall into passion again, when things are past recovery, 'twas a good wench, but come, prithee leave to think on her.  Gasp. 
Nay, I ha' done, what shall's do?  Ant. 
Any thing but talk of State matters: thou hast much intelligence in the world, prithee what's the news abroad? I come forth a purpose to hear some, and this is an age of novelties.  Gasp. 
News? O excellent news!  Ant. 
Prithee what is't? I long to hear some.  Gasp. 
There is no news at all.  Ant. 
Call you that excellent news?  Gasp. 
Is it not good news, that there is no bad news? the truth is, the newsmaker Master Money-lack is sick of a consumption of the wit.  Ant. 
The newsmaker? why, is there any newsmaker?  Gasp. 
Oh sir, how should younger brothers have maintained themselves, that have travelled, and have the names of Countries, and Captains without book, as perfect as their prayers, I and perfecter too? for I think there is more probability of forgetting their prayers, they say them so seldom; I tell you sir, I have known a Gentleman that has spent the best part of a thousand pound, while he was prentice to the trade in Holland, and out of three sheets of paper, which was his whole stock, a pen and inkhorn he borrowed, he set up shop, and spent a hundred pound a year upon his whore, and found sheets for them both to lie in too: it has been a great profession; marry most commonly they are Soldiers: a peace concluded, is a great plague unto 'em, and if the wars hold, we shall have store of them; O, they are men worthy of commendations, they speak in print.  Ant. 
Are they Soldiers?  Gasp. 
Faith so they would be thought, though indeed they are but mongrels, not worthy of that noble attribute; they are indeed bastards, not sons of war and true Soldiers, whose divine souls I honour, yet they may be called great spirits too, for their valour is invisible, these I say will write you a battle in any part of Europe at an hour's warning, and yet never set foot out of a Tavern, describe you Towns, Fortifications, Leaders, the strength a'th' enemies, what Confederates, every days march, not a Soldier shall lose a hair, or have a bullet fly between his Arms, but he shall have a Page to wait on him in quarto, nothing destroys 'em but want of a good memory, for if they escape contradiction, they may be chronicled.  Ant. 
Why, thou art wise enough to be an Informer.  Gasp. 
I marry, now you speak of a Trade indeed, the very Atlas of a State Politic, the Common-shore of a City, nothing falls amiss unto 'em, and if there be no filth in the Commonwealth can live by honesty, and yet be knaves by their privilege, there is not an oath but they will have money for it!  Ant. 
Oh brave Trade.  Gasp. 
They can eat men alive and digest 'em, they have their conscience in a string, and can stifle it at their pleasure, the devil's journeymen, set up for themselves, and keep a damnation house of their own; indeed they seldom prove Aldermen, yet they are taken for Knights every day a'th' week, when they ride post, they have the art of insinuation, and speak writs familiarly, they are Agents as I have heard for the Devil in their life time, and if they die in their bed, have this privilege, to be sons of hell by adoption, and take place of Sergeants.  Enter Infortunio and Selina. Gasp. 
Stay. Who's there? thy sister and Infortunio: let's observe.  Infor. 
I must have other answer, for I must love you.  Sil. 
Must? but I do not see any necessity that I should love you, I do confess you are a proper man.  Infor. 
O do not mock Selina, let not excellence  
Which you are full of, make you proud and scornful,  
I am a Gentleman, though my outward part  
Cannot attract affection, yet some have told me,  
Nature hath made me what she need not shame,  
Yet look into my heart, there you shall see  
What you cannot despise, for there you are  
With all your graces waiting on you, there  
Love hath made you a Throne to sit, and rule  
o'er Infortunio, all my thoughts obeying  
And honouring you as Queen, pass by my outside:  
My breast I dare compare with any man.  Sil. 
〈…〉 can see this breast you boast of so?  Infor. 
Oh 'tis an easy work, for though it be  
Not to be pierced by the dull eye, whose beam  
Is spent on outward shapes, there is a way  
To make a search into hiddenst passage.  
I know you would not love to please your sense:  
A Tree that bears a ragged unleaved top  
In depth of Winter, may when Summer comes  
Speak by his fruit, he is not dead but youthful,  
Though once he showed no sap: my heart's a plant  
Kept down by colder thoughts, and doubtful fears,  
Your frowns like Winter storms make it seem dead,  
But yet it is not so, make it but yours,  
And you shall see it spring, and shoot forth leaves  
Worthy your eye, and the oppressed sap  
Ascend to every part to make it green,  
And pay your love with fruit when Harvest comes.  
If my affection be suspected, make  
Experience of my loyalty, by some service  
Though full of danger, you shall know me better,  
And so discern the truth of what you see not.  Sil. 
Then you confess your love is cold as yet,  
And Winter's in you heart.  Infor. 
Mistake me not, Silena, for I say  
My heart is cold, not love.  Sel. 
And yet your love is from your heart I'll warrant.  Infor. 
Oh you are nimble to mistake,  
My heart is cold in your displeasures only,  
And yet my love is fervent, for your eye  
Casting out beams, maintains the flame it burns in.  
Again, sweet Love,  
My heart is not mine own, 'tis yours, you have it,  
And while it naked lies, not deigned your bosom  
To keep it warm, how can it be but cold,  
In danger to be frozen? blame not it,  
You only are in fault it hath no heat.  Sel. 
Well sir, I know you have Rhetoric, but I  
Can without art give you a final answer.  Infor. 
Oh stay, and think a while, I cannot relish  
You should say final, sweet, deliberate,  
It doth concern all the estate I have,  
I mean not dunghill treasure, but my life  
Doth stand or fall to it, if your answer be  
That you can love me, be it swift as lightning,  
But if you mean to kill me, and reject  
My so long love-devotions, which I have paid  
As to an Altar, stay a little longer,  
And let me count the riches I shall lose  
By one poor aery word, first give me back  
That part of Infortunio that is lost  
Within your love, play not the Tyrant with me.  Sel. 
Y'are overweak to let your passions sway you:  
If I knew any thing I had of yours,  
I would not do you that injustice, sir,  
To let it stay with me, and for your love  
I cannot pay it back again with mine,  
Either release the debt, or I shall die in't,  
Your suit is fruitless, hopeless, pardon me, farewell.  Ant. 
Now by all my hopes you are to blame, sister, come, this Gentleman deserves your love, Infortunio.  Sel. 
Brother, you forget yourself.  Ant. 
Why, I do remember I am your brother, I say you must love him.  Sel. 
Must?  Ant. 
What, does that move your spirit? what are you, but you may love? be not petulant, y'are a baggage and not worthy of a man, by heaven I now could kick her.  Exit. Gasp. 
Thy other sister was of calmer temper, this a true woman.  Infor. 
Sir, had not nature made you brother to her, I should be angry.  Exit Ant. 
Alas poor Gentleman, I do not feel myself in such an humour for Hilaria, and yet by this hand I love her well enough, and now I think on't, I promised her my company, she has a damnable usurious stinking wretch to her father, that cannot abide me, but 'tis no matter, this wench and I may find a place to meet in, in spite of his eyes and spectacles. How now Gorgon, what says she?  Enter Gorgon. Gorg. 
Sir, I have done your remembrances to Mistress Hilaria, and told her you should find her coming by and by, but you were best pass in some obscurity, for her father Rufaldo is hard by sir. Lupus in Fabula.  Enter Rufaldo. Ant. 
Gasparo, and thou love me, show thy wit to entertain this piece of black damask and Velvet guards, while I go in to Hilaria.  Ruf. 
Old men are the truest lovers, young men are inconstant and wag with every wind, we never move, but are as true as steel.  Gor. 
But in women's matters as weak as water, as weak as water.  Ruf. 
Besides, sweet Love, but do I court a shadow? to see whither love will carry a man: let me see, I could find in my heart to bestow a ring upon my Sweetheart, but that I am loath to part with it: hem, I will get but one child, and that shall be a boy, lest having too many children, I undo my heir, and my goods be divided. O sweet Selina, O amiable Selina; sure I am not old.  Gor. 
I have it, Signior Gasparo, pray let me begin with my Merchant if you love me, and if you like it, second me.  Gasp. 
Go to Gorgon, let's see thy window.  Ruf. 
Old men walk with a staff, and creep along the streets, hold their heads below their girdle, falter in their speech, foam at mouth, and breathe ten times in a furlong, and are ready to spit their lungs on every man's threshold.  Gorg. 
God save you sir.  Ruf. 
God a mercy honest Gorgon.  Gor. 
I cry you mercy sir, I'll assure you sir, I took you for Master Rufaldo the old Merchant.  Ruf. 
Why, and am not I? is not the fellow drunk? I am Rufaldo.  Gor. 
It may be some kin to him, but not that Rufaldo I mean, you are younger a fair deal.  Ruf. 
I am that Rufaldo, the Merchant, that buried my wife lately, and have one daughter Hilaria, ancient acquaintance with Cornelio and your Master Antonio.  Gor. 
Oh sir, you must excuse me for that.  Ruf. 
Is thy name Gorgon?  Gor. 
What else sir, honest Gorgon I?  Ruf. 
Do I know thee to be Gorgon? what, shall I be faced out of myself? why thou varlet, who am I, if not Rufaldo?  Gor. 
Why sir, 'tis plain, you have no grey hairs in your head, your cheek is scarlet, a wanton youthful eye; Rufaldo had a head like frost, his eyes sunk into his hollows, a rugged brow, a hoary beard, and all his body not worth a drop of blood, a very crazy old meal-mouthed Gentleman, you are younger at least by thirty years.  Ruf. 
I'll assure thee I was Rufaldo, when I rose in the morning.  Gor. 
You have not slept since, have you?  Ruf. 
No.  Gor. 
'Tis the more strange. I have heard of some that have been changed in a dream, but never waking before: this is strange, nay admirable!  Ruf. 
Young, changed, art sure thou dost not mock?  Gor. 
I were a very knave then, if you be Rufaldo, I hope your worship knows I have been bound to my good behaviour.  Ruf. 
Altered young, ha! I would I were; and yet methinks I am livelier than I was, I feel my joints pliable as wax, and my voice is stronger too. But tell me, honest Gorgon, is it possible for an old man to be young again?  Gor. 
Nay, I see you'll not believe me: well sir, I will be bold to report the wonder abroad, and astonish all your friends.  Ruf. 
Nay, stay, honest Gorgon, ha! young, no grey hairs? stay, who's here?  Exit Gorgon. Gasp. 
Ha! 'tis not he, I'll speak to him, no 'tis in vain, I'll see if he knows me.— He passes by.  Ruf. 
Gasparo! what, does not he know me too?  Gasp. 
Sir, I should know you, are you not Signior Petrucchio, the dancing Master?  Ruf. 
Tricks, passages, I am Rufaldo, old Rufaldo.  Gasp. 
Rufaldo indeed is old, but you are young, you do retain his countenance, I would swear you were he, but you are younger far.  Ruf. 
'Tis so, I am changed, I am younger than I was, I am that Rufaldo, believe, I know you to be a learned Gentleman, named Gasparo, I was told afore I was altered, but not to trouble you with many questions, only one, Gasparo, is it a thing possible for an old man to be young again? I know 'tis admirable, but is it possible? you are a Scholar.  Gasp. 
Possible? oh yes, there's no question, for we see by experience, Stags cast their old horns, and prove vigorous, Snakes cast off their old coats, Eagles renew their age, your plants do it familiarly, the Phoenix when she is old, burns herself to ashes, from thence revives a young Phoenix again. Possible? I have heard some old men have been twice children sir,— therefore 'this not impossible.  Ruf. 
'tis very strange: I am not yet confident.  Gasp. 
There be receipts in Physic, sir, to keep them young, saving that time runs on a little beforehand with 'em: yes, and to make young, since it is harder to make alive when they are dead, than to make young when they are alive, and Physic doth revive some out of all question, though not so familiarly as kill, for that they do with a little study; marry I think, if it were as gainful to the Physician to restore as to destroy, he would practise the Art of recovery very faithfully.  Ruf. 
Why, do you think it would not prove as gainful?  Gasp. 
Oh! by no means, for where an old man would give a hundred pound, to have forty or fifty years wiped off the old score of his life, his wife or next heir would join rather than fail, to outbid him half on't, to put him out of debt quite, and to send his old leaking vessel into mare mortuum.  Ruf. 
Well, well, but if I be young, I have took no Physic for't.  Gasp. 
If nay, 'tis past if, and, and too, you are certainly restored, let me see, you look like one of four, or six and thirty, not a minute above, and so much a man may take you for.  Ruf. 
Well, I know not what to say to't, there is some power in love has blessed me: now Selina, be thou gracious.  Gasp. 
Are you in love? nay, the wonder is not so great; who can express the power of Love? I have read of a Painter named Pygmalion, that made the Picture of a woman so to the life, that he fell in love with it, courted it, lay in bed with it, and by power of Love, it became a soft-natured wench indeed, and he begot I know not how many children of her. Well sir, Selina cannot choose but be mad for you.  Ruf. 
Not mad, Gasparo, I would be loath to be troubled with her and she be mad.  Gasp. 
Yes, and she be mad in love, there is no harm in't, she cannot be too mad in love, your Cornucopia may be abated at pleasure, besides sir, the best moral men say, Love itself is a madness, and the madder your wife is, the more sure you may be she loves you.  Ruf. 
No, no, I love no madness on any condition, for fear of being horn-mad.  Gasp. 
Why sir, madness is not such a discredit, as the age goes: you know there are many mad fashions, and what man but some times may be mad? are not your great men mad, that when they have enough, will pawn their soul for a Monopoly? besides mad Lords, what do you think of Ladies at some time of the Moon, you may spell 'em in their names, madam? you have mad Courtiers, that run madding after citizens' wives: the Citizens are mad too, to trust 'em with their wares, who have been so deep in their wife's books before: your justice of Peace is some times mad too, for when he may see well enough, he will suffer any man to put out his eye with a bribe: some Lawyers are often stark-mad, and talk wildly, no man is able to endure their Terms.  Ruf. 
Prithee madcap leave, I am almost mad to hear thee.  Gasp. 
Well, my old young Rufaldo, if you marry Selina, I shall have a pair of gloves, I hope, and you'll let me dance at your wedding.  Ruf. 
That thou shalt, boy, and I'll dance myself too, heigh,—  Exit leaping. Gasp. 
Farewell credulity; ha, ha, with what a greediness do old men run out of their wits? 'Twas a good recreation to see with what pleasure he suffered himself to be gulled: faith Gasparo, play out thy hand, now thou art in: methinks I have an excellent appetite to make myself merry with the simplicity of this age: let me see, 'tis Spring and, I mean to give my head a purgation, it may beat off the remembrance of my lost Love Felice: a pox of Melancholy, I will act two or three parts if I live in spite of it, and if I die then  Exit Gasparo. Enter Gorgon. Gor. 
signior Gasparo, my Master would speak with you: the project too: I met the Youth strutting like a Gentleman Usher, 'twas my invention.  Gasp. 
But I gave it polish, Gorgon.  Gorg. 
I confess, you took off the roughcast, but 'twas Gorgon's head brought forth the project, from my jove's brain came this Minerva.  Gasp. 
I think thou art a wit.  Gor. 
Who, I a wit? I thought you had 'more wit, than to make such a question, all the Town takes me for a wit, here's a pate hath crackers in't and flashes.  Gasp. 
And thou sayst the word, we'll join in a project of wit, to make an Ass of the world a little, it shall make us merry, if it take no other ways, wilt join?  Gor. 
By this hand, any project of wit, what is't, good Gasparo? the project.  Gasp. 
Canst be close?  Gor. 
As midnight to a Bawd, or a pair of Trusses to an Irish man's buttocks.  Gasp. 
Go to, thou shalt now then excuse me to thy Master, I will presently furnish myself with new lodgings, and expect to hear from me shortly my brave Delphic, I have it in Embrio, and I shall soon be delivered.  Gorg. 
If I fail, call me Spider-catcher.  Exit. Gasp. 
Mum, not a word, if all hit right, we may Laugh all our melancholy thoughts away.  Exit.   


Actus secundus, Scena prima.  Enter Bubulcus. Bub. 
If I were a woman, now could I fall in love with myself: everybody tells me I am the properest Gentleman in the Town, and I put it up, for the truth is, I dare not give any one the lie, a pox a fighting, I can look as big as another, but shall I be such an Ass, to venture myself with beasts? for they say, your swords most commonly are Foxes, and have notable mettle in'em; let me see, I am now at Rufaldo's my father in Law that must be, here he is.  Enter Rufaldo apparelled youthfully. 
Master Rufaldo, if you had been my own father, as you are but like to be my father in Law, I should have proved myself a fool, by this hand I should not have known you, why, how brisk and neat, and youthful he is!  Ruf. 
I am something altered I confess, since I saw you.  Bub. 
By this flesh that shines, a man would not take you to be above five or six and thirty at most, how came this?  Ruf. 
just as Gasparo told me, 'tis apparent, nay, nay, son, forbear to be inquisitive, I confess I am abated of my age, the power of Love, and so forth, but I see your fire of love is not out too.  Bub. 
No, mine was but raked up in the embers.  Ruf. 
Why, this Love does make us all ingenious too: come sit down, saving your tail sir, a cushion, we may discourse with the more case.  Bub. 
Pray, how does my Sweetheart Mistress Hillaria.  Ruf. 
she is very well, ha son, I am in love too: son I call you, I hope you will get my daughter's goodwill, but you'll find her peevish.  Bub. 
No matter, sir, for that, I would not have her easily, I would sweat for her, I'll warrant, I'll make her love me.  Ruf. 
Look you can you read, I made a ditty to send to my Mistress, and my Musician that I keep in my house, to teach my daughter, hath set it to a very good air, he tells me: you shall hear and judge of it, I hear him tuning his Instrument.  

A Song.  

God of War to Cupid yield,  
He is Master of the field,  
He with Arrow hits the heart,  
Thou with Lance the worser part.   

Cupid greater is then jove,  
Since he wounded was with love,  
Nay, in power by much odds  
He excels the other gods.   

Love transformed jove to a Swan,  
Made Ulysses a mad man,  
But Rufaldo it does make  
Young for his Selina's sake.    Ruf. 
How do you relish it, ha?  Bub. 
I troth the Ditty is as pretty an air as ere I saw, 'tis divided into three regions too, I warrant you, can make Ballads easily.  Ruf. 
Oh fie, they are barbarous and ignoble, that's beggarly.  Bub. 
But for all that, I have read good stuff sometimes, especially in your fighting Ballads, When Cannons are roaring, and bullets are flying, &c.  Ruf. 
Fie, a whipping post, tinkerly stuff; how did you like the air?  Bub. 
As sweet an air as a man would wish to live in, but 'tis somewhat backward.  Ruf. 
Oh Music, the life of the soul.  Bub. 
I should have learned Music once too, but my Master had so many crotchets, I could ne'er away with it: but where is your daughter, sir? there is no Music without her, she is the best Instrument to play upon.  Ruf. 
And you shall have her between your legs presently.  Bub. 
I had as lief be betwixt hers, for all that.  Ruf. 
Hilaria, where is this girl? I'll fetch her to you, and leave her with you, for I have a Love of mine own, to whom I mean in person to present this Ditty, I'll fetch her.  Exit. Bub. 
I do not see what fault she'll find with me, and if I had some good word to come over her: but I must help it out and need be, with swearing; but here she is.  Enter Rufaldo, Hilaria, Antonio aloof. Ruf. 
Still Antonio with you? you are a foolish girl: do I take care to provide a husband for you? and will you cast away yourself upon a Prodigal? but that I would not discontent his sister, whom I hope to make my wife, I would forbid him my house; therefore be wise, and take heed of him, he's giddy-headed, and loose-bodied. The Bee may buzz, but he will leave a sting: plant your love there: upon my blessing, he has many Lordships.  Hil. 
Pray heaven he have good manners.  Ruf. 
I have set open the gate of opportunity; Cupid speed us both.  Bub. 
Let me alone to enter my man, now the point is open: hum, stay, there's a man in her Tables more than I looked for: foot, he kisses her, I'll call Rufaldo back, he's out of sight, it were but a cowardly trick, for me to runaway.  Ant. 
Be Buzzard now, the sting of conscience eat up his gut, fry his suet, and leave him at his death not able to weigh down a pound of candle.  Bub. 
He talks of svet, I do melt already.  Hil. 
Look, do you see that man of clothes? upon my father's blessing he must be my husband. What will you do?  Ant. 
Fight with him, his clothes are too big for him, I'll beat him till he swell to 'em.  Hil. 
No, as you love me, do not strike him.  Bub. 
I will set a good face whatsoever come. Hilaria, how does my Love, come kiss: why so: this comes of valour, we fall to, and he falls off, he's some coward, I hope, and how dost Hilaria? 'tis an age since I saw thee: what Springals is that? ha.  Hil. 
One that desires to be of your acquaintance, sir.  Bub. 
My acquaintance, who is he? none but Knights, and Knights fellows, are of my acquaintance, I scorn Gentlemen.  Hi. 
But for my sake, pray be acquainted with him.  Bub. 
Thou shalt do much with me, sir, I am content for her sake whom I love, to be acquainted with you, wilt borrow any money? for so do all that begin their acquaintance with me, 'tis the fashion, he is a coward, is he not? here: nay, and you scorn my money, I scorn your acquaintance.  Hil. 
Pray for my sake.  Bub. 
Why, he will borrow no money of me, I had never such a trick put upon me, since I knew what acquaintance was: I'm sure there have been forty acquainted with me, since I came to Town, and not one had not so little breeding, to let me ask 'em the question, we could no sooner shake hands, but the other was in my pocket: It may be 'tis his modesty. Sir, this is my Love Hilaria, and if you will not borrow money of me, by this hand, there lies my sword, he is a coward.  Hil. 
It appears.  Bub. 
Hilaria is my Mistress, and if any man dare be so venturous, as to blast her reputation with a foul breath, he shall breathe his last.  Hil. 
'Tis very sure, he shall not be immortal.  Bub. 
Or if you shall offer in my presence to defile her lip, or touch her hand, or kiss but the neither part of her vesture, you had better kiss her in another place; nay do but blow on her.  Hil. 
You forget yourself, this is my friend.  Bub. 
Or wink at her, or speak to her, or make signs, or think on her to my face, and you had better keep your thoughts to yourself: now to conclude, and if you be aggrieved, my name is Bubulcus, and you lie.  Ant. 
And you lie there ah ground: why should not I knock his brains out with his own hilts, or stake him to the ground, like a man that had hanged himself? Sirrah clothes, Rat of Nilus' fiction, monster, golden Calf, oh, I would kick thee till thou hast no more brains, than thy cousin Woodcock: I will not dishonour myself to kill thee, half a dozen kicks will be as good as a house of correction, out you Monkey.  Bub. 
Oh, that I could run thee thorough body and soul, I will challenge thee, a pox on your toes, would I had the paring of your nails, were you dumb so long for this?  Ant. 
Hence.  Bub. 
Who looked for you? when will you be here again? look for a challenge, the time may come, when I will beat thee.  Exit. Ant. 
Has thy father left a multitude of men, to make choice of this piece of folly to be thy husband? oh, the blindness of a covetous wretched father, that is led only by the ears, and in love with sounds! Nature had done well to have thrust him into the world without an eye, that like a Mole is so affected to base earth, and there means to dig for Paradise: but come, Hilaria. Fathers their children, and themselves abuse, That wealth a husband for their daughter choose.  Exeunt. Enter Cornelio, Rufaldo, and Selina. Cor. 
I did not think, Rufaldo, pardon me,  
You could have so prevailed, but if she can  
Plant her affection on ye, I'll not be  
Backward to call you son.  Seli. 
He does appear  
With all the charms of love upon his eye,  
And not rough drawn, but polished, he assumes  
A power 'bove all resistance.  Cor. 
An old man's Darling, is a petty Queen  
Above all her desires.  Ruf. 
Nay, she shall want nothing my wealth can purchase,  
O my sweet Selina.  Cor. 
Rufaldo, with your patience, I would have  
A word or two in private, you need not  
Prejudicate me.  Ruf. 
With all my heart.  Cor. 
Selina, thou knowest I am thy father.  Sel. 
My duty, sir, shall speak it.  Cor. 
And you know whom you have rejected.  Sel. 
Young Infortunio.  Cor. 
And you know what man he is, with whom  
You mean to tie that knot, nothing but  
Death is able to undo.  Sil. 
Rufaldo, sir, an old man.  Cor. 
Oh Selina, Felice thy poor sister thou recall'st  
To sad remembrance, but heaven alas  
Knows only where she is.  Sel. 
Sir, I have often heard you talk of her,  
But never knew that sister well.  Cor. 
Thou with thy uncle's tenderness wast kept  
Always i'th' Country, not until her loss  
At home with me, her fate taught me to give  
A liberty to thee, her I restrained  
Poor wench in love with Gasparo, till betwixt  
Obedience to a father, and the love  
To him, she left us both, father and friend,  
Now to avoid the like affliction,  
I vowed thy freedom, and thou seest I do  
Not encounter thy affection with the bonds  
A father might enforce upon his child.  Sel. 
I humbly thank you.  Cor. 
But yet Selina,  
Take heed, be not too rash, I have observed  
You want no common judgement, O do not  
Precipitate thyself into a sorrow,  
Shall waste thee with repentance, let me tell you,  
There is a method, when your passion's young  
To keep it in obedience: you love Rufaldo,  
Art thou not young? How will the Rose agree  
With a dead Hyacinth? or the Honey woodbine,  
Circling a withered briar?  
You can apply, can you submit your body  
To bed with Ice and Snow, your blood to mingle?  
Would you be deafed with coughing, teach your eye  
How to be rheumatic? Breathes he not out  
His body in diseases, and like dust  
Falling all into pieces, as if Nature  
Would make him his old grave: I say too much.  
O what are all the riches of the world,  
To an oppressed mind? which then must be  
Fed with despair of change, or will gold  
Buy off th' imprisonment? nay, will it not  
Compose the chains, that bind you to endure it?  
Well I have said enough, keep still your freedom,  
And lose it where you will, you shall not blame  
Me for your fate, nor grieve me with your shame.  Sel. 
Dear father, low as earth I tender you  
The duty of a daughter, I have heard you  
Not with a careless ear, that liberty  
You have bestowed on me, for which I owe  
All that I am, doth make me confident  
You will not be offended, if I tell you  
My love is virtuous, were it otherwise,  
I should elect as you premonish youth,  
And prodigal blood: And father, I think here  
I show myself your daughter, nor am I  
Without good precedent too: how many fine  
Young noble Ladies, in this fairy I'll,  
Have matched with reverend age? and live as they  
Were borne from Nature's purity, free from stain  
Of sensual imputation, by their Loves,  
Deriving heavenly honours to themselves  
'bove merit of equality.  Cor. 
No more, heaven's blessing and mine  
Light on thee, shalt have Rufaldo.  Sel. 
I would not leave Rufaldo for a world  
Of rash untemperate youth, believe it sir.  Cor. 
Rufaldo, heard you that? she says she would not  
Leave you for a world of other men.  Ruf. 
Nor I for thousand worlds forsake my Love.  
Come seal it with a kiss, another, another, another.  Cor. 
As close as Cockles.  Ruf. 
Oh, that we were married! 'tis death to stay the  
Ceremonies, would we were a-bed together.  Cor. 
'Twere time I see we were at conference,  
To confirm all things for the marriage,  
You being agreed, I think we shall not differ  
In other circumstance, and 'twere sin to let  
That keep your joys asunder by delay:  
Please you we'll have some treaties.  Ruf. 
Most willingly, O my bird, my Chick, my Dove,  
My America, my new-found world, I shall shortly  
Run back into one and twenty again.  Exeunt Cornelio and Rufaldo. Sel. 
With what agility he moves himself,  
As he were made of air? let weakness tax  
Our inequality, I have a mind  
Can easily contemn what the world's malice  
Out of its own first guiltiness can throw  
Upon our loves, 't shall be enough for me  
Thus to convince the world of so much baseness,  
Lodged in luxurious thoughts, by my chaste thoughts.  
Rufaldo, thou art mine, all time, methinks  
Is slow, till we be actually possessed  
Of mutual enjoying. Stay, who's this  Enter lenkin, and his Page locarello. 
The Welshman that delivers his affection  
At second hand to me.  Ien. 
Look you Pages, where our Sweethearts and pigsneys be, & her could tell what to say to her now, know her heart very well, but pogs upon her, cannot aule her knowledge speak Rhetorics, and Oratories, and fine words to her? look you know better to fight, and cut doublets with her Welsh glaves, mark you.  Ioc. 
Sir will you lose this opportunity, you'll curse yourself in Welsh, two or three days together for't.  Ien. 
gentlewoman, if her knaw not her name, was jenkin, borne in Wales, came of pig houses, & prittish bloods was have great hills and mountains aule her own, when was get 'em again, any was her cousin's, and our Countryman was never conquered, but always have the victories pravely, have her Arms and scutcheons, to know that say you, was give in her crests great deal of monsters, and Dragons, kill 'em with their hooks very valiantly, as any Sentelman in the whole world: pray you now was please you place her affections and goodwills upon her, in ways of makemoney, mark you teale plainly, lenkin was love her very honestly, else pox upon her, and her will fight in her cause, and quarrels, long as have any blood in her bellies and backs too, mark you.  Sel. 
Sir, I am bound to you for the affection  
You cast on me, 'tis far above my merit.  Ien. 
Merits say you? all merits are all banished our Countries and Nations, you know dat: pray you was her love lenkin?  Sel. 
Love you, sir? I know not  
How to be so inhuman, not to love you,  
Your parts deserve a nobler object, I am not  
Worthy so much opinion of your love,  
But wherein I may do you service sir,  
You shall command Selina.  Exit Selina. Ien. 
Shall her, was make her means and satisfactions warrant her, or say Senkin was Sentleman of Wales, say you now Pages, was have her matrimonies & wedlocks very fast, look you, and when was get her awse her cousins, was make joys and gratulation for her good fortunes upon her welsh Harps, know you dat very well Pages? her fear her shall be Knighted one days, and have great cumulations of urships, honours, and dignities too, a great while ago.  Ioc. 
And great Castles i'th' air.  Ien. 
Was give all our lands, and craggy Tenements in Wales away to our cousin up john, and live herself here upon very good fashions, with our moneys and mighty riches, when her can get 'em.  Enter Infortunio. Infor. 
How now, whither so fast, man? thou mayst get to hell by night, and thou goest but an Alderman's pace.  Ien. 
By cat's blood, her will go to the Devil and her list, what is that to her?  Infor. 
Cry you mercy, your name is Master lenkin.  Ien. 
And what have her to say to Master lenkin? lenkin is as good names as her own, pray you was good Sentle man as herself, know very well, say you now?  Infor. 
good-bye, sir.  Ien. 
boys, does her call her boys? hark you her? her name is lenkin, her be no boys, no shildren.  Infor. 
I will not be used so.  Ien. 
Her shall be used worse, and her call lenkin boys, was knock as tall a man as herself, an welsh blood be up, look you.  Infor. 
Can she love Rufaldo? 'tis impossible.  Ien. 
Piple pables, 'tis very possible.  Infor. 
His body has more diseases than an Hospital, an hunger-starved Rascal.  Ien. 
Rascals? sheshu! was never such names and appellations put upon her, all her days, Becar her will make you eat up all her words and ignominies, or her plade shall make holes in your bellies diggon.  Infor. 
A very puff, a weak cannibal.  Ien. 
hay, puff, and Cannibals, if the Devil be in your mouths, her will pick your teeths with her welsh plade, and pay you for all your puffs, & Cannibals, warrant her.  Infor. 
But 'tis her fault, alone impudent woman.  
Oh, may you like Narcissus perish by  
Your face, the fall of others, or unpitied  
Of heaven and earth, die loathsome! I could curse.  Ien. 
Her can curse, and swear too, look you now.  Infor. 
Pardon divinest sex, passions do force  
My reason from me, I do submit,  
Crave pardon, as your creature.  Ien. 
Nay, and her crave pardons, and make submissions, lenkin was put up all her angers and indignations, farewell.  Exit cum locarello. Infor. 
Oh, Selina!  
Thou art too much an Adamant  
To draw my soul unto thee, either be  
Softer, or less attractive: but Rufaldo,  
'Tis depth of witchcraft, oh, I could be mad,  
Beyond all patience mad, it is some malice  
Hath laid this poison on her.  Enter Gorgon with a letter. Gor. 
Here's Infortunio. Alas, poor Gentleman, little does he think what black and white is here, a bitter handful of commendations to him, my young Mistress is mad of the old Coxcomb, and will marry him almost without asking, I cannot tell but if she do not cuckold him, and make him cry corns on his toes ere he die, he has fool's fortune, for a wise man would be out of hope to avoid it, he spies me.  Inf. 
Whither running, Gorgon?  Gorg. 
Not out of my wit, Sir, I have a Letter from my young Mistress Selina, must in all haste have cleanly conveyance to old Rufaldo.  Inf. 
Let me but see the directions. To my beloved friend Master Rufaldo: 'tis a lie, she was mistaken, it was I should owe this appellation, I'll not believe the superscription, 'tis a painted face, I'd see the heart on't.  Gorg. 
I hope, sir, you will not throw open the sheet, and discover my Mistress secrets? How he stares!  Inf. 
If you love me, and wish me constant, be your own friend, and let our marriage day begin with the next morning: thine, mine. Oh Selina, she's mad. All womankind is mad; and I am mad: whom shall I rend in pieces for my wrongs, and as with atoms fill this poisoned air, Rufaldo? Stay, is not she a creature rational? oh no, there is no spark of nature in her, all is sunk, lost for ever: stay, stay, see.  Gorg. 
He has made a tailor's bill on't, torn't apieces ere it be discharged: What shall I do?  Inf. 
This is Medea's brother torn in pieces,  
And this the way where she with jason flies,  
Tom Colchos, come not near 'em, see, look,  
That's an arm rent off.  Gorg. 
This?  Inf. 
And the hand beckons us  
To cry out murder.  Gorg. 
I'll but hold it by the hand.  Inf. 
That's a leg o'th' boy.  Gorg. 
This sir, a leg, it shall go with me then.  Inf. 
There, there 'tis, head and yellow curled locks,  
His eyes are full of tears, now they do stare,  
To see where all his other members lie.  Gorg. 
So I have all his quarters, I'll presently, sir, get poles for 'em, and hang 'em upon the Gates in their postures for you.  Exit. Inf. 
But she and jason are both slipped, and Argos is  
Sailing home to Greece, see how the waves  
Do toss the Vessel, and the winds conspire  
To dash it 'gainst a Rock, it rides upon  
A watery mountain, and is hid in clouds,  
It cannot stay there, now, now, it tumbles,  
Three fathom beneath Hell, let 'em go,  
Here comes the Father of Medea now,  
Calling in vain unto the gods, and spies  
His son's limbs thrown about, in stead of flowers,  
To his daughter's nuptials he does take 'em up,  
He knows the face, and now he tears his hair,  
And raves, and cries Medea, poor old man,  
Command a funeral pile for thy young Child,  
And lay the pretty limbs on, from whose ashes  
Shalt have another Son i'th' shape of Phoenix.  
Shall I? excellent! Prepare a fire  
All of sweet wood for my sweet boy, a fire, a fire.  Exit.   


Actus tertius, Scena prima.  Enter Rufaldo. Ruf. 
'Tis now early day: fie, what a long night hath this been? the Sun went drunk to bed the last night, and could not see to rise this morning: I could hardly wink, I am sure, love kept me waking, and the expectation of this my wedding day did so caper in my brains, I thought of nothing but dancing the shaking of the sheets with my sweetheart. It is certain, I am young everybody now tells me, so it did appear by Selina's consenting so soon to love, for when I had but broke the Ice of my affection, she fell over head and ears in love with me; was ever man so happy as I am? I do feel, I do feel my years fall off, as the rain from a man that comes dropping in, I do feel myself every day grow younger and younger still: let me see, an hundred years hence, if I live to 't, I shall be new out of my teens, and running into years of discretion again: Well, I will now to Master Cornelio's, and bid 'em good morrow with a noise of Musicians, and to see the very talking of music, how my heart leaps and dances, at my wedding already! I have bespoke the Parson to marry us, and have promised a double fee for expedition. O now I am so proud of my joy, my feet do not know what ground they stand on.  Exit. Enter jenkin and jocarello. Ien. 
jenkin has risen very early this mornings, and been in studies and contemplations, to make ditties and verses upon her Mistress beauties and pulchritudes, but the devil's sure in these Poetries, they call it Furies and Raptures, look you, but jenkin's pate is almost mad, and yet her cannot all her inventions meet with these Furies and Raptures.  Enter Selina in Shepherd's weeds. Sel. 
Thus far I have passed without discovery: the morning is auspicious to my flight. Selina, what an alteration hath a day made in thee, that to prevent thy so desired marriage, thou art thus lost in a masculine habit, and dost fly him? thou didst so much love aged Rufaldo, in what a Lethargy wert thou fall'n, Selina?  Ien. 
jocarello, does her not name Selina? 'tis no very good manners to make interruptions, her will hear more, look you.  Sel. 
Whither had reason so withdrawn itself?  
I could not make distinction of a man,  
From such a heap of age, aches and rheum:  
Sure I was mad, and doth increase my fury,  
To think with what a violence I ran  
To embrace such rottenness. O, my guilty soul  
Doth feel the punishment of the injury  
I did to Infortunio of late,  
Of whom as I despair, so shall the world,  
Ever to know again hapless Selina.  
This is the morn the sacred Rites should tie  
Me to Rufaldo, ripe in expectation,  
But like Ixion he shall grasp a Cloud,  
My empty clothes at home, Selina thus  
Is turned a Shepherd, and will try her fortune;  
Hard by the Shepherds have their shady dwellings,  
There let Selina end her hapless days,  
Father and all farewell. Thus as Felice  
My other Sister, I'll wear out my life,  
Far from your knowledge: sacred love commands  
Revenge and justice for my cruelty,  
And reason now awaked shall lead me to it,  
Thus I am safe, I go to find out that,  
Will meet me everywhere, a just sad fate.  Exit. Ien. 
Pages, have her seen treames and apparitions: hark you, was Selina turned Shepherdess, pray you?  Ioc. 
Either we dream, or this was Selina, your Mistress, that is turned into breeches, and become a Shepherd; the case is altered.  Ien. 
What a devil is in the matters & businesses, pray you? cases never was known such cases and alterations in all her life, woman's never wear preeches in Wales, 'tis not possible, we are all in treames and visions, very treames and visions.  Ioc. 
Sure we are all awaked, sir, and it was Selina, did she not say she would obscure herself from her Father's knowledge, and live among the Shepherd's hard by?  Ien. 
It may be, but it is very impossible.  Enter Cornelio, Rufaldo, Antonio, Hillaria. Cor. 
I am amazed, when was she seen?  Ant. 
Not today, sir, I have searched her Chamber, and almost turned it out o'th' window, but no Selina.  Ruf. 
It is very strange, is not your man Gorgon come back?  Cor. 
What should this mean, it is a strange absence, o'th' wedding day too.  Ruf. 
That angers me most, sir.  Cor. 
My heart misgives me, some fatal accident upon my life, is happened to her.  Enter a Servant. Ruf. 
Hast thou happy news?  Ser. 
I have travelled all the Town o'er, and can meet no intelligence of her.  Cor. 
Be dumb, night-Raven, she's lost, she's lost,  
The Fates sure make conspiracy to take  
My Daughters from me: one I lost because  
I would not give her, and I have repented  
Full justice for it, and am I so unhappy  
To lose Selina too? but I'll not sleep,  
Until I find her either alive or dead.  
Rufaldo, you have interest in this sorrow,  
join in the inquisition. Oh my Girl Selina.  Exit. Ruf. 
Have I been young for this? if I find her not, I will run, I will run, I will run mad, mad.  Exit. Ant. 
No more, I know where her clothes be: if it take, applaud my invention: I have cozened my own Father before now, and I will try new conclusions, but I must have thy assistance and secrecy: if my Sister have a conceit of mirth to put upon us, I may chance put her to prove herself Selina, or remove her with a Habeas corpus.  Exeunt Antonio, Hillaria. Ien. 
Iocarello's, all is true, Selina is gone in Shepherd's vestments to the woods & Forests, but her will make travels and ambulations after her: never was Sentilman i'th' hole world love as jenkin now, to make journeys & peregrinations for a woman's, look you: but if her find her, as know her very well, her will there make all sure works and performances, warrant you Pages, here is moneys, pray you make provisions of breads and victuals too, know uds are very bare places, and Shenkin was always have cud stomachs and appetites, look you, pray you, do, pray you, do.  Exeunt. COMPLEMENT-SCHOOLE. Enter Gasparo habited punctually, Master of the School, and Gorgon his Vsher. Gasp. 
Be the hangings up, Curculio, and all the Chairs and Stools put into method? the day is old, methinks, time runs fast, methinks, upon the minute, brings my disciples. Do my bills of compliment still relish, Curculio, do they please the palate, ha?  Gorg. 
My most ingenious and noble Criticotaster, bravely bills, pills you should say, not faced, but lined, with gold they swallow 'em greedily, and still flock to 'em, and conglomerate my son and heir of the Muses: a proclamation is as quiet as the poor man's box, no man looks after it, not a ballad-monger has any audience: but happy is the man that rides first post to your papers & cries admirable: your old men look upon 'em with their spectacles, as they would eye an obligation within a minute of forfeiture.  Gasp. 
Thou hast eaten up the furies already, and speakest all buskins, but close walk in the clouds, yet I have not heard of any mountebank of wit durst ever attempt to set up shop o'th' trade yet: but whist, Usher, take your place.  Enter Bubulcus. Gorg. 
Foot, 'tis Bubulcus.  Bub. 
This is the compliment-school.  He dances. Gorg. 
Three cuts and a half, heigh. I give you, sir, generous salutation, and wish a fair morn descend upon you: thrice Noble Spirit, welcome, does your worship desire to be sprinkled with the drops of Helicon, to gather the Pippins of Parnassus, and have your forehead filleted with Apollinean bays, or Laurel?  Bub. 
Troth, sir, I do not know how to construe what you say, although I know it be Latin, sir: the cause of my coming to you, is to let you understand, that here is a compliment-school, and I have great desire to be taught some of your fegaries, and brave words, I do mean to pay for't soundly too, sir: I thank my stars, as they say, I have ready money about me.  Gorg. 
You shall be verberated, and reverberated, my exact piece of stolidity: please you draw near, there is the star of Eloquence, under whom I am an hypodidascal, in English, his Usher.  Bub. 
A Gentleman Usher at least.  Gorg. 
Approach without fear: here is a Pupil, sir, desires to suck the honey of your eloquence, he is a Gentleman in Folio.  Gasp. 
Your accession is grateful, my most gentile lump of insipience: what compliment doth arride the palate of your generosity?  Bub. 
What says he pray, in English?  Gorg. 
He asks what kind of verbosity you would be practised in? because I perceive you are raw, I will descend to your capacity, he asks what compliment you would learn?  Bub. 
Why look you, sir, I would have two kinds of compliments: for, sir, I am in love, and I am in hate.  Gasp. 
How? in love, and hate too?  Bub. 
Yes, I am in love with a Wench, and would have a delicate speech for her, and I am in hate with a Gentleman, a young Animal, and I would kill him now without danger of the Law: to tell you true, he did abuse me in the presence of my sweetheart, and did (saving this good company) kiss my backside.  Gorg. 
How?  Bub. 
But it was with his foot, sir: now in regard I have not the heart to kill him with my sword, I would cut him in pieces, and murder him with mouth-guns: look you, sir, here's money, please yourself: but I pray you give me a powdering speech, for I would blow him up: I beseech you, if ever you put gall into your Ink, make it a bitter speech.  Gasp. 
Sir, I will draw you a sublime speech shall conjure him.  Bub. 
Pray do, for he has a great spirit in him.  Gasp. 
Usher, in the mean time entertain him with some copy of amorous compliment.  Gorg. 
There is an usher's fee belongs to my place.  Bub. 
Here's gold for your fee, I received it for good fee simple, I am sure.  Gorg. 
Simple, I am sure: so, sir, look you, I should teach  
you to make a leg first, but these postures anon.  
Resplendent Mistress, for thy face doth far  
Excel all other, like a blazing Star  
We mortals wonder at, vouchsafe to cast  
Out of those sparkling Diamond eyes thou hast,  
A sacred Influence on thy vowed creature,  
That is confounded with thy form and feature.  Bub. 
Admirable!  Gorg. 
Goddess of Cyprus.  Bub. 
Stay, I do not like that word Cypress, for she'll think I mean to make Hatbands on her, cannot you call her Taffeta Goddess, or if you go to stuff, cloth a Gold were richer.  Gorg. 
Oh, there's a conceit, Cyprus is the emblem of morning, and here by Cyprus you declare how much you pine and mourn after her, sir.  Bub. 
Very good, pray you go on.  Gorg. 
Goddess of Cyprus, Venus is a slut.  Bub. 
Stay, who do I call slut now? the Goddess of Cyprus, Venus, or my Love?  Gorg. 
You do tell the Goddess, that Venus is a slut.  Bub. 
I do so.  Gor. 
For thou art Venus fair, and she is not.  Bub. 
How is she Venus' fair, when then I call her slut to her face?  Gorg. 
No, sir, your Love is Venus fair, and she is not:  
That makes plain the other, that she is a slut.  
O that I were a flea upon thy lip,  
There would I suck for ever, and not skip.  Bub. 
Suck?  Gorg. 
That is, you would not bite her by the lip.  
Or if thou thinkst I there too high am placed,  
I'll be content to suck below thy waste.  Bub. 
Which side she please.  Gorg. 
Thy foot I'd willing kiss, but that I know,  
Thou wouldst not have thy servant stoop so low.  
She will give you leave to kiss higher.  
Oh speak thou, wilt be mine? and I will be  
The truest Worm e'er trod on shoe to thee.  Bub. 
Worm?  Gorg. 
By Worm you do insinuate and wriggle yourself into your affection, and she by shoe will conceive your desire the length of her foot: how do you like it, sir?  Bub. 
I would not for forty pounds but I had come to compliment: why, I shall be able in a small time to put down a reasonable Gentlewoman.  Gorg. 
Oh, any ordinary Lady, you must get it without Book. Now to make your legs.  Bub. 
I have two made to my hands.  Gor. 
Oh, by no means, your legs are made to your feet.  Enter Delia. Gasp. 
Beauty and graces dwell upon the face  
Of my disciple Delia.  Del. 
Muses inspire you: what, at study?  Gasp. 
Negotiating a little with the Muses.  Gorg. 
See me salute her.  
As many happinesses wait on Delia,  
As beams shoot from the Sun this pleasant morn.  Del. 
As many thanks requite you, as that Sun  
Is old in minutes since the day begun.  Bub. 
What's she, Curculio?  Gorg. 
Her Mistress's best movable, a Chambermaid.  Bub. 
She is an early riser: at School so soon?  Gorg. 
She is an early riser, and yet sometime as soon down as up, she cannot be quiet for the serving-men, 'tis her hour between eight o'clock and her Mistress rising, to come to discipline.  Bub. 
'Tis a pretty smug Wench, is her name Delia? she has a pretty name too.  Gorg. 
Oh, sir, all her credit is in her good name: it was Diana's the Goddess of chastity, and therefore when she marries, she may cuckold her Husband by a privilege, for Diana gave horns to Actaeon.  Enter a Servingman. Ser. 
Where's Master Criticotaster?  Gasp. 
Who's that?  Ser. 
Sir, my Master has sent you a little gold, he desires you send him the speech he should speak at Sessions in the Country, he's now riding down.  Gasp. 
Sir Valentine Wantbraine, that has never a clerk?  Ser. 
The same, Sir.  Gasp. 
Newly put into Commission for the peace, being puisne, it falls to him to give the charge. I have drawn it, let me see in Comitatu, &c. here, read it, Curculio, he may the better instruct his Master, a touch, a touch.  Gorg. 
Good men of the jury for this Session, I will not implicate you with ambages and circumstances, I am unwilling to confound your little wits with affected divisions of my narration, into quis, quid, quomodo, and quandoes: I will neither utter by gross, nor part my speech into a dozen of long points, knotted often in the middle, and untagged in the end; you are to present Malefactors, whereof you are the chief— Reformers, and seeing you stand ready for your charge, I will give fire to this great piece of service, & send you all off with a powder, that in any case we may go to dinner betimes, &c.  Gasp. 
So, 'tis enough: bear my respects to your Master, tell him 'tis a speech will do him credit, bid him learn it perfectly without Book.  Gorg. 
And do you hear, if he chance to be at a nonplus, he may help himself with his beard and handkercher, or it will be a good posture for his hand now and then to be fumbling with his bandstrings. Farewell.  Exit Servant. Enter Mistress Medulla. Gasp. 
Mistress Medulla, the Sun of honour shine upon your hopes, till it sublime you to a Ladyship: I will attend you presently.  Med. 
Sirrah, bid your fellow make ready the caroche, and attend me here about an hour hence, I will ride home.  Bub. 
What Gentlewoman is that?  Gor. 
An old Country Gentlewoman, that hath buried her Husband lately, and comes up to be a Lady, for she swears she will not marry any more Gentlemen: she is fallen out with a justice of Peace's wife in the Country, and she will have a Knight, though she pay for his horse-hire, to spite her neighbours.  Gasp. 
A word with you, sir.  Bub. 
Your friend and Master Bubulcus. ha' you done, sir?  Gasp. 
The Cupidinaean fires burn in my breast,  
And like the Oven Aetna, I am full  
Of Squibs and Crackers.  Bub. 
This will powder him.  Gorg. 
Lady, wounded by your beauty, I will acknowledge mercy if you kill me not, yet rather murder me, then vulnerate still your creature, unless you mean to medicine where you have hurt, and I implore no better remedy than I may derive from the instrument wherewith you pierced me, like Achilles' Spear, your eye having shot lightning into my breast, hath power with a smile to fetch out the consuming fire, and yet leave my heart inflamed.  Del. 
Sir, although where I am not guilty of offence, I might deny justly, to descend to a satisfaction: yet rather than I would be counted a murderer, I would study to preserve so sweet a model as yourself; and since you desire my eye which inflamed you, should with the virtue of a gracious smile make you happy in your fire, it shall shine as you would have it, and disclaim that beam shall shine upon another object.  Gorg. 
So, very well, this is your cunning lesson.  Knock within. Gasp. 
Some strangers, Curoutio.  Gorg. 
Sir, the Country comes in upon us.  Enter an Old-man with his Son. Old. 
Is not here a compliment-school?  Gasp. 
A School of generous education, sir.  Old. 
I have brought my Son to be a Scholar, I do mean to make him a Courtier, I have an offer of five or six Offices for my money, and I would have him first taught to speak.  Bub. 
He is a great child, cannot he speak yet?  Gasp. 
In what kind of compliment, please you, venerable Sir, to be edoctrinated? But we will withdraw.  Enter a Gentleman. Gent. 
Come, for another lesson, my brave Mars,  
Now I am fit to quarrel with the Stars,  
And catch at jove.  Bub. 
What's he?  Gorg. 
Orlando Furioso.  Gent. 
By the blood-stained falchion of Mavors I will carbonado thee, keep off, or in my fury I will cut thee into atoms, and blow thee about the world.  Bub. 
I hope he does but compliment.  Gent. 
I will out-labour Jove-born Hercules,  
And in a greater fury ransack Hell:  
Tear from the Sisters their contorted curls,  
And wrack the Destinies on Ixion's Wheel,  
Brain Proserpine with Sisyphus' rolling stone,  
And in a brazen cauldron choked with Lead,  
boil Minos, Aeacus, and Radamanth,  
Throw Pluto headlong into moorish Fens,  
And sooty Regions.  
Dam up Cocytus with tormented soul,  
And batter down the brazen gates of Hell,  
Make the Infernal three-chapped Band-dog roar.  
Cram Tantalus with Apples, lash the Fiends  
With Whips of Snakes, and poisoned Scorpions,  
Snatch chained Prometheus from the vulture's maw,  
And feed him with her liver, make old Charon  
Waft back again the souls, or buffet him  
With his own Oars to death.  Gorg. 
So, so, 'tis well, you shall take forth a new lesson, sit down and breathe.  Bub. 
'Twas a devilish good speech.  Enter a justice of Peace's Clerk, Ingeniolo. Ing. 
Oh, why did nature make thee fair and cruel?  Bub. 
What spruce fellow's this?  Gor. 
He is an hundred & fifty pounds a yard in potentia, a yeoman's son, and justice of Peace's clerk, he is in love with a farmer's daughter, and thus he speaks his passion in blank Verse.  Inge. 
Thou art some Goddess, that to amaze the earth  
With thy celestial presence, hath put on  
The habit of a mortal, gods sometimes  
Would visit Country houses, and guild over  
A sublunary habitation  
With glory of their presence, and make heaven  
Descend into an Hermitage: Sure thy father  
Was Maia's son, disguised in Shepherd's weeds,  
And thou dost come from jove, no marvel than  
We Swains do wonder at thee, and adore,  
Venus herself the Queen of Cithaeron,  
When she is riding through the milky way,  
Drawn with white Doves, is but a blouse, and must,  
When thou appearest, leave her bird-drawn Coach,  
And give the reins to thee, and trudge afoot  
Along the heavenly plains, paved with stars,  
In duty of thy excellence, while the gods  
Looking amazed from their crystal windows,  
Wonder what new-come Deity doth call  
Them to thy adoration.  Bub. 
O, heavenly farmer's daughter!  Gor. 
I'll call him in; Ingeniolo!  Cla. 
Your servant, sir. Lady, I kiss your hand, and reverence the antiquity of your vestment, Delia. Fortune let fall her riches on thy head, that thou mayst fill thy apron. I am your humble observicer, and wish you all cumulations of prosperity.  Bub. 
Sir, I desire to suck below your waste.  Cla. 
I do evaculate myself to be your shadows, my generous condisciples.  Gor. 
This is Scholarlike.  Bub. 
he's one of the head form, I warrant.  Enter Gasparo, the old man and his son. Gasp. 
Sir, I receive your son, and will wind up his ingeny, fear it not, but first he must be under my Usher, who must teach him the postures of his body, how to make legs and cringes, and then he shall be advanced to a higher Class. Curculio, lick him with your method into some proportion, take off the roughness of his behaviour, and then give him the principles of salutation.  Old. 
la you there, boy, he will teach you the principles of saltation. Well, good-morrow, sir, I'll leave my jewel.  Gor. 
Your jewel may have the grace to be hanged one day.  Enter jenkin. Exit old man. Ien. 
Bless you Sentlemen all, and your studies and contemplations: is here a School of Compliments, pray you?  Gasp. 
A place of generous breeding.  Ien. 
Generous preeding, hark you, her name was jenkin, a good Sentleman, 'tis known, her take no pleasures and delectations in urds and phrases of rhetorics; Welsemen have all hearts & fidelities, mark you, her was going along pout create business, but casting her eyes & visions upon your Pills and significations of your skills & professions, look you, her come in, to see the fashions and manners of your exercises, and yet if your urships has any Madrigals and Pastoral Canticles, look you, for in truths and verities was going now to the Uds and Forests, and mean to turn Shepherds goddillings, her will give you good payments of all your inventions, and Muses, pray you now.  Gasp. 
Amorous Pastorals? I can furnish you, venerable sir.  

Turn, Amarillis, to thy swain,  
Thy Damon calls thee back again,  
Here is a pretty Arbour by,  
Where Apollo cannot pry,  
Here let's sit, and while I play  
Sing to my Pipe a Roundelay.   
How like you it, sir?  Ien. 
Roundelays very good, here is moneys and considerations, look you.  Gor. 
We acknowledge your bounty, my Tenth-worthy.  Gasp. 
So Mistress, I have trespassed on your patience, now I will take occasion by the forelock. You can say your lecture: have you your handkercher ready, that when a Suitor comes, you may put him off with wiping your eyes, as if tears stood in 'em ever since your husband was buried; well, suppose I have had access to your chamber, I begin, Lady, think it not strange, if Love which is active in my bosom, force me to turn petitioner, that I may be reckoned amongst your servants; all my ambition, sweetest, is to be made happy in your affection, which I will study to deserve in my utmost possibilities.  Med. 
Alas, alas, I had a husband.  Gasp. 
Very well counterfeited, nay weep not, those eyes were made to shine, not waste with dew: if it be for the remembrance of him you have lost, recover him again, by placing your good opinion on a man shall sweat to do you services.  Med. 
It doth not, sir, become our modesty  
To talk of love so soon, you will renew  
My passion for his loss, and draw down tears  
Afresh upon his Hearse: you do not well  
T' oppress a widow thus, I pray, sir, leave me,  
At least I will enjoin you, if you stay,  
To speak no more of love, it is unwelcome.  
What, am I perfect?  Gasp. 
So 'twas very well, at the next lesson you shall learn to be more cunning.  Gor. 
willt please you hear the Novice?  Gasp. 
Good boy, speak out.  Offe. 
God save you, sir, felicities be accumulated upon you, sir, I thank you generous sir, you oblige me to be your servant, sir, in all my— p— o— s— possibility, sir, I honour your remembrance, sir, and shall be proud to do you my observance, sir, most noble sir.  Gasp. 
Very hopeful now: a repetition all together, the more, the merrier.  They all rehearse at once. Enter Infortunio. Infor. 
What, at barleybreak? which couple are in hell? are not you Helen, whose insatiate lust ruined fair Illium? and you sir Paris with a golden nose? hark you, Rufaldo is married to Selina.  Bub. 
Who? that's my father in Law.  Infor. 
How, your father? look, he has cloven feet, I am glad I have found you, what are you in hell for?  Gasp. 
Insinuate to 'em all for their own safeties, he's desperate mad, bid none stir hence.  Infor. 
hay, how came you all thus damned?  Ien. 
Damned, who's damned? is jenkin damned?  Gasp. 
I beseech you, sir, to maintain the credit of my School, I shall be undone else, humour him a little.  Ien. 
Will you have her be damned? when hear you pray a Welshman was damned? of all things in the urld, her cannot abide to be damned.  Gor. 
See if you can roar him away.  Gent. 
Keep off, I am Hercules, son of Alcmena,  
Compressed by jove, I'll carbonado thee.  Infor. 
How, art thou Hercules?  Strikes him down. 
Lie there, usurper of Alcides' name,  
Bold Centaur: so he's dead, by this I prove  
I am jove borne.  Ien. 
Well, for your credits and reputations, her care not to be damned for companies and fellowships, look you, has he knocked him down? would he had knocked jenkin down.  Infor. 
Now, on with your relations, and tell me all the stories of your fortunes.  
'Tis I am Hercules, sent to free you all.  
What are you damned for? In this Club behold  
All your releasements. What are you?  Gor. 
Stand in order and be damned.  Gasp. 
I am the conscience of an Usurer,  
Who have been damned these two and twenty years,  
For lending money gratis.  Infor. 
How, a Usurer? why didst not  
Corrupt the Devil to fetch thy soul away?  
he'll take a bribe for lending money gratis.  Gasp. 
Yes, sir, for thanks: I took no interest,  
For at the lending of each hundred pound,  
They brought my home some twenty or thirty thanks,  
Indeed 'twas paid in gold.  Infor. 
Oh golden thanks I well, go to, I'll release you,  
Upon condition you shall build an Hospital,  
And die a beggar. What are you?  Gor. 
The soul of a Watchman.  Infor. 
How came you damned? could not you watch the Devil?  Gorg. 
He took me napping on Midsummer eve, and I never dream 't on him.  Infor. 
Your wife had given you Opium over night.  Cor. 
No sir, I had watched three nights before, and because I would not wink at two or three drunkards as they went reeling home at twelve o'clock at night, the Devil owed me a spite.  Infor. 
Well, you shall be prentice to an alchemist, and watch his still's night, by night, not sleep till he get the Philosophers-stone. What are you?  Del. 
Sir, I am a Chambermaid.  Infor. 
What are you damned for?  Del. 
Not for revealing my Mistress secrets, for I kept them better than mine own, but keeping my maidenhead till it was stale, I am condemned to lead Apes in hell.  Infor. 
Alas, poor wench, upon condition you will be wise hereafter, and not refuse gentlemen's proffers, learn pride every day, and painting, bestow a courtesy now and then upon the Apparitor to keep counsel, I release you, take your Apes, and Monkeys away with you, and bestow them on Gentlewomen, and Ladies, that want playfellows. What are you?  Cle. 
I am an undersheriff, sir, damned because I told the debtors, writs were out against 'em, brought 'em to composition without arrests, favoured poor men for a whole year together, was very good in my Office, gave up a just account at the years end, and broke.  Infor. 
Oh, miracle! an honest man! thou shalt be Churchwarden to a Parish, draw the presentments, and keep the poor men's box for seven years together, 'tis pity, but thou the eldest have fifty writer, to propagate honest generation. What are you?  Med. 
A justice's wife i'th' the Country, sir.  Infor. 
And who drew yourmittimus hither? what are you damned for?  Med. 
For refusing Satin gowns, and velvet petticoats, turning back Capons at Christina's, and Sessions times, and making much of one of my husband's servants, merely for his honesty and good service towards me.  Infor. 
'Tis injustice, you shall bury your husband quickly, wear some blacks a while for fashion sake, & within a month be married to his clerk, unless you will be divided among the serving-men. What are you?  Old man's son. 
A younger brother, sir, borne at the latter end of the week, and wane of the Moon, put into the world to seek my own fortune, got a great estate of wealth by gaming and wenching, and so purchased unhappily this state of damnation you see me in.  Infor. 
Came you in't by purchase? than you do not claim it by yours father's interest as an heir: well, I will ease you of the estate, because it is litigious, and you shall make presently a bargain and sale of it to a Scrivener, that shall buy it of you, and pay you both his ears down upon the nail for it. What are you?  Bub. 
I am a Horse-courser.  Infor. 
And couldst not thou outride the Devil?  Bub. 
I had not the grace to mend my pace, I was an honest Horse-courser, and suffered every fool to ride me, I knew not what belonged to horseplay, let the world kick at me, I never winced, all that I am damned for, is, that desiring to thrive in the world, and to have good-luck to horseflesh, I ambled to the bed of a parson's wife that was coltish once, and gave her husband a Horse for't in good fashion, he never gave me godamercy for't, indeed it proved afterwards to have the Yellows.  Infor. 
There was some colour for't: well, since your occupation is foundered, you shall trot every day afoot, and walk a knave in the Horse-fair. What are you?  Ien. 
Her have no mind at all to be damned, becar her will fight with her & kill all the Devils in hell: diggon.  Gorg. 
'sfoot, here's more ado to get one Welshman damned, than a whole Nation. Sir, 'tis but in jest.  Ien. 
In jests, is it in jests? well, look you, her will be contented to be damned in jests and merriments for you.  Infor. 
You will tell me what you are damned for?  Ien. 
And her be so hot, was get somebody's else to be damned for jenkin, her will tell her in patiences, look you, her was damned for her valour, and ridding the urld of Monsters, look you, Dragons with seven heads, and Serpents with tails a mile long, pray you.  Infor. 
Oh, let me embrace thee, worthy in my arms, I'll charm the Destinies for their bold attempt, for cutting off thy thread, thou shalt cut their throats, and be installed Lord in Elysium, Oh, let me hug thee, Owen Glendower.  Ien. 
Owen Glendower was her cousin, pray you.  Infor. 
Go your ways all: stay, take hence Prometheus and bury him, if you come into hell again, there's no releasement.  Ien. 
So, farewell Sentlemen, now her mean to make travels and peregrinations, to the uds and plains, look you, very fast. Good speed to all.  Exit. Gorg. 
We thank thee jovial Hercules.  Gasp. 
Live long thou King of hell. So, so, well done of all sides, here our School breaks up, I might have run mad like, had I not taken off the edge of melancholy. Thus poor Gentleman. O Love thou art a madness, Drawing our souls with joy, to kill with sadness.  Infor. 
So, so, poor souls, how glad they are of liberty. This is a hot house, I do scorch and broil: I'll seek the Elysian fields out, and die there.    


Actus quartus, Scena prima.  Enter Antonio dressed in Selina's apparel, with Hillaria. Ant. 
Have I not done my part, wench, with confidence to proceed thus far with thy father? either I am infinitely like my sister, or they are all mad with credulity: but our good fathers are blinded with their passions, and that helps me much: well, I do but think upon the night's work, there lies my masterpiece, I have it, 'tis for thy sake Hillaria, I have assumed this habit, the end will speak it.  Hil. 
But what will you do? Antonio is lost now.  Ant. 
Well enough, is supposed to go after Selina, and is not returned yet, out of my brotherly love, they will imagine I have but taken a journey in quest of a sister, time enough to return again, and he goes far, that never does wench by Story. Enter Bubulcus whetting his sword .Here's Bubulcus.  Bub. 
Antonio is gone, no news of him: I am glad of that, I hope he will come no more.  Ant. 
How now? what means this? what! sword drawn?  Hil. 
And he is whetting it.  Ant. 
For heaven's sake, what's the matter?  Bub. 
Nay, nothing, nothing, I do but— a—  Hil. 
By my virginity you make me afraid, what's the matter?  Ant. 
He means to fight with somebody on my life.  Hil. 
Heaven defend it, good sir, tell me.  Bub. 
Be not afraid, Gentlewomen, for I do but, you see.  Hil. 
But what?  Bub. 
Whet my long knife, somebody shall smart for't, but—  Ant. 
He does mean to challenge somebody.  Hil. 
I charge you, if you love, tell me who's your enemy.  Bub. 
Nay, nobody, I do not mean to fight, if I live.  Ant. 
What?  Bub. 
Nay, nothing, sweet Ladies, be not troubled, I do but sharpen my sword.  Hil. 
Tell me the truth, why?  Bub. 
I was eating Oysters other day, and I had never a knife, and so—  Ant. 
Come, come, there is some other matter in't, pray tell me.  Bub. 
Welll, you are my friends, if you chance to hear of any man's death shortly, then say Bubulens.  Hil. 
I hope you do not mean to kill any man i'th' field, you do make me tremble, I'll assure you.  Bub. 
No, no, sweetheart, do not tremble, I will but—  He makes a thrust. 
Lose my honour? I'll be carved first.  Ant. 
What a Capon's this? pray let me persuade you.  Hil. 
And me.  Bub. 
No, no, 'tis but in vain to persuade me, I'm resolved, if you love me, do not use any arguments:  
The Cupidinaean fires burn in my breast,  
And like the Oven Aetna I am full  
Of squibs and crackers. I had almost forgot—  Hil. 
The Oven Aetna I'll be baked then: what a fury are you in? he looks like the god of War.  Bub. 
The god of War? I think I have reason. Hillaria, I must, and I will, and all the world shall not hold me.  Hil. 
But you shall not go away thus, till you be calmer.  Bub. 
O that I were a flea upon his lip,  
There would I suck for ever, and not skip.  
I will carbonado him, his face doth far  
Excel all other like a blazing star  
We mortals wonder at. Vouchsafe to cast  
Off the sparkling diamond eyes thou hast:  
O let me go on, me thy vowed creature,  
That is confounded with thy form and feature.  Ant. 
Is the fool mad?  Hil. 
He has something in his head, and it were out: but here comes our Fathers.  Enter Cornelio, Rufaldo. Cor. 
Antonio not heard of yet?  Ruf. 
This morning we wanted a Bride too, but she was found, marry I cried for her first. Father, come, my Brother Antonio is but gone to look his Sister: ha, my sweet Wench, when shall's to bed.  Enter Gorgon. Cor. 
I hope 'tis so, and yet he stays too long. Here's Gorgon: Sirrah, where have you been all this day?  Gorg. 
Indeed, sir, I have made inquisition, both my tongue and my feet have walked, but my Mistress is not to be found or heard of, I'll assure you.  Ruf. 
Gorgon, hast lost thy senses? here's Selina.  Gorg. 
Mistress, than we are all made.— He capers.  Cor. 
But sirrah, your Master Antonio's gone.  Gorg. 
Gone in wine, sir, for joy of his sisters finding again.  Cor. 
Go your ways, sirrah, and either bring me news of him, or look me in the face no more, you'll find we jest not.  Gorg. 
Pray, sir, let me take my journey in the morning, the wedding night is fatal: I hope your worship does but jest, I may be drunk too night, and wake early enough to be gone afore day too, I beseech you sir.  Ant. 
Pray, sir, let him stay tonight.  Gorg. 
By this hand there he is, where? did not I hear his voice?  Cor. 
Away sirrah.  Gorg. 
I have been mad all this while, and now am like to be my own man again: since there is no remedy, Gentiles all, good night. Gorgon begins to be a wandering Knight.  Exit. Cor. 
I cannot be heartily merry: well, let's leave these two without any more ceremonies, 'tis late, all joys be multiplied on my Son and Daughter: good night, I do comfort myself with hope of Antonio's return, and yet fears are great.  Exit. Ruf. 
Lights there: so, so, welcome thou much expected night, I do salute thy black brows: come, my Selina, shalt find I have young blood: Hillaria, do service to your Mother, make her unready.  Ant. 
'Tis time enough.  Ruf. 
And why should we lose any? I pray thee let her come. I know 'tis your Virgin modesty, loath to part with a Maidenhead, but it must off: come, prithee be not idle: why, thou knowest I married thee, Selina, as thou lovest me—  Ant. 
Sir, by that love I must entreat you one thing.  Ruf. 
Any thing, sweetheart.  Ant. 
To ratify an ancient vow I made.  Ruf. 
Any vows, what is't?  Ant. 
I vowed whenever I married, my husband should not lie with me the first night.  Ruf. 
Should anybody else?  Ant. 
Not any man.  Ruf. 
Come, 'twas a foolish vow, and must be broke. Not lie with me the first night? 'twere a sin beyond incontinency. I had rather lose half my estate, then miss thee but an hour out of mine arms this night.  Ant. 
'Tis but one night.  Ruf. 
Oh, 'tis an age, a world of time to me: why I have fed of oyster-pies, and rumps of Sparrows a whole month, in expectation of the first night, and leave it for a vow?  Ant. 
Indeed you must.  Ruf. 
How? must, come? I know you do but jest, this is but your device to whet me on, and heighten me, as if old age at once hath soaked up all my marrow. Hark you, how old do ye think I am?  Ant. 
Some threescore and seventeen.  Ruf. 
Out upon thy judgement: why I am not above, by all computation, six or seven and thirty: I am restored, renewed, when first I loved thee, by this hand I was.  Ant. 
I see than you would tire me, by this beard you must not lie with me tonight.  Ruf. 
How? nay then I see you'll try my strength: thus I could force you. Antonio throws him down .She has thrown me down, I know not how to take it, nor well how to bear it, my bones ache, a pox a Gasparo, a my conscience I am an old fool: ha? I will see more, and set a good face on't, you know who I am?  Ant. 
Yes, old Rufaldo.  Ruf. 
Ha, old? 'tis so, my spirits faint again: what did you marry for?  Ant. 
To make an ass of you.  Ruf. 
How?  Ant. 
Thou credulous fool,  
Didst thou imagine I should ever love thee,  
Or lie with thee? but when I have a child  
Would shame the Father: Oh the power of dotage,  
That like an inundation doth o'ercome  
The little world of man, drown all his reason,  
And leave him spoilt, even of his common sense.  
Didst think I was a piece of stone sawn out  
By carver's art, so cold, so out of soul,  
So empty of all fire to warm my blood,  
I'd lie with thee, worse than the frigid Zone,  
Or icicles that hang on beard of winter?  
Have I with wearied patience looked to see,  
When thou'dst lay violent hands upon thyself;  
For being so mad, so impudent to love me,  
And wouldst thou bed me too? didst thou not tremble  
To dare the holy Rites and nuptial Tapers?  
Oh impious sacrilege! hence, go waste  
thyself with sorrow, pine that half-starved body,  
Until thy bones break thy skin, and fall  
To dust before thy face: nay, you shall endure me:  
For since y'ave tied me to you, I will be  
Thy constant Fury, worse than Hags or Nightmare,  
If thou dost talk of Love, or seek to be  
At reconcilement.  Ruf. 
Selina, sweet Selina, hear me.  Ant. 
Sweet? oh villainous presumption!  Ruf. 
What will you do?  Ant. 
Save a disease, a labour, make an end of you, come sirrah, swear to observe what I shall impose upon you.  Ruf. 
Oh, any thing, bitter Selina.  Ant. 
First, you shall never solicit me to lie with you.  Ruf. 
Never by this hand, and thank you too.  Ant. 
Stand bore in my presence.  Ruf. 
Stark-naked.  Ant. 
Run of my arrands.  Ruf. 
To the world's end.  Ant. 
And keep a whore under my nose, nay, I will allow it.  Ruf. 
If you will have it so, I am content.  Ant. 
Swear, sirrah.  Ruf. 
Flesh, and blood, I do swear.  Ant. 
So, rise. In hope of your conformity, I forbear to let the punishment be equal with your deserts.  Ruf. 
Oh, I have married a Devil, I shall be utterly disgraced, if this be known: Pray sweet wife, let me beg one request of you, that you would not discredit me, I will be content to endure your pleasure, do not forsake my house, I beseech you that you would lie with my daughter.  Ant. 
Shall you appoint my lodging?  Ruf. 
Oh no, I do but humbly entreat you will be pleased to lie with my daughter.  Ant. 
Well, since you submit so respectively, I will tender your credit in that point upon your good behaviour, are you not well?  Ruf. 
I am the worse for you by forty marks. One thing more, virtuous wife, that you would not tell your father, nor anybody else, how you have beaten me: Goodnight, sweet virtuous wife.  Exit. Ant. 
Ha, ha, Hillaria, my way to thee is free, I have beat my passage, and I come to thee.  Enter Felice like a Shepherdess, Selina, Shepherds. Sel. 
I had thought the woods and such wild groves as these,  
Had been the house of rapine, and could not  
Afford humanity, beasts, and men like them,  
Are wont to make such places desolate:  
Did Nature make you thus at first, and are  
We that have Cities, house, and Civil Laws  
More rude than you? or hath all virtue chose  
You as divine earth to dwell upon?  
Shepherdess, indeed I am in love  
With your wild Kingdom here, and would not be  
A King abroad, if I might be a subject  
With such fair Nymphs as you.  1. Shep. 
Oh son, you would say so,  
When our pleasures all you know:  
We are not oppressed with care,  
With which you in Cities are,  
A Shepherd is a King, whose Throne  
Is a mossy Mountain, on  
Whose top we sit, our crook in hand,  
Like a Sceptre of command,  
Our subjects, sheep grazing below,  
Wanton frisking to and fro.  Fel. 
We nothing fear, awake nor sleep,  
But the Wolf goddild our sheep,  
On a Country Quill each plays  
Madrigals, and pretty Lays  
Of passions, and the force of Love,  
And with Ditties heaven move.  
Birds will listen to our song,  
And to leafy Arbours throng,  
To learn our notes, and Mistress name,  
Valleys echoing with the same.  2. Shep. 
When we hunt, as there is store  
Of deer, the trembling Hare, and Boar,  
You would think that you had seen  
Gods in Shepherd's weeds again.  
A hundred pretty Nymphs apace  
Tripping o'er the lands, and chase,  
As many Lads, the gentle air  
Playing with their dangling hair.  Fel. 
Sometimes we dance a fairy round,  
Hand in hand upon the ground,  
Shepherds piping, Garlands crowning,  
With our harmless bosoms drowning.  1. Shep. 
Walk unto the silver brook,  
You shall need no other hook,  
To catch the dancing fish withal,  
But a song, or Madrigal.  Fel. 
When the clouds let fall their showers,  
We have at hand a hundred bowers,  
Where under sweet-briar, safe are we  
And honey-dropping woodbine tree,  
Here in spite of storms we tell  
Stories of love, of Philomell,  
Of Paris, and the Golden ball,  
Of Echo, and Narcissus fall.  3. Shep. 
Here no false-love brings despair,  
jealousy, or suspicion, care,  
Always happy most of all  
On Silvanus' festival.  Sel. 
No more, good Shepherds, you undo a boy  
With the opinion of his happiness:  
If a few jewels I have brought with me,  
May find acceptance here, I shall bestow them  
As freely as your loves have fall'n on me.  
Nay then, I'll force 'em on you, I have left  
To purchase a Flock with you.  1. Shep. 
We thank you, gentle boy, gooden,  
We must to our Flocks again.  Sel. 
But Shepherdess, or sister if thou wilt,  
Oh would thou wert, I prithee call me brother,  
Hath Love a part among you, tell me pray,  
What punishment inflict you on false love?  
But sure you are exempt from such  
A misery: what then  
Is her reward, that out of peevishness  
contemns the honest passion of her Lover,  
Insults upon his virtue, and doth place  
Unworthily her affection?  Fel. 
Though such a woman need no curse,  
Being one herself, or worse,  
Yet we Shepherd's use to say,  
May she love another day,  
And not be loved, die in despair,  
And have no other Tomb but air.  Enter Infortunio distracted. Infor. 
A prey, a prey!  
Where did you get that face?  
That goddess face? it was Selina's once:  
How came you by it? did she on her deathbed  
Bequeath her beauty as a legacy,  
Not willing it should die, but live and be  
A lasting death to Infortunio?  
Oh she was cruel, not to bury it with her!  
But I am a fool, 'tis Venus and her Son,  
Where be your Bow and Arrows, little Cupid?  
Didst thou maliciously spend all thy Quiver  
Upon my heart, and not reserve one shaft  
To make Selina love me? Tell me, Venus,  
Why did you use me so? you shall no more  
Be Queen of Love. Stay, stay, Cupid was blind,  
How comes he now to see? yes, he did see,  
He never could have wounded me so right else.  
Why then let Fortune have her eyes again,  
And all things see how wretched I am made.  Sel. 
Oh, is there not within the power of Art,  
How to restore this Gentleman?  Fel. 
There is, and out of that experience we  
Have in these woods, of simples, I doubt not,  
But to apply a remedy.  Sel. 
He will be worthy of your care herein,  
And should he be, which I cannot imagine,  
Ingrateful to your skill, I would reward it,  
And call you mother, or my sister for it.  Fel. 
It seems you have some relation to him.  Sel. 
Indeed he is the dearest friend I had:  
And if my blood were powerful to restore him,  
I'd spend it like a prodigal. I know Selina.  Inf. 
Ha, do you know Selina? she's married to Rufaldo,  
the old Usurer, that went to bed afore to his money, and begat forty i'th' hundred: now he beds Selina,  
And lays his rude hand o'er her sacred breast,  
Embraceth her fair body, now he dares  
Kiss her, and suck Ambrosia from her lip.  
Those eyes that grace the day, now shine on him,  
He her Endymion, she his silver Moon,  
The tongue that's able to rock Heaven asleep,  
And make the music of the Spheres stand still,  
To listen to the happier airs it makes,  
And mend their tunes by it: that voice is now  
Devoted to his ears, those cheeks, those hands,  
Would make gods proud to touch, are by his touch  
Profaned every hour: oh, this makes me mad,  
But I will fit 'em for it, for I'll die,  
It may be then she'll weep, and let fall tears  
Upon my grave-stone, which shall be of marble,  
And hard like her, that if she pour out floods,  
No drops shall sink thorough it to soften me,  
I will be wrapped in Lead to keep out prayers,  
For then I know, she'll beg I would be friends:  
But then I will be just, and hate her love,  
As she did mine, and laugh to see her grieve.  Sel. 
Come, I will fetch Selina to you, if you will sleep.  Inf. 
Will you then? I will live, & you shall be my best boy.  
Come, I scorn to weep, or shed another tear:  
Sit down, I'll have a Garland for my Boy,  
Of Phoenix feathers: Flowers are too mean  
To sit upon thy temples; in thy face  
Are many Gardens, Spring had never such:  
The Roses and the Lilies of thy cheeks  
Are slips of Paradise, not to be gathered,  
But wondered at.  Sel. 
But you said you would sleep: when slept you last?  Inf. 
I remember, before I loved, but that I know not when  
I slept soundly, and dreamed of gathering Nosegays.  
'Tis unlucky to dream of herbs and flowers.  Fel. 
For Selina's sake I'll try my best skill on him, Get him to sleep, your presence I see is powerful, yonder's a pleasant Arbour, procure him thither while I prepare the herbs, whose precious juice may with heaven's blessing make him well again.  Sel. 
A thousand blessings on you. Come, sir, go with me, and when you have slept, I'll fetch Salina to you.  Iuf. 
Prithee do, I am very drowsy: come, I'll dream of some thing, my eyes are going to bed, and leaden sleep doth draw the curtains o'er them.  Sel. 
Will you go with me?  Inf. 
Yes, and we will pick a dish of Strawberries.  Exeunt. Enter jenkin, having lost his way. Ien. 
Has almost lost herself in these woods and wildernesses, was very weary of these journeys and travels in footbacks: have not since her comings beheld any reasonable creatures: bless us all, jocarello is lost too, cannot tell where, in these mazes and labyrinths. jocarello, so ho.  Echo. 
So ho.  Ien. 
Ha, there's somebody's yet, hark you tere, here is a sentilman of Wales, look you, desires very much to have speeches and confabulations with you: where is her?  Echo. 
Here is her.  Ien. 
Here is her? knaw not which ways to come to her: pray you tell jenkin where you be?  Echo. 
Booby.  Ien. 
Poobies? was her call her poobies? 'tis very saucy travels, her will teach her better manners and moralities, if her get her in reaches and circumferences of her welsh blades truly.  Echo. 
You lie.  Ien. 
How, lies and poobies too? hark you, jenkin was give you mauls and knocks, for your poobies, and lies, and indignities, look for your pates now. Exit with his sword drawn. Enter again .Here is nobody's but bushes and briers, look you, all is very quiet: so ho, ho.  Echo. 
So ho, ho.  Ien. 
Her am very much deceived, now it comes into our minds if these voices be not Echoes, Echo.  Ecc. 
Echo.  Ien. 
'Tis very true, but her marvel much, have her Echoes in these Countries pray you?  Ecc. 
Yes pray you.  Ien. 
Warrant her 'tis a Welsh Echo, was follow jenkin in loves out of Wales.  Ecc. 
Out of Wales.  Ien. 
'Tis very true, bless us all now, her call to remembrances and memories, her had communications and talkings with this very Echoes in Glamorganshire, in de valleys and talls there look you, her am very glad her hath met with Echoes, was borne in her own Countries, hark you, jenkin was travel hither out of loves and affections to Selina.  Ecc. 
Nay.  Ien. 
Nay, yes very true, pray you tell her, be Selina in these woods, or no?  Ecc. 
No.  Ien. 
No, where is her den, have her taken all these labours and ambulations in vanities? say you, shall jenkin then go back as he came?  Ecc. 
Ass he came.  Ien. 
Gone? it is not possible, hit may be Selina was turn spirits and be invisible rather, she is not gone verily.  Ecc. 
There you lie.  Ien. 
Lie, very well, you have privileges to give lies and all things in the world, but her will not leave these woods for all dat, her will be Pilgrims all tayes of her lives, ere her go without her.  Ecc. 
Go without her.  Ien. 
How, not love jenkin? then there is a Devil in all female sexes: know very well she promise loves and good wills in times, great while ago, pray you now, her will talk no longer with you. Fare you well Echo, pray if you meet her Pages, bid her make hasts and expeditions after her. Fare you well.  Exit. Ecc. 
Fare you well.  Enter Gorgon. Gorg. 
I think jupiter has snatched up my Master Antonio, to make a Ganymede on him, he is not to be found yet, I have search 't all the Taverns i'th' Town, I am sure, and that method my nose led me to, hoping he had been a good fellow, but, non est iuventus, well, my stock is spent, but with this terrible face a buff jerkin, and a roaring basket-hilt, Gorgon will have a trick of wit to bear his own charges: but here comes a Gentleman, to my postures now.  Enter Gasparo. Gasp. 
I am resolved.  Gorg. 
Good your worship bestow a small piece of silver upon a poor Soldier, new-come out of the Low-Countries, that have been in many hot services, against the Spaniard, the French, and great Turk. I have been shot seven times thorough the body, my eyes blown up with gunpowder, half my skull seared off with a Canon, and had my throat cut twice in the open field: good your worship take compassion upon the caterwauling fortunes of a forlorn Gentleman, that have lost the use of my veins: good your generous nature take compassion upon me, I have but four fingers and a thumb upon one hand: can work, and won't: one small piece of grateful silver, to for my lodging, I beseech you venerable sir.  Gasp. 
Canst not see?  Gorg. 
Only a little glimmering, sir, the beams of your gentility have radiated, and infused light into my poor lanterns, sir.  Gasp. 
Can you feel then?  Gorg. 
Oh, sir, that faculty alone, fortune and nature have left inviolated.  Gasp. 
Here's somewhat for thee.  
What, can you see now?  He kicks him, and Gorgon opens his eyes. Gorg. 
Gasparo, is it you? Pox on your benevolence.  Gasp. 
Whence came this project of wit?  Gor. 
From the old predicament. Faith, necessity that has no Law, put me into this habit: my Master is turned coward, and ran away from me.  Gasp. 
And thou art turned Soldier, to fight with him when you meet again: than thou wantest a Master? hark sirrah, what sayest thou to another project?  Gorg. 
Oh, I could caper for't.  Gasp. 
I am now leaving the world, and going into the Country, wilt turn gipsy, or Shepherd? I am for the woods, canst Madrigals yet?  Gorg. 
Phillis fair, do not disdain  
The love of Coridon thy Swain.  Gasp. 
Excellent I we'll turn Shepherds presently, thou shalt be Phillis, and I'll be Coridon: let me alone to provide Russets, Crook, and Tarbox: they say there's good hospitality in the Woods, and Songs and pastimes upon sylvan day.  Gorg. 
But that were pretty, shall I be a woman?  Gasp. 
By any means, thou hast a good face already, a little simpering will do it, I'll accommodate thee early, keep thy own counsel, and I'll warrant thee for a maid-marian.  Gorg. 
Foot! shall I run into my coats again? go to, put me into what shape you will, I'll play my part: methinks I do feel an hundred rural animals taking up my petticoat already.  Exeunt. Enter Antonio, Bubulcus, and Hillaria. Ant. 
Pray forward with your relation.  Bub. 
As I was saying, having challenged Antonio for the affront he did me before Hillaria, here by heaven, you must say nothing.  Hil. 
Not a syllable.  Bub. 
He did accept the challenge, and the weapons were soon agreed upon, and we met: but not a word of fighting, if you love me.  Ant. 
You are not come to fighting yet yourself, but by the way, what were your weapons?  Bub. 
A long sword.  Ant. 
'twas long ere you could remember it, methinks.  Bub. 
Soon as we came into the place appointed, we looked about, and saw all clear.  Hil. 
As clear as day on your side.  Bub. 
We drew, but not a word of fighting, by this hand.  Ant. 
Not by that hand.  Bub. 
We threw our doublets off, to show we had no Coat of mail, or privy shirt upon us, against the laws of duelling, in fine, I bid him say his prayers.  Ant. 
'twas well thought upon, and what did you?  Bub. 
I let 'em alone, for I knew I should kill him, and have time enough to say 'em afterwards at my leisure.  Hil. 
When he had prayed, what then?  Bub. 
When he had said his prayers, he thought upon it, and let fall words tending to reconcilement: a my conscience, he would have asked me forgiveness, but I stood upon my honour, and would fight with him, and so we stood upon our guard: but not a word of fighting, if you love me.  Ant. 
Oh, by no means, but when did you fight?  Bub. 
I'll tell you, Antonio when he saw no remedy, but that I would needs fight with him, and so consequently kill him, made a desperate blow at my head, which I warded with my dagger, better than he looked for, and in return, I cut off his left hand, whereat amazed and fainting, I nimbly seconded it, as you know I am very nimble, and run my Rapier into his right thigh, two yards.  Hil. 
Then you were on both sides of him?  Ant. 
Your Rapier, did you not say your weapons were long swords?  Bub. 
But mine was both a sword and Rapier, there's it, but not a word of fighting, as you love me: well, not to weary you with the narration of the innumerable wounds I gave him, I cut off every joint from his toe upwards, to his middle, by these hilts, now you may believe me, there ended Antonio my rival, judge, judge now, whether Bubulcus be valiant or not, but not a word of fighting, as you love me, let it die.  Exit. Ant. 
'twas very valiantly done.  Hil. 
Hark you, Sweetheart, do you not remember who this is, that you have discovered this business too? this is Selina, his own sister.  Bub. 
What a rogue was I, not to remember that?  Hil. 
Do not you know that she is my mother in Law? nay, nay, pluck up a good heart, what will you do? there's no running away.  Bub. 
Have you never an empty chest?  Hil. 
What, to hide yourself? that I know you would not do for your credit: draw your sword, and stand upon your guard, we know you are valiant, that could kill Antonio so bravely.  Bub. 
Hillaria, if ever you loved me, oh, I have made a fair piece of work, would you not tell me it was his sister? oh, here they come.  He runs behind Hillaria. Enter Antonio, Rufaldo, and Officers. Ant. 
He hath confessed it, sir, your Daughter heard it, sir, I charge you lay hands upon that murderer, he hath slain my Brother Antonio.  Ruf. 
Did you hear him confess it?  Bub. 
Here's right, confess and be hanged now.  Hil. 
I must confess I did.  Ruf. 
Bubulcus kill Antonio?  Bub. 
By this hand I do not know how to deny it for my credit.  Ruf. 
Nay then lay hands on him.  Bub. 
Yes Father, Rufaldo, Selina, oh, a plague of all coxcombs, what a rogue was I?  Ant. 
I will have justice, away with him.  Bub. 
I am a lying rascal by this hand.  Ant. 
We must require Antonio from you, sir, or your blood answer his. Away with him, Hillaria.  Bub. 
I'll be hanged then, Father. Hillaria, will you see me hanged?  Ruf. 
There is no remedy: would thou hadst killed his Sister; I am plagued with her, and dare not speak it for shame, I'll do what I can to get a Reprieve for you; nay, and you kill folks, you must e'en take your fortune.  Bub. 
A curse of all ill fortune, I killed nobody.  Ant. 
Away, I say, out villain, hence, for I  
Do hear my brother's blood for justice cry.  Exeunt.   


Actus quintus, Scena prima.  Enter Infortunio, Selina, and Felice. Infor. 
I do not know this place, nor who you are,  
Nor know I yet myself.  Sil. 
Infortunio?  Infor. 
That name I once did answer to, but then  
I was not banished to a wilderness,  
Nor slept on such a bed. Oh, if I be  
He, whom you call Infortunio.  
Tell me how I came hither, dost thou weep?  
I prithee tell me, boy, why do those tears  
Drown thy fair cheeks? but that they will not show  
Manly in me, I'd force my eyes to weep too,  
And we would sit upon a bank, and play  
drop-tear, till one were bankrupt. You amaze me:  
I ask how I came hither? answer me  
With other language, if you do not mean  
I came by water, which you might express too  
In words as well, nay, better, for you now  
Are cruel to yourselves, and murder me:  
Tell me, or I shall be mad.  Sel. 
Oh, stay: that brought Infortunio hither,  
You have now told yourself, distraction brought you.  Infor. 
Ha distraction? now you increase my wonder:  
Was I mad, or do not you by answering,  
Study to make me so? why should I be mad,  
Or being so, how came I well again?  
For if I dream not, I am well and calm.  Sel. 
You owe this Shepherdess for your restore,  
Whose skill heaven made so happy.  Infor. 
Did you, fair Shepherdess restore me then,  
And by your art recover nature's loss?  
All my well-beings yours: but yet if you  
Could so physician-like cure the disease  
Which is but the effect of some distemper,  
You then should know the cause: for else you are  
Uncertain in your applications.  
Pray tell me then, why was I mad?  Sel. 
This Lad can tell you that, better than I,  
But if his sorrow will not let his tongue  
Deliver it, I'll tell you sir; you were in love.  Infor. 
With whom, I pray?  Fel. 
One whom they call Selina.  Infor. 
Ha, Selina? in what a depth of black forgetfulness  
Is Infortunio fallen into? Selina,  
Could I forget Selina? oh Shepherdess,  
I was not mad till now: for can I be  
myself, and forget her? oh, in this question  
I am undone: for I do hold myself  
And all my understanding by her name,  
I am a beggar, she hath purchased all,  
Nor am I master of one thought of comfort  
I borrow not from her: what curse was fall'n  
Upon my memory, to forget Selina?  Sel. 
Sir, you remember her too well, unless  
She would deserve it better.  Infor. 
It is not in her power to deserve, boy,  
For she is now beholding for herself  
Unto another. Oh, this tears my soul,  
You did not well to release me of my furies,  
And make me sensible again of that  
Was my first corrosive, it was unfriendly:  
Oh, 'twas a happiness to be mad, stark mad,  
For she being lost, what have I else to lose?  
I was all hers, I gave myself away:  
And deeds of gift should hold.  Sel. 
Why should you be so passionate? let once reason so late recovered, teach you love yourself, reserved for nobler fortune.  Infor. 
It is true, I am a very fool in doing so,  
And will you be a Mistress then, and teach me  
How to forget myself? what sayst boy?  
Shall I be Shepherd too? I will live here  
And have thy company, thou art like my Love,  
Shall we Shepherdess?  Fel. 
With all my heart.  Infor. 
Come let's sit down awhile, nature hath spread  
Her Carpets for us here, this is the lowest,  
And yet 'tis higher than a Palace: pray  
Teach me your Shepherd's life, now I do long  
To be a woodman too, and you shall do  
A double cure upon me.  Enter Gasparo and Gorgon disguised. Gasp. 
Stay, yonder are some Shepherds, let's on this bank sit down and prattle. And how long is't, since your Sweetheart forsook you?  Gorg. 
It will be a quarter of a year next grass.  Gasp. 
Alas, poor Mopsa, but come, put him out of thy mind, sing him away.  Gorg. 
Laugh, and sing him to his grave shall I?  Gasp. 
And never love him more.  Gorg. 
Oh no, his love like a canker hath eat such a great hole into my heart, I cannot forget him, but I'll sing a song of him.  Gorgon sings a song, all this while Gasp. 
Prithee do.  Gasparo eyes Felice. Infor. 
Here's innocence of all sides, who would live  
Out of this Commonwealth, where honest Swains  
Are Lords and subjects? Here is no acquaintance  
With craft and falsehood, all their souls are clad  
In true simplicity: I will take a truce  
With care a while, to talk with this poor wench.  
Mopsa I heard you named, pray tell me,  
Were you in love?  Gorg. 
Yes forsooth.  Infor. 
With whom, forsooth?  Gorg. 
With a Gentleman that has proved unkind, forsooth, broken his vows, and oaths, forsooth, he made much of me, time was, before his father died, forsooth, who was a good Yeoman, than he kissed me, forsooth, and called surreverence, but now he scorns Mopsa: I was his equal once, and have danced with him upon our Church green in a Morris ere now.  Infor. 
Alas, alas, has forsaken thee?  Gorg. 
He is now about to commit matrimonial business with a young girl I wiss.  Gasp. 
'Tis she. I'll have a trick to know it.  
Blessings on you Shepherdess,  
Yet by this hand, you are no less,  
You were in love with a fair man,  
Crossed by a father, began  
This Shepherd's life, & russet weed,  
Is it not the truth, I read? ha, ha.  Fel. 
Sir, are you a Fortune-teller?  Gasp. 
No, I am fool, and yet I know  
Something, though you think not so.  Fel. 
Do you see all this here?  Gasp. 
That and more in this table  
Lies your story: 'tis no fable,  
Not a line within your hand,  
But I easily understand:  
Your line of life is fair, hard by  
Ascends that of prosperity,  
But broken in the midst to th' Mount  
Of Saturn here, which ill we count,  
Ha, Triangle and Mercurial line?  
But Venus is no friend of thine.  Infor. 
How now, Palmistry? believe him not.  Gasp. 
In your face your fate is wrote,  
You loved a woman, she not you,  
You know whether I say true,  
Her name began with S. but she,  
Shall never be enjoyed by thee,  
she's married now to one that's old,  
But very rich: your fortune's told.  Infor. 
Beshrew me he has cunning.  Sel. 
Do you believe him sir?  Gorg. 
Believe him? nay, you may believe him, he's abomination cunning man, he told me my fortune as right as if he had been in my belly.  Shep. 
Does thy fortune lie in thy belly then, Sweetheart?  Gorg. 
Partly, sir, as other women's fortunes do.  Gasp. 
Damsel, you have yet a fate  
Will make you wonder more thereat,  
By collection, I dare prove,  
That his name, whom you did love,  
Began with G. but 'tis too true,  
He hath slain himself for you.  Felice faints. 
Felice, come again, do not believe me, I told thee false, I did but try to gain a knowledge of thee: thy stars owe thee more happiness, Felice, look up, see thy friend alive, I am Gasparo. Foot, I ha' made fair work.  Fel. 
Ha, 'tis Gasparo.  Gasp. 
Have I found thee, O wench, thou wert unjust,  
Too much unjust, thus to absent thyself  
From Gasparo, thy cruel father since  
Hath wept enough to wash away his error.  
Fates, I do thank you, for this blessed direction.  
But Infortunio, I am sorry now,  
I read the truth of thy unhappiness,  
It is too true, Selina is beyond  
Your sphere of hope, pardon, worthy sir,  
The shape I took, was not to mock your fortunes,  
But try mine own. And have I found the wench?  Gorg. 
Oh, no, no, your suit is in vain, hands off, Shepherds.  1. Shep. 
I will make thee amends and marry, prithee sweet Mopsa, beautiful Mopsa.  Gorg. 
Beauty! I do confess I have reasonable beauty, for black and white, for all other colours are but compounded of them: but the truth is, I cannot so soon forget my old love; though he hath proved false unto me, Mopsa will prove true unto him: oh, and it were not for shame, now I would die for love.  Sel. 
Be not dejected, sir, you have a fate  
Doth smile upon you, I have a little skill.  
In that this Gentleman seemed to have some knowledge,  
I must needs cross his judgement, and pronounce  
You are more happy.  

Let not aught your soul annoy,  
You that virgin shall enjoy,  
That you first loved, who doth wait  
To make your wishes fortunate,  
And ere Sun twice declines to West,  
You may be with marriage blessed.   Gasp. 
The boy is mad.  Infor. 
Do not undo, sweet boy, the benefit  
Thou hast already done me, thou dost utter impossibilities.  Sel. 
Then with one Argument I can easily  
Take off your wonders, look on thy Selina,  
That on the wedding morn, forsook Rufaldo,  
Touched with a sense of thy indignities,  
Thus to obscure me from all curious search  
And inquisition, but not hoping ever  
To be made thine, now if true love maintain  
The opinion you pretend, thus in your arms  
I pour myself.  Infor. 
It is Selina. Oh, I am rent in pieces  
With joy and wonder.  Gasp. 
Hark you, sir, do not believe him,  
Let not passion make you a mockery.  
Is not Selina married to Rufaldo? then am I goose-giblet: I should have been at Church with 'em, but for a crotchet that I had in my pate all the morning: I spoke with her father yesterday, and from his mouth I heard, Selina was very well, I think I do not dream, indeed now I call to memory, he said Selina was missed two or three hours o'th' wedding morn; some figary, I know not what: and Antonio, as I supposed, gone in quest of her, not heard of since: but Selina is sure Rufaldo's wife, or some Devil in her likeness has abused them all with credulity. This is true, sir, therefore be not easy, do not deserve more pity, this boy is mad, a juggling boy.  Sel. 
Shall I not be believed then for myself? am I refused now?  Inf. 
It cannot be she: troth boy, thy conceit took me at first with much credulity: but here's our nature's weakness, apt to credit what we affect: were there not too much against it, thou mightst deceive me: oh no, Infortunio is given up, lost to all felicity.  Sel. 
Since then you put me, sir, to prove myself, let me not be lost, I will not call you what I desire, nor name you sister: give me leave to find myself, I know not where I am yet: my brother Antonio gone? what fury hath assumed Selina's shape?  Gasp. 
Come, put on a man's spirit, Mopsa.  Gor. 
Well, sir, in regard you are so Exit cum Inf. & Fel portunate, although I have forsworn marriage, if you desist constant, you may chance to have a lick at my Maidenhead.  Exeunt. Sel. 
I have it, my Brother's lost:  
I'll send a shepherd in Antonio's name,  
To invite my Father hither, and that Incubus.  
I vow not to forsake these Plains, till I  
Possess myself, or be rejected quite,  
Suspend thy passions then awhile, Selina,  
Tomorrow is the Shepherd's Holiday,  
Which they solemnize with rural pleasures,  
'Twill draw them sooner: ha, are they gone?  
I will not leave 'em, with this thread I shall  
Tread o'er the Labyrinth, and discover all.  Exit. Enter Cornelio. Cor. 
Antonio slain? hapless Cornelio,  
My hopes were treasured up in him, the staff  
And comfort of my age, and is he gone?  Enter Antonio, Hillaria, Rufaldo. Hil. 
Hast sent for Bubulcus?  Ant. 
I have,  
Father, let not too much passion soil that temper  
Hath been observed in old Cornelio.  Cor. 
Why, was not he thy Brother? canst thou  
Thou hast so little share in young Antonio,  
That thou darest speak of comfort?  Ant. 
Sir, on my life Antonio is not dead.  Ruf. 
No, no, 'tis impossible.  Ant. 
Bubulcus, on my soul's a very coward,  
And durst as well attempt to take a prey  
Out of a tiger's jaws, as see a sword  
With patience bent against him.  Cor. 
But cowards in despair prove desperate, and most unhappy.  Ant. 
A my conscience I could beat him into a mousehole.  Ruf. 
Nay, I could beat him, and I am sure you can beat me, would I were well rid of you: 'tis a double misery to be abused, and dare not speak out.  Enter Bubulcus, Officers. Hil. 
Here's Bubulcus.  Bub. 
Not guilty, not guilty, and please your Worships, let me not be hanged for a lie of mine own making: 'tis well known I am a stinking coward: not guilty, I beseech you; I never drew sword in anger in my life: if you hang me, you undo me for ever.  Ant. 
Look you, sir, 'tis clear.  Bub. 
My conscience is as clear as Crystal: not guilty, my Lord, I beseech you—  Cor. 
Didst not thou kill Antonio then?  Bub. 
Let me be hanged if I did.  Cor. 
Stay, he'll confess.  Bub. 
I confess I told a lie, thinking to have got some credit: but if ever I saw Antonio, since he gave me two or three kicks, which I deserved well enough, broil me o'th' coals. Mercy, oh mercy: do not cast me away upon the Hangman now, in the pride of my youth: not guilty, my Lord.  Cor. 
Howsoever fear of death possess him so, I see the murder in his eyes.  Bub. 
My eyes? would they were out then: do you see murder in my eyes? are my eyes bloodshot?  Cor. 
His very hand doth show a guiltiness, look how it trembles.  But. 
The fear of hanging hath put my whole body into palsy: My hands guilty? I can wash my hands clean of it, I never killed a Fly. By this hand, not guilty.  Enter a Shepherd hastily. Shep. 
Which is Cornelio?  Ant. 
This: what's the matter? what makes this Shepherd here?  Cor. 
I am Cornelio: is it with me thou wouldst?  Shep. 
If your name Cornelio be,  
Contentment and felicity  
I bring you: I am sent from one  
That doth call himself your son,  
Young Antonio, who thus low  
Would beg your blessing, prays that no  
Affliction too much you dismay  
For his absence, bade me say,  
If you deign suspend your care,  
A few hours, and repair  
Unto the place of Shepherds by,  
To grace their pleasures with your eye,  
Antonio will himself declare,  
Faithfully what causes were  
Of his absence, and requite  
These dolours with a fresh delight:  
And so farewell. This is all:  
Back again I hear them call.  Exit Shepherd. Cor. 
Oh stay awhile.  Ant. 
He's gone, sir: did I not tell you, Antonio was not dead? but this is strange.  Cor. 
Do I not dream?  Ant. 
Antonio among the Shepherds? if he be there, I am dressed i'faith: By any means, go sir.  Bub. 
Is Antonio alive again?  Ruf. 
Yes verily, alive again, let not the Hangman fright away your wits any longer.  Bub. 
I hope I shall choose my own Gallows then. Hillaria, you would not believe me: did I look as I had killed anybody? now I hope you will hold me for an innocent hereafter.  Cor. 
Babulcus, pray let us have your company,  
It doth concern your freedom. Antonio living?  
Rufaldo, let us make a merry day on't,  
If it be true. If? I do sin against  
Discretion to distrust it. O my stars,  
I do acquit you all your injuries,  
If you possess me of Antonio.  
Never did man to bliss more willing go.  Bub. 
I am glad I am reprieved: come Hillaria.  Ant. 
'Twere pretty if Antonio be multiplied: here's tricks indeed, I am resolved to see what will the end of this confusion be.  Exeunt. Enter jenkin. Ien. 
Never was jenkin in such Wilderness, her have walked and travelled create deal of miles in these Woods: but her can find no end nor evasions, look you: her have read in Histories, and Relations, and chronicles, very famous Knights, and prave Sentilmen of valours and chivalries have been enchanted, look you, in Castles and very strange dwellings, and Towers, and solitary places, now was have create fears and suspicions, lest jenkin was fallen into some Wisheries and Conjurations, and was enchanted, bless us all in these Deserts and Wildernesses for her valours and magnanimities.  Enter jocarello. Ioc. 
So ho, ho, Master jenkin.  Ien. 
It is our Pages again. jocarello, where have you been? you are very tilligent Boys, to lose your Master thus.  Ioc. 
I was lost myself, had not a Shepherd by chance found me, and carried me into his house under the ground, where with a great many of shepherdess we sat up all night in making Garlands for some show and pastimes to be done this day, which they call their Festival: pray, sir, since we have run a wild-goose chase so long, let's stay one day to see these sports and dancings.  Ien. 
Sports and dances, say you? take pleasures and delectations in dances? Very well, jenkin was knaw how to dance herself, was pred in all Sentilmans qualities, look you, her will make no peregrinations back till all be done, and it may be, was shake her legs in capers too, look you now.  Enter Cornelio, Rufaldo, Antonio, Bubulcus, Hillaria. Corn. 
Master jenkin, you are well met in these parts, I perceive you are early this morning, to partake the pastimes of our Shepherds.  Ien. 
Good tayes and salutations, and cret deal of felities come to all your urships.  Bub. 
Sir, my name is Master Bubulcus, and I am as good a Gentleman.  Ien. 
As who pray you? do you make comparisons?  Bub. 
I do embrace your familiarities, and remain your truest worm.  Ien. 
Not too much worms, nor familiarities pray you: ha Pages, here is Selina's in her own apparels and vestments, all was very true as our Countrywoman Echoes was make reports: Selina was gone back again: very well: Mistress Selina's was very full of joys and exhilarations, to see you in these places, you knaw how greatly and ardently jenkin was taken with your peauties, and pulchritudes, cret while ago: pray when did you make returns out of these woods? jenkin had knowledge, and saw you in your Shepherd apparels, and was make ambulations after you hither, out of mere amours and affections as her was true Sentilman.  Ant. 
I make return out of these woods? I entered them but now.  Ien. 
Well, you desire not to have things declared, and published, her was keepe all silences.  Ant. 
Upon my life you are mistaken quite in this, Master jenkin.  Ien. 
Oh, pray you make not jenkin ridiculous, and derisions, look you, shall hear no more of that matters, call you only to memories you promised loves to jenkin, pray you in matrimonies create while ago.  Ant. 
I deny not that, sir, but I know not why you have long neglected me, and I am now married to Rufaldo.  Ien. 
Rufaldo's? hit is not possible.  Bub. 
Father, he says it is impossible Selina should be your wife.  Ruf. 
How, not my wife? I would fain see that.  Ien. 
Is Selina your wife's in truths and verities pray you?  Ruf. 
Do you make question? My wife? I think there is some reason, she is my very dear wife, I will assure you sir.  Cor. 
He has got a boy by this time.  Ruf. 
A boy? well, I have got something, a pox a your fingers. How sayst? is not something, done Sweetheart?  Ant. 
Yes, in my conscience something is done.  Ien. 
jenkin was never all his days have such injuries and contumelies put upon her: was ever Sentilman thus abused? have her made repetitions and genealogies of her blood, for no matrimonies? jenkin has peat the bushes, and Rufaldo's has get the pirds. Hum! her love not to make quarrels & prabbles, but jenkin could fight with any podies in the whole urld, all weapons, from the long Pikes to the Welsh-hookes, look you now, no matrimonies? her Welsh-blood is up, look you.  Cor. 
Master Bubulcus.  Ien. 
Master Blew-pottles, have you any stomachs or appetites to have any ploughs or knogs upon your costards, look you?  Bub. 
No great stomach at this time, sir, I thank you: alas, I have 'em every day, they are no novelties with me.  Cor. 
Come, Master jenkin, I now perceive you loved my daughter, if you had acquainted me in time, I should not have been unwilling to have called you son, but since 'tis too late, let your wisdom check impatience: I know you are of a noble temper, howsoever passion may a little cloud your virtues, let's be all friends I pray.  Ien. 
Here is very could honest words, yes, look you, jenkin is in all amities and friendships, but—  Cor. 
Oh, no more shooting at that but: hark, I hear the Shepherd's music, and voice too, let's sit down I pray, Antonio keep thy word.  Music. Enter Shepherds and shepherdess with garlands. 

SONG.  

Woodmen Shepherds, come away,  
This is Pan's great holiday,  
Throw off cares,  
With your heaven aspiring airs  
Help us to sing  
While valleys with your Echoes ring.   

2  
Nymphs that dwell within these groves,  
Leave your Arbours, bring your loves,  
gather poesies,  
Crown your golden hair with Roses,  
As you pass  
Foot like Fairies on the grass.   

3  
joy drown our bowers, Philomell,  
Leave of Tereus' rape to tell,  
Let trees dance,  
As they at Thracian lyre did once,  
Mountains play,  
This is the Shepherd's holiday.    Dance. The song ended, Enter a mask of satyrs &c. and dance. Enter a Shepherdess with a white rod. 1. Shep. 
Post hence satyrs and give way,  
For fairer souls to grace the day,  
And this presence, whip the air  
With new ravishings, hence with care,  
By the forelock hold Time fast,  
Lest occasion slip too fast  
Away from us, joys here distil.  
Pleasures all your bosoms fill.  Exit. Enter Infortunio, Selina, Gasparo, Felice, Gorgon, Shepherd. They dance. Sel. 
Fair Nymph, vouchsafe the honour to dance with me.  Ant. 
Troth, sir, I cannot dance.  Sel. 
We know you are Selina.  Infor. 
Your hand, fairest.  1. Shep. 
Disdain not, gentle sir.  Ien. 
pibble pables, with all her hearts, look you.  Gorg. 
Noble sir.  Bub. 
Fair Lady, at your service.  Gasp. 
I will not change.  Fel. 
Nor I.  One measure. Cor. 
Which is Antonio?  Dance. Ruf. 
It will break out anon.  Sel. 
You are a thief.  Ant. 
Ha?  Sel. 
You have robbed Selina.  Ant. 
Then I'll make restitution, what are you?  Sel. 
Antonio.  Ant. 
The Devil you are! faith, deal honestly with me, and I'll be true to thee: who art?  Sel. 
I am Selina by my hopes of heaven.  Ant. 
Ha, sister then!  Sel. 
I have no brother but Antonio.  Ant. 
And I am he. Oh happiness!  Sel. 
If thou be'st Antonio, what made thee assume my habit?  Ant. 
Of that anon. Lives Infortunio?  Sel. 
he's here, and with him Gasparo and my sister the lost Felice.  Ant. 
I am ravished with this wonder.  Sel. 
Keep your face constant: the Music calls.  Dance. Cor. 
Ha, what means this?  Ant. 
Selina.  Fel. 
Your blessing, sir, we are your children.  Cor. 
Who's this?  Sel. 
I am Selina, sir.  Ant. 
And I am Antonio.  Cor. 
Amazement: thou Antonio? he Selina?  Ruf. 
Ha, how's this, my wife become a man? I confess she played the man with me.  Cor. 
But who is this?  Fel. 
I am Felice, sir, your long lost Daughter,  
Found out by Gasparo, unto whom my vows  
In Heaven were long since sacred, and I beg  
Once more he may be mine.  Sel. 
As I to be possessed  
By Infortunio here.  Cor. 
Stay children, stay: take heed, you do not know  
What strength of joy my fainting age can bear:  
You fall in too full showers, like swelling Nile  
These comforts will exceed the narrow banks  
Of my poor frailty: rise, enjoy your wishes,  
And my blessings be multiplied upon you. Ha!  
Rufaldo, here's Felice my lost Girl,  
Take her, take her, Gasparo. Selina,  
Art not thou Rufaldo's Wife?  Ant. 
No, sir, I ventured that, he knows me well,  
Hillaria and I were bed fellows, at his request.  Bub. 
How? Hillaria and you bedfellows? I'd laugh at that.  Ruf. 
I am abused, disgraced, undone.  Cor. 
Nay, Rufaldo.  Bub. 
Why then, it seems you were Antonio, that I killed so, and you have, as a man should say, line with Hillaria beforehand.  Ant. 
I am not behind hand.  Bub. 
Nay, and you have tickled her before and behind, tickle her all over for Bubulcus.  Ien. 
Hark you, is there another Selina's? bless us all, here is very prave love-tricks, look you.  Ruf. 
Blessing on him: why he hath made Stockfish on me, he has beaten away all my inclination to give my blessing.  Cor. 
Come, upon recollection, you must make it a bargain: they have, it seems, bought and sold already, 'tis past recovery, he shall be worthy of her.  Hil. 
Sir, that you may with more alacrity let fall your blessings: know, our bloods are pure, Antonio and your Daughter are as chaste from any sinful act, as when we were first mantled after birth.  Ruf. 
Ha, sayst so?  Ant. 
'Twas none of my fault, I am sure.  Ruf. 
Then my blessings to you: come, y'are both my Children.  Bub. 
How?  Cor. 
Amen, and mine: Why I am rapt beyond myself with joys. Infortunio, Fate hath effected that I begged of Heaven in many prayers for you, oh my blisses.  Bub. 
So, so, I am gulled, my house taken o'er my head?  Gorg. 
Sir, you know who I am, I am yet walking Terra incognita, I have a great mind to Bubulcus, you know what I have suffered for him, and so forth.  Gasp. 
Let me alone, so, so: then pleasures run with a stream upon us, but if we shall make a full day on't, here's one more to meet with her match, this poor Virgin hath been long in love with Bubulcus: troth, sir, look upon her at length pitifully complaining: alas good soul, be honest at length: prithee do, and marry her, you know what has passed between you, 'tis a handsome Wench.  Bub. 
umh, I do remember she was in love with me, and so was twenty more: what's that to me? Alas, would you have me descend so low?  Gorg. 
Oh, sir, you sung another song in my Mother's Dairy, when we sat up all night together, and had a Sack posset.  All. Bub. 
I do remember such a thing, but what's that? I'll take't upon me.  Gorg. 
I beseech you, Gentlemen, speak for me, for I will have him, I am ashamed to show my reasons.  Bub. 
Very small ones: away you dirty quean.  Inf. 
What, has he got thee with child?  Gorg. 
More than that, sir.  Fel. 
Has he had any Bastards?  Gorg. 
Indeed Mistress, I'll tell you; he hath begot three children of my body.  Inf. 
Fie upon't, no less than three Bastards.  Bub. 
How? nay, she lies falsely, I got but two, so many I will acknowledge, because they shall not doubt my sufficiency, had I any more than two? speak you lying whore  Gasp. 
Sir, I tender your credit, there is but two ways either you must marry her, or give her a piece of money that's the easiest way, she is poor: for your reputation—  Bub. 
What do you think will content the Whore?  Ien. 
Hark you, best for you, make some satisfactions to this gentlewoman, or Senkin was learne you more honesties and behaviours towards these vmans, warrant you Master blue pottles.  Gasp. 
A matter of twenty or thirty pieces, you can spare them.  Bub. 
You Strumpet, here's twenty pieces for you: do you hear? keep well the boys then: but you shall swear, before these Gentlemen, you will never claim marriage: there, be an honest woman hereafter.  Gorg. 
Yes, bear witness, Gentlemen, I do accept his wise benevolence, and will never trouble him with marriage— while Gorgon lives.  All. 
Gorgon?  Gorg. 
Your servant, and your pardons: nay, Gorgon has had his devices and vagabunduloes as well as the best on ye: give you all joy, I wish you wit, sir.  Bub. 
I am fooled of all sides, was I borne a fool?  All. 
Ha, ha.  Ien. 
Stay you, Master double colours, there be more fools in the business as yourself: well jenkin, were even best make shurneyes back into her own Countries, and never put credits or conferences in any woman's in the whole urld: they all lie and cozen, and make derisions out all measures.  Inf. 
Nay, nay, Gentlemen, let's all together  
we'll drown all discontents this day with wine.  
Let's take up all our Fates then, and proclaim  
This day new Festivals in Hymen's name.  Bub. 
Stay a little, and I'll along with you. Since I have missed my Wench, I'll ask these gentlemen's good wills to a second match, in stead of an Epilogue.  Courteous Spectators, and kind Gentlemen.— Gor. 
Why, how now? what, are you mad? will you speak the Epilogue? though you have played a fool in the Play, you will not show yourself an Ass before all this company. The Epilogue? I hope I am the wiser o'th' two, and the better read in compliment.  judicious Gentlemen— Ien. 
Hark you, Master double-colours, and you goody Gorgon's, here is one wiser, Asses you both, to pronounce the Epilogue, warrant you, and one, that knows— to speak in as good English, Gentlemen, now sans Compliment.  
Our Love-tricks have been shown, and we attend  
To know if your acceptance crown the end,  
The world is full of tricks but it will be  
 
To these of 〈…〉 contentment dwell  
On you we 〈…〉 Play Thieves well,  
Which 〈…〉 call, that we might prove  
〈…〉 your love.  〈…〉 
FINIS.