A PLEASANT comedy, Called THE TWO MERRY milkmaids. Or, THE BEST WORDS WEAR THE GARLAND. As it was Acted before the King, with general Approbation, by the Company of the Revels. By I. C.  
LONDON, Printed by Bernard Alsop for Lawrence Chapman, and are to be sold at his shop in Holborn over against Staple inn Inn hard by the Bars. 1620.   

The Names of the Persons.  

JOHN EARNEST, Duke of saxony.  
Lord RAYMOND, A Politician.  
Lodwick, Father to Dorigen.  
GVIDO, Father to Bernard.  
BERNARD, Son to Guido, and Student at Wittenberg.  
FREDERICK, Son to Lodwick, and Brother to Dorigene.  
DORILUS, Brother to julia.  
LANDOFFE, Tutor to Bernard.  
CALLOWE, A foolish Lord.  
RANOFF, A Knight, and Traveller.  


FERDINAND,  
CORNELIO,  
CAROLUS ,  Courtiers, and Servants to Lord Raymond.  
judges.  
SMIRKE, the Clown.  
HOST.  
DORIGENE, the Duchess.  
JULIA, a Lady familiar with the Duchess.    

THE PRINTER TO THE READER.  
EVery Writer must govern his Pen according to the Capacity of the Stage he writes too, both in the Actor and the Auditor. This had the happiness to please, as it was means, the greater part, and of them not the worst. If there be discovery made of the Coniuring Words, you'll find the Witchcraft: no true Spirit will be stirred with 'em; haply, a malicious. It was made more for the Eye, than the Ear; less for the Hand, then either: and had not false Copies travailed abroad (even to surbating) this had kept in; for so far the Author was from seeking fame in the publishing, that he could have wished it bound about with the King. Some good words here you shall find for your Money, else it keeps not touch with the Title. Receive it well, and though in this he give you no ill, yet hereafter he hath promised you better Language.   

THE prologue.  

THis Day we entreat All that are hither come,  
To expect no noise of Guns, Trumpets, nor Drum,  
Nor Sword and Target; but to hear Sense and Words,  
Fitting the Matter that the Scene affords.  
So that the Stage being reformed, and free  
From the loud Clamours it was wont to be,  
Turmoiled with Battles; you I hope will cease  
Your daily Tumults, and with us wish Peace.  
We stand a hazard now: yet being prepared,  
We hope, for your own good, you in the Yard  
Will lend your Ears, attentively to hear  
Things that shall flow so smoothly to your ear;  
That you returning home, t'your Friends shall say,  
howe'er you understand't, 'Tis a fine Play:  
For we have in't a Conjurer, a Devil,  
And a Clown too; but I fear the evil,  
In which perhaps unwisely we may fail,  
Of wanting Squibs and Crackers at their tail.  
But howsoever, Gentlemen I swear,  
You shall have Good Words for your Money here;  
Stuff that will last, we hope, and died in grain:  
And as ye liked, pray know the House again.    
A PLEASANT comedy OF THE MERRY milkmaids.  

ACTVS PRIMVS.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Bernard in his Study, Candle and Books about him. 
enchantments pluck out of the Sky  
The Moon, though she be placed on high.  
Dame Circe's, with her Charms so fine.  
Ulysses' Mates did turn to Swine:  
The Snakes with Charm is burst in twain,  
In Meadows where she doth remain.  
And here again,  
She plucks each Star out of his seat,  
And turneth back the raging Waves;  
With Charms she makes the Earth to sweat,  
And raiseth Souls out of their Graves:  
She burns men's bones as with a fire,  
And pulleth down the Lights of Heaven,  
And makes it snow at her desire,  
Even in the midst of Summer season;  
And what is it cannot be done  
By art of the Magician?  
'Tis true, things most incredible are to be done,  
And I believe thee gentle Book in it.  
Never before my wary Tutor did  
Leave this door open, which he well might call  
His private Study; for here Secrets lie  
Were worth man's labour to arrive to 'em:  
Here are the Names, Shapes, Powers, and Government  
Of every several Spirit, their Degrees,  
Their great Effects, particular signories;  
And 'mongst them I have found one, if I had  
But skill to raise him for my purposes,  
And here's the form of it set down at large:  
But stay, what's this?  Amaymon King of the East, Gorson King of the South, Zimimar King of the North, Goap King and Prince of the West, may be bound from the third hour till Noon, Dukes may be bound from the first hour till Noon. 
Pish, this is nought to me.  Asmody; a great King, strong and mighty, he is seen with three heads; whereof the first is like a Bull, the second a Man, the third a Ram: he hath a serpent's tail, he belcheth Flames out of his Mouth, he sitteth on an Infernal Dragon, he carrieth a Lance and a Flag in his hand, he goeth before others which are under the power of Amaymon, he giveth the Ring of Virtues, he teacheth Geometry, Arithmetic, Astronomy; to all demands he answereth fully and truly: he maketh a man invisible. 
ay, this.  He showeth the places where Treasure lie. 
I do not care for Treasure.  He maketh a man invisible. 
This, this is it: Great Asmody, thou art the Spirit whom  
I would converse with, And I will fetch thee, if this  
Charm will do it.—  
Now I have laid my Circle, fear assaults me: So says my grave Instructor all men do when they begin this Business; but bids me here be resolute, and dread not: for bound in this Circle, and by these words constrained, they cannot hurt me.  
I do conjure thee by these potent Names:  Panthon, Adonay, Algramay, Planaboth, Muriton, Bisecognaton, Siston, Diaton, Maton, Tetragrammaton, Agla, Agarion, Tegra, Pentessaron, Tendicata, Sorthie, Sorthia, Sorthios, Milia, Achilia, Sibylia, You the three Fairy sisters of the Ring come and appear to me, or send your faithful servant Asmody, or I will call the five Kings of the North. Enter Landoffe his Tutor like a Spirit. Land. 
For what thou daring Mortal? what wilt thou do with Asmody, now thou hast brought him hither?  Ber. 
I do command thee that thou help me to the invisible Ring.  Lan. 
Ho, ho, ho, Thou foolish Thing without Art, and  
less Wit, Dost think it doth require no more but so?  
It is thy Master's Masterpiece to do it,  
And thou dost call for nothing but thy Ruin.  
Thou art now in my power, and I can tear thee  
As small as Atomies, and throw thee off  
Like dust before a wind: yet for I know thou art  
Pupil unto my Master, and his Minion,  
And mayst hereafter with a word release me,  
Here unconstrained, I vow myself thy servant,  
And will (acquaint me with thy purposes)  
Effect them to the utmost of my power.  Ber. 
Dost thou not this in subtlety, to draw me out of my Circle, and then ruin me?  Lan. 
I dare as well run on the fiery Sword that wounds Malantha, Thama, or Sitrami.  Ber. 
I do believe thee:  
Then be gone; yet stay, a word more:  
Thinks thou my Tutor; if I should conceal this Act of mine from him, that he would know it?  Lan. 
I think not: for he hath given me liberty these five days.  Ber. 
Thanks Asmody: now leave me.  Lan. 
I am gone.  Ber. 
I will get leave of him to return back unto my Father's house, where I will live, if Asmody can do it, invisible.  
Not far off is a Damsel whom I love,  
But never yet durst tell her, nor did know it  
So feelingly, as now I am removed.  
'tis almost day I wished, though not for fear,  
For love has made me a bold Conjurer.  Exit. Lan. 
And thou wert bold indeed: but youth is desperate;  
Respects not dangers, howsoe'er they look.;  
I came myself unto this Art with trembling,  
And when I first had raised a Spirit up,  
My flesh methought ran like my blood about me,  
And I sat bathed in a cold faint swear.  
But he was far from raising any Spirit:  
He ran 'em so disordered, that no Devil,  
Though he had heard him, would have known his name.  
But it was my device, seeing him grow  
To extreme Melancholy and Discontent,  
To let him view these scattered papers thus,  
That I might sound his grief, knowing how apt  
And covetous youth is of every knowledge,  
If he might learn it with a little babbling:  
But this is not an Art so to be gained.  
I'll follow him, attending still upon him,  
As if I were the Spirit he guesses me:  
And if there shall be cause, I'll play my part  
So well, that men shall praise the Magic Art.   

Scena secunda.  Enter Dorigene and Dorilus. Dor. 
Good signior no more eruptions, I tell you what you shall trust to: I am not like a Mill, to be turned with wind and water; not all your sighs and tears can alter me, keep 'em for Custard-eating Dames i'th' City, there they may prosper.  
Thou art a handsome fellow, I confess it,  
Hast good parts too, I know it; Living sufficient  
To keep house i'th' Country, and invite  
Every good Time thy Neighbours, and at Christmas'  
Distribute amongst the poor six pence apiece,  
And a brown Loaf: Good Country virtues these,  
And may perhaps serve for a doctor's daughter,  
Though she have read Orlando Furioso.  
But for me, that have looked higher into Poetry,  
And for a need can couple of myself,  
Have talked with Montaigne and with Machiavel,  
And can make use of them; note him in this  
Place shallow, here profound: and be th'only Star  
Whereto all Wits advance their jacob's Staff,  
And the Supreme cry me out Excellent.  
What would three hundred pound a year do here?  
'twill keep a blue Coat and a side Saddle,  
But not maintain my Coach-Horses in provender.  Doril. 
Most excellent of Women, that you are worthy  
All that your hopes can lodge in you, I grant:  
But Fortune and the Graces were at odds  
When you were gotten, else you had been made  
As great as Dignity can make a Woman.  
But yet you know (I pray forgive my plainness)  
That in Estate you do not equal me,  
If that were it I looked at.  Dor. 
'tis true:  
I think my Portion is some seven score pound,  
And hardly that by’r lady: what 'tis I know not,  
It lies above in the Garret in old rusty Armour.  
But what's that to th'purpose: there's a Spirit  
(Good or bad, I know not) whispers unto me;  
Be an Empress Wench, a Queen, or duchess,  
Countess, or marquess at least, for those are trifles.  
Now I'll tell thee Dorilus, because thou art a handsome Fellow, as I told thee before; when I am any one of these, thou shalt enjoy me, in plain terms, lie with me, and make a Cuckold: for my Ambition is to advance Greatness. Look, here's thy Sister.  Enter julia. Iul. 
Come in a time I doubt to make you blush.  
Why what mad conference are you two in?  Dor. 
For my Ambition is to advance Greatness.  Iul. 
As how?  Dor. 
Why as a Woman may do; the manner is not to be shown now. I am glad thou art come to take off thy Brother.  Iul. 
Take him off, why he is not so fierce, methinks:  
What, do you weep Brother?  Dor. 
Like a watering-pot; he would make an excellent  
Fountain in the midst of a Garden.  Iul. 
A moist Milksop Lover, hang him, on whom Love has no more operation than an Onion: Why, did not I tell you this was the wrong way, & taught you the right; Lectured unto you according to my own heart, and my heart is made of the same stuff that other Women's are: for shame leave, it is both an ill sight and an ill sign to see a man drop at the Nose.  Doril. 
Why you mistake me, if you think I weep.  Iul. 
No; what use then of your handkercher?  Doril. 
Something has touched my eye, that does offend it.  Iul. 
Some Feather like a Woman.  Doril. 
Not so good Shuttlecock, your pointed wit stabs desperately at all times. Look you, 'tis thus: If you can love me, fair one, so; if not—  Iul. 
So.  Doril. 
Yes.  Iul. 
So, so: For he did but so, so, For he did but so, so, and so let her go.  Dor. 
Ha, ha, ha, Thou art a mad Wench, and haste mercy upon no man, far worse than I.  Exit Dorilus. Iul. 
Not worse; much about one, as the Collier to the Devil: but what shall we do, shall we not see the Duke?  Dor. 
Yes faith, and thou sayst the word, and laugh him out of his Dominions: for to laugh him and all his train out of countenance, is nothing; I have a great mind to jeer the Courtiers.  Iul. 
prithee let's, there requires not much wit about it.  Dor. 
Is't done?  Iul. 
If my consent will do't, 'tis.  Dor. 
Why then 'tis done, and dun's the Mouse, and undone all the Courtiers: my Father's gone before to meet him.  Iul. 
Yes, I saw him very spruce.  Dor. 
Through out Ground he must come, the hour just at milking time.  Iul. 
i'faith 'twere good— ha, ha.  Dor. 
Why dost thou laugh?  Iul. 
Why I'll tell thee sirrah.  Dor. 
No sirrah, you sha'not tell me, I wonot lose the glory of the invention, for I know you have found it.  Iul. 
To go like Milkmaids.  Dor. 
I knew it must out, or thy tongue had burnt else,  
To go like Milk maids, And like Milkmaids will we go,  
To make sport with the Courtiers, and triumph.  Enter Frederick. Fre. 
The Maids they went a milking  
All in a misty morning,  
Down went their milking Pales,  
Up went their Terrie diddle Dales,  
And all was but a milking,  
And all was but a milking.  
i'faith Wenches, are you for employment?  Dor. 
I would my Father had bound thee Prentice seven years ago to a Scrivener, by this time thou hadst lost thy Ears: What make you eavesdrop here? I thought this had not been a sober time of day with you.  Fre. 
Faith want of money Sister is guilty of the sin.  
Come, supply, supply, or out goes all, I'll spoil your milking business.  Iul. 
By this light if thou dost, thou shalt starve for want of Butter.  Fre. 
Come, the Purse jingles, I hear it,  
For Music with his Silver Knell  
Rings us all in at the blue Bell.  Dor. 
I must give him some.  Iul. 
Give him all to be rid of him.  Dor. 
What, you do not mean to go see the Duke, Brother?  Fre. 
Not I i'faith Sister, I have a Duck of mine own, that I must visit— Tother shilling—  Dor. 
I have no more, believe it.  Fre. 
Pish, I cannot endure this paltering and patching between Sister and Brother—— So, now go your ways and milk, but take heed of churning; our Dairy maid got the toothache with—  Dor. 
Your mouth's stopped, is't not?  Fre. 
Umh.  Dor. 
Why so then, pray God the Wenches have clean Waistcoats.  Iul. 
You are resolved then.  Dor. 
Resolved! Thou art a Fool julia, thou shalt see  
I will do things beyond credulity.  Exeunt. Fre. 
This money should ha' bought Tiffenie and Cobweb Lawn, And what a sin had that been, to nurse Pride, when it may purchase necessary Claret?  
My Father allows me too little, I find that: And it were not for this good natured Pagan, my Sister, I knew not what to do, unless I should run my head into a commodity of Hemp, and that I must take up at the Gallows too, or else they wonot trust me: yet I might have a Bargain of Crock-Butter, if I could get an Heir to be bound for't, your Country Gentlemen have no maw to't; but your Cockney were the only man, for he would take it up, and 'twere but to make toasts of.  Exit.  

Scena tertia.  Enter Lord Raymond, Lodwick, Bernard's Father, Smirke the Clown, with Attendants. Ray. 
Gentlemen all I thank you, your good wills  
To me (as well as to the Duke your loyalty)  
Is shown in this your Readiness and Love.  
He cannot be far off: Pray let your men  
Keep off the Country People, that do swarm  
As thick as do the City multitude  
At sight of any rare Solemnity.  Smirke. 
Keep back there, keep back, or I'll make your Leather pilches cry twango else: for some of them I am sure I made 'em smoke so, that I feared I had set 'em afire. Foh, some of them have drunk sour Butter milk this morning, mingled with Garlic, which crudden together, makes but a rank smell: and then they have their Christmas Shoes on, their old dancing Pumps, up to the middle Calf, keeps 'em so warm, that here'll'le be a Perfume for the Duke's own nostrils.  Enter Ferdinand and Ranoff. Ferd. 
signior Ranoff, you are well arrived.  Ran. 
And you sweet signior— 'Tis very precious hot,  
I protest I have been cooler under the Line.  Fer. 
A Halter you have.  Ran. 
I would we might command some Drink here.  Fer. 
Nay, and we could entreat it, we were happy: for the serving-men that were wont to be all Mouths, are now all Eyes, they have no other member useful about them.  Ran. 
This Lord has a most dulcet situation, pleasant, and profitable, I have seldom seen in Venice a sweeter.  Fer. 
Did you not see Sir a swarm of Bees as you passed by?  Ran. 
I cannot tell indeed, I did not mark 'em.  Fer. 
methought they looked Sir like your people of Hybla.  Ran. 
I cannot tell, I never had much conversation with your people of Hybla, my noble Lord.  Enter Lord Callowe. Fer. 
Here's another, a Bird of the same, but a more tame one, something more quiet. Now to hear this jay chatter, and this Owlet hold his peace, but answer him with motion, may serve for a Morris-dance.  Ran. 
Your Lordship's jennet in my conceit is a most understanding Beast.  Call. 
Hum.  Ran. 
I saw the Adlantatho of Domingo mounted upon such another, not much different, nay surely nothing at all; and I do not think but they were twins, only I think your Lordships the better.  Call. 
Hum.  Ran. 
Your Lordship keeps the Saddle admirable,  Call. 
Hum.  Ran. 
I would your Lordship had been with me at japon, I speak it for horse's sake, and Horsemanship together; I protest they are the best Riders, if I said the Rankest, I did not lie: for believe it, I hold your Rank Ryder a good Rider, take him always, and at all times: As your Frenchman, in Christendom I do not know a ranker Rider, unless it be some part North, there they are Scourers. Your Lordship has a most neat Ruff, and becomes you most elegantly.  Cal. 
Hum.  Enter Cornelius, with Dorigene and julia, like Milkmaids. Fer. 
Is not this a fine Dialogue? How now? Who come these to milk? my Lord and's compeer?  Cor. 
No, believe it Sir, they are taken up for the Duke's own tooth.  Fer. 
I'd as live thou hadst told me a Tale: yet beshrew me they are a couple of handsome Calves with white Faces; but the degrees of this how com'st about?  Cor. 
Why the Duke passing by, cast his eye upon them, and with it, I believe, his fancy: for upon some consideration, he sent back, to give command, they should be brought hither to my Lord's House.  Fer. 
'Tis not amiss, he does well to begin wholesome.  Ran. 
Will your Lordship conduct?  Cor. 
ay, this will be good, stand aside, & give 'her law.  Ran. 
Fair gentle Milk maid.  Dor. 
Sweet courteous Squire.  Ran. 
Good; a Wench of Language: by this hand I love thee.  Dor. 
Love me Sir, why you have scarce looked on me.  Ran. 
That's all one, I protest I love thee,  Dor. 
I am sorry for't.  Ran. 
How which one? sorry for't? sorry-that I, whom Ladies languish for, repine, and die?  Dor. 
Surely Sir, those Ladies are not sound, that die of such a scurvy disease.  Ran. 
You now betray your rudeness; I am angry.  Dor. 
You show yourself an Ass, and I not care for't.  Ran. 
udfoot, and my Dagger had not been rusty, that I might have drawn it with credit, I'd ha' stuck it in the middle of your Milk Pale, foolish, scurvy, coarse-kersey, dirty-tailed, dangling dug Cow: A Gentleman Courtier and Traveller, whose feet has measured the Alps, and be disgraced in a piece of unplowed Pasture.  
I have lighted upon one of the Egyptian Idols, taught Callowe stroking up his hair, compliments with Faces and Legs .with some Engine to put off his Hat, and screw his Face a little: I cannot speak to it like a man, yet I will talk to it as if it were one. How came you hither Sir, pray did you ride, or were you drawn in a Cart?  Cal. 
Hum  Ran. 
Nay, believe it my Lord, they are a brace of the rudest Baubees that ever drew or sucked the Milk of Innocence.  Iul. 
Why, but he is not a Lord, I hope, Sir?  Ran. 
Foolish Wench I tell thee he is a Lord, and I am little less myself, if I were in place where: what dost thou know, but I may be the Duke?  Dor. 
Marry God forbid, Sir.  Ran. 
Why, it had been all one to thee, thou hadst called me Ass.  Dor. 
Ass unawares may prove a wise man, better considered of.  Ran. 
Ah, she begins to balance me.  Dor. 
I do indeed Sir.  Ran. 
And how do you find me now?  Dor. 
Full weight Sir.  Ran. 
O, in good time, we shall agree anon.—  
The Duke—  Enter Duke, with Raymond and the Train. Duke. 
Through the general love our subjects bear to  
We find my Lord your loyalty to us: (you,  
Which relisheth more sweeter to our ears,  
In their Applauses told, then by your own.  
And Gentlemen I thank you every one;  
You have took much pains t'see a growing Prince,  
Not seasoned yet with Time to your desires:  
But crowned with your loves in the Diadem,  
I steadily shall hold the Sceptre out,  
While justice shall stand by me, and direct it.  
I hope you will not look that I shall reign  
In my first year, as your last Duke my Father  
In his last: but give my Youth some liberty  
To play the wanton Prince, though not the wild one.  
I have I know possessed all you that know it,  
With that Conceit, when I gave command,  
Upon the first sight of a pair of Lasses,  
That have Looks like the place where they were bred,  
Cheerful and innocent to be brought to me,  
That I may see their pleasing eyes again;  
For methought on the sudden they were fair ones.  Ray. 
I wonot cross your Grace, but if my counsel—  Duke. 
I prithee keep it, I have no need of it,  
do not confine me, though I be your guest:  
I know it may breed laughter, perhaps sorrow  
Unto some grave ones, but I shall deceive 'em;  
I will see 'em, and have parley with 'em:  
There's no hurt meant if you mean not any,  
Nor shall this wrong your House; therefore produce them.  Ray. 
They are here my Lord.  Fer. 
udfoot, what will the young Duke do trow?  
Shall we have it set down in our Chronicles,  
Inprimis, a brace of Milkmaids? very good.  
Where are our Ladies now? they are to seek,  
And must begin again to learn short Curtsies,  
And dance after the Country Hornpipe.  Short Curtsies. Duke. 
Can there be any loss of Royalty,  
To bid these welcome? If here be any Rudeness,  
Let me be tasked with it, that like such Rudeness?  
If Blood or Beauty ever made a Lady,  
Why are not these so? I profess that man  
A Traitor, does not think it: yet they are still  
Themselves, and so am I. Are you not Sisters?  Short Curtsies. Dor. 
In Quality, an't shall please you;  
Yet there may be a doubt the other way,  
For our Fathers were next Neighbours.  Fer. 
That's a plaguy Wench; she has not milked so many Kine for nothing, she knows the danger of the Horn.  Iul. 
I beseech your Majesty let us depart, these fine men flout us.  Cor. 
Well said Innocence, thou art at home, and play'st within doors, the to there is more open.  Dor. 
We mean no harm, an't please you: if my Lord will spare us a little of his sour Beer, we'll make you a dainty syllabub; that's our Quality.  Iul. 
udfoot, we shallbe whipped anon for this Abuse.  Dor. 
I warrant thee Wench, hold up, I'll take too lashes for thy one.  Iul. 
Indeed you are better able to bear it.  Fer. 
What's the Duke's purpose trow? how he does eye 'em. They'd be good merchandise for some of us, now we are far from our Mistresses.  Cor. 
And may be so when he has done with 'em,  
That's my comfort.  Duke. 
What was your Father?  Dor. 
A Swineherd if it please you.  Duke. 
What yours?  Iul. 
A Ditcher an't shall like you.  Cor. 
she's the better descended of the two.  
what'll'th all this come to?  Duke. 
If thou hadst been my Sister,  
And thou Daughter unto some bordering Prince,  
As Florence, Padua, Verona, or some farther place.  
What Prince would not have sought and sued to you?  
But go and make the Habitation  
Where you were borne, and dwell, a Paradise,  
And let all Courts be wild and desolate.  Dor. 
Excellent: my fortune's come about,  
And I will venture, though my life lie on't.  Iul. 
My life lies on it too.  Dor. 
Hold thy tongue, thou art a sharer,  
As I give thee example, follow. Pardon, pardon,  
Great Prince, If we have through our Ignorance,  
Or Folly, give it what name you please,  
Wronged this fair Presence, wronged you the Light.  
That came but as the Egyptians, to adore  
The rising Sun, and to fall down before it.  Cor. 
What whirl's this?  Dor. 
We are poor Gentlewomen of this Country.  
Neighbours unto this place, that took upon us  
This Habit, to be freer and more bold.  
And yet more harmless, fearing to be pressed  
With the Court Compliment, that plays so thick  
In a young Damsels ears, it often bears  
And batters down poor virgin's Chastity.  
We did presume upon our strength, t'withstand  
The Pages, Footmen, and the Scullery:  
But when a Lord should take us unto task,  
Or others of your brave embroidered Train,  
Alas we had been like the silly fowl  
Under the towering Hawk, laid flat before 'em,  
Upon the very shaking of their Feathers.  Fer. 
A good Wench i'faith, she flouts them to their faces.  Cor. 
But what is this intended for trow; a Pastoral, or a Comedy?  Fer. 
A Comedy sure, there's so much Wit in't.  
'tis your daughter—  Lod. 
Yes: but pray be silent, let's see the effect,  
I dare not own her yet.  Duke. 
I let ye kneel thus long, to hear again  
That most harmonious voice, And ere thou risest,  
Ask something of me, fit for thee to crave,  
And me to give, And thou art Mistress of it.  Dor. 
I shall my gracious Lord, I crave your pardon.  Duke. 
Pish, that is needless, for thou'st not offended;  
Or if thou hadst, it were a poor one, that,  
For I do giv't to Thieves and Murderers:  
Ask me a Gift, that Time may talk of it,  
Being my first Bounty, which I would confer  
Bravely and worthily, and thou art borne for't.  
Hadst thou Birth equal unto Wit and Beauty,  
Thou wert a Wife for any Prince in Europe,  
And I myself would take thee to my Bed:  
But rise, and think, consider what thou ask'st;  
Yet thou art wise enough, I need not teach thee.  Enter a Messenger. Ray. 
How now— Your haste?  Mess. 
Where is my Lord the Duke?  Duke. 
Your business?  Mess. 
The good old Earl of— is deceased,  
And the Earldom now conferred unto your Crown.  Duke. 
'Tis some Addition; but would he still had lived  
To have kept it still, he was so true a friend.—  
Hast thou Thought yet?  He speaks to Dorig. Dor. 
Yes my Lord, I thank this Messenger.  
There is an Earldom now fall'n to your Crown.  Duke. 
There is.  Dor. 
Then that it is I crave, for him I owe  
All duty, all respect, and life unto.  Duke. 
What's he?  Dor. 
One not far off; my Father.  Duke. 
Is he thy Father?  Pointing to Lod. Lod. 
Yes my dread Sovereign; I beseech your pardon,  
The Wench I think is frantic.  Lod. kneels. Duke. 
Hadst not thou been her Father, thou hadst been so,  
To have uttered such a thought. Rise up Earl of—  
Thou hast thy PRINCE's word for't.  Ray. 
Have I broke my brains, As these white hairs  
Do witness, for the safety of you,  
And of your Father before you, and the State,  
To have a private Gentleman, my Neighbour,  
Merely for getting of a handsome Wench,  
Raised above me— it will not be digested,  
For I will break the neck of these new Fortunes,  
Or they shall mine, and crush me, into nothing.  Duke. 
Not any one beside myself beholds  
The Beauty of this Face, where two Suns move,  
Kindling new Fires to the God of Love.  
The Title of a Queen much better would  
Become thee, than a Beggar. Why didst not ask  
To be what Nature did intend thee for,  
And I would consummate, had not Fortune set thee  
So many steps below me in thy Birth?  Dor. 
If I might not offend my gracious Prince,  
I would make bold to speak.  Duke. 
I did and do entreat thee.  Dor. 
And speak freely?  Duke. 
With all liberty.  Dor. 
I may I hope, without your courtier's scorn,  
Pronounce myself a Lady; and before  
This Honour was conferred upon me by you,  
There did run generous blood within these veins,  
And if not noble: but say there did not,  
And I had been borne the last of the last  
Rank of basest people; yet you have made me  
(Such is the power of Princes) truly noble:  
I am the daughter of an Earl, which is a Prince,  
And by that Title challenge Alliance  
With every other Prince of higher blood.  
And if the Emperor himself were here,  
He now would own me for his Kinswoman,  
For I stand in the Line of Royalty:  
And who denies it, knows not Heraldry.  Ray. 
Here's a Wench knows how to blaze a Coat.  Dor. 
Therefore my Lord, my Blood can be no let,  
(If I fail not in other parts) to make  
A Duchess, or a Queen, and may become  
(If you be pleased to make me so) your Wife,  
Ambitious of your Love, not of the Title.  Duke. 
Famine and war's plague my Dominions,  
And strike at my own Person, but I love thee,  
Infinitely love thee, love thee beyond the Word,  
Beyond all Action that expresseth it.  
To call thee Fair, Sweet, Loving, and my Wife,  
Are but poor Attributes: Thou art my Soul,  
The better Part, that governs my best Thoughts,  
And bids me think on Heaven, and view thee.  
Thy Freeness and thy Wit, for such as do  
Respect a Dower, are sufficient.  
What are Towns, Countries, that may be destroyed  
By Sword or Fire, comparable to thee,  
That bear'st about thee in one Limb the Beauty  
Of twenty thousand Cities, and their Wealth?  
Thou art all the World to me, for I can live  
And sit down by thee with content of mind,  
Without Ambition how to conquer farther,  
And think I have enough; And so shall All,  
All of you here, that will be counted Subjects,  
And wish the quiet of your Sovereign:  
For him that does not, let him leave me now,  
And I will curse him back again a Traitor;  
And she herself shall curse him, and so damn him.  Fer. 
Nay, an't be come to that pass, I am silent.  Cor. 
'Tis best so, when the Tongue may forfeit the Head: I have a conned Speech already; Long live the Duchess.  Ran. 
I am glad my Lord was meal-mouthed when she was a Milkmaid, I am sure he gave her no ill language.  Duke. 
What Princes of the East, or of the World,  
When they shall see thy Picture, and me by thee,  
Circling thee thus, and thy Arms so with mine, 
The Duke embraceth Dorigene.   
To show consent in our Affections,  
But will consider with himself, how poor  
(Although he have the Indies in his reach)  
He is to me, and sigh himself to death?  
Father be merry, And my Lord be you so;  
For now your House is happy, and shall look  
More glorious than our Palaces: Although  
You left the Walls as naked as your Roof,  
Let every Room be decked with Countenances  
Cheerful, as at the hour I was borne,  
whenas I heard my Father was here with you,  
And had the glad news brought him. Wast not so?  Ray. 
Yes, my good Lord.  Duke. 
Why so then: Music, and some Wine,  
That I may drink a Health to her I love,  
Deep as my Affections.  A flourish of Cornets. Cor. 
You shall see he will be drunk with Wine  
As well as with Love.  Duke. 
First you shall pledge me, than it shall go round,  
Unless it stop at any discontent,  
Whom out of all this number I would note.  Ran. 
an't be good Wine, it shall ne'er stick at me, whate'er the Health be.  Fer. 
No, signior; I thought you had had a small-beer stomach.  Ran. 
Never but i'th' Morning.  Dor. 
My Lord— 
Drinks to Raymond.   Iul. 
The Courtiers begin to melt, and my mighty madam knows how to command: I wonder what I shallbe? The Dice went equally once in my own opinion for duchess; but duchess Mate, that's my comfort.  Duk. 
What eye now looks on thee, that not contemns  
The Colours of the Lily and the Rose,  
Which come as short of Beauty as of Sweetness?  
Lend me thy hand my joy, for I will yet  
But borrow it, till with thy heart I take it  
At the Temple, and make it mine for ever;  
That Fame may through the world my mind discover,  
Less happy being a Duke, then being a Lover.  Exeunt.  

Scena quarta.  Enter Bernard disguised like a Doctor, Landoff his Tutor like a Servingman. Ber. 
Come Asmody, thou seest I am ruled by thee, I take thy advice; and how dost thou like me in this doctor's Habit?  Land. 
Why very well Sir, and handsome, you look as if you had travelled for your Degree: but 'tis the better, for no experience is gotten without travail.  Ber. 
But what shall I do, when they bring me their brittle Pisspots? I cannot cast 'em.  Land. 
No: then give them me, I can.  Ber. 
Why, art thou skilful in Physic?  Land. 
Enough to cast away an Urinal, or two.  Ber. 
Cast it away; I marry Asmody, so can I.  Land. 
Why and that's sufficient. If it be troubled water, let 'em carry it home again to make Lie with, 'twill save Soap: But you must know Sir you must be reserved, and not a public Professor, like your Tutor.  Ber. 
As little as thou wilt, Asmody.  Land. 
If it please you Sir, you may take away the first part of my Name, it does not sound so well in a Servingman, because he is always at the heels of his Master.  Ber. 
What, thou wouldst have As taken away, and be called Modie?  Land. 
For your good Sir I wish it, and for brevity's sake: besides Sir, you hannot one Scholar amongst twenty, but knows what Asmody is.  Ber. 
Thou sayst well: then henceforward Moody, let As go to the Spirit.  Land. 
I Sir, for I am now you know your Familiar.  Ber. 
And a witty one, methinks.  Land. 
I must be so for I should have a sad Master of you else. And look you Sir, because you sha'not prove me a Liar, here is your sweethearts Brother (in time of yore your Chamber-fellow) in a worser pickle than you, for he is in love Auriumtenus, you are but up to the middle.  Enter Frederick and Dorilus. Fre. 
Why, I tell thee my Sister is such a Wild Cat, there is not her fellow again in all Germany, and yet thy Sister follows well after; they are a Couple, and so is the Devil and the Hangman, and as good Company: they'll flout any man under the Cope; they would laugh at me, but that they know I care not for't, and put 'em out with an excellent Trick that I have, called borrowing of Money. Come, bear up man, and drink, look you, here's mine Host come to bid us welcome.  Enter Host. 
How now mine Host, what time of day is't with you, ha?  Host. 
Full Tide Gentlemen, full Tide. But you are welcome; I am your Servant, your Slave, your Cat, or your Dog, or any thing in Rerum natura.  Fre. 
Hah mine Host, is't come to that Point?  
Go thy ways, go sleep, and send thy Dromedaries in with Wine, and Glasses clear as Crystal.  Host. 
As clear as Claridiana, my brave Bullies.  Fre. 
What in History, mine Host?  Host. 
And in Poetry too, when I am pleased to couple— Some Wine you Knaves, some Wine.  Fre. 
Your legs couple ill-favouredly, mine Host.  Host. 
My legs were not brought up to it.  Enter Bernard. Ber. 
By your leave mine Host.  Host. 
Welcome of this side too my man of Knowledge, I am thy Slave, thy Servant, Dog, or Cat, or any thing in Rerum natura.  Ber. 
By your leave Gentlemen.  Fre. 
You are welcome Sir.  Ber. 
I am a Stranger here, and understand  
You are Gentlemen of this Country, well descended,  
And I do want such good Acquaintances,  
Therefore make bold to press into your Company.  Fre. 
An Italian Sir, I take it.  Ber. 
Yes Sir, and a small practiser in Physic.  Fre. 
O Sir, let not your modesty wrong you,  
I would you had a Pill to purge Melancholy,  
Here's a Gentleman much offended with't;  
Give him a Glass of Claret, you are a Stranger,  
And he will not refuse you.  Ber. 
That I will Sir.— Fellow, some Wine.—  
Sir—  Doril. 
I cry you mercy.  Ber. 
I drink this to your Health, & I have brought it.  Doril. 
How Sir?  Fre. 
Let him drink off his Wine, and he'll tell you more.  Doril. 
You spoke something like comfort, Sir.  Ber. 
I did, and will persever.  Doril. 
You are a welcome man, pray show how.  Fre. 
Drink off your Wine, and he'll show you how.  Doril. 
Prithee away.  Ber. 
Pray Sir pledge me.  Doril. 
I will pledge you.  Fre. 
Did you not drink two, Sir?  Host. 
Yes marry did he, if I have two eyes, he drunk two.  Fre. 
Prithee mine Host stand aside, thou hast ne'er an eye.  Host. 
How, ne'er an eye? that goes hard, if I have drunk out two eyes in three hours.  Doril. 
Now Sir will you speak?  Ber. 
Yes Sir, and tell you what I know, although a stranger, and till this hour never saw your face.  Land. 
O Villain, they were Bedfellows together for a Twelvemonth.  Ber. 
You are in love with fair Dorigene, Sister unto this Gentleman.  Doril. 
You amaze me.  Ber. 
'Tis true, Sir.  Doril. 
Yes very true I find it: but for the cure of this?  Fre. 
Why 'tis ordinary, get her good will, and lie with her. How think Sir, is not that the Cure?  Ber. 
A better cannot be applied, I'll assure you.  Doril. 
Would thou wert gone.  Fre. 
How do you mean, in drink? give me some Wine, I had forgot myself. Mine Host, I would drink to thee, but thou art not able to pledge me: Therefore here's to thee honest Bluecoat.  Land. 
I thank you Sir.  Enter Smirke with Baggs. Smirke. 
By your leave Gentlemen.  Fred. 
What Smirk? welcome, what wind drove thee hither?  Smirke. 
The best in the four Quarters: Look you, here's Cash, Gold and Silver, you must pay your Debts, purchase new Clothes, and come to Court instantly. Your Father is made an Earl, your Sister a Duchess, and you are a Count, or I know not what; and I am an Esquire: my Boy is a Gentleman, when I have him, as I am laying about for one.  Fre. 
The fellow has broken open some goldsmith's house, and will be hanged: Dost thou know what thou dost?  Smi. 
My Lord, as I am a Gentleman and an Esquire, I do reverence the very invention of your honour's next Suit: I'll help you to a Draper shall give you all your Men-Liveries, to make it of Cloth; my Haberdasher has a new Block, and will find me and all my Generation in Bevers as long as we last, for the first handsel.  Fre. 
The fellow is mad.  Smi. 
Mad, or mad not, 'tis all one, I speak truth; your Father's an Earl, your Sister's a Duchess, you are a Count, or I know not what, I am an Esquire, and my Boy is a Gentleman, when I have him.  Doril. 
What does this fellow talk?  Smir. 
This fellow talks as he thinks, and thinks as he talks, and talks what he knows. I wonot repeat it over again, for the disparagement of my Wit: but what I say, I will maintain, what I maintain, I will say; and the very Bells themselves shall ring it out Probatum.  Drawer. 
'Tis true indeed my Lord, your Sister's made Duchess of— and shallbe married unto the Duke. The News doth come to Town with every Man, and no man disagrees, but constantly affirms it for a Truth.  Doril. 
O that it were so; by my Father's Soul  
I would be free as that is, and as happy,  
For I would laugh this Woman from my heart,  
And she should be no more to me, than her I know not,  
I would be so much Man, and something more:  
For I would wish to enjoy her as a Man,  
Lose her in mind, and find her in my blood,  
And I do feel such turnings in my thoughts.  Fre. 
Why now you are yourself: Yet I'd advise you to go to Court, and see her.  Doril. 
See her, I and speak to her, and call her Woman,  
There were no Treason in't, were it?  Fre. 
Not any.  Doril. 
Good; then let us go: for what I'll do till I come there, I know not, or if I did, I would not utter it.  Ber. 
Why Asmody, will you be found an ignorant Spirit? how hap I knew not this?  Land. 
You employed not me to inquire of it.  Fre. 
Gentlemen, as I understand myself, I am a Lord,  
I do not know, I may be an abused Coxcomb;  
But howsoever, here are good Tokens of it.  
Mine Host, what have I chalked in sundry and several times?  Host. 
Chalk is but Chalk, a Rundle makes a shilling, but that's nothing.  Fre. 
I'll come to you mine Host when you are sober.  
Gentlemen, you are for the Court,  
I am for the Tailors: When next we meet,  
We will bring hearts as sound as our Clothes, sweet.    

ACTVS SECVNDVS.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Ferdinand and Cornelius. Fer. 
What, is the Duke married?  Cor. 
Questionless, by this time; they were at To have and to hold when I leave 'em. Look you, here come the Feathers, the inseparable Coxcombs of the Court.  Enter Callowe and Ranof. Ran. 
By the lifeblood which danceth on her Lip,  
She is all Paradise; Divine, Angelical,  
The Duchess methinks looks like a Dowdy to her.  Cor. 
O for an Informer— Capital Treason.  Cal. 
If my tailor had not been a Knave—  Fer. 
He had been an honest man.  Cal. 
But—  Fer. 
O there's a stop, I thought the brazen Image would ha' spoke.  Enter Bernard, Landoff, Dorilus. Ber. 
Asmody, you were best stay behind,  
There's no place for Spirits i'th' Court.  Land. 
O Sir, all your brave Spirits keep at Court,  
And I know my distance.  Ber. 
If you do not, here be those will teach you.  
What comfort man? there is no fitter place  
To attend their coming out, then here,  
Here you may have full sight, and perhaps speech.  Doril. 
Nay I will have speech with her, & tell her roundly  
How she has played the murderess with a man  
That would have died most willingly for her.  Ber. 
What, in the passionate vain again?  Doril. 
No, but somewhat vehement.  Enter the Duke, duchess, a Bishop, Lord Raymond. Duke. 
The Diadem that crowned my Head, brought  
Cares along with Dignity: But thou my Sweet  
Hast crowned my Heart with joys perpetual,  
Love, that did lead thee to the Church a Maid,  
Hath brought thee back again a perfect Wife,  
And made thee fit to be as thou dost promise,  
Mother of many Princes.  Dorilus kneels as the Duchess passeth by, she beckons one to bring him to her. Cor. 
Pray Heaven the Duke be in his right senses,  
He talks all Raptures, studied Poetry.  Fer. 
As every outrageous Lover does. If I were weary of my life, I have an adagy would hang me instantly.  Cor. 
What's that?  The Duchess & Doril. talk priuatly. Fer. 
Why the old one, Hot love's soon cold.  Cor. 
To require you, That breath were better kept, to cool your Porridge.  Fer. 
You say very right, Sir.  Ber. 
This is the Face that would not let me rest,  
But visit me in Dreams: Look this way still,  
And burn me with thy comfortable Beams.  Dor. 
I must confess, I ever had a wild,  
Wanton, and untamed Tongue, but still the Heart  
Of such a Matron as my Mother was:  
I did and do still love thee, and I protest  
Purposed to have married thee, but that I think  
thyself would not have wished me to have lost  
A Fortune such as this— Little did I imagine,  
When I did jest those words, to have been a Duchess.  Doril. 
I do not come to task you to your word,  
But to behold the Riches I have lost,  
That must confess myself unworthy of you.  
Hither I came resolved, to let you know  
That I durst look upon you, and could lose you  
Without sigh or tear: but having seen you,  
You have afresh kindled the fire again,  
And I must die a Martyr in your love.  Dor. 
What shall we do julia? Dost thou see  
The sad and downcast countenance of thy Brother?  
I love him for his own sake, and for thine,  
And would not have him perish; which I fear.  Iul. 
Troth madam I doubt him too: but if the worst come to the worst, 'tis but a foolish Lover cast away.  Dor. 
There are some flattering ways yet to restore him, if we could light on 'em. Alas good Dorilus.  
I never yet had other Testimony  
Of your strong love, then that which all you Men  
Unto your Ends can feign better than Women,  
Sighs and sad words, mingled with some Tears.  Doril. 
If those had not been witnesses sufficient,  
Why did you not enjoin me to a Task,  
Harder than ever Cruelty did yet?  
You should ha' said; I dare thee Dorilus  
To die: or do but say so yet,  
That I may be assured you can love  
Dorilus dead, whom living you despised,  
And I will at your feet yield my latest breath.  Dor. 
I prithee think me not a Murderess,  
To take delight in blood: no, my dear Dorilus,  
Live, and live long, that I may love thee so.  
Yet if thy love be, as thou dost profess,  
No danger, travail, nothing that Art. can do,  
Obtained with much loss, greater difficulty,  
Will be left unattempted: therefore, to try  
What strength it holds in thee, and make it gained,  
Better esteemed of, being hardly got,  
I shall enjoin thee to a strange Design.  Doril. 
Let it be dangerous, and 'tis the better,  
And I shall easilier accomplish it.  Dor. 
It is not dangerous, nor impossible,  
For I have read even in effect the like  
To have been obtained for a— Queen.  Doril. 
Pray speak it.  Dor. 
A Garland of the rarest Flowers on Earth,  
The choicest to the Eye, and to the scent,  
Set with such Fruits the season of the year  
Affords not in this Clime, And it must have  
The virtue of continuing ever fresh,  
As long as you remain constant in love.  
This is the Task, which if you can obtain.  
By all the Faith in Woman, and that justice  
Which punisheth all Perjurers, I vow  
Thou shalt embrace all thy desires in me.  Doril. 
A Garland of all Flowers?  Dor. 
Of all the Earth produceth, that are choice:  
If I, or any one that sees it, can  
Call any Flower by a Name, not there,  
You not perform your Enterprise.  Doril. 
This is a Task indeed.  Iul. 
She has sent you a picking.  Doril. 
But it is nothing, when the Prize is thought of that it shall purchase.  Dor. 
Will you undertake it?  Dor. 
I will not move in any other labour,  
It shall be both my Business and my Pleasures:  
With my best duty let me kiss your hands.  
I shall not need to doubt, to enjoy your love  
When I have done it?  Dor. 
May that Beauty which you adore in me,  
Be blasted, but—  Doril. 
I believe you: Fair farewell.  Dor. 
My Lord, your pardon.  Duke. 
For what my Duchess? Though this day alone  
Should be reserved only to ourselves,  
Yet if thou please to lend thy Patience  
To any one that is a Suitor to thee,  
It shall give no dislike but rather please us.  Fer. 
Here's a Duke now will make all his Subjects kind Husbands.  Cor. 
If he continue as he begins, I'll give my Wife the Breeches; for Women will reign, that's certain.  Fer. 
Reign, I and thunder and lighten too, I'll warrant thee.  Exeunt Duke with his Train. Land. 
A pretty dumb show, this.  Doril. 
How do you Sir? you appear to me more troubled than myself.  Ber. 
No, I am well: Pray what's the news?  Doril. 
I must go travail.  Ber. 
Travaile, what to do?  Doril. 
To gather Flowers, Strawberries—  Land. 
And Cream.  Ber. 
Why how now Sirrah?  Land. 
Something bold Sir, for Affinities sake.  Ber. 
But pray be serious with me: by that friendship, which for the time we have been acquainted, hath been as much as ever was made up in so few hours; I do conjure you tell me, and tell me faithfully, all the whole passage.  Doril. 
I was a telling you: She has enjoined me to bring her a fair Garland, of all Flowers that can be named, which must continue fresh as long as I remain constant to her.  Ber. 
This is not in the power of Man to do.  Doril. 
This is her imposition.  Ber. 
Asmodie, what think you of this?  Land. 
Why I say Sir, comfort your Friend, For ere  
The Sun shall twice to th'Sea decline his golden beams  
I'll bring a Garland hither, made of all Flowers  
That every corner of the World contains,  
And with that Charm too, that it shall remain  
Beauteously flourishing, while he continues  
Warmed in the strength of his Affections.  Ber. 
Do this my gentle Spirit, and thou shalt  
Make him, who is thy Master, bound unto thee,  
He shall release thee, I will buy thy years,  
Although it cost me half of my Estate.  Lan. 
No more, some few hours hence expect me.  Exit. Ber. 
Sir, will you take the counsel of a Friend,  
And thrust these Sorrows from you? what would you give  
To purchase such a Garland as you speak of?  Doril. 
I thought you Sir of more humanity,  
And better breeding, than to mock misery.  Ber. 
I do not mock you, and may accuse you now  
For having me in such suspicion:  
We are but young in our Acquaintances,  
And that begets these doubts: will you impart  
Half your Estate to him should bring you this?  Doril. 
All, and become in debt to pay that Man.  Ber. 
What do you judge your Estate to be, Sir?  Doril. 
Better then three hundred pound a year.  Ber. 
Why that shall do it. Pardon me Sir, I am poor,  
And such an Accident as this perhaps,  
To make a Fortune, will not in all my Age  
Befall again: nor can you lose by it,  
For in her favours you shall be advanced.  Doril. 
Without those wise Considerations,  
You instantly shall have it made to you,  
Not in words only, but in deeds,  
If you perform what you propose to me.  Ber. 
Why you say well Sir, will you now to the Scriveners?  Doril. 
Most joyfully, and with what speed you please.  Ber. 
Lead Sir, I'll follow: Is it not strange to see,  
That a man should, as hath been often shown,  
Cure others griefs, yet cannot help his own.  Exeunt.  

Scena secunda.  Enter Lodwick, father to Dorigene; Frederick, a Lady, and Smirke. Lod. 
Now Sir, you are so died i'the Grape, & so debauched  
With Tavern Quarrels, that here your carriage  
Amongst the inferior sort will prove ridiculous:  
For we shall have you down i'the Wine-cellar,  
Or at the Beer amongst the Guard carousing,  
And after, fall to Cuffs; your Band and Doublet  
Torn from your Neck & Back, and your brave Breeches  
Stained with the variation of each soil.  Fre. 
Nay good Sir do not aggravate a Fault:  
I know I have been often i'the dirt,  
(And so has many a better man than I)  
Before I was the Duke's Brother; but now  
I will give no man place at Wall or Kennel.  Smi. 
My young Lord is in my mind to a thread for that.  Lod. 
I know thou hast matter enough in thee,  
And parts sufficient to make a Courtier;  
But this same Drink, and Country Liberty,  
Has spoiled thee irrecoverably.  Fre. 
Why Sir, what would you ha' me do? you shall find I will be capable.  Lod. 
Why you must bend yourself unto the Ladies.  Smi. 
Bend to the Ladies: Alas poor old man, he talks—  Lod. 
I mean, apply yourself, converse with 'em,  
And still be tendering your service to 'em;  
They will look for't: Look you, here come Presidents;  
There's a young Lord now, a Knight follows him,  
Mark but how they endeavour in the business.  Fre. 
udsfoot, I think my Father thinks I am an Ass:  
Cannot I lead a Lady by the Arm,  
Hold off my Hat, and dance my Cinque a pace;  
And after a long story of my silence,  
Ask how she does? I will satisfy him,  
He sha'not find me to degenerate—  
By your leave Lady.  Lady. 
What's he trow? he has reasonable handsome Clothes, but they become him not.  Smir. 
The dumb Lord's frighted, his hair stands an end.  Ran. 
My Noble Lord; the Duchess Brother.  Call. 
Your pardon my good Lord.  Fre. 
What Masculine baboon's this— Lady, I honour you.  Lady. 
O my good Lord, there are better Faces i'the Court for you to honour.  Fre. 
By that all-killing Eye, that murdering Lip—  Lady. 
Fie, fie, my Lord, you make me blush.  Fre. 
O madam, do not so, you'll spoil your painting.  Smi. 
Look you my Lord, my Lord your Son is at it.  Lod. 
A shrewd Boy: I thought, because myself  
Have been bred up a Soldier, and unfit,  
And ever was, to these Court Compliments;  
He, having not been exercised, would be so:  
I'll leave him now, and take no more charge of him.  Smi. 
No, no, let the Surgeon look to him.  Enter julia. julia. 
Would I were i'the Country again, I shall run mad here: your tumultuous Courtiers wonot let me rest; Visitants early and late, and all come about one business, to tell me I am fair, which I know well enough, yet can be well content to let them swear it. I have the Prayers of all the Mercers, Tailors, Haberdashers, i'the whole City, and their wife's Curses; for not a Man looks that way: I am the Bird, at which each well-drawn Courtier shoots his Bolt. Look you, I am spied already: They leave all Companies, all Places; upon Service times, the Chapel, if I be not there.  
Now my tongue-tied Lord, whose Language is i'the Motion of his Neck, I wonder he is not troubled with the Crick: What does your Lordship say? I do not hear you.  Call. 
Hum.  Iul. 
Would the World believe there were such a Man?  
Pray my Lord tell me your meaning?  Call. 
Hum.  Iul. 
Sure your Honour had a silent Nurse.  Ran. 
He would ha' proved the Miracle of the World, if he had been a Woman.  Iul. 
He would indeed signior: I do not think, but if his Tongue were clipped, he would talk yet; what think you?  Ran. 
I think as you think, Lady.  Iul. 
Take heed of that, so you may wrong yourself.  
I would my Lord that I could understand you,  
I do persuade myself then I could love you.  Call. 
O sweet Lady.  Iul. 
Why this is well my Lord, can you go on?  Call. 
I had a hard heart else.  Iul. 
Admirable; good my Lord go forward,  
Talk, and I'll love you infinitely, that is, beyond talk.  Call. 
Silence Lady is the best part of Wisdom.  Iul. 
Let Wisdom go to grave ones, give us Talk,  
It is Youth's Music, and doth stir Affection,  
As Motion, Heat. Good my Lord talk.  Call. 
Why Lady, I can talk.  Iul. 
O my Lord.  Cal. 
What ail you, Lady?  Iul. 
You will ravish me.  Call. 
Not I, I'll assure you I come not of the kind.  Iul. 
I mean you'll overcome me: And if you talk much, I shall entreat you you will hold your peace.  Call. 
Nay, believe it Lady, I will not talk much: but if I list to talk, I have a Tongue that can talk much, and loud, as another Man.  Ran. 
I was afraid he would ha' said, Woman.  Call. 
But talk's but talk, therefore I use it not: but for your sake, sweet Lady, it may be that I will find a Tongue to talk of something; and that same something must be of you, or else 'tis nothing.  Iul. 
Away my Lord, I am bound to stop mine ears; the sirens sing in you.  Call. 
Why let 'em sing, Song is but Song, no more then talk's but Talk; yet Talk does well, where Talk is well regarded, otherwise 'tis lost: And I have been a Talker in my time, and will be so again, to give content to such a Lady as doth love to talk, or knows what talk is, and can talk herself; else 'tis much better for to hold one's peace: For I have heretofore been a great Talker, and foolish Ladies that understood me not, have prayed me hold my peace, and they would love me; just as you now, on the contrary, pray me to talk, and not to hold my peace, and then you'd love me.  Iul. 
I will maintain this in him, to make him talk his Lungs our.— Oh,— Oh.  Call. 
What is the matter?  Iul. 
Would I had never heard this Tongue of yours:  
But I was cursed to hear it, more to provoke it.  Call. 
Why do you say so? For this Tongue of mine shall be pulled out, and thrown unto the Dogs, or to the Hawks, before it shall offend your dainty Ears, that love to hear a Tongue talk as a Tongue should do, of Wit and Beauty, and Beauty and Wit, which do abound in you.  Iul. 
Fie, fie, fie, this is not to be endured.  Call. 
Believe it Lady, but it is; 'tis fit that you should hear, and I should talk, the Subject being You, and I the Talker. Wherefore have Ladies Beauty, and Men Eyes and Tongues, but to behold that Beauty, and then talk of it. I do proclaim him here a Dunce, a Sot, that has a Tongue, and cannot talk of you: nay, though he had ne'er a Tongue, yet he might think a talk; and that, though not as good, might serve for talk.  Enter Lord Raymond and the Duchess. Iul. 
The Duchess; good my Lord leave until another time.  Call. 
ay, another time, and then we'll talk four or five hours together.  Fre. 
By this hand Wench I'll keep touch.  Lady. 
Touch and take my Lord, else no meddling.  Fre. 
Go, you are a Fool, Farewell; Expect me.  
Sister duchess, how dost? I thank thee for my Lordship. I knew thou wert borne to make us all, advance us to the third Region. How does my Brother Duke deal with thee? Dost thou Burgeon? Shall we have Bonfires, and the Bells rung out, for joy thou hast made an Uncle? How now julia? what's thy Title? Lady of Honour, and Principal Secretary to my Sister, is't not? who breaks the best jests now?  Iul. 
My Lord.  Fre. 
My Lord; no, my Lady by all means.  Dor. 
Fie Brother, understand yourself; and as you have taken on Dignity, so put on Gravity, or you will prove ridiculous.  Fre. 
Let me prove what I will Sister, I'll have all the Court to imitate me: if I had been borne a Fool, I wonder what's he would ha' been wise? Come Wench, be thyself still, and thou shalt be the Miracle of Princes,  
Have all the wit thy Subjects utter, thine,  
And drawn together in a Volume, called,  
The Duchess of saxony her Apothegms;  
Which shall put down the Tales of other Nations.  
Thy Birthday shall be made a Holiday,  
And crowned with full Cups, and with deep ones too,  
And I myself will first begin the Health,  
And bring it up in Germany a Fashion,  
Oft to salute the Cup, and kiss it sweetly.  
But where's the Duke my Brother? tired and retired?  Dor. 
Pray my Lord do you speak to him, happily he will endure reproof from you.  Ray. 
My Lord.  Fre. 
I have sworn not to grant any Suits this week, therefore prithee do not trouble me—— O, my Lord, I cry you mercy.  Ray. 
The Duchess would be private.  Fre. 
Neat and private she shall be, 'tis fit,  
Let you and I shake hands, Wisdom and Wit.  Dor. 
Thou art all wildness, that nothing I think will tame, but a long Voyage, and unfortunate.  
O julia, I do think upon thy poor afflicted Brother, Good Gentleman, that he should place his love so disastrously. I wonder how he does?  Iul. 
He is as great a stranger unto me as to you madam, I never saw him since.  Dor. 
I hope he did not spend his time so ill  
In the University at Wittenberg,  
But he has learned so much Philosophy,  
To tame those headstrong Passions.  Iul. 
You may pray rather he has not spent his time  
As Faustus did, and many that are there,  
In negromancy, so to perform the Task  
You have laid on him.  Dor. 
Alas poor Wench, dost thou believe there can be such an Art?  Iul. 
Why, have we it not recorded, Faustus did  
Fetch Bruno's Wife, Duchess of saxony  
In the dead time of Winter, Grapes she longed for?  Dor. 
Such a Report there goes, but I hold fabulous.  Iul. 
Well, had I been as you, I'd not ha' laid so deep an Oath upon't.  Dor. 
Would that were my worst fear. Enter Doril. Look where he comes. julia leave me, I'll hold conference with him, and by delays seek to wear out his Sorrow.  Iul. 
I obey you madam.  Dor. 
Why kneel you Dorilus?  Doril. 
Duty has taught me, though you were not her  
Fortune has made you: Every thing delights  
To be commanded by you; under your wish  
Lies all things upon Earth, and grows for you,  
Prospers for your sake, strives to be lovely,  
In emulation of your Excellence.  
Here is a Garland of those Flowers you spoke of,  
Which Nature put forth, and Art fetched for you;  
Place it upon your Head, and it shall dim  
The glorious splendour of your other Crown:  
Lasting it is, as it; for it shall flourish  
According to your wishes, till I alter  
And change the course of my Affection.  Dor. 
Thou dost astonish me: would I could call  
This any thing but Truth, a Dream, a Vision,  
With Terrors following it, enough to sink me  
Deeper in Earth than I am now above it.  
When Flora strives to deck the Earth with Flowers,  
She never showed half such variety.  
Good Dorilus leave me a while to think,  
And to collect myself, and then return.  Doril. 
I shall.  Exit. Dor. 
Why did these Flowers grow? to blush for me?  
Or do they blush, because they have wrought my shame?  
Why did not Storms and North winds nip your Buds,  
And killed ye, ere you showed the Sun your Leaves?  
Why did not Lightnings blast ye? Beasts or Worms  
Pluck up your Roots, and make you fit for Fire?  
There you had showed more glorious than here:  
For here you bring, under so many Colours,  
A show of Sweetness, that will breed the Plague,  
And run infectiously into our bloods.  
For if I fall, what Woman will be honest?  
Or being so, what's he that will believe it?  Enter the Duke. Duke. 
How now my Duchess? talking to thyself?  
What's that? Why dost thou hide it from me?  
It is rich unto the eye, but much more rarer:  
Flowers so plentiful, and at this time,  
It wonders me? Prithee let me see it,  
I never saw so many various Forms  
Knit up so curious: believe me, 'tis a Present  
Fit for the Queen of Nations, and for thee;  
He well deserved, that did bestow it on thee.  Dor. 
'Tis not to be bestowed Sir, 'tis to be bought,  
And at a dear Rate too.  Duke. 
Why, and thou dost, no matter,  
For trust me 'tis a very pretty Toy.  Dor. 
A pretty Toy must buy it.  Duke. 
If it would not fade.  Dor. 
It will not fade Sir, it will keep too long I fear, for you to like it.  Duke. 
Why dost thou think so? it is like thyself,  
Full of Variety, and choice Delights,  
And th'longer I behold it, the more it likes me.  Dor. 
O, there are Serpents in't, and ugly Toads,  
That burst and shed their poison; not a Flower,  
But bears a sting in it, that wounds my heart:  
Foul Lust and Murder, that doth follow it,  
lies hid amongst the Leaves. O throw me Sir,  
Throw me from your Embraces, as far as the wild winds  
Doth drive the Dust before it, and destroy me.  
Like it to nothing: Purge your Land, by making  
Bonfires of it and me upon some Hill,  
That the black Smoke may vanish into Air.  
And not infect your Turrets.  Duke. 
Why dost thou talk thus?  Dor. 
First kill me Sir, it will be Charity,  
Then rip my Bosom up, and in my Heart  
There you shall find what my Tongue loathes to utter.  Duke. 
I thought, dear Dorigene, I never should  
Have been a stranger to your Thoughts, till now:  
I pry thy speak, what is it troubles thee?  Dor. 
If I were sure that breath should be my last,  
You should not then entreat me; but receive it,  
Hoping you will be merciful, and kill me.  
There is a Gentleman, named Dorilus,  
That loved me 'fore you saw me, and I him,  
Although I never gave him any hope:  
Upon the Wedding day he met me here,  
And looked so like a man that meant to perish,  
That I was willing to restore some comfort;  
Whereon I wished him get me such a Garland,  
Made of all Flowers that the World contains,  
Not thinking such a thing could have been done,  
And for Requital promised him— I cannot  
Utter no more, nor should have thought so much.  Duke. 
Is this all?  Dor. 
All? would you more? would you we should proceed?  
Grow impudent in sin, till Thunder rent us?  Duke. 
Why, but such promises may be dispensed with.  
Though you had sealed it with a Vow.  Doril. 
I did Sir, and a great one: nor left there,  
But added two or three to that; the least was,  
The blasting of this Beauty he adored.  Duke. 
I know not how to doubt, yet this may be  
A Cunning; I will try her. Let it not trouble thee,  
Dear Dorigene; thou shalt perform thy Vow;  
I'll be the Sufferer, and take the sin on me.  Dor. 
But the damnation must be mine, my Lord,  
And if I pull it on me, t'shall be this way,  Offers to stab herself. 
Rather then wronging you.  Duke. 
Why so thou wrong'st me worst,  
And wilt deprive me of all the joys in this World.  
Thou wilt teach me by ill example, how to follow thee.  
Sweet, let me kiss thee, I will beg for that,  
Which all men else do labour to avoid;  
It is but one hours loss of thee, I prithee  
Make no more scruple of't then other Women:  
It is a Crime, that not one Night i'the year,  
But somewhere or other such a Fault is made,  
Nor looks the Wife the next day worse for it.  Dor. 
No more Sir.  Duke. 
Thou wilt consent?  Dor. 
I will.  Duke. 
Why I thank thee. I have bestowed some pains to beg myself into an Order. O Dorigene, if thou be'st false, the Serpent parted with his Subtlety, and closed it in the Fruit he gave thy Sex.  Exit. Dor. 
I know not whether I am greater blessed,  
Or cursed in such a Husband: Fate thou hast thy ends,  
And I have mine. Come Dorilus, and take me  
Now whilst I have Obedience:  
Give me not respite, to enter into Considerations,  
Lest I do worse then perform my Vow.  Enter Dorilus. 
He comes— Welcome my Dorilus, be merry man,  
And look upon me as a Lover should,  
That has obtained his Mistress: I am thine,  
And for the time free, as I am the Dukes.  
Be bold man in approaching, there's no fear  
Of Spies upon us; we are free, as people  
That know no Laws, or do command the Laws:  
I have the Duke's consent for what I do,  
Nay, his entreaty: he does like to have  
A rival in the thing he loves, and is  
Not different from the common sort of men,  
That do esteem them most, that most abuse 'em.  Doril. 
How many ways do you desire to kill me?  Dor. 
Why Dorilus?  Doril. 
You say the Duke's acquainted—  Dor. 
With our Loves, 'tis true:  
But there's no harm in that, for he'll be secret,  
As I have Life, he will.  Doril. 
Why do you abuse me thus?  Dor. 
I do not: for as I have a Soul, I'm serious,  
He bid me keep my Vow; and said, the Man  
That did bestow this Garland, did deserve—  Doril. 
What? to enjoy you?  Dor. 
ay, to enjoy me.  Doril. 
He did it then to give us leave to sin,  
That he might punish.  Dor. 
O no; he did it for my quiet: he will sooner  
Strike his own eye, to offend it, nay, his heart,  
Rather than mine.  Doril. 
What do we then contriving Lust together?  
That Rebel Blood, which rageth against him,  
Had better been bestowed upon rude Beasts,  
Wilder than Wolves or Tigers; we are worse:  
They that would wrong this truly Royal Prince,  
This Prince of his own Passions, as of Men,  
Deserve to see no day, to taste no food,  
No clothes to shield him from the rage of winter,  
But live more wretched than the last of Beggars,  
Die without tears or prayers, and want a grave.  
Take your vows back again, and place 'em better,  
For here I make a general release  
Of all debts 'twixt us, be a free woman,  
And set up anew, with caution, that you never  
Prove bankrupt again, deal not so largely,  
Nor trust so prodigally, lest you do meet  
With such as will take the full forfeiture;  
So Virtue guard you and your goodness Crown,  
Your thoughts and actions with true chastity.  Ray. 
This is not as I look for, nor do wish.  Dor. 
O stay, let me not be so wretched, but to pay  
The alms of a true heart, thanks for your bounty,  
Which hath been greater than I can requite.  
Now I do love thee Dorilus as dear  
As thy own mistress virtue. And I beseech thee  
Deprive us not thy presence at the Court,  
For I will live to study a requital,  
And the Duke with me, that shall know thy worth,  
And find it in thy deeds, shall entertain thee,  
And in his bosom fix thee a true friend:  
Thou shalt not go unless thou promise me,  
I may receive and welcome thee at Court,  Dori. 
Since you command me, I'll not fail to offer,  
My service to my Sovereign and you.  Dor. 
With tears of joy I love thee.  Exit. Ray. 
What blood have these two creatures? Cold as I am  
My aged head wrapped like the Alps in Snow,  
Yet if the Devil lust, had warmed me on,  
Respects should never quench the heat in me.  
There is a spark already in my bosom,  
And I do feel it working towards my heart,  
Which when it once hath reached, and kindled  
Into a flame, no premeditation  
Of the offence, shall blow it out again.  
The Duke has entertained a jealousy,  
And employs me in the discovery,  
Which makes effectual to my purposes.  
Mischief is brooding in my brains, and the event  
Shall work my pleasures or their discontent.  Enter Bernard. Ber. 
Well met Sir. How now? Melancholy.  
But now I think on't, every man is so  
After his height of dalliance, I did hear  
You had admittance: And I saith how find you her.  Dori. 
You have my land Sir.  Ber. 
Yes, in my pocket, a large hose you'll say  
Can hold so many acres: But impart,  
You told me, being familiar with the Cause,  
I should partake in the Event.  
She has performed—  Doril. 
Yes, very gracious.  Ber. 
Why so then, what would you more?  Doril. 
No more.  Ber. 
Zfoot, he's turned Echo: but I have observed,  
Knock at the heart of Man after full joys,  
And you shall find him like an empty Vessel.  
I will leave you Sir.  Doril. 
Hear me first.  
Because you may not spread a Calumny,  
Which when you're not yourself, Wine may bring forth:  
Here I protest by all that's Righteous,  
Both in Earth and Heaven, though I had bought  
And paid for this Sin as yourself can witness,  
And might have purchased it (but with her Curses)  
I gave her Vows back freely to herself,  
Made her the same Duchess that she was,  
And is still absolute.  Ber. 
How? freely gave her what cost you so dear?  Doril. 
Freely: and had my Life been in the Bargain,  
It had gone, And Wife and Children,  
If I had been worth 'em— O you do not know,  
And it is tedious to relate it to you.  Ber. 
You are a frank Giver, and you shall teach me  
(For in all Goodness I will be your Scholar)  
To imitate, though not to equal you:  
Here take your Bonds again, If you could check  
That untamed Fiend, called Lust, why should not I,  
By your Example, bridle Avarice:  
He is not worthy to receive, that knows not how to restore.  
Pray take it, you wonot,  
You would be singular, then look you Sir 'tis cancelled:  
Thus from the letters I do tear the law,  
As you the crime you went with from your heart,  
You have your own again: And I am richer  
Without it, then possessing. Fare you well Sir.  Doril. 
Pray stay Sir, and make me not so wretched  
As leave that ugly sin Ingratitude  
For my Companion: I may through your friendship  
Think this life happy, to score age upon me,  
And die, with Stories of you to my children.  Ber. 
And I of you would do the like to mine:  
That shall if I can work it, call you uncle.  Doril. 
Bernard my friend, and chamber-fellow.  Discover himself Ber. 
And brother that would be, nay must be;  
Though I undertake as bad a task as picking of flowers.  
For here's my spirit Asmody can fly  
The same way again.  Landoffe in his own shape. Lan, 
No, I have clipped his wings.  Ber. 
'Sfoot my Tutor, I am undone.  Lan. 
And bound him to a fiery chariot  
For threescore years, and after to be thrown  
Into the bottom of the burning lake,  
Boiling with Pitch and Sulphur.  Ber. 
Alas poor Asmody, he will be over coddled,  Lan. 
For his audaciousness.  Ber. 
Alas Sir, 'twas not his fault; for to say truth, I conjured him.  Lan. 
You conjured him, into what? into a blue coat  
And a beard, did you not? look you there's your Asmody.  Ber. 
Troth Sir, you have been too cruel with him,  
You might a let him have boiled in his livery,  
For his herd, it was not a miss to be plucked off,  
For in time it would ha' been scalded.  Lan. 
Come, you are a Novice, did you think you could  
Proceed in my own Art, but I should know it?  
I was that Asmody appeared to you,  
When you kept such a thundering, with words  
That were of as much effect to call or move  
Spirits, as mountains: But my Dorilus,  
My loving Pupil, for whose good I cannot  
With all the Art I have, labour enough.  Doril. 
O, your zeal Sir hath been ever shown,  Lan. 
Presume upon me, for I do predict  
There will be need of me, and of my Art  
Ere it be long: And unless it please  
My Pupil Bernard, here to turn me off,  
I'll e'en in to my livery again.  Ber. 
You may do as you please Sir, but if you do,  
I shall forget you are my Master, and make account  
I have my servant Asmody again.  Lan. 
Do so, and command me as you have done,  
I'll be unto your will obedient  
As your own limbs, and howsoe'er things sort,  
In spite of Fortune we'll have a little sport.    

ACTVS TER TIUS.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Duke, L. Raymond at one door: duchess, Dorilus bore before her, leaning on his shoulder and giving much grace unto him. Music. Dor. 
Sir, I have a suit to you.  Duke. 
Speak it.  Dor. 
To know this Gentleman, and if not for my sake,  
For his own to grace him, he has deserved it.  Duke. 
He has.  Dorilus kneels, the Duke draws his sword and runs it on his bosom. Iul. 
O my dear brother.  Dor. 
What do you mean Sir.  Duke. 
Away with her to prison, and let her father,  
And her brother both be turned out of the Court.  
Lord Raymond, be it your charge to see it done.  Exit. Ray. 
Unwillingly I obey you; O my heart dances,  
And tuned unto so many joys, it beats  
My blood about me into every part,  
That I grow young again; Alas good Lady,  
Why do you weep? these tears were well becoming  
If you had any crime to wash away,  
But you are clear as heaven; then bear yourself  
As confident and shining, that stands unshaken,  
When men speak blasphemy and throw up curses:  
Beware sweet Princess, your too zealous care,  
Expressed in the behalf of your firm friend,  
May be by some informing Ear snatched up,  
And carried to the Duke, which would pile high,  
And heighten up the mountain of his wrath.  Dor. 
Let it be so, and let that mountain Fall,  
And all the world, with his displeasure on me,  
But hidden in the ruin, yet at last  
It is my comfort, I shallbe found myself.  Ray, 
What a well built castle is a clear Conscience?  
No Battery, no Invasion stirs it,  
When a guilty on, is like a spider's web,  
Shook with the motion of each little fly.  
What help there lies in me much injured Lady,  
Assure yourself of it, as if your own heart  
Had the power to work it.  Enter a Guard. Dor. 
I should wrong much noblesse to think otherwise.  Ray. 
See madam, here's a Guard upon you.  Dor. 
They are welcome.  Ray. 
So, the devil when he meaneth to seduce,  
Puts on an angel's shape, who doth not know.  
How to dissemble, must not think to grow  
Or prosper in his purpose. In this plot  
Envy alone is not expressed, but hot  
Untameable desires, which flame so high;  
One mischief must another satisfy.  
I love, fair julia, and there was no way  
How to obtain, but bringing to decay  
The greatness of the Princess; misery  
Will burst the strongest bar of Chastity.  
She comes:  Enter julia. Iul. 
Where is my wretched Mistress?  Ray. 
Alas, she is lost, and those that seek her,  
Must be companions of her misery.  
Therefore be wise fair julia, and forget her;  
Thou art as fair as she, as excellent;  
And I that rule the Duke do think so.  Iul. 
What means this?  Ray. 
The meaning is like him that utters it,  
Plain and sincere, to make thee Mistress  
Of all the happiness which thou canst wish;  
As she whom I create shall stand above,  
And laugh at the calamities of others:  
Look not upon my hairs, I'm not so old  
But I can kiss thee into Action,  
Infuse a breath into you through your Ear,  
Shall call a flaming blush into your cheek,  
And turn this springtide of your tears to fire,  
Or change 'em into blood, and strike 'em inward,  
To incite a heat as sensual as the same  
That did beget you.  Iul. 
I am uncapable of this ill language:  
But suppose I were (my Lord) as you esteem me,  
Is this a time, when my heart's full of sorrow,  
Ready to break for their unfortunate fates,  
To give admittance to so loathed a fact,  
That never could be tempted in the height  
Of festivals: and all the soothing flatteries  
Trust up in vows and glories of a Court.  Ray. 
Why? I will give you liberty to think,  
To ponder on it for a little time;  
For I would rather Love should make thee mine  
Then Violence or Fear. Consider of it  
Without delays, return me absolute:  
I am not like your dull cold Englishman,  
That can attend his Mistress a whole day,  
A week, a month, a year, yet check his blood,  
And when it should have vent to burst in fire,  
He weeps out in water. The Sun burns  
Not outward, as my blood within, passions beat  
So thick and short, they make my entrails sweat.  
But for a while I leave you, think and be wise.  Exit Ray. Iul. 
'tis wisdom to conceal what I do think,  
And truth to call thee villain: O we are  
Ruined, all of us are ruined,  Enter Bernard. Bern. 
Yonder she is, and weeping—  
Who will not be in love with sorrow, while it takes up  
Her dwelling in that face, it is a question?  
Whether smiles more adorn that cheek then tears.  Iul. 
O worthy Sir, how does my brother?  Bern. 
Well, do not you fear it Lady.  Iul. 
Why do you leave him?  Ber. 
To comfort you that have more need of it,  
For he sits up and laughs at misery,  Enter Fred. 
With hope to out live it, which is fortitude  
Fitting a noble spirit.  Fred. 
Fortune my foe why dost thou frown on me, &c. A good voice is a perpetual comfort to a man, he shall be sure he cannot want a Trade. Yonder's Madam julia, and the Italian Doctor administering, they look like a couple of Tragedians in the fourth Act, out of countenance. Right Worshipful, Charitable, most Bountiful and well disposed, please you to look upon the Estate of a poor decayed Lord, blown out of the bosom of good Fortune, unto the back side of men's Bounties, from whence a sweet gale of good will may arise to blow me out of the dead sea of want and despair, into the happy Haven of good harbour, where I may lie at rest from hunger and cold, bound unto you in the beadroll of benevolence, which howsoever small a pittance it shall be, in this ebb of adversity, it shallbe returned treble to you again in the next tide of prosperity— Sweet madam,  Ex. Ber. & Iul. 
Why here 'is the right fashion of the world,  
To turn the backside to a man that has no money?  
They are gone to wash away grief in salt water,  
I mean to drown it in good Claret.  Enter Smi. 
O courteous fortune that hath send me a Companion.  
Smirke, how dost thou chicken? come hold up thy head,  
And let's see the dismality of thy Countenance,  
The doleful dumps that therein do appear,  
The Knobbles of adversity and Fate. Hum.—  Smir. 
Oh, Oh.  Fre. 
What o? where lies the Cramp?  Smir. 
Oh, Oh.  Strikes his breast. Fre. 
With that the moody squire thumped his breast,  
And reared his eyes to heaven for revenge.  
Speak sweet jeronimo.  Smir. 
First take my tongue, and afterward my heart.  Fre. 
Good both being out, now let us have the Story.  Smir. 
Kicked with disgrace, and turned out of the Court  
Both to the guard and black guard made a sport.  Fre. 
Excellent Smirke.  Smi. 
To Laundresses and Lackeys made a scorn,  
And to all other people quite for.  Fre. 
One, rhyme more, and I will crown thee Fennar laureate.  Smir. 
The Carters, Colliers, and the Carriers cursed me  
The Porters pulled me, and the Pages pursed me.  Fre. 
Why this 'tis to be a squire Smirke before your time  
And your boy to be a Gentleman before you have him.  Smir. 
O that I had been so happy to have lived and cleave wood i'the country, preached at the Buttery bar unto the Ploughman, and there have used my authority in Folio, when all the servants of the house should be drunk at midnight, Cum Privilegio.  Fre. 
ay, those were certain days, but what wilt thou do now?  Smir. 
Learn to wind whipcord, and go hang myself.  Fre. 
But where didst thou leave my father?  Smi. 
I left him condoling with two or three of his friends  
At the sign of the Lamentation.  Enter Callow and Ranoff. Fre. 
The Salutation thou meanst.  Smi. 
In the Salutation one way, and the Lamentation  
The other— Here comes more abuse.  Cal. 
methinks sirrah, since my tongue broke loose,  
I take an infinite pleasure in't, how thinks thou?  Ran. 
Your Lordship talks wondrous current,  
For your word will go before many a man's bond.  Cal. 
It shall run before any man's bond for a wager.  
My honourable Lord, how does the great Duchess,  
Your sister?  Ran. 
And the good Earl your father.  Cal. 
With the rest of your kindred and acquaintance that bore the Court before 'em.  Ran. 
I hope a man may court his Mistress now without a Patent from your honour.  Fre. 
I hope a man may crack your pipkin Pate,  
And cut your neck of Mutton into Steaks,  
If you will not be quiet, ye brace of wicker bottles.  Ran. 
Wicker Bottles! he calls us wicker bottles.  Fre. 
I and musty ones.  Cal. 
And mangy ones to, are we not?  Fre. 
Yes, every thing that's troublesome and stinks you are.  Cal. 
Ha, ha, prithee laugh at him.  Ran. 
ay, we will laugh at him, but let us go,  
For the fellow is desperate, and perhaps may beat us;  
Such people fear no law.  Cal. 
Hang him, he dares not within the confines of the Court.  Ran. 
ay, but we may talk ourselves out of the liberties,  
And then he may beat us without the confines.  
Yet if he did, 'twere all one to me, for I can  
Endure a beating as well as another man,  
Custome's another Nature: but yet I would we were gone:  Cal. 
Why, come then let's go back again? For my own part, I do not care for quarrelling there we may be bold, though my Lord, I have a poor sister I would prefer to cut your honour's toes.  Ran. 
And I have a project, if it please your Honour, to set it on foot, it may make a great many of us ride a horseback.  Fre. 
O that the place were not privileged.  Smir. 
ay, and the place were not privileged.  Fre. 
Why? what wouldst thou do?  Smir. 
Let 'em alone, and laugh at 'em.  Fre. 
Why, gramercy Smirke, thou hast instructed me.  
A my conscience I should now do so.  Smir. 
Yet he he gave me a bob i'the project.  Fre. 
Why? hast thou any thing to do with projects?  Smi. 
Yes, I was to prefer one for putting down Pigs i'the Fair time.  Fre. 
How? putting down Pigs, pry thy let's hear that?  Smi. 
Why, a fellow that will undertake to find the Country people, and the people of the Fair, with good repast for three pence a meal.  Fre. 
How can that be? pry thy let's understand?  Smir. 
Why Sir, A cook will undertake to bake in a pasty  
four oxen, without Butter corner wise,  
Lamb and Mutton in the middle,  
All kind of fowl on each side,  
With their bills lying out to discover their condition,  
With which he willbe bound to find the fair seven days,  
And give thee over plus to the poor.  Fre. 
This is a very pretty one and profitable.  Smir. 
Then I have another, for the crying of small Bear, from six i'the morning, till twelve at noon, for all that are barnaby.  Fre. 
A most necessary one, and had it been propounded when I was a Lord, it should have had my countenance.  Smir. 
Nay, it would ha' gone forward, for all your high bloods would ha' countenanced it, yet it was thought there was a rich Milk-woman would ha' crossed it, and have brought it to posset drink i'the winter, and whay i'the Summer, and the Apothecaries would have joined with her, to have clarified it.  Fre. 
Not unlikely. But Smirke, what is your purpose?  Smi. 
To stay till the good time, and take a whipping,  
With as much resolution as a man may take a whipping  Fre. 
Then you look for the Lash?  Smir. 
I do not look for it, because it comes with a back blow, and there is no ward for it but Patience.  Fre. 
Why thou sayst right, and it is manly done,  
Not to run from, but to meet affliction.  Smir. 
ay, but when affliction comes like a Fury, with a whip in her hand, 'tis a fore matter.  Exeunt.  

Scena secunda.  Enter Landoffe in his study, a spirit to him. Spi. 
Leave with thy potent charms to tear th'elements  
And vex the poor inhabitants: here is the Ring  
Transparent as the day, that makes the wearer  
Lost to all sight, and walk invisible  
To every eye but yours: And whensoe'er  
It is your pleasure it shall lose its virtue,  
Touched but with this herb and it falls in pieces.  Lan. 
Thanks my industrious spirit.  Spir. 
What else is thy command'  Lan. 
Nought else at this time, but on all occasions  
Thou in a thought be ready to attend.  Spir. 
I shall.  Exit. Lan. 
begone. Dorilus, Bernard come forth, all things are at peace  Enter Dorilus and Bernard. 
As your hearts shallbe ere I part from you,  
At least forsake you: Behold this little Ring,  
Purer than Crystal, full of subtler flame  
Than that which sparkles i'the Diamond;  
Of Virtue infinite beyond its Beauty.  
With this Ring Dorilus thou shalt free the Princess  
At least endeavour; 'tis certainly reported  
At her Arraignment, as the hour comes on,  
She shall have none to plead her cause for her,  
But her supposed crime laid ope, and urged  
Withal the mouth of law, and so condemned:  
Yet thou that ever couldst speak well, without  
A cause so full of matter and of Truth,  
Shalt hid to all eyes, by virtue of this Ring,  
Become an Orator, and plead for her,  
And make the Court amazed to hear thee speak.  Dor. 
You amaze me, first to hear you—  Lan. 
But I'll amaze my Pupil Bernard more,  
When he shall stand by thee and hear thee talk,  
Yet not have power to see thee: Put on this Ring,  
Now tell me Bernard where is Dorilus?  Ber. 
Into air vanished, or sunk into the earth,  
For I protest I see no Dorilus.  Lan. 
Call to him, try if he hear thee,  Ber. 
Dorilus, Dorilus.  Doril. 
Why here man, I am here.  Ber. 
Here; where?  Dor. 
Why here, close by thee, now I touch thee.  Ber. 
This is thy hand?  Doril. 
Yes.  Ber. 
It may be foot for any thing that I know, but that  
Now I feel the fingers, thou mayst hold it up at the Bar  
And ne'er be burnt i the hand I'll warrant thee.  Doril. 
Why? I see thee plain as I did before,  
And every thing else.  Ber. 
But that I have confidence in my Master and his Art, I would never look to see thee again.  Lan. 
Look you julia your Mistress, comfort her,  
And take the work upon you:  
I'll to my blue coat again, and instantly wait on you.  Ber. 
All your best wishes. Fairest.  Enter Iul. Iul. 
O Sir they lie in you.  Ber. 
O you speak music to the melancholy,  
Health to the sick.  Iul. 
For next unto the delivery of my Mistress,  
My brother's welfare is, which you promised.  Doril. 
Why sister I am well? next under Heaven  
I praise this Gentleman.  Iul. 
That is his voice, where are you brother?  Doril. 
Here sister just before you.  Iul. 
Before me?  Doril. 
Yes, in the very mouth of you, as a man would say  Iul. 
Trust me I cannot see you.  Doril. 
Trust me I'm glad of it, I'll talk the bolder and and the louder, they shall hear me.  Ber. 
This I perceive does somewhat trouble you.  
But let it not, it shallbe for a good,  
Which though it cannot change, may stir your blood.  
See they are hot in preparation, and people making to behold the Arraignment,  Exeunt  

Scetra tertia.  Enter Ferdinando, Cornelius. Ferd. 
Fortune is a good housewife, she plies her wheel well Alas poor Lady, I pity her; for a my conscience she is clear of the fact laid to her.  Cor. 
It is the maddest world, the report goes she should lie with on for a Nosegay.  Ferd. 
In some things Fame willbe free I see, in some things scant; for I'll assure you 'twas for a Garland.  Cor. 
Why a Garland let it be, she had been better won it with some other dance then the old one: but she has hard measure methinks, not to be allowed an Advocate; for alas, what can a woman say for herself in such a case?  Fer. 
Dost thou think an Advocate can handle it better?  Cor. 
Yes, if he have a feeling of the business.  Fer. 
Away Traitor.  Enter the Duke, judges, Raymond, with others, the form of a Court. judge. 
Bring forth the prisoner, place her at the Bar.  Enter Dorigen placed at the Bar. judge. 
read the Indictment.  Clarke. 
Dorigen Ebroistene, daughter to Guide Ebroisten, in the Province of Mysen Gentleman; and by the grace and favour of our Sovereign Lord Duke of saxony made duchess, attainted of high Treason, by committing Adultery with one Dorilus Truohesse, a private Gentleman of the same Province of Mysen, who by good and sufficient witness (beside her own shameless confession to the Duke himself) is here justly accused, and indicted of the fact; yet the Duke out of his most gracious clemency, desirous of a direct and lawful proceeding, admitteth the said Dorigen— daughter to the aforesaid Guido— to answer for herself, and wisheth with all his soul (such is his infinite affection to her, that she could clear herself of the crime. So Heaven and the justices of her cause defend her!  1 Iudg. 
Speak Lady, free and fearless, what can you say?  Dor. 
Nothing but that I do desire to die,  
For it is sin enough that the Duke thinks  
I am guilty of the fact, all the Clemency  
That you can, show me or I do desire,  
Is to condemn me quickly.  Ray. 
That I must speak it grieves me in a cause,  
Which I cud wish never had presidence,  
As it hath had too often, alas that I  
Who do bleed inward, to behold this woman  
fall'n by a sin equal to Lucifer.  
From her clear Heaven where she stood a star,  
Moving in his arms as her proper Orb,  
That I should see this woman as I say.  
Who had she been a fixed one, had never  
Shot from her sphere, but as an exhalation,  
Drawn by the attractive virtue of the Sun,  
Appears a glorious star yet wanting matter.  
To maintain his lustre, shoots forth his flame:  
And drops from whence it came unto a Dunghill,  
So was this woman raised and so she fell:  
That so much Beauty which was given for Honour,  
And did advance her to it, should cause shame,  
Who can tell whether this be the first man,  
That she hath sinned withal, since usually,  
Many faults are committed ere one found,  
She promised the fellow of her lust,  
Upon condition to make that: And what was it?  
A Garland: A Garland of all flowers,  
Of what effect who knows, or to what purpose,  
Both being as certain as the thing itself,  
How or from whence it came nay more than this;  
She was so impudent to tell the Duke,  
And tell him she had sworn, which the immodests,  
And most professed Strumpet never would:  
What name of shame is to be given this woman,  
That would thus lewdly suffer the wild tongue,  
Prcoclaim performance of so vild a deed,  
And unto him she knew did love her so,  
She might perhaps by her beauty and her tears,  
Or both together stir compassion,  
In many here, and in the Duke himself,  
But when her crime shall be remembered,  
A crime so beyond mercy being done,  
Unto a Prince; and such a Prince as he is,  
What can I less inspire me all ye powers?  
That thought me worthy of authority  
Then without pity to condemn this woman.  1. Iudg. 
The case is too apparent.  Ray. 
Is it not grave Fathers.  2 Iudg. 
Yes indeed it is, I was almost asleep.  Ray. 
Ye all do know, all ye that know the Law,  
Who pardoneth the offender doth commit,  
An offence equal with him that doth punish,  
The harmless innocent than she must die,  
I grieve to speak't and am so charitable,  
To wish that her reproach may die with her.  Duke 
I thank thee for the last speech, it was well,  
O that she now cud speak and clear herself.  
But proceed, give sentence, if she stay long,  
And I stand by a witness of her tears,  
she'll weep herself guiltless and innocent,  
Therefore go on.  Doril. 
Stay.  Duke. 
whose's that?  1 Iudg. 
I know not.  Ray. 
Whence come that voice.  Cor. 
Out of the clouds I think,  
For no man dares own it.  Duke. 
Go forward and give sentence.  Doril. 
Stay I say.  1 Iudg. 
It spoke again.  2 Iudg. 
It came by my Ear.  Fer. 
The Court is troubled.  Doril. 
Hear me ye ministers of justice,  
And thou Patron of it and Truth,  
That comes to you for succour, and for safety.  Duke. 
Keep your places, for let it be the Devil  
I will hear him; and hearing shall determine  
Whether he be a spirit of Truth or Lies.  Doril. 
The All preserver that guards Innocence,  
And often lets it pine, but never perish,  
Can raise a voice from stones, or trees, or winds,  
To plead the cause that needs no Eloquence.  
What hath this Lady done that here you bring her  
Unto a Bar of shame? It is't for being virtuous,  
Because she hath been constant to her Lord:  
But some have called her chastity in question,  
That never had a spark in their own Breasts,  
And have possessed the Duke from his own thoughts,  
That she must needs be bad because they are so.  
Has every woman so much wit to hide  
That fault especially? and had not she,  
Who is the mirror of of her sex for that,  
More than for Beauty? But she told the Duke  
She had offended in an idle promise,  
And that's objected to her for a crime;  
A piece of impudence unparallel.  
When had she meant to have wronged her royal Lord,  
She would have locked the secret in her heart,  
And set her face with smiles, beaten with kisses  
Suspicion from his bosom; but she discovered  
The gift, the giver, and the vow that bought it.  
Who is't not knows, dishonesty consisteth  
In the deed done, not in the spoken word?  
And she imagining the deed in which  
She employed the doer, never to be done,  
And so the wickedness. Let me not be thought tedious  
Nor be offensive, if I bring to mind  
The meeting of those two, how she revealed,  
That you great Duke consented to the fact,  
Encouraged her unto't, and led her on,  
If she had been a villain to her death.  
But he looking on her, and seeing in her eyes,  
The image of fair Virtue how it wept,  
Gave back her vows, and freed her from his heart,  
In that shape first she stood, but again placed her  
As his most roy all mistress, and your wife.  Duke. 
Excellent voice go on, for I could stand  
A tedious winter but to hear thee talk.  Cor. 
So could not I without a rug Gown.  Doril. 
It hath been still a maxim, she's not chaste  
That hath not been attempted, but she who hath stood  
Temptation, and resisted. Gold is the purer  
For being tried; and Virtue put in act,  
Appears more glorious, when it hath wrought itself  
Out of those troubles which would stifle it.  
Heaven was assaulted by the Giants once,  
Which showed jove's power the greater: the pensive soul  
Fighting with sin, the devil, and with death,  
After the victory, triumphs and sings  
Eternally amongst the blessed Angels,  
Crowned with perpetual Peace and happiness:  
But she for being virtuous must die,  
For conquering her affections, for loving  
Sincerely, and effectually, her Lord;  
For having not the cunning to dissemble,  
But for being Simple, Chaste, and Innocent,  
Just, Noble, Beauteous, Excellent in all,  
Save what no common woman would have missed.  
For this, and for this only she must die.  Duke 
No, she must live; and all the world must die,  
To me, before a hair of her shall perish.  
O I have wronged thy goodness, now I see't;  
who was before made blind with jealousy,  
The heavens take thy part, and won't suffer  
So much of worthiness to fall at once,  
Lest nothing here but wickedness abound.  Ray. 
Sir, will you hear me,  Duke 
Away, I will hear nothing but her angel's voice,  
And that which spoke for her, which was no less,  
It held such music in it, besides Truth.  
Wipe from thine eyes those tears; let Messengers  
Be sent to find the Earl my father forth,  
And bring him back to the Court, there to receive  
Of us his dignities and favours trebled;  
I am new framed again. Afflictions meet,  
And mingling with our joys, make them more sweet.  Exit. Cal. 
I do not like this.  Ran. 
Nor I. (with you.  Ber. 
Fair one, pray stay, your brother would speak  Iul. 
Sir, you may command me, and for his sake,  
To th'utmost of my power, I am bound to you.  
O my dear brother, how you joy my soul  
To see you up again, in health, and lusty?  Dor. 
Place your thanks here kind sister, for to his skill.  
Next under Heaven, it must be attributed.  jul 
I do know it brother, and do thank him.  
Heartily thank him, and the Duchess shall,  
That owes him equally as much as we,  
Thank him a better way.  Ber. 
No Lady, your thanks pays me really,  
And I will never look for better pay,  
Nor take, then comes from you; pray look upon me,  
And see if you can fasten your affection  
Upon a man so unworthy as my self.  Iul. 
Sir you are worthy of a better choice,  
But let me for your own sake thus advise you,  
If you have entertained any such thought,  
(As I hope you are wiser) to part with it;  
For trust me, this poor heart I carry here,  
Is not mine own; I do but walk with it,  
And keep it for another: pray no more Sir,  
Brother farewell, I shall be wanting to the Duchess.  Exit Lan. 
Lost it, it cannot be.  Doril. 
Now talking with you, plucking off this glove,  
It fell out of my hand.  Lan. 
Seek good Sir.  Enter Fred. Fred. 
And do we see the golden days again?  
Does honour once more Court us? then look up.  
Look up my friends I say, and see your Lord  
Double and treble guilt; his happiness  
Hatched, and inlaid, not to be worn out with Time.  
What do you look for?  Lan. 
A jewel we have lost.  Fred. 
A jewel, let it be hanged, I'll give you every one  
jewels a piece, shall over value it,  
There's not a friend I have, but shall have stones,  
As fair and weighty as the Turk hath any,  
And Concubines like him, though not so many.  
Ye shall good Doctor, thou art so melancholy.  Lan. 
Come, let it alone.  Doril. 
How? let it alone.  Lan. 
Yes, for lost it cannot be, if any find it,  
When I am pleased to have it, I will send  
A messenger shall fetch it with a vengeance.  
Prithee forbear, and let us hear my Lord.  Fre. 
Gentlemen what will ye do? will ye come to Court, and be graced by me, will you be Knights or Officers, Gentlemen ushers, or of the Bedchamber? speak what you'll be whilst I am i'the giving vain, and you are so.  Lan. 
we'll wait on you tomorrow my good Lord.  Fre. 
You blue Bottle Basket hilt I talk not to you,  
And th'other two are stupid, now I think on't:  
Dorilus you were best leave the Court; a man  
Suspected once, is very seldom found  
In his heart that suspects him to be sound:  
There ye have a touch of my Policy, farewell.  Doril. 
Farewell my Lord.  Fre. 
Think on't.  Passing by spies the Ring. Dor. 
I'll warrant you.  Fre. 
What's this? A ring: that is't and trust me,  
A very pleasing one unto the eye,  
Some Lady lost it, for whose sake i'll wear it,  
Until I find a challenger, it may he  
'twas lost a purpose and here dropped for me.  Exeunt   

ACTVS QVARTVS.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Frederick. Fre. 
Am I mad or drunk or the people, both: and blind too I think. For let me come up to them never so near, talk never so loud, gripe them never so hard, they see me not stare and gape, as if I were in the air, and ask, where are you. If we were out of favour, I should never wonder at it, but being Restored, and in greater grace than ever, it somewhat troubles me: 'sfoot, and a Lord cannot be acknowledged, what will be come of poor Gentlemen: here come a couple, and sober as I take it, I'll try if they have not lost their eyesight.  Enter Ferdinando, and Cornelius. Cor. 
But that you justify it so vehemently,  
I should not ha' believed it: Lost again.  Ferd. 
Again, and sent to prison, her father  
Banished the Court again, and all his honours,  
Took again from him, and from's son,  
And all's again as it was, and if not worse,  Ferd. 
Nay then my admirations at an end. I remember nobody would know me last time. But these are a couple of honest fellows, and yet they serve a Lord, if anybody have use of their eyes these will. By your leave Gentlemen, did you see the young Lord Frederick.  Cor. 
where's he that asked that question?  Fer. 
'Sfoot I cannot see him, yet heard him plain,  Cor. 
The invisible voice is come again,  Fer. 
I believe so,  Fre. 
People are blind, that's certain—— look how they stare— I do not think there was ever any such thing in the world as an eye, a seeing eye. I know tailor's needles have eyes, and Cheeses, but a discerning eye, that's the eye I would encounter with.  Enter Callow and Ranoff. Cal. 
It did me more good than my dinner, I protest, to see her transported to prison again.  Ran. 
And so it did me I protest, for her brother's sake my Lord Frederick Fadoudle.  Cal. 
I wonder he is not taken yet, he'll Fadoudle at the Gallows, I believe whensoe'er he is, for I told the Duke what a saucy companion he was.  Fre. 
I will requite your kindness instantly,  Cal. 
How now, what's that?  Fre. 
Will you too Coxcombs never be uncoupled,  Ran. 
Who was that my Lord?  Cal. 
Nay, I know not:  Fre. 
Who was that then?  Cal. 
Who was that said, who was that?  Fre. 
Marry it was I Sir,  Cal. 
You, who are you?  Fre. 
One that'll'le bestow a little pains with you,  Ran. 
Pray knock there no more my friend, that's the back gate, your best go about.  Frede. 
I will do so, and wipe your Noses for you.  Ran. 
I'd rather you would let it alone, unless you had a finer handkerchief;  Cal. 
'tis the spirit of some Porter, and wipes her with his Frock.  Ranoff. 
'Zounds I'll not endure this: I'll draw first.  Cal. 
And so will I.  
Why do you not draw?  Cal. 
Hark, the voice asked why we do not draw.  Ran. 
ay, I heard it, but I'll be hanged before I'll draw for that trick.  Cal. 
And so will I to— See yonder's a company of Gentlemen, let's fly to them for succour: Are you walking.  Cor. 
Yes Sir.  Cal. 
we'd be glad of your company.  Ran. 
here's an invisible voice follows us in the likeness of I know not what-  Cal. 
And plays upon us like a Flute backward, and forward.  Fer. 
We heard a voice indeed but felt no touch of any thing.  Cal. 
No, It may be you are valiant and would strike again, but we are tender hearted, and ten to one, but it knows as much.  Cor. 
Why if you'll walk our way, we will guard you.  Cal. 
Yes sir, your way is ours now however.  Fre. 
Well I am lost I see, there's no hope that ever I shall be seen again of mortals; I walk i'the clouds; But that the other two before these, and before them others, could not perceive me, I should think I had with beating made the last pair cast a mist before their own eyes, jubia and my Lord of mischief with his two Faces Winter and Summer.  Enter Raymond and julia. Ray. 
Sweet julia kiss me.  Fre. 
Ah you old whoremaster is the sign in Scorpio with you.  Ray. 
Thou seest my power, how with a breath I turn.  
And wind the Duke any way I please,  
In spite of all those words wasted in air:  
I plucked the Duchess from his arms again,  
The only star of court, more than a Duchess,  
Which is to be my Mistress.  Fre. 
Say you so, I'll master you anon.  Ray. 
Prithee look up and smile upon me.  Iuli. 
Pray away.  Ray. 
Come I have word sufficient nor will any longer be kept of thus weary of delay, I mean to work you.  Iule 
Lay off your wicked hands.  
Adders and Scorpions shall as soon embrace me,  
Shall my dear mistress that equally laments:  
My adverse Fate, which here's if not about it.  
And in her tears lies bathed, breaking her sighs:  
Into as many pieces, as if she strived  
To number up her sins, which are no more,  
Then will make truth appear that she must sin,  
And shall I throw away all thought of her,  
That altogether thinks of Heaven and me,  
Whom hourly she solicits and ascends,  
And calls me along with her in her Prayers,  
Shall I forget this Lady, and to lust  
Prostrate myself to him that works her ruin.  
First, may Heaven point me out, his mark for vengeance.  
And I unable to avoid the stroke.  
Be rent and torn as Thunder doth an Oak,  Ray. 
Stay— you are too wilful.  Iul. 
Is that all?  Ray. 
hear me—— I will speak what shallbe liking to thee. Prithee come back; so well I do perceive thou lov'st the Duchess, that her affliction's thine.  Iul. 
They are.  Ray. 
Canst thou cast off grief with her releasement?  
If I shall bring her sound unto the Duke,  
In every circumstance, and fix her sure:  
Nay set her one stair higher than she was,  
And make him honour what before he admired.  
Wilt thou then make a passage for my love,  
And open me away into thy heart?  Iul. 
I will.  Ray. 
Wilt thou give me a kiss upon the premises.  Fre. 
I'll give you a kiss anon, in your good father the devil's name.  Ray. 
I hold heaven in my arms, and all the joys:  
wilt thou be just to me?  Iul. 
As you are unto me; for if you prove  
The master of your word, I willbe over mine the mistress,  
And though it be a jewel I esteem,  
I never saw how I could part with it better.  Ray. 
Another kiss, and go and promise unto all thy friends, and to the Duchess self, her liberty.  Fre. 
You are a villain.  Ray. 
Ha.  Fre. 
You are damned.  Ray. 
What voice is that?  Iul. 
I heard none.  Fre. 
I will cut your throat.  Ray. 
Cut my throat.  Fre. 
ay, your Weasand pipe, your Gullet, this ungodly Gullet.  Ray. 
Swoons it pinched me by the throat.  Fre. 
Your best cry out murder.  Ray. 
This is another voice allied to that which pleaded for the Duchess, but not the same, and it is merely Witchcraft. I fear thee not devil, or devil's mate, friend or acquaintance.  Iul. 
Who do you talk to?  Ray. 
A scurvy voice, I know not, nor do care for,  
An yet it troubles me, I cannot see  
The thing that sets it going. Be you  
Careful and constant. In the afternoon  
Come to my lodging, I will have the Duke there  
And you shallbe a witness of my wedding.  
And of the subtle projects I have laid,  
To execute your wishes, till then farewell.  Iul. 
Farewell.  Ray. 
A pox upon thee whatsoe'er thou art.  Fred. 
'Twill come home.  Ray. 
Show thyself and be the Prince of Devils,  
I'll not fear thee.  Fred. 
No, the great Devil and you are all one, which shows I am no Devil; for if I were, I durst not thus abuse  Ray. 
What art? (thee.  Fred. 
A pleasant fellow Sir, and one of the noble Science, for look you Sir, there's a veny.  Ray. 
O, Swoons he has stabbed me.  Fred. 
No Sir no, I am a blunt fellow, & so my weapon; nay, I wonot leave you thus.  Exit after Ray. Doril. 
Here's my sister, but very sad methinks:  
How now julia, why so disconsolate.  Iul. 
O brother we are undone: All's out of joint again  
As much or rather more than ever.  Dor. 
How?  Iul. 
The Duke's in old fit, and the poor Princess  
Clapped up close prisoner, look to yourself  
Or you are lost. (me  Dori. 
Be it so; for life is wearisome sister, do you love  Iul. 
Why should you ask a question so frivolous.  Dori. 
Do you?  Iul. 
You know I do.  Dori. 
Show it then; for till you satisfy me in my request, I shall make doubt of it.  jul 
Pray speak it.  Dori. 
Here's a Gentleman to whom I owe,  
More than my parents gave me, more than  
If Fortune should look up and smile,  
Prove a prodigal in favours to me;  
And I should live to take 'em with this hand,  
And with this, pay it as due Tribute unto him:  
See how he languishes, can take no rest,  
No food, but thoughts which nourish him,  
And sighs again for you, drinks his own tears,  
And weeps them forth again, yet does not call you cruel,  
Pray speak to him.  Iul. 
Why alas? brother I did tell this man  
How hopeless I was, prayed him to desist,  
And make some better choice.  Ber. 
You did Lady, but I must die first.  Iul. 
Why if you be so desperate a lover,  
That you will die for me, think me the like,  
That I can die as well for him I love.  Ber. 
You were good company to go to heaven with.  Lan. 
ay, but if either of you go that way, you take  
An ill course in your journey.  Doril. 
Have you then placed your heart on any man?  Iul. 
Yes believe me, though I have made no noise  
With sighs, able to blow up mountains.  Doril. 
What is he?  Iul. 
One that you praised yourself into my heart,  
Although his youth and feature need no Orator.  Doril. 
I praised! julia you wrong me.  Iul. 
By Cupid's self I do not.  Doril. 
Name him.  Iul. 
'Tis an unreasonable request in you,  
But yet to show I am not ashamed of him,  
It is young Bernard.  Ber. 
Who Lady? pray speak that name again.  Iul. 
Young Bernard.  Ber. 
Bernard la Vere.  Iul. 
The same.  pulls of his disguisd Hair. Ber. 
I thank you.  Doril. 
Nay Sister, once you are catched.  Lan. 
But in no worse trap than her lover's Arms  Ber. 
Nor shall you ever be ashamed of him, nor yet  
Repent you, for he will love as faithfully  
As you, and live and die with you.  Iul. 
There is no giving back, welcome my love,  
And in a time that I did wish for thee;  
Yet I shall startle you and try your temper:  aside. 
For since I have found away how to infranchise  
My poor afflicted mistress, I'll be pleasant.  Ber. 
I never thought before, a man might be  
In heaven and not know it, as to have a dwelling  
In your heart and be ignorant of the bliss, Is little less.  Iul. 
O but my Bernard, we do never meet  
With any happiness, but some kind of mischief  
Mingles still with it, yet 'tis more or less,  
As you shall make of it, if you might take me now:  
Why, I were worth your love, for I am yet;  
(I did not lie much, if I said a Virgin)  
But without blushing I dare say a Maid.  Ber. 
It is not to be doubted.  Iul. 
But it is to be lost.  Lan. 
That is not to be doubted neither.  Iul. 
But not on him, for so it is not lost,  
To deal directly with you, I cannot bring,  
That thing called maiden. head, for it is promised.  
And if you cannot love me without that,  
Deal plainly then with me, as I with you,  
And I will look out for another man:  
Another handsome man a Citizen.  
That shall make much of me, and not a whit,  
Love me the worse for want of such a trifle.  Ber. 
I know sweet julia you were ever merry,  
And not beyond a maiden's modesty.  
But this is very strange,  Enter Frederick Fre. 
But not so strange as true, I am a witness of it,  
She has given away her maiden head to the Devil,  
For an old whoremaster is little better.  Dori. 
That is frederick's voice.  Fre. 
But as she said 'tis but a trifle: a cold Commodity  
A man may buy at some time of the year  
Like Cucumbers, at any time for a small Ring,  
A Purse, or a pair of Gloves, for so your country  
Wenches part with them, your City for an Apple.  Lan. 
there's none if you see him.  Dori. 
Not I.  Lan. 
He has found the Ring.  Dori. 
Very likely.  Lan. 
Nay most certain, and let him keep it, for being ignorant in the virtue of it, it may be some sport to us to hear him chase being lost to all mankind.  Fre. 
Doctor thou droppest.  Ber. 
The devil what art thou, I see thee not.  Fre. 
No more, thou shalt him that does cuckold thee.  Lan. 
That's true, whilst he enjoys the invisible Ring.  Iul. 
O you are a stout lover to be dejected thus, for such a vanity as a Maidenhead is, you'd ill endure to have your wife run away with another man two or three year together, and afterward brought home, and again accepted with Suppers and with Trumpets.  Lan. 
A plaguey smart wench.  Iul. 
But since it is so estimate a jewel,  
Come my Barnard we'll not part with it,  
But lay our heads together how to preserve it.  (going out, he calls, Fre. 
Why but do you hear, shall I be lost thus  
Will none of you acknowledge me, julia,  
Doctor Dorilus.  Dori. 
Frederick by the voice.  Fre. 
And Frederick by flesh and blood as good as any man or woman would desire, feel me else.  Dori. 
I do feel a hand.  Fre. 
And yet perceive nobody.  Dori. 
Right.  Fre. 
Right, but by your leave all is not right; either your eyes are drawn aside, or my body is taken asunder, and nothing left certain of me but a hand and a voice, mass here comes Smirke, I'll try the strength of his eyesight.  Land. 
I beseech you stay, here is a promise of some mirth.  Enter Smirke with sever all pots of colours. Fre. 
Smirke well met.  Smi. 
Not so my friend, well overtaken you may say,  
But I am in haste, therefore farewell.  
What are there rubs in the air, 'tis some little dandiprat, that I overrun, and ten to one he has broke his Nose against my Pipkin, Where art thou?  Fre. 
Here.  Smi. 
Here, where is that here.  Fre. 
What has he got trow there painting: that it is, since you know me not, I'll bestow a little pains to picture you, that the best friend you have, shall hardly take acquaintance of you.  Smi. 
A Pox of these Flies, they'll never leave sweet Mutton, but my friend, my friend, he's gone poor fellow again.  Fre. 
'tis strange you know not me.  Smi. 
I should know that voice.  Fre. 
You should do so, if you would call yourself to mind  Smi. 
My young master Frederick and quondam Lord where are you?  Fre. 
Here man here.  Smi. 
Something plays with my Nose I believe 'tis my whisking Muschatus, now I am come i'the wind.  Fre, 
What dost thou do with this painting Smirk?  Smi. 
Marry I mean to live by it and purpose to set up my old trade again. Fre. Thy old trade, what's that?  Smi. 
Why a Stainer, I have hired a Shop not far from Court. And I have painted the most horrible things that many men know not what to make of them, I drew Hercules a great while ago in the likeness of a man, and now every one says he looks like a Lion. Then I drew Actaeon hunted with his own dogs, & they say 'tis like a Citizen pursued with Sergeants.  Fre. 
Why, but canst thou draw any thing into proportion?  Smi. 
Can I draw any thing into proportion; why, I will presently draw you backward or forward, a limb, 'twoo'd do you good to behold it.  Fre. 
And thou be'st so good a workman, thou shalt draw my Picture.  Smi. 
I would be glad to see your face in, if it please you to come out of the Cloud.  Frede. 
Well Smirke, pray for me, I am a man, but in this world I have small store of money, and therefore cannot reward thee as I would, but hold thee, give me thy hand, I can see to take thee by it, there's a Ring, 'twill yield thee somewhat.  Smi. 
I thank you sir, it will serve to exchange for a Coral for my son and heir when I have him.  Lan. 
Now step out altogether and salute him.  All 
Good Senior you are welcome to the light,  Fre. 
To the light: why, do you perceive me now?  Dori. 
As plain as the earth we tread on.  Fre. 
where's Smirke?  Smi. 
Here I am Sir.  Fre. 
Where, come near me, O the Ring, the Ring,  
Give me my Ring again, I find the virtue,  Smi 
Nay, soft, so play fools, nothing is surer than gift.  Fre. 
Come near me that I may touch thee.  Smi. 
I know what the Proverb says, touch me and take me, and therefore I will keep aloft, 'Sfoot he is strucken put blind, he gropes like a young Novice, the contrary way. What are these blind too?  Fre. 
Good Gentlemen help me to lay hold of him.  Lan. 
Lay hold of whom.  Fre. 
Of Smirke.  Land. 
Smirke, why he is gone.  Fre. 
No, he is here, I smell the oily Rascal.  Smi. 
They are all blind, or else I walk invisible, I'll try that presently.  Kisses julia. Iul. 
How now?  Smi. 
Nothing but a flesh-fly forsooth lighted upon your lips, the place is full of hem— Somebody has sprinkled invisible virgin's water upon me for I do go insensible. Here comes the two Eggs, I shall go near to crack their Crows, for the last abuse, but walking as I do, I will find out a better revenge.  Enter Callow and Ranoff. Cal. 
Sirrah I think it was much hereabout that we met with the taking voice that kicked us?  Ran. 
'twas indeed.  Smi. 
I would kick you again, but that I have Corns on my Toes, I will only pencil you now. And because you have so much knavery and want colour for't I will begin with Orange tawny.  Call. 
What was that?  Ran. 
What,  Cal. 
Someting crossed my Nose.  Ran. 
A Door, a Door, the fields are full of them.  Smi. 
I'll give you the Door too.  Ran. 
There was another wiped me in the same place.  Smi. 
'cause you are a Knight, you shall bear a Cross  Ran. 
How now?  
'Sfoot I think some Bird has wrayed in my eye.  Cal. 
No 'tis nothing but the dew falls I think.  
A Pox on't, I am paid again.  Ran. 
There are some gadflies sure abroad, let's make away.  
Another wipe first.  Cal. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Ran. 
Why do you laugh my Lord? ha, ha, ha.  Smi. 
Nay, I'll put in too, for my ha, ha, ha, ha.  
This is a three man's laughter.  Cal. 
But why do you laugh my Lord? ha, ha.  Ran. 
ha, ha, Pray why do you laugh my Lord?  Cal. 
For nothing, for nothing, come prithee let's go.  Ran. 
I pray let's go, ha ha,  Smi. 
I am glad I have made you merry.  Fre. 
Where art thou? So dear I love thee for this piece of knavery that I could kiss thee, prithee let me kiss thee  Smi. 
No, no, kissing, I do bristle too much.  Fre. 
I'll give thee another Ring.  Smi. 
No no, no more Rings, I shall think myself an Alderman, and grow proud then.  Lan. 
Come let him alone with it.  Smi. 
If you know any Lady that deals in complexion you may do me a kindness to acquaint her that Smirke the servingman is turned a Painter.   

Scena Tertia.  Enter Frederick, Cornelius and Carolus, Cor. 
How now Carolus, how does my Lord?  Caro. 
Troth scurvily, as a Lord may do in his case.  Fer. 
Why how is't man?  Caro. 
Wicked, wicked, extreme wicked, he cannot say his Prayers.  Fer. 
Why? is he speechless.  Cor. 
What a Pox is that to the purpose, has he made his will.  Caro. 
Yes, And in his will he doth will and command that you two shall be whipped, and that he has bequeathed you for your legacy.  Cor. 
Let him bestow it upon his friends, we can live without it.  Fer. 
But prithee sirrah, tell us the manner of his sickness which was wondrous strange and sudden.  Caro. 
Why how should I know more than you, I am none of his Physician.  Cor. 
They say but be it spoken in private that a Rat haunts him, is it so? thou canst tell.  Fer. 
A Rat, a pox of a Rat, 'zblood I heard otherwise.  Cor. 
Well, let's hear what hast thou heard.  Fer. 
Marry Sir that the Neopolitan Canker has searched into his bones: and he lies buried in ulcers, stinks so that without perfumes, nobody is able to abide him. But mum mum, not a word of this I speak, it is amongst fellows and friends.  Caro. 
'tis well you do so, for otherwise your legacies would be bestowed upon you, a yard or two of whipcord is no great cost, and the executors would go to the charge, 'zblood what Rascals are you to utter this, you are the inventors of it.  Fer. 
Not I by this hand, I heard mine at my Barbers,  Cor. 
And I heard mine at the Apothecaries.  Car. 
Why here's the misery of great men, they cannot scape the slanders of their slaves look you yonder goes one of the Doctors, you were best (to be better satisfied) inquire of him.  Fer. 
Not I, I love not to be inquisitive.  Enter a doctor. Doct. 
where's any of my Lords Gentlemen there.  Cor. 
here's a Leash of us Sir.  Doct. 
One of you must instantly take horse, and ride to Doct or Lopez, and bring him hither with all speed that may be: his counsel is wanting, and it concerns your Lords life, therefore make haste, and tell him so to: Tell him the Duke will else be here before him; from whom, if so it happen, he will receive a check.  Caro. 
we shall sir, we shall.  Fer. 
The Duke, why is the Duke sent for?  Caro 
Yes, & has sent word he will be here immediately.  Fer. 
by'r Lady Sir, then 'tis to be thought the dangers more than every Ague brings, & 'twill go hard with him.  Caro. 
Why make not you more haste than to the doctors?  Fer. 
I make more haste, why does not he or you?  Caro. 
ay, why I was not bidden.  Fer. 
Nor I.  Caro. 
Why, nor I, more particular than you.  Fer. 
But you must go that answered.  Caro. 
Why you may go as well as I that answered.  Fer. 
By this Air not I.  Caro. 
By this Earth nor I.  Cor. 
By this Air, Earth, Fire and Water too, not I: 'zblood I get no more than you, and why should I then?  Caro. 
This is very well, suppose my Lord for want of this same Doctor now shall die.  Cor. 
Why, what can I help it. (you.  Car. 
Why you may by fetching him.  Cor. 
And so may  Caro. 
And so may he.  Fer. 
And so may you.  Caro. 
I care not, nay do as you please.  Fer. 
Why, nor I neither.  A Bed thrust out, Enter Lady the old Lord, some other Lady and Aliens. Cor. 
'Sfoot he shifts his Room, I'll not be seen.  Fer. 
By'r Lady Sir nor I.  Ray. 
Who went for Lopez?  Car. 
Ferdinand my Lord.  Ray. 
Is he not come yet?  Car. 
No my Lord, nor gone yet I believe.  Ray. 
Oh, my blood boil, as if the Sun  
Had darted all his beams into my entrails.  
Short shot my soul, and like the shaft  
Shot by great Hercules, fly till thou break'st,  
Or else, strike through the body of the Sun,  
And fix thyself in heaven a brighter Star.  
What shall I do? Is there no power in Physic?  
Swoons are you dumb, Doctors can you not talk,  
Though you do nothing else?  Doct. 
Alas my Lord; we know not what to say.  Ray. 
Why then you might ha' said, that you can say,  
That you know nothing, but your own  
Privilege, to kill unpunished; yet are you apt  
When Nature works herself, to assume it yours.  
O my torment, when wilt thou cease? get you gone,  
Impostures as you are, and x people  
That have faith in you; for I have found  
No Art, but Voice among you.  Car. 
A way Physicians, go; my Lord thinks ye are fools,  
And so do I: Therefore begone, begone.  Ray. 
Is not the Duke come yet?  Car. 
No my good Lord; but here are the Divines.  Ray. 
They are very welcome.  Bishops. 
How does your Lordship?  Ray. 
Wondrous well satisfied in any point touching my salvation: only one burden on my conscience lies, for the Duke himself to take away.  Enter Duke. Caro. 
The Duke is come.  Ray. 
Then all the rest I pray depart the room.  Duke 
How is it man?  Ray. 
Cheerful, wondrous cheerful, all this whole day I felt not such a minute.  Duke 
Be comforted good Raymond, methinks I see another age of life yet shine in thee, your eye is quick and sprightly, death doth not show himself in any part.  Ray. 
Your grace is a good comforter, and your sight blows up this spark of life to such a light which is but as a twinkling before death.  
Therefore I do beseech your Majesty,  
As in this life and after death you'll stand,  
In history to the last hour of Time,  
A just religious Prince to which I know,  
In your own inclination you aspire,  
Even for the dukedom's peace, O— your pardon:  
My breath I find will fail me,— your pardon Duke.  
And quickly speak it; or I shall not hear you.  Duke 
What, what shall I pardon? good Raymond speak, I gather by thy speech thou wouldst unfold, something of consequence; you must not part thus with me, therefore good Raymond speak, borrow a little time of death, and I will pay it back out of my life: dear Raymond do not leave me thus unsatisfied, for if you do, I'll follow you to learn it.  Ray. 
O I have wronged you.  Duke 
Never, never good Raymond.  Ray. 
By that strong power which raises me I have,  
And lends me breath to utter it; and this Lady,  
Where is she and the Princess all of ye,  
For when you first began your jealousy,  
Upon a small presumption, I as apt.  
And sudden as yourself in fear to find,  
The issue of a Prince which Heaven advert,  
So basely bastardize, held up your thought,  
Told you of former and familiar tricks,  
In the like nature I had seen between them,  
Which I protest was then out of my care,  
That such a thing might be, rather than any crime,  
That ever I knew she was guilty of,  
Send for her therefore, and condemn your rash  
False suppositions, and pardon mine,  
That grew but out of yours, but once being grown,  
It spread into more branches than your own,  Duke 
What is thy purpose.  Ray. 
Religious as the Churches which is,  
To clear all doubts and present Truth,  
In her own Garments, to protect innocence,  
And from her white hand lift her out of slanders,  Duk. 
By which you would infer my Duchess honest  Ray. 
By all the best hopes of a dying man,  
This being a time not to jest breath away.  
There does not live this day in Christedome,  
A Queen nor any woman through the world,  
More truly virtuous, and as I speak truth,  
So may I fail or find it.  Duke 
Whether my joys are sensual or immortal,  
I cannot say but surely I do feel,  
And stand on such a change as if my soul,  
Were melted into blood, or my blood turned.  
To soul which lights, me up fresh Tapers,  
Whose instructive beams direct me to the Heart  
Of my dear Duchess, where chastity I find,  
Hath built her temple— within there.  Enter Duchess. Attend. 
My Lord.  Duke. 
Here, take my Signet, deliver it to  
Lord Lodwick, command him bring the Duchess,  
And wait upon her hither, with all the speed  
And diligence his duty can perform.  Att. 
I shall my Lord, and as I'm one of the honest men I am glad to hear it.  Enter julia. Duke 
O noble Lady, how shall I look thy mistress i'the face, that blush at sight of thee? prithee stand by me, and embolden me, be my Genius, prompt me what I shall say, or the scene's spoilt; I shallbe out, my tongue doth falter for joy conceived of her great goodness, for grief of her much injury.  Iul. 
As in the fiction, Giants make war with heaven,  
But are struck dead, so malice may strike at Virtue;  
But at last, I see the blow will light where it began.  
Welcome my Royal mistress, and I hope  
Unto more comfort, than ever yet the Saxon  
Court afforded, it bears the likeliest face  
Upon us now.  Enter the Duchess Duke 
Why do you kneel to me? the slanderer  
Ought to ask pardon of the slandered,  
My own Law teaches it. Pray do you rise,  
Or I will never think myself forgiven.  Duck. 
Nay now my Lord I fear you sent for me to mock me.  Duke 
God and all good men at my greatest need  
Requite me with a mock, if I mean any.  
O let me now expire, and be the happy messenger  
To sing this news to heaven, such and so great.  Ray. 
So happy reconcilements make the Angels,  
Tread the bright ring, and from the ordered spheres,  
Strikes heavenly music to all earthly ears:  
Give me your royal pardon and remit me,  
The hand of death lies cold and weighty on me,  
And what is he but must sink under it,  
Therefore go exercise your joys where grief,  
May not be heard to express herself in tears,  
For sorrow still sings loud unto our ears,  Dor. 
O my Lord,  Ray. 
Dear Princes speak no more, I know your heart,  
But as you love my quiet, leave me to it,  
For I do find an inclination to  
Rest and sleep, and perhaps my last.  Duke. 
Come then let's leave him sickness is froward,  
And one while company is pleasing to it,  
Another while offensive, Raymond farewell,  
Heaven to his mercy take or restore thee.  Roy. 
Good Duke I thank thee, let me kiss thy hand,  
And yours best Duchess, and Lady yours,— so  
Now if you will be gone, you may,  
Sickness knows no manners.  Duke 
we'll trouble you no longer Raymond.  Ray. 
Why I thank you, and all good lighten on you.  
But not stay— Carolus.  Caro. 
My Lord.  Ray. 
Are they all forth the room?  Caro. 
Yes my Lord.  Ray. 
Active as fire I spring out of my grave then,  
And will see some before me ere I die,  
That are more fit for Earth and Heaven than I,  
Fetch me some water, and a cup of wine,  
I'll drink my own health and my lust shall pledge it,  
Do I bear earth about me, sure I do not;  
For in this ecstasy, I have no feeling,  
No use of feet, but ride and rack i'th' Air,  
Like a black Cloud, holding in his hand lightning,  
And in this a tempest, give me, and go  
And understand the cause of Julia's stay,  
It puts me into doubts and she should go  
Away now with the Queen and cheat my hopes,  
I have made a sick-man's plot of it,  
But julia is Religious in her vows,  
Knows what it is to swear, and what to break 'em.  
How now villain, why returned without her?  Caro. 
Why she is gone my Lord.  Ray. 
Be thoug thou gone too, and after her and fetch her,  
And bring her to me, or lay down thy duty,  
And let me never see it in a face,  
Or an officious leg again presented,  
zounds are you scraping there when I forbid you.  Caro. 
Alas my Lord.  Ray. 
My Lord, my Loggerhead, begone.  Enter julia. Caro. 
O Madam, you come like to the halcyon, and bring fair weather with you.  Ray. 
Thou art my truth, and I will study thee,  
No more shall misbelief enter my thoughts:  
For thy Idea standing in my heart,  
As in a Temple shall fright all false suggestions,  
To the Tartars. Give me instead of Laurel,  
For my deed, a sugared kiss, and crown my joys.  Iul. 
Away you are a villain, I came back to tell you so: And long life which is a blessing to others, unto thee's a curse: thou shame of such a reverence dost not see, to what a monster lust in thee is grown: at lest in men's imaginations.  
A man as old in show as time himself,  
Made up for counsel like another Nestor:  
At least in men's imaginations,  
To be so monstrous Goatishly inclined.  
O fie my Lord! think with yourself this ill,  
Provokes not in the flesh, but in your will:  
Your blood moves slow and cold and all the fire,  
That strikes up any heat, is in desire:  
I blush for you, think of it.  Ray. 
Yes i'll think of it, but you shall give me time,  
And you and I will now go and consult of it.  Iul, 
Keep of.  Ray. 
Why you wonot stab.  Iul. 
Yes to the heart believe it.  Ray. 
Why then a combat; look you, I am provided too  
Will you yield now?  Iul. 
No.  Ray. 
This would show handsome on a Stage,  
An old man and a woman at the point:  
Believe it i'll stab too.  Iul. 
Thy worst: for I will mine,  Ray, 
This is scurvy wooing, julia no more.  Iul. 
Farewell then, and repent,  Ray. 
Nay then you stir me, yield, or I will force thee.  
And after pay, thy perjury with death,  
Are you so mannish.  Enter Duke, duchess and all the rest spectators. Duke 
Desist vild ravisher.  Ray. 
Ha, the Duke, than rage rise high in me,  
And add unto this wickedness a worse.  Enter Bernard with his Rapier drawn. Bar. 
Villain, what wilt thou do, keep of.  Ray. 
O I am lost.  Dor. 
A guard.  Duk. 
Cease on the Traitor,— O that those hairs,  
Which are the badge of truth and as I thought,  
The care of her should shrouded such villainies,  
So monstrously betraying and abusing:  
Away with him to death.  Ray. 
To death.  Duk. 
Yes a cruel and a lasting.  Dor. 
I beseech your grace.  Duk. 
Wilt thou beg for him whom he so hath wronged  
And which is more, made me the instrument?  Dor. 
Yes, good my Lord his pardon?  Duk. 
Prithee sweet no more, ask any thing but that,  
Let Law be of no force then in my Land,  
If I forgive such Traitors.  
O where is Dorilus?  
That innocent and excellent good man:  
If he be living, let him be brought to me  
That I may honour him, if dead lament,  
And wash him with my tears, sit on his Hearst  
And ask forgive of his gentle spirit,  
lest it do haunt me being his murderer.  Enter Guido. Guido 
justice, justice, my Sovereign.  Duke 
What art thou com'st for justice?  Guido 
One that under your authority performs it upon others.  Duke 
Perform it upon me for I am a murderer.  Guido 
My Lord.  Duke 
A murderer of my friends, of virtuous men,  
Virtue herself did very hardly scape me.  Dor. 
Good my Lord.  Duke 
I must see Dorilus alive or dead,  
To view how big the wound was that I gave him,  
For I will have grief dig one in my breast,  
As deep as it is, and as mortal too.  Dor. 
Why here is Dorilus.  Duke 
Prayers of Princes fall on thee, dost thou live  
To tell me that my sword doth want an edge,  
But when it strikes offenders, rise Dorilus:  
And thus unto thy Mistress I present thee,  
As the best jewel that I have to give her,  
For a true Servant is of that esteem.  Dor. 
Sir, I thank you, but I return him back,  
As fittest for your service.  Fre. 
here's giving and taking as if they'd both be rid of him.  Duke 
Why I thank thee, and I receive him gladly.  
Now where's he that would have justice?  Guido 
Here my Liege.  Duke 
Against whom wouldst thou have justice?  Guido 
Against the President of Wittenberg.  
Who falling foul with the learned Landoff  
Tutor unto my son, is thought by most  
And of the wisest of the University,  
To have by some treacherous plot made them away,  
He nor my son having been seen ere since.  Lan. 
Why here is Landoff sir, your poor friend in safety.  Guido 
Landoff, where is my son?  Ber. 
Here sir, with a daughter to boot.  Guido 
Now God's blessing a'thy heart, if thou hast conferred me thus.  Ber. 
e'en thus Sir.  
Rise with my blessing on you both.  Fre. 
So they are owned, nobody calls upon me, nor regards me, nor to say the truth, I regard nobody: the loss of my invisible Ring has broke my heart, now when I knew the virtue of it, to lose it, and to an idiot, an innocent, that deserves not to understand the virtue of it, what dainty devices might I have had in every Chamber of the Court, seen such a Lord kiss such a Lady the wrong way, such a Knight, lie with his Chambermaid, and his Lady with her Groom, the Usher with the waiting-Gentlewoman, and the page with all. Phoebus himself must ha' come short of those things, I should ha' seen, for one invisible Ring would discover another.  Du. 
How now, what's the cause of this? why kneel you all?  Dor. 
For that which I join with them too.  
Lord Raymond's life, banish him the Court,  
And let him be confined to his house i'th' country.  Duke 
Thou must not ask twice what I shall deny,  
Rise, 'tis granted you; see you have good friends,  
And a gracious mistress.  Ray. 
I see't, and shame to see myself,  
How had the Devil blinded me, I could not  
See your rare virtues? O let my penitence,  
Which if it be not zealous, just heavens strike,  
That breath into my throat, again which forms,  
The words I utter, and let 'em strangle me:  
Let my true penitence I say beget,  
Another virtue in you, besides mercy,  
Credulity that I am truly sorry,  
For the bold mischiefs 'gainst you and my Prince:  
A guilty conscience followed by despair,  
Light on all Traitors to their Sovereign,  
Wants to the extrem'st sickness without succour,  
Without all good man's pity and their prayers,  
Fall on the slanderers of all your sex:  
Diseases rot him living; dead no grave,  
But ravenous Fowls, become his sepulchre,  
His bones kicked up and down by his enemies,  
And charitable men allow of it,  
Hell and the Devils, plying him with torments:  
Bast his black soul, that he may roar so loud:  
As to the earth crying he heard may be,  
Who slanders women, may be damned like men.    

ACTVS QVINTUS.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Ferdinand, and Cornelius. Cor. 
Will there be such Revels say you.  Fer. 
Yes, but no words, for it must be kept private.  Cor. 
Private, why there are gone out Proclamations, that whosoever can by device, or any quick conceits delight the Duchess, he shall have correspondent to his quality an Annual stipend besides the favour of the Duke for ever.  Fer. 
Such a thing was talked of, for the Duke now dotes far more on the Duchess then at first; and whatsoever is done, is to delight her.  Cor. 
'Tis a better hearing than the old jealousies.  
What's your Lord confined to his house i'the country.  Fer. 
Yes.  Cor. 
And how find you your new Lord.  Fer. 
Very noble, and so doth bear himself to every man, hark, yonder's such a colle with the musicians, the Masquers, and the Dancers, who now are practising.  Cor. 
Is not the Poet amongst them.  Fer. 
Yes, and which is a miracle a Masquer,  
The learned, Landoff, who now although he be  
A professed Academian,  
Has laid aside his graver weightier studies,  
To exercise his skill not yet forgotten,  
Being brought up a Page at Court, and practised  
Much in that quality— Hark I must leave you,  
I have a charge committed to me.  Cor. 
May I not under your protection,  
Behold the sports.  Fer. 
I cannot tell, I will not promise you,  
For my Lord's very strict, I'll do my best.  Cor. 
Why I thank you.  Enter Smirke. Smirke 
I do not know how it comes about that I should be lost thus; villainous witchcraft will never be left, I am fain to give over my shop, but I had broke; howsoever my painting cloth was so rotten, it could not hold together, but the best is, I shall live like a Gentleman, because I walk invisible, nay I am not only invisible to other men, but to myself: I went this morning to a lookingglass, to be acquainted with this comely countenance, the devil of countenance there was to be acquainted with; the Glass seemed to me like a deep water, that I began to feel with my hands for fear I might ha' been drowned: But finding myself above ground, and hunger tumbling like a porcupine in my Maw, and doing the Somerset in my Guts, I smelled a sirloin of Beef hot from the Spit followed the train close, set in my foot, drew my knife, sliced me off a Collop, clapped it upon a penny loaf, went me to a side Table, consumed it without anybody saying much good do you, or the Devil choke you. Set my lips to a Flagon of Beer, drunk twice with a breath, set it down again, took it up again, and drunk it as dry as a Biscuit: so that I perceive I cannot starve. And for clothes, 'tis no matter how I go, nobody sees me.  Enter Lord Lodwick. Lod. 
Pray give 'em great charge at the outward doors  
They admit none but such as are Courtiers,  
The Hall must not be pestered. where's Ferdinand?  Ferd. 
Here my Lord.  Lod. 
Pray have a care those lights be not offensive unto the Ladies, they hang suspiciously, and let the hangings be removed.  Ferd. 
They shall my Lord, where's Pedro?  Pedro. 
Here Sir.  Fer. 
Look to those lights I pray, my Lord is very angry, fearing they might do trespass, and those hangings must be removed.  Pedro. 
They shall sir,— where's any of the Grooms?  Groom. 
Here Sir.  Pedro. 
Pray look to these lights, and let the hangings be removed, the Gentleman Usher has commanded it.  Groom 
They shall sir, where's the fellow here should look unto these lights, things are done so untowardly.  Smirke 
nobody sees me, I come in like the air, when Lords and Ladies stand waiting for this officer and other officer, country gentlemen their pates broke, & citizens wives thrust up and down in every corner, their husbands kept out with flame and Torch, glad to fetch a nap i'th' Cloisters.  Enter Ferdinand, Grooms with Torches. Groom. 
Bear back there, bear back, room for my Lord Lodwick.  Lod. 
Here madam you shall face the Duke and duchess, 'tis the best place to see in all the Hall.  Lady. 
I thank your honour.  Lod. 
Have a little patience, the Revels will begin immediately.  grooms. 
Room for my Lord, bear back, swoons whither would you?  Lod. 
Well said, thou dost more good with thy oaths then all they with their Truncheons.  Groo. 
The Duke is coming.  Music. Envy and pleasure pass o'er the stage. Envy. 
Sports are intending which I will have crossed.  
Add clouds tonight, that pleasure may be lost.  Plea. 
Envy thou wound'st thyself in spite of thee,  
This I break forth, out of obscurity.  Smir. 
This is the four winds driving of five  
Devils— This same Ring would fain give  
Me the slip, I must e'en pocket him, for  
Fear of the worst.  Groom. 
How now sirrah, what make you here?  Smir. 
Why, do you see me?  Groom. 
See you, yes marry do I: And get you gone quickly, or you shall feel— I see you, go, begone this is no place for such as you.  Smirk. 
Humh: Am I become a wretch again, and mortal?  The Masquers preparing to dance. Enter Smirke again. Smirk. 
I am got in again, and have found the trick of it, thanks my dear gem; a man may have an invisible Ring I see, and not know of it; I wondered that I grew palpable, now I perceive how the matter went: thanks my dear gem, I say still, I will not lose this finger that I have my invisible Ring upon, for the best joint at the Bars.  
Is this all the devices, sports, and delights, the Duke shall have for his money: the Proclamation promised reward for him that could show any varieties, and is't all come to a dull Masque? I'll show his Grace some sport myself, with help of my invisible Ring, which now must off again. By your Majesty's leave, and the rest of the Honourable—  Duke. 
How now, what's he?  Smirk. 
What's he? Why he is the miracle of your Kingdom.  Duke. 
How the Miracle!  Smirk. 
ay, and can do wonders— now you see me you know me.  Fred. 
Yes Sir, I do know you.  Smir. 
And you know not me, you know nobody.  
But keep off my Lord.  Doril. 
Prithee keep off.  Smir. 
You see me you say, Duke I speak to thee.  Duke. 
Yes Sir, I see you.  Smir. 
And you all see me.  Land. 
We do all see you.  Smirk. 
Very good, and I do see all you: but what's that to the purpose?  Land. 
Very little to purpose indeed,  Smir. 
Shall I demonstrate matter of Art.  
And have nothing for my pains?  Lan. 
Yes marry shall you, does not the Proclamation tell you shall.  Smir. 
Proclamations may say what they list,  
Something in hand doth well.  Duke. 
somebody give him something.  Smir. 
ay, but nobody hears not on that Ear, yet because I— wonot do Royalty wrong, in suspecting your bounty— You see me you say.  Duke. 
Yes we do see you.  Smir. 
You do. Who sees me now?  Duke. 
Trust me not I, he is invisible to me.  Dor. 
And me.  Dori. 
To all.  Smir, 
I should be sorry else; for, and my invisible Ring should not keep his old virtue, I would hang myself directly.  Fre. 
Prithee appear again.  Smir. 
I will have Majesty call me first.  Lan. 
Why the Duke does call you.  Smir. 
Let me hear him vuia voce, Smirke is my name  
A well beloved subject, once a Painter,  
But now Esquire of the invisible Ring.  Duke 
Smirke, and our well-beloved subject, once a Painter, but now Esquire of the invisible Ring.  
I conjure thee to appear again.  Smir. 
See here I am, what wouldst thou mighty monarch  Duke. 
I do command thee let me see the Ring.  
By which thou walkst invisible.  Smir. 
I do command thee not to command me that,  
For from my invisible Ring I will not part.  Dor. 
Lay hands upon him for a sorcerer.  Smir. 
Assist me my dear Ring, no hands upon me,  
For being invisible, I am a Prince,  
And being a Prince no hands is to be laid on me;  
Treason doth never prosper.  Lan. 
He is gone again.  Smi. 
You follow me by scent, but never find me by sight.  
I'll warrant you.  Enter Spirit, Landoff, whispering with him. Lan. 
Seize it and fly.  Spirit 
I am gone.  Smir. 
O, O, O.  Fre. 
How, who is that exclaims.  Smir. 
The cramps in my finger.  Lan. 
The Cramp.  Fre. 
O sir, now you are visible again.  Smir. 
My Ring is gone now, the devil go with it, for a my conscience he fetched it.  Lan. 
What have you lost your Ring.  Smir. 
ay, ay, and my middle finger, which served me for more use than all the rest.  Lan. 
That's strange.  Duke 
But what is become of the Ring.  Land. 
Pardon me Liege, that virtue that it held,  
Came from my Art, and at some fitter time,  
I will acquaint you with the passages,  
How, and the cause for what it was intended:  
Your gracious Duchess knows and felt the worth,  Duk. 
Thy knowledge in good arts is found Landoff,  
Nor will we be inquisitive of more.  
Then thou shalt think it fit to be revealed:  
For all thy Actions have been just and loyal,  Lod. 
What means this Trumpet,  Lan. 
Perhaps some new delights and rarer.  Enter Page. Page 
Thus was I bidden to my sovereign,  
Fall on my face, now rise I up again  
To render to the lady's fair salutes,  
And give them all their worthy attributes,  
Wonder not that I resolutely come,  
Boldly thus daring press into this room,  
For from a Lord and knight of eminent note,  
I bring this challenge; such as can read may know't.  Fre. 
Very succinct and peremptory.  Lan. 
For this day I am master of the Revels.  
Be it known unto all men that I,— of the Court, of saxony, traveller, by degree a Lord, and a professed Champion for all Ladies in the lists of peace, do challenge all Courtiers whatsoever, without exceptions, native or strangers, to confer, court, or compliment, in silence with discursive motion and true action of the face, hand, body, & leg, & afterward with the volubility of the tongue, to talk longest, fastest & loudest, for sense I stand not upon it, being seldom regarded by the party courted, therefore indeed belongs not to the Courtier: also be it farther known that my assistants, Agents, or seconds, doth challenge likewise all Courtiers whatsoever, at the true compendious form of compiling Epistles, alias love-letters, to Ladies or Mistresses, either in Prose or Verse, with Proverbs, or without Proverbs, with Sentences, or without Sentences, Figures, or any other matter, to be performed Extempore, or not Extempore, according as it shall please the Challenged, which is to say, the Defendant to determine: All which, that aforesaid, as well as this now spoken of, shall be performed by the said Challengers instantly; who only staying to hear of any Opponents, are both ready to enter.  Lod. 
Here is unexpected Sport.  Fred. 
Let 'em enter, they shall be answered; Smirke, thou shalt be my Second.  Smi. 
Shall I, that's some comfort yet, to put the loss of the Ring out of my thought.  
Shall I answer the Epistoler?  Fre. 
ay, marry shalt thou.  Smi. 
I'll Pistol and Pestle him, I'll warrant him, he was ne'er so pounded in his life, I'll scorn to begin after my hearty commendations with him.  Land. 
Hark, they approach.  Enter Callow, and Ranoff. Cal. 
Which is my Antagonist?  Fre. 
I am he.  Ran. 
And who is mine?  Smi. 
Behold the man, with Pen and Ink provided.  Ran. 
Poor fool, thou wilt but make thyself derided  Smi. 
So nimble in rhyme, I'll first break your head in Prose, and afterward whip you in Verse, I'll lambast you in completes.  Iul. 
Nay I will not lose the honour of being the courted Lady.  Cal. 
When my talking time comes I will thank you Lady in language.  
Mark how my challenge goes, 'twas not to talk sense only, but longest, fastest, loudest, and you our talk me that way, I'll give you my tongue and every tooth I have to make trotters on, for I was borne and bred and nursed a talker, and of my quality, this Lady has had some small experience, for I did promise her to prove a talker, and for her sake do now profess, and practise't and 'tis in vain for any creature to contend with me,— I have put down the Lawyers of all Nations, and all women, Gossips at Christenings, after they have drunk wine the Midwife being there, words flow out of my mouth like water from the Clouds, to make a deluge, to drown all voices but my own, which drums nor trumpets, nor a Sea flight can do.  Fre. 
But a thump of the guts will.  Cal. 
O.  Fre. 
'tis excellent; sweet Lady to hear words,  
Though they want matter, for silence does betray,  
A bashfulness in man, unmeet for courtiers,  
For he that has a bold tongue and a free,  
Can never want th'affection of Ladies,  
Nor is it fit he should, for he can keep 'them,  
Walking at midnight with a tedious tale,  
And longer 'tis the better, because sleep  
Being accounted as some use to call it,  
Death's image, other some his elder brother,  
By how much we do use it, by so much less,  
We live in this world and lose time and pleasure,  
Which both to rich and poor is the chief treasure,  
Why do not you talk now.  Cal. 
Talk? If I have breath, enough to live, I care not.  Iul. 
Nay, and you give out, you have lost the day.  Cal. 
I had not fair play shown me,  Fre. 
Stratagems are to be allowed, against all adversaries.  
I'll have judgement on't.  All. 
ay, ay, lawful. lawful.  Cal. 
Lawful let it be then, but if ever I challenge a man of his hands, to a trial of skill with the tongue again, I'll forswear talking all days of my life, and that I would be loath to do— If I do not feel the very breath that should have been spent in words upwards, to twattle downward, I am a villain.  Smirke 
I believe I smell the meaning, stand farther off, and give room to me and the Epistoler, you challenge all men to compose?  Ran. 
I do.  Smi, 
With figures or without figures, with sentences or without sentences.  Ran. 
'tis right,  Smi. 
Draw out your Pen and inkhorn, I am for you.  Lan. 
Give 'em room, and set a Table forth.  Ran. 
With expedition too, I put in that.  Smi. 
No, expedition belongs to Clerks, and not to Secretaries, celerity if you will.  Ran. 
ay sir, Celerity, I mean so.  Smi. 
No more but so, a word's enough.  Fre. 
But what's the subject?  Smi. 
Why each of us is to indite an Epistle to our Mistress, is it not so?  Ran. 
Right.  Smi. 
Then write.  Dor. 
This will be good mirth I hope.  Lan. 
Ridiculous enough.  Fre, 
So it should be, and yet my little Smirk here has conceit, he'll have some flashes.  Dor. 
A couple of pretty scribes.  Ber. 
The challenger has the advantage, he might premeditate.  Fre. 
No matter, Smirks best at a start, his wit is like your Hackney, all a gallop, to which he says, utere diligentia, nec sis tantus cessator & calcoribus indigeas, which is clawing the Pole, as for example in your Challenger.  Dori. 
He has rubbed it out it seems.  Fre. 
Smirke goes on smoothly, without any rub,  Lan. 
Yet there he had one.  Fred. 
Hold bias, and a sentence then.  Ran. 
Scripsi.  Smi. 
Et scripsi.  Lan. 
Very good, now lordings lend your cares.  Ran. 
I will read it first myself.  Lan. 
And good reason.  Ran. 
Fairest in the world, and sweetest upon earth.  Fre. 
So.  Ran. 
I remember my duty to you in black and white.  Smi. 
I would it had been black and blue.  Lan. 
Peace.  Ran. 
For all colours else wave under the standard of your beauty.  Smi. 
I wonder what part of her, is Goose-turd green: That's a colour.  Ran. 
You are the mistress of beauty.  Smi. 
I would a said the Queen or Empress.  Ran. 
And all other women are but your handmaids.  Smi. 
O abominable barren.  Lan. 
Nay Smirk silence, you must not interrupt your adversary.  Ran. 
I can say nothing without saying too much, nor say too much without saying nothing.  Smi. 
I must say nothing, or else I would say something, but here it is shall shame thee.  Ran. 
methinks when thou stood in the sun with thy Feather on thy head, and thy Fan in thy hand, thou look'st like the Phoenix of the East Indies, burning in spices, for Cloves, Mace, and Nutmegs are in thy breath.  Smi. 
She would make an excellent wassail-bowl.  Lan. 
Again.  Smi. 
I have done.  Ran. 
The Apples of thy breast are like the Lemons of Arabia, which makes the vessel so sweet it can never smell of the Cask.  Fre. 
If she should that might prove the brewer's fault.  Ran. 
Being come to your middle I must draw to an end, for my end is at the middle because of the Proverb. In Medio consistet virtus, and so I conclude: yours while mine own, and afterward if it were possible Marmaduke Ranoff.  Smi. 
Well now let me run on, judgement I crave.  Fre. 
Which thou shalt have.  Smir. 
Illustrious, bright shining, well spoken, and blood stirring Lady.  Lan. 
ay, marry Sir.  Smir. 
If the Rope of my Capacity, could reach to the Belfry of your Beauty, these words of mine like silver Bells, might be worthy to hang in the ears of your favour but the Ladder of my Invention is too low to climb up to the Steeple of your Understanding.  All. 
Excellent Smirke.  Smir. 
If it were not, I should ring out my mind to you in a sweet Peal of most savoury conceits. For your face it is like the Sun, no man is able to endure it.  All 
That's very good.  Smi. 
Your forehead which I will neither compare unto Alabaster, nor to the Lily, but it is as it is, and so are both your eyes, for your Nose, it is a well arched Bridge, which for brevity's sake I pass over: your Cheeks are like a good Comedy, worthy to be clapped: your Lips, and your Teeth are incomparable; your Tongue like the instrument of Orpheus, able to tame the furies: to handle every part of you were too much, but some particular part, no man can sufficient.  Fre. 
Prithee let me give thee a box on the care, for that conceit.  Smi. 
No my good Lord, pray keep your bounties.  
From top to toe you are a sweet vessel of delight, I dare not say a Barrel, for oftentimes with much jolting, the Brewer beats out the Bunghole, and so the good liquour runs out, but you contain yours although not hooped about with the old fashioned farthingale, but after the new fashion tied up with points, to untruss at your pleasure, In which pleasure I leave you, fairest of a hundred, and wittiest of a thousand: resting in little rest, till I rest wholly yours, in the down-bed of affection, wherever standing to my utmost, I rest all in all yours.  Fre. 
Could any man say more.  Ran. 
Your censures hereafter Gentlemen; now Sir I challenge you in verse, in praise of tall women, and little women, and choose your subject, which you refuse I'll take.  Smir. 
Why then I'll take your little women.  Ran. 
And I your lusty— proceed.  Lan. 
ay, here will be some sport now.  Dor. 
The Duke calls to see the Epistles.  Fre. 
And they are worth his perusal.  Land. 
We must have Patience, for this verse wonot come of so roundly as your Prose.  Ber. 
Best have a song to entertain the time.  Land. 
'Twere not a miss.  
Music—  A song. Ranof. 
Scripsi.  Smir. 
Sed non feci, Stay a little, here's a couple of lines, a halter on 'em, they wonot twist handsomely, go forward I have ended.  Lan. 
Attention.  Ran. 
Listen you tall and likewise you low man,  
I sing the praises of a bouncing woman.  
A full well set big-boned and fairly jointed,  
Fit to bid welcome men that are best appointed.  Land. 
Excellent.  Ran. 
To your tall woman your little one is nothing,  
No more than is a high thing to a low thing.  All 
That's true.  Ran. 
For your small Dandiprat, I hope there's no man  
That thinks her but a hobby horse to woman.  
A thing to be forgot and never known,  
But on a Holiday to the rout shown.  
In wars the basilisk is preferred  
Before the Musket, and is louder heard.  Lan. 
There's an error little and loud my friend, but pass it.  Ran. 
In every triumph where there is excess,  
The greater always putteth down the less.  
The Lioness is more admired at,  
Than her Epitome, which is a Cat.  Lan. 
The fool grows serious.  Fre. 
He has stolen it certainly.  Lan. 
No faith, it may be his own, for I think his brain  
a little crazed, and mad men shoot forth strange things.  Ran. 
But to weak understandings now I come,  
Is your small Taber music to your Drum.  Smir. 
Hum Drum, he has lightened within an Inch of a conceit of mine.  Ran. 
Or in instrument of peace, can there that trial  
Be made upon a Kit as a base viol.  
Judge you my Masters, that on both have played,  
It is but my opinion, and I have said.  Fre. 
Believe it he has said well, Smirke look to yourself.  Smir. 
I warrant you. Give me audience.  All. 
Silence.  Smir. 
In praise of little women I begin.  
And will maintain what I have entered in.  
Is not your Parochit or Marmoset  
In more request than your Baboon or parrot.  
Give but your little wench freely her liquour,  
And to bed send her you will find her quicker;  
perter, nimbler, both to kiss and cog,  
Than your great wench that'll lie like a log.  
And he that all day at the Drum doth labour,  
Would at night gladly play upon a Taber.  
I hope there's no man, but of this belief,  
That veal's more sweet and nourishing then Beef:  
Small meats is still preferred; for ask your glutton,  
he'll always say, Lamb's sweeter than your Mutton.  
Your Smelled than Whiting firmer is and sounder,  
Nor must your Place compare with your neat Flounder.  Fred. 
Well said, now thou art in good victuals thou'lt never out.  Smir. 
In fish or flesh I'll prove it to each wight,  
A Larks leg, than the body of a Kite  
Is better far: our Bakers always make  
The finest flower in the lesser Cake.  
And I'll be judge by those that Roots do eat,  
That your small turnip's better than your great.  Land. 
I am of thy mind too.  Smir. 
Who list to be resolved, let 'em both try;  
In that belief I live, in that I'll die.  Fred. 
Incomparable Smirke, thou hast my voice: judgement.  All. 
A Smirk, a Smirk.  Coronets. Lan. 
Loath to grow tedious, yet once more we would try  
To give content out of variety.  Music. 
With once dance more this night sports we'll end,  
Your pardon if with too much zeal we offend.  Duke 
Landoff we thank thee, and wish if any be,  
All that are here, be pleased as well as we.    
FINIS