THE GENTLEMAN USHER. By GEORGE CHAPMAN.  
 
AT LONDON Printed by V. S. for Thomas Thorpe. 1606.   
THE GENTLEMAN Usher.  

ACTVS PRIMVS,  
SCAENA PRIMA.  Enter Strozza, Cynanche, and Pogio. Strozza. 
HAste nephew, what, a sluggard? Fie for shame, Shall he that was our morning Cock, turn Owl, And lock out day light from his drowsy eyes?  Pog. 
Pray pardon me for once, lord uncle, for I'll be sworn, I had such a dream this morning: methought one came with a commission to take a Sorrel curtal, that was stolen from him, wheresoever he could find him. And because I feared he would lay claim to my sorrel curtal in my stable I ran to the Smith to have him set on his mane again, and his tail presently, that the Commission-man might not think him a curtal. And when the Smith would not do it, I fell a beating of him, so that I could not wake for my life till I was revenged on him.  Cyn. 
This is your old valour nephew, that will fight sleeping as well as waking.  Pog. 
'slud Aunt, what if my dream had been true (as it might have been for any thing I knew) there's never a smith in italy, shall make an Ass of me in my sleep, if I can choose.  Stroz. 

Well said, my furious nephew: but I see  
You quite forget that we must rouse today  
The sharp-tusked Boar: and blaze our huntsmanship before the duke.   Pog. 
Forget Lord uncle? I hope not; you think belike my wits are as brittle as a Beetle, or as skittish as your barbary Mare: one cannot cry we-hee, but straight she cries tihi.  Stro. 
Well guest cousin Hysteron Proteron.  Pog. 
But which way will the Duke's grace hunt today?  Stro. 
Toward Count lasso's house his Grace will hunt, Where he will visit his late honoured mistress.  Pog. 
Who Lady Margaret, that dear young dame? Will his antiquity, never lean his iniquity?  Cyn. 
Why how now nephew? turned Parnassus lately?  Pog. 
Nassus? I know not: but I would I had all the dukes living for her sake, I'd make him a poor duke i'faith.  Stro. 
No doubt of that, if thou hadst all his living.  Pog. 
I would not stand dreaming of the matter as I do now.  Cyn. 
Why how do you dream nephew?  Pog. 
Mary all last night methought I was tying her shoestring.  Stro. 
What all night tying her shoestring?  Pog. 
I that I was, and yet I tied it not neither; for as I was tying it, the string broke methought, and then methought, having but one point at my hose, methought, I gave her that to tie her shoe with all.  Cyn. 
A point of much kindness I assure you.  Pog. 
Whereupon, in the very nick methought the Count came rushing in, and I ran rushing out, with my heels about my hose for haste.  Stro. 
So, will you leave your dreaming, and dispatch?  Pog. 
Mum, not a word more, I'll go before, and overtake you presently.  Exit. Cyn. 

My Lord I fancy not these hunting sports,  
When the bold game you follow turns again,  
And stars you in the face: let me behold  
A cast of Falcons on their merry wings,  
Daring the stooped prey, that shifting flies:  
Or let me view the fearful Hare or Hind,  
tossed like a music point with harmony  
Of well mouthed hounds. This is a sport for Princes,  
The other rude Boars yield fit game for Boors.   Stro. 

Thy timorous spirit blinds thy judgement, wife,  
Those are most royal sports that most approve  
The huntsman's prowess, and his hardy mind.   Cyn. 

My Lord, I know too well your virtuous spirit,  
Take heed for God's love if you rouse the Boar,  
You come not near him, but discharge aloof  
Your wounding Pistol, or well aimed Dart.   Stro. 

I Mary wife this counsel rightly flows  
Out of thy bosom, pray thee take less care,  
Let Ladies at their tables judge of Boars,  
Lords in the field: And so farewell sweet love;  
Fail not to meet me at Earl lasso's house.   Cyn. 
Pray pardon me for that: you know I love not These solemn meetings.  Stro. 

You must needs, for once  
Constrain your disposition; and indeed  
I would acquaint you more with Lady Margaret,  
For special reason.   Cyn. 
Very good, my Lord. Then I must needs go fit me for that presence.  Stro. 
I pray thee do, farewell.  Exit Cyn. 
Here comes my friend.  Enter Uincentio. 

Good day my Lord; why does your grace confront  
So clear a morning with so cloudy looks?   Vin. 

Ask'st thou my griefs, that know'st my desperate love  
curbed by my father's stern reality:  
Must not I mourn that know not whether yet  
I shall enjoy a stepdame or a wife?   Stro. 

A wife prince, never doubt it; your deserts  
And youthful graces have engaged so far,  
The beauteous Margaret, that she is your own.   Vin. 

O but the eye of watchful jealousy  
Robs my desires of meanest enjoy her favour.   Stro. 

Despair not: there are means enough for you,  
Suborn some servant of some good respect,  
That's near your choice, who though she needs no wooing,  
May yet imagine you are to begin,  
Your strange young love suit, and so speak for you,  
Bear your kind letters, and get safe access.  
All which when he shall do; you need not fear  
His trusty secrecy, because he dares not  
Reveal escapes, where of himself is Author,  
Whom you may best attempt, she must reveal;  
For if she loves you, she already knows,  
And in an instant can resolve you that.   Vin. 

And so she will, I doubt not: would to heaven  
I had fit time, even now to know her mind:  
This counsel feeds my heart with much sweet hope.   Stro. 

Pursue it then; 'twill not be hard t'effect:  
The Duke has none for him, but Medice  
That fustian Lord, who in his buckram face,  
Bewrays, in my conceit, a map of baseness.   Vin. 

ay, there's a parcel of unconstrued stuff,  
That unknown Minion raised to honour's height,  
Without the help of Virtue, or of Art,  
Or (to say true) nay of honest part:  
O how she shames my father! he goes like  
A PRINCE's footman, in old fashioned silks,  
And most times, in his hose and doublet only,  
So miserable, that his own few men  
Do beg by virtue of his livery;  
For he gives none for any service done him,  
Or any honour, any least reward.   Stro. 

'tis pity such should live about a Prince:  
I would have such a noble counterfeit, nailed  
Upon the Pillory, and after, whipped  
For his adultery with nobility,   Vin. 

Faith I would fain disgrace him by all means,  
As enemy to his base-bred ignorance,  
That being a great Lord, cannot write nor read.   Stro. 

For that, we'll follow the blind side of him,  
And make it sometimes subject of our mirth.   Enter Pogioposte. Vin. 
See, what news with your Nephew Pogio?  Stro. 
None good I warrant you.  Pog. 
Where should I find my Lord Uncle?  Stro. 
What's the huge haste with you?  Pog. 
O ho, you will hunt today.  Stro. 
I hope I will.  Pog. 
But you may hap to hop without your hope: for the truth is, Kilbucke is run mad.  Stro. 
What's this?  Pog. 
Nay, 'tis true sir: and Kilbucke being run mad, bit Ringwood so by the left buttock, you might have turned your nose in it.  Vin. 
Out Ass.  Pog. 
By heaven you might my Lord: d''ee think I he?  Vin. 
'Zounds, might I? let's blanket him my Lord: a blanket here.  Pog. 
Nay, good my Lord Vincentio, by this rush I tell you for good will: and Venus your brach there, runs so proud, that your Hunt's man cannot take her down for his life.  Stro. 
Take her up fool, thou wouldst say.  Pog. 
Why sir, he would soon take her down and he could take her up I warrant her.  Uin. 
Well said, ham mer, hammer.  Po. 
Nay, good now let's alone, and there's your horse, Grey Strozza too has the staggers, and has struck bay. Bettrice, your Barbary mare so, that she goes halting a this fashion, most filthily.  Stro. 

What poison blisters thy unhappy tongue  
Evermore braying forth unhappy news,  
Our hunting sport is at the best my Lord:  
How shall I satisfy the Duke your father,  
Defrauding him of his expected sport?  
See, see, he comes.   Enter Alphonso, Medice, Sarpego, with attendants. Alph. 
Is this the copy of the speech you wrote, Signieur Sarpego?  Sar. 

It is a blaze of wit poetical,  
Read it, brave Duke, with eyes pathetical.   Alp. 

We will peruse it straight: well met Vincentio,  
And good Lord Strozza, we commend you both  
For your attendance: but you must conceive,  
'tis no true hunting we intend today,  
But an inducement to a certain show,  
Wherewith we will present our beauteous love,  
And therein we bespeak your company.   Vin. 
We both are ready to attend your Highness.  Alp. 

See then, here is a Poem that requires  
Your worthy censures; offered if it like  
To furnish our intended amorous show:  
Read it Vincentio.   Vin. 
Pardon me my Lord, Lord Medici's reading, will express it better,  Med. 

My patience can digest your scoffs my Lord.  
I care not to proclaim it to the world:  
I can nor write, nor read; and what of that?  
I can both see and hear, as well as you.   Alp. 
Still are your wits at war: here, read this poem.  Vin. 

The red faced Sun hath firked the floundering shades,  
And cast bright ammell on Aurora's brow.   Alp. 

High words and strange:  
Read on Vincentio.   Vin. 
The busky groves that gag-toothed boars do shroud With cringle-crange horns do ring aloud.  Pog. 
My Lord, my Lord, I have a speech here worth ten of this, and yet I'll mend it too.  Alp. 
How likes Vincentio?  Vin. 

It is strangely good,  
No inkhorn ever did bring forth the like,  
Could these brave prancing words with Actions spur,  
Be ridden thoroughly, and managed right,  
'twould fright the audience, and perhaps delight.   Sarp. 
Doubt you of action sir?  Vin. 
ay, for such stuff.  Sarp. 

Then know my Lord, I can both act and teach  
To any words; when I in Padua schooled it,  
I played in one of Plautus Comedies,  
Namely, Curculto, where his part I acted,  
Projecting from the poor sum of four lines,  
Forty fair actions.   Alp. 
Let's see that I pray.  Sarp. 

Your Highness shall command,  
But pardon me, if in my action's heat  
Entering in post post haste I chance to take up  
Some of your honoured heels;   Po. 
you'd best leave out that action for a thing that I know sir.  Sarp. 
Then shall you see what I can do without it.  Alp. 
See see, he hath his furniture and all.  Sarp. 

You must imagine, Lords, I bring good news,  
Whereof being princely proud I scour the street  
And over-tumble every man I meet.   Exit Sarp. Pog. 
Beshrew my heart if he take up my heels.  Enter Sarp. Sarp. 

Date viam mihi Noti, atque Ignoti.  
Dum ego, hîc, officium meum facio.  
Fugite omnes atque abite, & de via secedite, ne quem  
in cursu; aut capite, aut cubito, aut pectore offendam, aut genu.   Alp. 

Thanks good Seigneur Sarpego.  
How like you Lords, this stirring action?   Stro. 

In a cold morning it were good my Lord.  
But something harsh upon repletion.   Sarp. 

Sir I have ventured, being enjoined to eat  
Three scholars commons, and yet drew it neat.   Pogio. 
Come sir, you meddle in too many matters; let us I pray tend on our own show at my lord Lassos.  Sarp. 

Doing obeisance then to every lord  
I now consort you sir even toto cord.   Exit. Sarp. & Pog Med. 

My lord, away with these scholastic wits,  
Lay the invention of your speech on me,  
And the performance too; i'll play my part,  
that you shall say, Nature yields more than Art.   Alp. 

Be't so resolved; unartificial truth  
An unfeigned passion can decipher best.   Vin. 
But 'twill be hard my lord, for one unlearned.  Med. 
unlearned? I cry you mercy sir; unlearned?  Vin. 

I mean, untaught my lord, to make a speech,  
As a pretended Actor, without close,  
More gracious than your doublet and your hose.   Alph. 

What, think you son we mean t'express a speech  
Of special weight without a like attire?   Vin. 
Excuse me then my lord; so stands it well.  Stro. 
has brought them rarely in, to pageant him.  Med. 

What; think you lord; we think not of attire?  
Can we not make us ready at this age?   Stro. 
Alas my lord, your wit must pardon his.  Vin. 
I hope it will, his wit is pitiful.  Stro. 
I pray stand by my Lord; you're troublesome.  Vin. 
To none but you; am I to you my Lord?  Med. 
Not unto me.  Vin. 
Why then you wrong me Strozza.  Med. 
Nay, fall not out my Lords.  Stro. 

May I not know  
What your speech is my Liege?   Alp. 
None but myself, and the Lord Medice.  Med. 

No, pray my Lord  
Let none partake with us.   Alp. 

No be assured,  
But for another cause; a word Lord Strozza,  
I tell you true, I fear Lord Medice  
Will scarce discharge the speech effectually:  
As we go therefore, i'll explain to you  
My whole intent; that you may second him  
If need and his debility require.   Stro. 
Thanks for this grace my Liege.  Vincentio overheares. Med. 
My Lord; your son.  Alp. 

Why how now son? forbear; yet 'tis no matter  
we talk of other business Medice  
And come, we will prepare us to our show.   Exeunt. Stro. Vin. 
Which as we can, we'll cast to overthrow.  Enter Lasso, Corteza, Margaret, Bassiolo, Sarpego, two Pages, Bassiolo bore before. Bas. 
Stand by there, make place.  Lass. 

Say now Bassiolo; you on whom relies  
The general disposition of my house,  
In this our preparation, for the Duke  
Are all our officers at large instructed,  
For fit discharge of their peculiar places?   Bass. 
At large my lord instructed.  Lass. 
Are all our chambers hung? Think you our house amply capacious to lodge all the train?  Bass. 

Amply capacious: I am passing glad.  
And now then to our mirth and musical show,  
Which after supper we intend t'endure,  
Welcomes chief dainties: for choice cates at home,  
Ever attend on Princes; mirth abroad,  
Are all parts perfect.   Sarp. 
One I know there is.  Lass. 
And that is yours.  Sarp. 

Well guest in earnest Lord,  
I need not erubescere, to take  
So much upon me: That my back will bear.   Bass. 

Nay, he will be perfection itself,  
For wording well, and dexterous action too.   Lass. 
And will these waggish pages, hit their songs?  2 Pag. 
Remi fa solla?  Lass. 

O they are practising; good boys, well done;  
But where is Pogio? there you're overshot.  
To lay a capital part upon his brain,  
Whose absence tells me plainly he'll neglect him.   Bass. 

O no my Lord, he dreams of nothing else,  
And gives it out in wagers, he'll excel;  
And see, (I told your Lo:) he is come.   Enter Pogio. Pog. 
How now my Lord, have you borrowed a Snite for me: Seigneur Bassiolo, can all say, are all things ready? the Duke is hard by, and little thinks that I'll be an Actor i'faith, I keep all close my Lord.  Lass. 

O, 'tis well done, call all the Ladies in,  
Sister and daughter, come, for God's sake come,  
Prepare your courtliest carriage for the Duke.   Enter Corte, Margaritae, and maid. 

Corte And Niece, in any case remember this,  
Praise the old man, and when you see him first,  
Look me on none but him, smiling and lovingly:  
And then, when he comes near, make 'beisance low,  
With both your hands thus moving, which not only  
Is as 'twere courtly, and most comely too,  
But speaks (as who should say) come hither Duke;  
And yet says nothing, but you may deny.   Lass. 
Well taught sister.  Mar. 

ay, and too much end:  
I am exceeding fond to humour him.   Lass. 
Hark, does he come with music? what, and bound?  
An amorous device: daughter, observe.  Enter Enchanter, with spirits singing; after them; Medice, like Sylvanus, next the Duke bound, Vincentio, Strozza, with other. Vin. 

Now let's gull Medice, I do not doubt,  
But this attire put on, will put him out.   Stro. 
we'll do our best to that end, therefore mark.  Ench. 

Lady, or Princess, both your choice commands.  
These spirits and I, all servants of your beauty,  
Present this royal captive to your mercy.   Mar. 
Captive to me a subject.  Vin. 

ay, fair Nymph;  
And how the worthy mystery befell  
Sylvanus here, this wooden god can tell.   Alp. 
Now my Lord.  Vin. 
Now is the time man, speak.  Med. 
Peace.  Alp. 
Peace Vincentio.  Vin. 

'swounds my Lord,  
Shall I stand by and suffer him to shame you?  
My Lord Medice?   Stro. 
Will you not speak my Lord?  Med. 
How can I?  Vin. 

But you must speak in earnest:  
Would not your Highness have him speak my Lord?   Med. 

Yes, and I will speak, and perhaps speak so,  
As you shall never mend: I can I know.   Vin. 
Do then my good Lord.  Alp. 
Medice, forth.  Med. 
Goddess, fair goddess, for no less, no less.  Alp. 
No. less, no less? no more, no more: speak you.  Med. 
'swounds they have put me out.  Vin. 

Laugh your fair goddess,  
This nobleman disdains to be your fool.   Alp. 
Vincentio, peace.  Vin. 

'swounds my Lord, it is as good a show:  
Pray speak Lord Strozza.   Stroz. 
Honourable dame.  Vin. 
Take heed you be not out I pray my Lord.  Stro. 

I pray forbear my Lord Vincentio:  
How this distressed Prince came thus enthralled,  
I must relate with words of height and wonder:  
His Grace this morning visiting the woods,  
And straying far, to find game for the Chase,  
At last, out of a myrtle grove he roused  
A vast and dreadful Boar, so stern and fierce,  
As if the Fiend fell Cruelty herself  
Had come to fright the woods in that strange shape.   Alp. 
Excellent good.  Vin. 
Too good a plague on him.  Stro. 

The princely Savage being thus on foot,  
Tearing the earth up with his thundering hoof,  
And with th'enraged Aetna of his breath.  
Firing the air, and scorching all the woods,  
Horror held all us Huntsmen from pursuit,  
Only the Duke incensed with our cold fear,  
encouraged like a second Hercules.   Vin. 
Zounds, too good man.  Stro. 

Pray thee let me alone:  
And like the English sign of great Saint George.   Vin. 
Plague of that Simile.  Stro. 

Gave valorous example, and like fire,  
Hunted the monster close, and charged so fierce,  
That he enforced him (as our sense conceived)  
To leap for soil into a crystal spring,  
Where on the sudden strangely vanishing,  
nymph-like for him, out of the waves arose  
Your sacred figure like Diana armed,  
And (as in purpose of the beast's revenge)  
discharged an arrow through his highness breast,  
Whence yet no wound or any blood appeared:  
With which, the angry shadow left the light:  
And this Enchanter with his power of spirits,  
broke from a cave, scattering enchanted sounds,  
That struck us senseless, while in these strange bands,  
These cruel spirits thus enchained his arms,  
And led him captive to your heavenly eyes,  
Th'intent whereof on their report relies.   En. 

Bright Nymph, that Boar figured your cruelty,  
Chared by love, defended by your beauty.  
This amorous Huntsman here, we thus enthralled,  
As the attendants on your grace's charms,  
And brought him hither by your bounteous hands.  
To be released, or live in endless bands.   Lass. 

Daughter, release the Duke: alas my Liege.  
What meant your Highness to endure this wrong?   Co. 
Enlarge him Niece, come dame, it must be so.  Mar. 
What Madam, shall I arrogate so much?  Lass. 
His highness pleasure is to grace you so.  Alp. 

Perform it then sweet love, it is a deed  
Worthy the office of your honoured hand.   Mar. 

Too worthy I confess my Lord for me,  
If it were serious: but it is in sport,  
And women are fit Actors for such pageants.   Alp. 

Thanks gracious love; why made you strange of this?  
I rest no less your captive then before,  
For me untying, you have tied me more.  
Thanks Strozza for your speech, no thanks to you.   Med. 
No, thank your son my Lord.  Lass. 

'twas very well,  
Exceeding well performed on every part,  
How say you Bassiolo?   Bass. 
Rare I protest my Lord.  Cor. 

O, my Lord Medice became it rarely,  
methought I liked his manly being out;  
It becomes Noblemen to do nothing well.   Lass. 

Now then will't please your Grace to grace our house,  
And still vouchsafe our service further honour.   Al. 
Lead us my Lord, we will your daughter lead.  Exit. Vin. 
You do not lead, but drag her leaden steps.  Stro. 
How did you like my speech?  Vin. 
O fie upon't, your Rhetoric was too fine.  Stro. 

Nothing at all:  
I hope saint George's sign was gross enough:  
But (to be serious) as these warnings pass,  
Watch you your father, I'll watch Medice,  
That in your love-suit, we may shun suspect:  
To which end, with your next occasion, urge  
Your love to name the person she will choose,  
By whose means you may safely write or meet.   Vin. 
That's our chief business: and see, here she comes.  Enter Margaret in haste. Mar. 

My Lord, I only come to say, you're welcome,  
And so must say, farewell.   Uin. 
One word I pray.  Mar. 
What's that?  Vin. 

You needs must presently devise,  
What person trusted chiefly with your guard,  
You think is aptest for me to corrupt,  
In making him a mean for our safe meeting?   Mar. 

My father's Usher, none so fit,  
If you can work him well: and so farewell,  
With thanks my good Lord Strozza for your speech.   Exit. Stro. 
I thank you for your patience, mocking Lady.  Vin. 

O what a fellow has she picked us out?  
One that I would have choosed past all the rest,  
For his close stockings only.   Stro. 

And why not?  
For the most constant fashion of his hat?   Vin. 

Nay then, if nothing must be left unspoke,  
For his strict form, thus still to wear his cloak.   Stro. 

Well sir, he is your own, I make no doubt:  
For to these outward figures of his mind,  
He hath two inward swallowing properties  
Of any gudgeons; servile Avarice,  
And overweening thought of his own worth,  
Ready to snatch at every shade of glory:  
And therefore, till you can directly board him,  
Waft him aloof with hats, and other favours,  
Still as you meet him.   Vin. 

Well, let me alone,  
He that is one man's slave, is free from none.   Exit. 
Finis Actus Primi.   

ACTVS SECVNDVS  
SCAENA PRIMA.  Enter Medice, Corteza a Page with a cup of sack, Strozza following close. Med: 

Come Lady, sit you here: Page, fill some Sack,  
I am to work upon this aged Dame,  
To glean from her, if there be any cause  
(In loving others) of her nieces coins  
To the most gracious love suit of the Duke:  
Here noble Lady, this is healthful drink  
After our supper.   Corteza 

O, 'tis that my Lord,  
That of all drinks keeps life and soul in me.   Med. 

Here, fill it Page, for this my worthy love:  
O how I could embrace this good old widow.   Cort. 

Now lord, when you do thus, you make me think  
Of my sweet husband; for he was as like you;  
e'en the same words, and fashion: the same eyes,  
Manly, and choleric, e'en as you are just,  
And e'en as kind as you for all the world.   Med. 
O my sweet widow, thou dost make me proud.  Cort: 
Nay, I am too old for you.  Med: 

Too old, that's nothing,  
Come pledge me wench, for I am dry again,  
And straight will charge your widowhood fresh i'faith:  
Why that's well done.   Cort: 
Now fie on't, here's a draft.  Med: 

O, it will warm your blood: if you should sip,  
'twould make you heart burnt.   Cort: 

Faith and so they say:  
Yet I must tell you, since I plied this gear,  
I have been haunted with a whoreson pain here,  
And every moon almost with a shrewd fever,  
And yet I cannot leave it: for thank God,  
I never was more sound of wind and limb.   Enter Strozza. A great bombasted leg. 

Look you, I warrant you I have a leg,  
Holds out as handsomely.   Med. 

Beshrew my life,  
But 'tis a leg indeed, a goodly limb.   Stro. 
This is most excellent.  Med. 

O that your Niece  
Were of as mild a spirit as yourself.   Cort. 

Alas Lord Medice, would you have a girl.  
As well seen in behaviour as I?  
Ah she's a fond young thing, and grown so proud,  
The wind must blow at west still, or she'll be angry.   Med. 

Mass so methink; how coy she's to the duke?  
I lay my life she has some younger love.   Cort. 
Faith like enough.  Med. 
God's me, who should it be?  Cort. 

If it be any; Page, a little Sack.  
If it be any: hark now; if it be,  
I know not, by this Sack, but if it be,  
Mark what I say, my Lord; I drink tee first.   Med. 

Well said good widow, much good do thy heart,  
So; now what if it be?   Cort. 

Well, if it be;  
To come to that I said, for so I said,  
If it be any, 'tis the Shrewd young Prince,  
For eyes can speak, and eyes can understand,  
And I have marked her eyes; yet by this cup,  
Which I will only kiss.   Stro. 

O noble Crone,  
Now such a huddle and kettle never was.   Cort. 

I never yet have seen; not yet I say,  
But I will mark her after for your sake.   Med. 

And do I pray; for it is passing like;  
And there is Strozza, a sly Counsellor  
To the young boy: O I would give a limb,  
To have their knavery limned and painted out.  
They stand upon their wits and paper learning:  
Give me a fellow with a natural wit,  
That can make wit of no wit; and wade through  
Great things with nothing, when their wits stick fast,  
O they be scurvy Lords.   Cort. 

Faith so they be,  
Your Lordship still is of my mind in all,  
And e'en so was my husband.   Mid. 

God's my life,  
Strozza hath eavesdropped here, and overheard us.   Stro. 

They have descried me; what Lord Medice  
Courting the lusty widow?   Med. 

ay, and why not?  
Perhaps one does as much for you at home.   Stro. 
What, choleric man? and toward wedlock too?  Cort. 
And if he be my Lord; he may do worse.  Stro. 
If he be not; madame he may do better.  Enter Bassiolo with servants with Rushes, and a Carpet. Bass. 

My Lords, and madam, the Duke's grace entreats you  
T'attend his new-made Duchess for this night,  
Into his presence.   Stro. 
We are ready sir.  Exeunt. Bass. 

Come strew this room afresh; spread here this carpet,  
Nay quickly man, I pray thee; this way fool,  
Lay me it smooth, and Even; look if he will;  
This way a little more: a little there.  
Hast thou no forecast? 'sblood methinks a man  
Should not of mere necessity be an Ass.  
Look how he strews here too: Come sir Giles Goosecap,  
I must do all myself, lay me 'em thus:  
In fine smooth threaves, look you sir, thus in threaves.  
Perhaps some tender Lady will squat here,  
And if some standing Rush should chance to prick her,  
she'd squeak & spoil the songs that must be sung.   Stro. 

See where he is; now to him, and prepare  
Your familiarity.   Enter Vin. and Stroz. Vin. 

Save you master Bassiolo,  
I pray a word sir; but I fear I let you.   Bass. 
No my good Lord, no let.  Vin. 

I thank you sir.  
Nay pray be covered; O I cry you mercy,  
You must be bare.   Bass. 
Ever to you my Lord,  Vin. 

Nay, not to me sir,  
But to the fair right of your worshipful place.   Stro. 
A shame of both your worships.  Bass. 
What means your Lordship?  Vin. 

Only to do you right sir, and myself ease.  
And what sir, will there be some show tonight?   Bass. 

A slender presentation of some music  
And some thing else my Lord.   Vin. 

'tis passing good sir,  
I'll not be over bold t'ask the particulars.   Bass. 
Yes, if your Lordship please.  Vin. 

O no good sir,  
But I did wonder much; for as methought  
I saw your hands at work.   Bass. 

Or else my Lord  
Our business would be but badly done.   Vin. 

How virtuous is a worthy man's example?  
Who is this throne for pray?   Bass. 

For my Lord's daughter,  
Whom the duke makes to represent his duchess.   Vin. 

'twill be exceeding fit; and all this room  
Is passing well prepared; a man would swear,  
That all presentments in it would be rare.   Bass. 
Nay, see if thou canst lay 'em thus in threaves.  Vin. 
In threaves d'ee call it?  Bass. 
I my Lord in threaves.  Vin 

A pretty term:  
Well sir I thank you highly for this kindness,  
And pray you always make as bold with me  
For kindness more than this, if more may be.   Bass. 
O my Lord this is nothing.  Vin. 

Sir, 'tis much.  
And now i'll leave you sir; I know you're busy.   Bass. 
Faith sir a little.  Vin. 
I commend me tee Sir.  Exit Vin. Bass. 

A courteous prince believe it; I am sorry  
I was no bolder with him; what a phrase  
He used at parting! I commend me tee.  
I'll ha i'faith;   Enter Sarpego half dressed? Sarp. 

Good master Usher, will you dictate to me,  
Which is the part precedent of this nightcap,  
And which posterior? I do ignorare  
How I should wear it.   Bass. 

Why sir; this I take it  
Is the precedent part; ay, so it is.   Sarp. 
And is all well sir think you?  Bass. 
Passing well.  Enter Pogio, and Fungus. Pog. 

Why sir come on; the Usher shall be judge:  
See master Usher: this same Fungus here,  
Your Lords retainer, whom I hope you rule,  
Would wear this better jerkin for the rushman,  
When I do play the Broom-man; and speak first.   Fun. 
Why sir, I borrowed it, and I will wear it.  Pog. 
What sir, in spite of your Lords gentleman, Usher:  Fun. 

No spite sir, but you have changed twice already,  
And now would ha''t again.   Pog. 

Why that's all one sir,  
gentility must be fantastical.   Bass. 
I pray thee Fungus let master Pogio wear it.  Fun. 
And what shall I wear then?  Pog. 
Why here is one, that was a rush-man's jerkin, and I pray, were't not absurd then; a Broom-man should wear it?  Fun. 
Foe, there's a reason, I will keep it sir.  Pog. 

Will sir; then do your office master Usher,  
Make him put off his jerkin; you may pluck  
His coat over his cares, much more his jerkin.   Bass. 
Fungus you'd best be ruled.  Fun. 
Best sir! I care not.  Pog. 

No sir? I hope you are my Lords retainer.  
I need not care a pudding for your Lord:  
But spare not, keep it, for perhaps I'll play  
My part as well in this, as you in that,   Bass. 
Well said, master Pogio; my Lord shall know it.  Enter Corteza, with the Broom-wench, & Rush-wench in their petticoats, cloaks over them, with hats over their head-tires. Cort. 

Look master Usher, are these wags well dressed?  
I have been so in labour with truly.   Bass. 

Y'ave had a very good deliverance, Lady:  
How I did take her at her labour there,  
I use to gird these Ladies so sometimes.   Enter Lasso, with Sylvan and a Nymph, a man Bug, and a woman. 
1 I pray my Lord, must not I wear this hair?  Lass. 

I pray thee ask my Usher; Come, dispatch,  
The duke is ready: are you ready there?  
2 See master Usher; must he wear this hair?   1. Bug. 

Pray master Usher, where must I come in?  
2 Am not I well for a Bug, master Usher?   Bass. 

What stir is with these boys here, God forgive me,  
If 'twere not for the credit on't, I'd see  
Your apish trash attire, ere I'd endure this.  
1 But pray good master Usher.   Bass. 

Hence ye Brats,  
You stand upon your tire; but for your action  
Which you must use in singing of your songs,  
Exceeding dexterously and full of life,  
I hope you'll then stand like a sort of blocks,  
Without due motion of your hands, and heads,  
And wresting your whole bodies to your words,  
Look to't, you're best; and in; Go; All go in:   Pog. 
Come in my masters; let's be out anon.  Exeunt.. Lass. 
What, are all furnish well?  Bass. 
All well my Lord.  Lass. 
More lights than here, and let loud music sound.  Bass. 
Sound Music.  Exeunt. Enter Vincentio, Strozzabare, Margaret, Corteza, and Cynanche bearing her train. After her the duke whispering with Medice, Lasso with Bassiolo, etc. Alp. 

Advance yourself, fair Duchess to this Throne,  
As we have long since raised you to our heart,  
Better decorum never was beheld,  
Then twixt this state and you: And as all eyes  
Now fixed on your bright Graces think it fit,  
So frame your favour to continue it.   Mar. 

My Lord; but to obey your earnest will,  
And not make serious scruple of a joy,  
I scarce durst have presumed this minutes height.   Lass. 
Usher, cause other music; begin your show.  Bass. 
Sound Consort; warn the Pedant to be ready.  Cor. 
Madam, I think you'll see a pretty show.  Cyn. 
I can expect no less in such a presence.  Alp. 

Lo what attention and state beauty breeds,  
Whose moaning silence no shrill herald needs.   Enter Sarpego. Sar. 

Lords of high degree,  
And Ladies of low courtesy,  
I the Pedant here,  
Whom some call schoolmaster,  
Because I can speak best,  
Approach before the rest.   Vin. 
A very good reason.  Sar. 

But there are others coming,  
Without mask or mumming:  
For they are not ashamed,  
If need be, to be named,  
Nor will they hide their faces,  
In any place or places;  
For though they seem to come,  
Loaded with Rush, and Broom:  
The Broomeman you must know,  
Is seigneur Pogio,  
Nephew, as shall appear,  
To my Lord Strozza here.   Stro. 

O Lord, I thank you sir, you grace me much.  
And to this noble dame,  
Whom I with finger name.   Vin. 
A plague of that fools finger.  Sar. 

And women will ensue,  
Which I must tell you true,  
No women are indeed,  
But Pages made for need,  
To fill up women's places.  
By virtue of their faces,  
And other hidden graces.   

A hall, a hall; whist, still, be mum,  
For now with silver song they come.   Enter Pogio, Fungus, with the song Broom-maid, and Rush-maid. After which, Pogio. Pog. 

Heroes, and Heroines, of gallant strain,  
Let not these Brooms, motes in your eyes remain,  
For in the Moon, there's one bears withered bushes:  
But we (dear wights) do bear green brooms, green rushes,  
Where of these verdant herbals cleped Broom,  
Do pierce and enter every lady's room,  
And to prove them high borne, and no base trash,  
Water with which your phisnomies you wash,  
Is but a Broom. And more truth to deliver,  
Grim Hercules swept a stable with a river,  
The wind that sweeps foul clouds out of the air,  
And for you Ladies makes the welkin fair,  
Is but a Broom: and O Dan Titan bright,  
Most clerkly called the Scavenger of night,  
What art thou, but a very broom of gold?  
For all this world not to be cried nor sold;  
Philosophy, that passion sweeps from thought,  
Is the soul's Broom, and by all brave wits sought,  
Now if Philosophers but broom-men are,  
Each Broomeman then is a Philosopher.  
And so we come (gracing your gracious Graces)  
To sweep Cares cobwebs from your cleanly faces.   Alp. 
Thanks good master Broomeman,  Fun. 

For me Rushman then,  
To make Rush ruffle in a verse of ten,  
A Rush which now your heels do lie on here.   Vin. 
Cry mercy sir.  Fun. 

Was whilom used for a pungent spear,  
In that odd battle, never fought but twice  
(As Homer sings) betwixt the frogs and mice,  
Rushes make true-Love know; Rushes make rings,  
Your Rush maugre the beard of whiter springs:  
And when with gentle, amorous, lazy limbs,  
Each Lord with his fair Lady sweetly swims  
On these cool Rushes; they may with these babbles,  
Cradles for children make; children for cradles,  
And lest some Momus here might now cry push,  
Saying our pageant is not worth a Rush,  
Bundles of Rushes, lo, we bring along,  
To pick his teeth that bites them with his tongue.   Stro. 
See, see, that's Lord Medice.  Vin. 

God's me, my Lord,  
has he picked you out, picking of your teeth?   Med. 
What pick you out of that?  Stro. 

Not such stale stuff  
As you pick from your teeth.   Alp. 
Leave this war with Rushes,  
Good master pedant; pray forth with your show.  Sar. 

Lo thus far then (brave duke) you see  
Mere entertainment; Now our glee  
Shall march forth in morality:  
And this quaint Duchess here shall see  
The fault of virgin Nicety,  
First wooed with Rural courtesy,  
disburden them; prance on this ground,  
And make your exit with your Round.   Exeunt 

Well have they danced as it is meet,  
Both with their nimble heads and feet.  
Now, as our country girls held off,  
And rudely did their lovers scoff;  
Our Nymph likewise shall only glance  
By your fair eyes, and look askance  
Upon her female friend that woos her.  
Who is in plain field forced to lose her.  
And after them, to conclude all,  
The purlieu of our Pastoral.  
A female bug, and eke her friend,  
Shall only come and sing, and end   Bugs song. 

This Lady and Duchess we conclude,  
Fair Virgins must not be too rude:  
For though the rural wild and antic,  
Abused their loves as they were frantic;  
Yet take you in your ivory clutches,  
This noble Duke, and be his duchess.  
Thus thanking all for their tacete,  
I void the room, and cry valet.   Exit. Alp. 
Generally well, and pleasingly performed.  Mar. 

Now I resign this borrowed majesty,  
Which sat unseemly on my worthless head,  
With humble service to your highness hands.   Alp. 

Well you became it Lady, and I know  
All here could wish it might be ever so.   Stro. 
here's one says nay to that.  Vin. 
Plague on you, peace.  Lass. 

Now let it please your Highness to accept  
A homely banquet, to close these rude sports.   Alp. 
I thank your Lordship much.  Bass. 
Bring lights, make place.  Enter Pogio in his cloak and broom-man's attire. Pog. 
How d'ee my Lord?  Alp. 
O master broomeman, you did passing well.  Vin. 
A you mad slave you! you are a tickling Actor.  Pog. 

I was not out like my Lord Medice.  
How did you like me Aunt?   Cyn. 
O rarely, rarely.  Stro. 

O thou hast done a work of memory,  
And raised our house up higher by a story.   Vin. 
Friend, how conceit you my young mother here?  Cyn. 
Fitter for you my Lord, than for your father.  Vin. 
No more of that sweet friend, those are bugs words.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actus secundi.   

ACTVS TERTII  
SCAENA PRIMA.  Medice after the song, whispers alone with his servant. Med. 

Thou art my trusty servant and thou know'st,  
I have been ever bountiful Lord to thee,  
As still I will be: be thou thankful then,  
And do me now a service of import.   Ser. 
Any my Lord in compass of my life.  Med. 

Tomorrow then the Duke intends to hunt,  
Where Strozza my despiteful enemy,  
Will give attendance busy in the chase,  
Wherein (as if by chance, when others shoot  
At the wild Boar) do thou discharge at him,  
And with an arrow, cleave his cankered heart.   Ser. 
I will not fail my Lord.  Med. 

Be secret then.  
And thou to me shalt be the dearest of men.   Exeunt. Enter Vincentio, and Bassiolo. Vin. 

Now Vanity and Policy enrich me  
With some ridiculous fortune on this Usher.  
Where's Master Usher?   Bass. 
Now I come my Lord.  Vin. 
Besides, good sir, your show did show so well,  Bass. 
Did it in deed my Lord?  Vin. 

O sir, believe it;  
'twas the best fashioned and well ordered thing  
That ever eye beheld: and there withal,  
The fit attendance by the servants used,  
The gentle guise in serving every guest,  
In other entertainments; every thing  
About your house so sortfully disposed,  
That even as in a turnspit called a Jack,  
One vice assists another; the great wheels  
Turning but softly, make the less to whirr  
About their business; every different part  
Concurring to one commendable end:  
So, and in such conformance, with rare grace,  
Were all things ordered in your good lords house.   Bass. 
The most fit simile that ever was.  Vin. 

But shall I tell you plainly my conceit,  
Touching the man that I think caused this order?   Bass. 
I good my Lord.  Vin. 
You note my simile.  Bass. 
Drawn from the turnspit.  Uin. 

I see you have me,  
Even as in that quaint engine you have seen,  
A little man in shreds stand at the window,  
And seems to put all things in act about him,  
Lifting and pulling with a mighty stir,  
Yet adds no force to it, nor nothing does:  
So, (though your Lord be a brave Gentleman)  
And seems to do this business,  
He does nothing;  
Some man about him was the festival rob,  
That made him show so glorious and divine.   Bass. 
I cannot tell my Lord, yet I should know if any such there were.  Vin. 

Should know quoth you;  
I warrant you know: well, some there be  
Shall have the fortune to have such rare men,  
(Like brave beasts to their Arms) support their state,  
When others of as high a worth and breed,  
Are made the wasteful food of them they feed:  
What state hath your Lord made you for your service?   Bass. 

He has been my good Lord, for I can spend  
Some fifteen hundred crowns in lands a year,  
Which I have gotten since I served him first.   Vin. 
No more than fifteen hundred crowns a year?  Bass. 

It is so much as makes me like my Lord,  
Like a poor Gentleman.   Vin. 

Nay, 'tis pretty well:  
But certainly my nature does esteem  
Nothing enough for virtue; and had I  
The Duke my father's means, all should be spent,  
To keep brave men about me: but good sir,  
Accept this simple jewel at my hands,  
Till I can work persuasion of my friendship,  
With worthier arguments.   Bass. 

No good my Lord,  
I can by no means merit the free bounties  
You have bestowed beside.   Vin. 

Nay, be not strange,  
But do yourself right, and be all one man  
In all your actions, do not think but some  
Have extraordinary spirits like yourself,  
And will not stand in their society,  
On birth and riches: but on worth and virtue,  
With whom there is no niceness, nor respect  
Of others common friendship; be he poor  
Or basely borne, so he be rich in soul,  
And noble in degrees of qualities,  
He shall be my friend sooner than a King.   Bass. 
To a most kingly judgement in your lordship,  Vin. 
Faith sir I know not, but 'tis my vain humour.  Bass. 
O, 'tis an honour in a Nobleman.  Vin. 

Y'ave some lords now so politic and proud,  
They scorn to give good looks to worthy men.   Bass. 

O fie upon 'em; by that light my lord,  
I am but servant to a Nobleman,  
But if I would not scorn such puppet lords,  
Would I wear breathless.   Vin. 

You sir? so you may,  
For they will cog so when they wish to use men,  
With, pray be covered sir, I beseech you sit,  
who's there? wait of Master Usher to the door.  
O, these be godly gudgeons: where's the deeds?  
The perfect Nobleman?   Bass. 
O good my Lord.  Vin. 

Away, away, ere I would flatter so,  
I would eat rushes like lord Medici.   Bass. 
Well, well my Lord, would there were more such Princes.  Vin. 

Alas, 'twere pity sir, they would be gulled  
Out of their very skins.   Bass. 
Why how are you my lord?  Uin. 

Who I, I care not:  
If I beguiled where I profess plain love,  
'twill be their faults you know.   Bass. 
O 'twere their shames.  Vin. 

Well, take my jewel, you shall not be strange,  
I love not many words.   Bass. 
My lord, I thank you, I am of few words too.  Vin. 

'tis friendly said,  
You prove yourself a friend, and I would have you  
Advance your thoughts, and lay about for state,  
Worthy your virtues: be the Minion  
Of some great King or Duke: there's Medici,  
The Minion of my Father: O the Father!  
What difference is there? but I cannot flatter  
A word to wise men.   Bass. 
I perceive your Lordship.  Vin. 

Your Lordship? talk you now like a friend?  
Is this plain kindness?   Bass. 
Is it not my Lord?  Vin. 

A palpable flattering figure for men common:  
A my word I should think, if 'twere another,  
He meant to gull me.   Bass. 
Why 'tis but your due.  Vin. 

'tis but my due: if you'll be still a stranger:  
But as I wish to choose you for my friend,  
As I intend when God shall call my father,  
To do I can tell what: but let that pass,  
Thus 'tis not fit; let my friend be familiar,  
use not me Lordship, nor yet call me Lord,  
Nor my whole name Vincentio; but vince,  
As they call Jack or Will, 'tis now in use,  
Twixt men of no equality or kindness.   Bass. 
I shall be quickly bold enough my Lord.  Vin. 

Nay, see how still you use that coy term, Lord  
What argues this, but that you shun my friendship?   Bass. 
Nay, pray say not so.  Vin. 

Who should not say so?  
Will you afford me now no name at all?   Bass. 
What should I call you?  Vin. 

Nay, then 'tis no matter.  
But I told you Vince.   Bass. 
Why then my sweet Vince.  Vin. 

why so then; and yet still there is a fault,  
In using these kind words, without kind deeds:  
Pray thee embrace me too.   Bass. 
Why then sweet Vince.  Vin. 

Why now I thank you, 'sblood shall friends be strange?  
Where there is plainness, there is ever truth:  
And I will still be plain since I am true:  
Come let us lie a little, I am weary.   Bass. 
And so am I, I swear since yesterday.  Vin. 

You may sir by my faith; and sirrah, hark thee,  
What lordship wouldst thou wish to have i'faith,  
When my old father dies?   Bass. 
Who I? alas.  Vin. 

O not you, well sir, you shall have none,  
You are as coy a piece as your Lords daughter.   Bass. 
Who, my mistress?  Vin. 
Indeed, is she your Mistress?  Bass. 
i'faith sweet Vince, since she was three year old.  Vin. 
And are not we too friends?  Bass. 
Who doubts of that?  Vin. 
And are not two friends one?  Basis. 
Even man and wife.  Vin. 
Then what to you she is, to me she should be.  Bass. 
Why Vince, thou wouldst not have her?  Vin. 
O not I: I do not fancy any thing like you.  Bass. 
Nay but I pray thee tell me.  Vi. 
You do not mean to marry her yourself?  Bass. 
Not I by heaven.  Vin. 
Take heed now, do not gull me.  Bass. 
No by that candle.  Vin. 

Then will I be plain.  
Think you she dotes not too much on my father?   Bass. 
O yes, no doubt on't.  Van. 
Nay, I pray you speak.  Bass. 
You silly man you, she cannot abide him.  Vin. 
Why sweet friend pardon me, alas I knew not.  Bass. 

But I do note you are in some things simple,  
And wrong yourself too much.   Vin. 

Thank you good friend,  
For your plain dealing, I do mean so well.   Bass. 

But who saw ever summer mixed with winter?  
There must be equal years where firm love is.  
Could we two love so well so suddenly  
Were we not some thing equaller in years.  
Than he and she are?   Vi. 

I cry ye mercy sir, I know we could not, but yet be not too bitter,  
Considering love is fearful. And sweet friend,  
I have a letter t'entreat her kindness.  
Which if you would convey.   Bass. 
ay, if I would sir?  Vin. 
Why faith, dear friend, I would not die requiteless.  Bass. 

Would you not so sir?  
By heaven a little thing would make me box you,  
Which if you would convey? why not I pray?  
Which (friend) thou shalt convey.   Vin. 
Which friend, you shall then.  Bass. 
Well friend, and I will then.  Vin. 
And use some kind persuasive words for me?  Bass. 
The best I swear that my poor tongue can forge.  Vin. 

ay, well said, poor tongue: O 'tis rich in meekness;  
You are not known to speak well? You have won  
Direction of the Earl and all his house,  
The favour of his daughter, and all Dames  
That ever I saw, come within your sight,  
With a poor tongue? A plague a your sweet lips.   Bass. 

Well, we will do our best: And faith my Vince,  
She shall have an unwieldy and dull soul,  
If she be nothing moved with my poor tongue,  
Call it no better; Be it what it will.   Vin. 

Well said i'faith; Now if I do not think  
'tis possible, besides her bare receipt  
Of that my Letter, with thy friendly tongue.  
To get an answer of it, never trust me.   Bass. 
An answer man? 'sblood make no doubt of that.  Vin. 

By heaven I think so; now a plague of Nature,  
That she gives all to some, and none to others.   Bass. 

How I endear him to me! Come Vince, rise,  
Next time I see her, I will give her this:  
Which when she sees, she'll think it wondrous strange  
Love should go by descent, and make the son  
Follow the father in his amorous steps.   Vin. 

she needs must think it strange, that never yet saw  
I durst speak to her, or had scarce her sight.   Bass. 
Well Vince, I swear thou shalt both see and kiss her.  Uin. 
Swears my dear friend? by what?  Bass. 
even by our friendship.  Vin. 
O sacred oath! which, how long will you keep?  Bass. 

While there be bees in Hybla, or white swans  
In bright Meander; while the banks of Po  
Shall bear brave lilies; or Italian dames  
Be called the Bone robes of the world.   Vin. 

'tis elegantly said: and when I fail,  
Let there be found in Hybla hives no bees;  
Let no swans swim in bright Meander stream,  
Nor lilies spring upon the banks of Po,  
Nor let one fat Italian dame be found,  
But lean and brawn-fallen; ay, and scarcely sound.   Bass. 
It is enough, but let's embrace with all.  Exit. Vin. 
With all my heart.  Bass. 
So, now farewell sweet Vince.  Vin. 
Farewell my worthy friend, I think I have him.  Enter Bassiolo. Bass. 
I had forgot the parting phrase he taught me, I commend me t'ee sir.  Exit instant. Vin. 

At your wished service sir:  
O fine friend, he had forgot the phrase:  
How serious apish souls are in vain form:  
Well, he is mine, and he being trusted most  
With my dear jove, may often work our meeting,  
And being thus engaged, dare not reveal.   Enter Pogio in haste, Strozza following. Po. 
Horse, horse, horse, my lord, horse, your father is going a hunting.  Vit. 
My Lord horse? you ass you d''ee call my Lord horse?  Stro. 
Nay, he speaks huddles still, let's slit his tongue.  Po. 
Nay good uncle now, 'sblood, what captious, merchants you be; so the Duke took me up even now: my lord uncle here, and my old lord Lasso, by heaven you're all too witty for me, I am the veriest fool on you all, I'll be sworn.  Vin. 
Therein thou art worth us all, for thou know'st thyself.  Str. 
But your wisdom was in a pretty taking last night; was it not I pray?  Pog. 
O, for taking my drink a little? faith my Lord, for that you shall have the best sport presently with Madam Corteza, that ever was; I have made her so drunk, that she does nothing but kiss my Lord Medice.  
See she comes riding the Duke, she's passing well mounted, believe it.  Enter Alphonso, Corteza, Cynanche Bassiolo first, two women attendants, and huntsmen, Lasso. Alp. 
Good wench forbear.  Cort. 
My Lord, you must put forth yourself among Ladies, I warrant you have much in you, if you would show it; see, a cheek a twenty; the body of a George, a good leg still; still a good calf, and not slabby, nor hanging I warrant you; a brawn of a thumb here, and 'twere a pulled partridge; Niece Meg, thou shalt have the sweetest bedfellow on him, that ever called Lady husband; try him you shamefaced babble you, try him.  Mar. 
Good madam be ruled.  Cort. 
What a nice thing it is, my Lord, you must set forth this gear, and kiss her; i'faith you must; get you together and be naughts awhile, get you together.  Alp. 
Now what a merry harmless dame it is!  Cort. 
My Lord Medice, you are a right noble man, & will do a woman right in a wrong matter and need be; prav do you give the duke ensample upon me; you come a-wooing to me now; I accept it.  Lass. 
What mean you sister?  Cort. 
Pray my Lord away; consider me as I am, a woman.  Pog. 
Lord, how I have whittled her?  Cort. 
You come a-wooing to me now; pray thee Duke mark my Lord Medice; and do you mark me virgin; Stand you aside, my Lord, all, and you; give place; now my Lord Medice, put case I be strange a little, yet you like a man put me to it. Come kiss me my Lord, be not ashamed.  Med. 
Not I Madame, I come not a wooing to you.  Cort. 
.  Lass. 
Fie sister, you're too blame; pray will you go to your chamber  Cort. 
.  Lass. 
What's the matter?  Cort. 
D'ee think I am drunk?  Lass. 
I think so truly.  Cort. 
But are you sure I am drunk?  Lass. 
Else I would not think so.  Cort. 
But, I would be glad to be sure on't.  Lass. 
I assure you then.  Cort. 
Why then say nothing; & I'll begone Good bye lord, duke  
I'll come again anon.  Exit. Lass. 

I hope your Grace will pardon her my liege,  
For 'tis most strange; she's as discreet a dame  
As any in these countries, and as sober,  
But for this only humour of the cup   Alp. 

'tis good my Lord sometimes:  
Come, to our hunting; now 'tis time I think.   Omn 

The very best time of the day, my Lord.   Alp. 

Then my Lord, I will take my leave till night,  
Reserving thanks for all my entertainment,  
Till I return; in mean time, lovely dame,  
Remember the high state you last presented, Vin. & St. have all this while talked together a pretty way.  
And think it was not a mere festival show,  
But an essential type of that you are  
In full consent of all my faculties  
And hark you good my Lord.   Vin. 

See now, they whisper  
Some private order, (I dare lay my life)  
For a forced marriage betwixt my love and father,  
I therefore must make sure: and noble friends,  
I'll leave you all, when I have brought you forth,  
And seen you in the chase; meanwhile observe  
In all the time this solemn hunting lasts,  
My father and his minion Medice,  
And note, if you can gather any sign,  
That they have missed me, and suspect my being,  
If which fall out, send home my Page before.   Stro. 
I will not fail my Lord.  Medice whispers with I. Huntsman all this while. Med. 
Now take thy time.  Hunt. 
I warrant you my Lord, he shall not scape me.  Alp. 
Now my dear Mistress, till our sports intended end with my absence, I will take my leave.  Lass. 
Bassiolo, attend you on my daughter.  Exeunt Bass. 
I will my Lord.  Vin. 
Now will the sport begin; I think my love Will handle him, as well as I have done.  Exit. Cyn. 
Madam, I take my leave, and humbly thank you.  Mar. 
Welcome good madam; maids wait on my Lady.  Exit Bass. 
So mistress, this is fit.  Mar. 
Fit sir, why so?  Bass. 
Why so? I have most fortunate news for you.  Mar. 
For me sir? I beseech you what are they?  Bass. 

Merit and Fortune, for you both agree;  
Merit what you have, and have what you merit.   Mar. 
Lord with what Rhetoric you prepare your news!  Bass. 

I need not; for the plain contents they bear  
Uttered in any words, deserve their welcome,  
And yet I hope the words will serve the turn.   Mar. 
What, in a letter?  Bass. 
Why not?  Mar. 
Whence is it?  Bass. 
From one that will not shame it with his name. And that is Lord Vincentio.  Mar. 

King of heaven!  
Is the man mad?   Bass. 
Mad Madam, why?  Mar. 

O heaven, I muse a man of your importance,  
Will offer to bring me a letter thus?   Bass. 

Why, why good Mistress, are you hurt in that?  
Your answer may be what you will yourself.   Mar. 

ay, but you should not do it: Gods my life,  
You shall answer it.   Bass. 
Nay, you must answer it.  Mar. 

I answer it! are you the man I trusted?  
And will betray me to a stranger thus?   Bass. 
That's nothing, dame, all friends were strangers first.  Mar. 

Now was there ever woman overseen so,  
In a wise man's discretion?   Bass. 
Your brain is shallow, come, receive this letter.  Mar. 

How dare you say so? when you know so well  
How much I am engaged to the duke?   Bass. 

The duke? a proper match: a grave old gentman:  
has beard at will; and would, in my conceit,  
Make a most excellent pattern, for a potter  
To have his picture stamped on a jug.  
To keep ale-knights in memory of sobriety.  
Here gentle madam, take it.   Mar. 

Take it sir?  
Am I common taker of love letters?   Bass. 
Common? why when received you one before?  Mar. 

Come, 'tis no matter; I had thought your care  
Of my bestowing, would not tempt me thus  
To one I know not; but it is because  
You know I dote so much on your direction.   Bass. 
On my direction?  Mar. 
No sir, Not on yours.  Bass. 

Well mistress, if you will take my advice  
At any time, then take this letter now.   Mar. 

'tis strange, I wonder the coy gentleman,  
That seeing me so oft, would never speak,  
Is on the sudden so far wrapped to write.   Bass. 

It showed his judgement, that he would not speak  
Knowing with what a strict and jealous eye  
He should be noted; hold, if you love yourself;  
Now will you take this letter? pray be ruled.   Mar. 

Come, you have such another plaguy tongue,  
And yet i'fath I will not.   Bass. 

Lord of heaven,  
What, did it burn your hands? hold, hold, I pray,  
And let the words within it fire your heart.   Mar. 

I wonder how the devil, he found you our  
To be his spokesman,— O the duke would thank you,  
If he knew how you urged me for his son.   Bass. 

The duke? I have fretted her,  
even to the liver, and had much ado  
To make her take it, but I knew 'twas sure;  
For he that cannot turn and wind a woman  
Like silk about his finger, is no man,  
I'll make her answer't too.   Mar. 

O here's good stuff.  
Hold, pray take it for your pains to bring it.   Bass. 

Lady you err in my reward a little,  
Which must be a kind answer to this letter.   Mar. 

Nay then i'faith, 'twere best you brought a Priest;  
And than your client; and then keep the door.  
God me I never knew so rude a man.   Bass. 
Well, you shall answer; I'll fetch pen and paper.  Exit Mar. 

Poor Usher, how wert thou wrought to this brake?  
Men work on one another for we women,  
Nay each man on himself; and all in one  
Say; No man is content that lies alone.  
Here comes our gulled Squire.   Bass. 
Here Mistress, write.  Mar. 
What should I write?  Bass. 
An answer to this letter.  Mar. 

Why sir, I see no cause of answer in it,  
But if you needs will show how much you rule me,  
Sit down; and answer it, as you please yourself,  
Here is your paper, lay it fair afore you.   Bass. 
Lady, content, I'll be your secretary.  Mar. 

I fit him in this task; he thinks his pen  
The Shaft of Cupid, in an amorous letter.   Bass. 

Is here no great worth of your answer say you?  
Believe it, 'tis exceedingly well writ.   Mar. 

So much the more unfit for me to answer,  
And therefore let your Style and it contend.   Bassi. 

Well, you shall see I will not be far short,  
Although (indeed) I cannot write so well  
When one is by, as when I am alone.   Mar. 
O, a good Scribe must write, though twenty talk, and he talk to them too.  Bass. 
Well, you shall see.  Mar. 

A proper piece of Scribeship there's no doubt;  
Some words, picked out of Proclamations,  
Or great men's Speeches; or well selling Pamphlets:  
See how he rubs his temples: I believe  
His Muse lies in the back-part of his brain,  
Which thick and gross, is hard to be brought forward,  
What? is it loath to come?   Bass. 

No, not a whit:  
Pray hold your peace a little.   Mar. 

He sweats, with bringing on his heavy style,  
I'll ply him still, till he sweat all his wit out,  
What man, not yet?   Bass. 

Swoons, you'll not extort it from a man,  
How do you like the word Endear?   Mar. 
O fie upon't.  Bass. 
Nay, than I see your judgement: what say you to condole?  Mar. 
Worse and worse.  Bass. 
O brave! I should make a sweet answer, if I should use no words but of your admittance.  Mar. 
Well sir, write what you please.  Bass. 
Is model a good word with you?  Mar. 
Put them together I pray.  Bass. 
So I will I warrant you.  Mar. 
See, see, see, now it comes pouring down.  Bass. 
I hope you'll take no exceptions to believe it.  Mar. 
Out upon't, that phrase is so run out of breath in trifles, that we shall have no belief at all in earnest shortly. Believe it 'tis a pretty feather; believe it a dainty Rush; believe it an excellent Coxcomb.  Bass. 
So, so, so, your exceptions sort very collaterally.  Mar. 
Collaterally? there's a fine word now; wrest in that if you can by any means.  Bass. 
I thought she would like the very worst of them all, how think you? do not I write, and hear, and talk too now?  Mar. 
By my soul, if you can tell what you write now, you write very readily.  Bass. 
That you shall see straight.  Mar. 
But do you not write that you speak now?  Bass. 
O yes, do you not see how I write it? I can not write when anybody is by me, I.  Mar. 
God's my life, stay man; you'll make it too long.  Bass. 
Nay, if I can not tell what belongs to the length of a Lady's device i'faith.  Mar. 
But I will not have it so long.  Bass. 
If I cannot fit you?  Mar. 
O me; how it comes upon him? pray thee be short.  Bass. 
Well, now I have done, & now I will read it; your Lordship's motive accommodating my thoughts, with the very model of my hearts mature consideration: it shall not be out of my Element to negotiate with you in this amorous duello; wherein I will condole with you, that our project cannot be foe collaterally made, as our endeared hearts may very well seem to insinuate.  Mar. 
No more: no more; fie upon this.  Bass. 
Fie upon this? he's accursed that has to do with these unsound women, of judgement: if this be not good i'faith.  Mar. 
But 'tis so good, 'twill not be thought to come from a woman's brain.  Bass. 
That's another matter  Mar. 
Come, I will write myself.  Bass. 
A God's name Lady: and yet I will not lose this I warrant you; I know for what Lady this will serve as fit; now we shall have a sweet piece of indictment.  Mar. 
How spell you foolish?  Bass. 
F , oo , l , i. sh; she will presume t'endite that cannot spell:  Mar. 
How spell you Usher?  Bas. 
'sblood, you put not in those words together, do you?  Mar. 
No, not together.  Bas. 
What is betwixt I pray?  Mar. 
Ass the.  Bas. 

Ass the? betwixt foolish, and Usher,  
God's my life, foolish Ass the Usher?   Mar. 
Nay then you are so jealous of your wit: now read all I have written I pray.  Bas. 
I am not so foolish as the Usher would make me: O so foolish as the Usher would make me? Wherein would I make you foolish?  Mar. 
Why sir, in willing me to believe he loved me so well, being so mere a stranger.  Bass. 
O, is't so? you may say so indeed.  Mar. 
Cry mercy sir, and I will write so too, & yet my hand is so vile, Pray thee sit thee down and write as I bid thee.  Bass. 
With all my heart Lady, what shall I write now?  Mar. 
You shall write this sir, I am not so foolish to think you love me, being so mere a stranger.  Bass. 
So mere a stranger!  Mar. 
And yet I know, love works strangely.  Bass. 
Love works strangely.  Mar. 
And therefore take heed, by whom you speak for love.  Bass. 
Speak for love.  Mar. 
For he may speak for himself.  Bass. 
May speak for himself.  Mar. 
Not that I desire it,  Bass 
Desire it.  Mar. 
But if he do; you may speed, I confess.  Basse. 
Speed I confess.  Mar. 
But let that pass, I do not love to discourage anybody.  Bass. 
Discourage any body.  Mar. 
Do you or he pick out what you can; & so farewell.  Bass. 
And so fare well. Is this all?  Mar. 
ay, and he may thank your siren's tongue that it is so much.  Bass. 
A proper Letter if you mark it.  Mar. 
Well sir, though it be not so proper as the writer; yet 'tis as proper as the inditer; Every woman cannot be a gentleman Usher; they that cannot go before, must come behind.  Bass. 
Well Lady, this I will carry instantly, I commend me tee Lady.  Exit. Mar. 

Pitiful Usher, what a pretty sleight,  
Goes to the working up of every thing?  
What sweet variety serves a woman's wit?  
We make men sue to us for that we wish.  
Poor men; hold out a while; and do not sue,  
And spite of Custom we will sue to you.   Exit. 
Finis Actus tertii.   

ACTVS QVARTI,  
SCAENA PRIMA.  Enter Pogio running in and knockin at Cynanche door. Pog. 
O God, how weary I am? Aunt, Madam. Cynanche, Aunt?  Cyn. 
How now?  Pog. 
O God, Aunt: O God Aunt: O God.  Cyn. 
What bad news brings this man? where is my Lord?  Pog. 
O Aunt, my Uncle, he's shot.  Cyn. 

Shot, ay me!  
How is he shot?   Pog. 

Why with a forked shaft  
As he was hunting, full in his left side.   Cyn. 
O me accursed, where is he? bring me, where?  Pog. 

Coming with Doctor benivemus,  
I'll leave you, and go tell my Lord Vincentio.   Exit. Enter Beniuemus with others, bringing in Strozza with an arrow in his side. Cyn. 

See the sad sight, I dare not yield to grief,  
But force feigned patience to recomfort him:  
My Lord, what chance is this? how fares your lordship?   Stro. 
Wounded, and faint with anguish, let me rest.  Ben. 
A chair.  Cyn. 
O Doctor, be't a deadly hurt?  Ben. 
I hope not Madam, though not free from danger.  Cyn. 
Why pluck you not the arrow from his side?  Ben. 

We cannot Lady, the forked head so fast  
Sticks in the bottom of his solid rib.   Stro. 
No mean then Doctor rests there to educe it?  Ben. 

This only, my good Lord, to give your wound  
A greater orifice, and in sunder break  
The pierced rib; which being so near the midriff,  
And opening to the region of the heart,  
Will be exceeding dangerous to your life.   Stro. 

I will not see my bosom mangled so,  
Nor sternly be anatomized alive,  
I'll rather perish with it sticking still.   Cyn. 
O no; sweet doctor think upon some help.  Ben. 

I told you all that can be thought in Art,  
Which since your Lordship will not yield to use,  
Our last hope rests in Nature's secret aid,  
Whose power at length may happily expel it.   Stro. 

Must we attend at death's abhorred door,  
The torturing delays of slavish Nature?  
My life is in mine own powers to dissolve:  
And why not then the pains that plague my life?  
Rise furies, and this fury of my bane,  
Assail and conquer; what men madness call  
(That hath no eye to sense, but frees the foul,  
Exempt of hope, and fear with instant fate)  
Is manliest reason; manliest reason then,  
Resolve and rid me of this brutish life,  
Hasten the cowardly protracted cure  
Of all diseases: King of Physicians, death,  
I'll dig thee from this Mine of misery.   Cyn. 

O hold my Lord, this is no christian part,  
Nor yet scarce manly, when your mankind foe,  
Imperious death shall make your groans his trumpets  
To summon resignation of life's Fort,  
To fly without resistance; you must force  
A countermine of Fortitude, more deep  
Than this poor Mine of pains, to blow him up,  
And spite of him live victor, though subdued:  
Patience in torment, is a valour more  
Than ever crowned Th' Alcmenean Conqueror.   Stro. 
Rage is the vent of torment, let me rise.  Cyn. 

Men do but cry, that rage in miseries,  
And scarcely beaten children, become cries:  
Pains are like women's clamours, which the less  
They find men's patience stirred, the more they cease.  
Of this 'tis said, afflictions bring to God,  
Because they make us like him, drinking up  
joys that deform us with the lusts of sense,  
And turn our general being into soul,  
Whose actions simply formed and applied,  
Draw all our bodies' frailties from respect.   Stro. 

Away with this unmedicinable balm  
Of worded breath; for bear friends, let me rest,  
I swear I will be bands unto myself.   Ben. 
That will become your lordship best indeed.  Stro. 

I'll break away, and leap into the Sea.  
Or from some Turret cast me headlong down,  
To shiver this frail carcase into dust.   Cyn. 

O my dear Lord, what unlike words are these,  
To the late fruits of your religious Noblesse?   Stro. 
Leave me fond woman.  Cyn. 

I'll be hewn from hence  
Before I leave you; help me gentle Doctor.   Ben. 
Have patience good my Lord.  Stro. 

Then lead me in,  
Cut off the timber of this cursed Shaft,  
And let the forked pile canker to my heart.   Cyn. 
Dear Lord, resolve on humble sufferance.  Str. 
I will not hear thee, woman, be content.  Cyn. 

O never shall my counsels cease to knock  
At thy impatient ears, till they fly in  
And salve with Christian patience, Pagan sin.   Exeunt. Enter Vincentio with a letter in his hand, Bassiolo. Bass. 

This is her letter sir, you now shall see  
How silly a thing 'tis in respect of mine,  
And what a simple woman she has proved,  
To refuse mine for hers; I pray look here.   Vin. 

Soft sir, I know not, I being her sworn servant,  
If I may put up these disgraceful words,  
Given of my Mistress, without touch of honour.   Bas. 

Disgraceful words; I protest I speak not  
To disgrace her, but to grace myself.   Vin. 

Nay then sir, if it be to grace yourself,  
I am content; but otherwise you know,  
I was to take exceptions to a King.   Bas. 
Nay, you're i'th' right for that; but read I pray, if there be not more choice words in that letter, than in any three of Guevara's golden epistles, I am a very ass. How think you Vince?  Vin. 
By heaven no less sir, it is the best thing;  he rends it, 
Gods what a beast am I.  Bas. 

Is is no matter,  
I can set it together again.   Vin. 
Pardon me sir, I protest I was ravished: but was it possible she should prefer hers before this?  Bass. 
O sir, she cried fie upon this.  Vin. 
Well, I must say nothing, love is blind you know, and can find no fault in his beloved.  Bass. 
Nay, that's most certain.  Vin. 
gi't me: I'll have this letter.  Bass. 
No good Vince, 'tis not worth it.  Vin. 
I'll ha''t i'faith, here's enough in it to serve for my letters as long as I live; I'll keep it to breed on as 'twere:  
But I much wonder you could make her write.  Bass. 
Indeed there were some words belonged to that.  Vin. 

How strong an influence works in well placed words,  
And yet there must be a prepared love,  
To give those words so mighty a command,  
Or 'twere impossible they should move so much:  
And will you tell me true?   Bass. 
In any thing.  Vin. 
Does not this Lady love you?  Bass. 
Love me? why yes; I think she does not hate me.  Vin. 
Nay but i'faith, does she not love you dearly?  Bass. 
No I protest.  Vin. 
Nor have you never kissed her?  Bass. 
Kissed her, that's nothing.  Vin. 

But you know my meaning:  
Have you not been, as one would say, afore me?   Bass. 
Not I, I swear.  Vin. 
O, you're too true to tell.  Bass. 

Nay be my troth, she has, I must confess,  
Used me with good respect, and nobly still,  
But for such matters.   Vin. 

Very little more,  
Would make him take her maidenhead upon him:  
Well friend, I rest yet in a little doubt,  
This was not hers.   Bass. 

'twas by that light that shines,  
And I'll go fetch her to you to confirm it.   Vin. 
O passing friend.  Bass. 

But when she comes, in any case be bold,  
And come upon her with some pleasing thing,  
To show you're pleased: however she behaves her,  
As for example; if she turn her back,  
Use you that action you would do before,  
And court her thus; Lady, your back part is as fair to me, as is your forepart.   Vin. 
'twill be most pleasing.  Bass. 

ay, for if you love  
One part above another, 'tis a sign  
You like not all alike, and the worst part  
About your Mistress, you must think as fair,  
As sweet, and dainty, as the very best,  
So much, for so much, and considering too,  
Each several limb and member in his kind.   Vin. 
As a man should.  Bass. 
True, will you think of this?  Uin. 
I hope I shall.  Bass. 

But if she chance to laugh,  
You must not lose your countenance, but devise  
Some speech to show you pleased, even being laughed at.   Vin. 
ay, but what speech?  Bass. 

God's precious man! do something of yourself?  
But I'll devise a speech.   he studies. Vin. 
Inspire him folly.  Bass. 

Or 'tis no matter, be but bold enough,  
And laugh when she laughs, and it is enough:  
I'll fetch her to you.   Exit. Vin. 

Now was there ever such a demi-lance,  
To bear a man so clear through thick and thin?   Enter Bassiolo. Bass. 

Or hark you sir, if she should steal a laughter  
Under her fan, thus you may say, sweet Lady,  
If you will laugh and lie down, I am pleased.   Vin. 
And so I were by heaven; how know you that?  Bass. 
'slid man, I'll hit your very thoughts in these things.  Vin. 
Fetch her sweet friend, I'll hit your words I warrant,  Bass. 

Be bold than Vince, and press her to it hard,  
A shamefaced man, is of all women barred.   Exit. Vin. 

How easily worthless men take worth upon them,  
And being over credulous of their own worths,  
Do underprize as much the worth of others.  
The fool is rich, and absurd riches thinks  
All merit is rung out, where his purse chinks.   Enter Bassiolo and Margaret. Bas. 

My Lord, with much entreaty here's my Lady.  
Nay Madam, look not back: why Vince I say?   Mar. 
Vince? O monstrous jest!  Bas. 
To her for shame.  Vin. 

Lady, your back part is as sweet to me  
As all your fore part.   Bas. 

He missed a little: he said her back part was sweet, when  
He should have said fair; but see, she laughs most fitly,  
To bring in the tother: Vince, to her again, she laughs.   Vin. 

Laugh you fair Dame?  
If you will laugh and lie down, I am pleased.   Mar. 
What villainous stuff is here?  Bas. 

Sweet Mistress, of mere grace embolden now  
The kind young Prince here, it is only love  
Upon my protestation, that thus daunts  
His most Heroic spirit: so a while  
I'll leave you close together; Vince, I say—   Exit. Mar. 
O horrible hearing, does he call you Vince?  Vin. 

O ay, what else? and I made him embrace me,  
Knitting a most familiar league of friendship.   Mar. 
But wherefore did you court me so absurdly?  Vin. 
God's me, he taught me, I spoke out of him.  Mar. 

O fie upon't, could you for pity make him  
Such a poor creature? 'twas abuse enough  
To make him take on him such saucy friendship;  
And yet his place is great; for he's not only  
My father's Usher, but the worlds beside,  
Because he goes before it all in folly.   Vin. 

Well, in these homely wiles, must our loves mask,  
Since power denies him his apparent right,   Mar. 

But is there no mean to dissolve that power,  
And to prevent all further wrong to us,  
Which it may work, by forcing Marriage rites,  
Betwixt me and the Duke?   Vin. 

No mean but one,  
And that is closely to be married first,  
Which I perceive not how we can perform:  
For at my father's coming back from hunting,  
I fear your father and himself resolve,  
To bar my interest with his present nuptials.   Mar. 

That shall they never do; may not we now  
Our contract make, and mary before heaven?  
Are not the laws of God and Nature, more  
Than formal laws of men? are outward rites,  
More virtuous than the very substance is  
Of holy nuptials solemnized within?  
Or shall laws made to curb the common world,  
That would not be contained in form without them,  
Hurt them that be a law unto themselves?  
My princely love, 'tis not a Priest shall let us:  
But since th'eternal acts of our pure souls,  
Knit us with God, the soul of all the world,  
He shall be Priest to us; and with such rites  
As we can here devise, we will express,  
And strongly ratify our hearts true vows,  
Which no external violence shall dissolve.   Vin. 

This is our only mean t'enjoy each other:  
And, my dear life, I will devise a form  
To execute the substance of our minds,  
In honoured nuptials. First then hide your face  
With this your spotless white and virgin vail:  
Now this my scarf I'll knit about your arm,  
As you shall knit this other end on mine,  
And as I knit it, here I vow by Heaven,  
By the most sweet imaginary joys,  
Of untried nuptials; by loves ushering fire,  
Fore-melting beauty, and loves flame itself.  
As this is soft and pliant to your arm  
In a circumferent flexure, so will I  
Be tender of your welfare and your will,  
As of mine own, as of my life and soul,  
In all things, and for ever; only you  
Shall have this care in fullness, only you  
Of all dames shall be mine, and only you  
I'll court, commend and joy in, till I die.   Mar. 

With like conceit only our arm this I tie,  
And here in sight of heaven, by it I swear,  
By my love to you, which commands my life,  
By the dear price of such a constant husband,  
As you have vowed to be: and by the joy  
I shall embrace by all means to requite you:  
I'll be as apt to govern as this silk,  
As private as my face is to this vail,  
And as far from offence, as this from blackness.  
I will be courted of no man but you,  
In, and for you shall be my joys and woes:  
If you be sick, I will be sick, though well:  
If you be well, I will be well, though sick:  
yourself alone my complete world shall be,  
even from this hour, to all eternity.   Vin. 
It is enough, and binds as much as marriage.  Enter Bassiolo. Bass. 

I'll see in what plight my poor lover stands,  
God's me! a beckons me to have me gone,  
It seems he's entered into some good vain:  
I'll hence, love cureth when he vents his pain.   Exit. Vin. 

Now my sweet life, we both remember well  
What we have vowed shall all be kept entire  
Maugre our father's wraths, danger and death:  
And to confirm this, shall we spend our breath?  
Be well advised, for yet your choice shall be  
In all things as before, as large and free.   Mar. 
What I have vowed, I'll keep even past my death.  Vin. 

And I: and now in token I dissolve  
Your virgin state, I take this snowy vail,  
From your much fairer face, and claim the dues  
Of sacred nuptials: and now fairest heaven,  
As thou art infinitely raised from earth,  
Different and opposite, so bless this match,  
As far removed from Customs popular sects,  
And as unstained with her abhorred respects.   Enter Bassiolo. Bass. 

Mistress, away, Pogio runs up and down,  
Calling for Lord Vincentio; come away,  
For hitherward he bends his clamorous haste.   Mar. 
Remember love.  Exit Mar. and Bassiolo. Vin. 

Or else forget me heaven.  
Why am I sought for by this Pogio?  
The Ass is great with child of some ill news,  
His mouth is never filled with other sound.   Enter Pogio. Pog. 
Where is my Lord Vincentio, where is my Lord?  Vin. 
Here he is Ass, what an exclaiming keep'st thou?  Pog. 
'slud, my Lord, I have followed you up and down like a Tantalus pig, till I have worn out my hose hereabouts, I'll be sworn, and yet you call me Ass still; But I can tell you passing ill news my Lord.  Uin. 
I know that well sir, thou never bringst other; what's your news now, I pray?  Pog. 
O Lord, my Lord uncle is shot in the side with an arrow.  Vin. 
Plagues take thy tongue, is he in any danger?  Pog. 

O danger; ay, he has lain speechless this two hours,  
And talks so idly.   Vin. 
Accursed news, where is he, bring me to him.  Pog. 
Yes, do you lead, and I'll guide you to him.  Exeunt. Enter Strozza; brought in a Chair, Cynanche, Benenemus, with others. Cyn. 
How fares it now with my dear Lord and husband?  Stro. 

Come near me wife, I fare the better far  
For the sweet food of thy divine advice,  
Let no man value at a little price.  
A virtuous woman's counsel, her winged spirit,  
Is feathered herd oftentimes with heavenly words;  
And (like her beauty) ravishing, and pure.  
The weaker body, still the stronger soul,  
When good endeavours do her powers apply,  
Her love draws nearest man's felicity,  
O what a treasure is a virtuous wife,  
Discreet and loving, Not one gift on earth,  
Makes a man's life so highly bound to heaven;  
She gives him double forces, to endure  
And to enjoy; by being one with him,  
Feeling his joys and Griefs with equal sense;  
And like the twins Hypocrates reports:  
If he fetch sighs, she draws her breath as short:  
If he lament, she melts herself in tears:  
If he be glad, she triumphs; if he stir,  
She moves his way; in all things his sweet Ape:  
And is in alterations passing strange.  
Himself divinely varied without change:  
Gold is right precious; but his price infects  
With pride and avarice; Authority lifts  
Hats from men's heads; and bows the strongest knees,  
Yet cannot bend in rule the weakest hearts;  
Music delights but one sense; Nor choice meats  
One quickly fades, the other stir to sin;  
But a true wife, both sense and soul delights,  
And mixeth not her good with any ill;  
Her virtues (ruling hearts) all powers command;  
All Store without her, leaves a man but poor;  
And with her, Poverty is exceeding Store;  
No time is tedious with her, her true worth  
Makes a true husband think, his arms enfold;  
(With her alone) a complete world of gold.   Cyn. 

I wish (dear love) I could deserve as much,  
As your most kind conceit hath well expressed:  
But when my best is done, I see you wounded;  
And neither can recure nor ease your pains.   Stro. 

Cynanche, thy advise hath made me well;  
My free submission to the hand of heaven  
Makes it redeem me from the rage of pain.  
For though I know the malice of my wound  
Shoots still the same distemper through my veins,  
Yet the judicial patience I embrace,  
(In which my mind spreads her impassive powers  
Through all my suffering parts;) expels their frailty;  
And rendering up their whole life to my soul,  
Leaves me nought else but soul; and so like her,  
Free from the passions of my fuming blood.   Cyn. 

Would God you were so; and that too much pain.  
Were not the reason, you felt sense of none.   Stro. 

Thinkst thou me mad Cynanche? for mad men,  
By pains ungoverned, have no sense of pain.  
But I, I tell you am quite contrary,  
Eased with well governing my submitted pain.  
Be cheered then wife; and look not for, in me,  
The manners of a common wounded man.  
Humility hath raised me to the stars;  
In which (as in a sort of Crystal Globes)  
I sit and see things hid from human sight.  
ay, even the very accidents to come  
Are present with my knowledge; the seventh day  
The arrow head will fall out of my side.  
The seventh day wife, the forked head will out.   Cyn. 
Would God it would my Lord, and leave you well  Stro. 

Yes, the seventh day, I am assured it will:  
And I shall live, I know it; I thank heaven,  
I know it well; and i'll teach my physician,  
To build his cares hereafter upon heaven  
More than on earthly medicines; for I know  
Many things shown me from the opened skies,  
That pass all arts. Now my physician  
Is coming to me, he makes friendly haste;  
And I will well requite his care of me.   Cyn. 
How know you he is coming?  Stro. 
Passing well; and that my dear friend lord Vincentio Will presently come see me too; i'll stay (My good physician) till my true friend come.  Cyn. 

Ay me, his talk is idle; and I fear,  
Foretells his reasonable Soul now leaves him.   Stro. 
Bring my Physician in, he's at the door.  Cyn. 
Alas, there's no Physician.  Stro. 

But I know it;  
See, he is come.   Enter Benouemius. Ben. 
How fares my worthy Lord?  Stro. 

Good Doctor, I endure no pain at all,  
And the seventh day, the arrows head will out.   Ben. 
Why should it fall out the seventh day my Lord?  Stro. 
I know it; the seventh day it will not fail.  Ben. 
I wish it may, my Lord.  Stro. 

Yes, 'twill be so,  
You come with purpose to take present leave,  
But you shall stay a while; my Lord Vincentio  
Would see you fain and now is coming hither:   Ben. 
How knows your Lordship? have you sent for him?  Stro. 

No but 'tis very true; he's now hard by,  
And will not hinder your affairs a whit.   Ben. 

How want of rest distempers his light brain?  
Brings my Lord any train?   Stro. 

None but himself.  
My nephew Pogio now hath left his Grace.  
Good Doctor go, and bring him by his hand,  
(Which he will give you) to my longing eyes,   Ben. 
'tis strange, if this be true.  Exit. Cyn. 

The Prince I think,  
Yet knows not of your hurt.   Enter Vincentio holding the doctor's hand. Stro. 

Yes wife, too well,  
See he is come; welcome my princely friend:  
I have been shot my Lord; but the seventh day  
The arrows head will fall out of my side,  
And I shall hue.   Vin. 

I do not fear your life,  
But, Doctor, is it your opinion,  
That the seventh day the arrow head will out?   Stro. 

No, 'tis not his opinion, 'tis my knowledge:  
For I do know it well; and I do wish  
Even for your only sake, my noble Lord,  
This were the seventh day; and I now were well,  
That I might be some strength to your hard state,  
For you have many perils to endure:  
Great is your danger; great; vour unjust ill  
Is passing foul and mortal; would to God  
My wound were something well, I might be with you,  
Nay do not whisper, I know what I say,  
Too well for you, my Lord; I wonder heaven  
Will let such violence threat an innocent life.   Vin. 

whate'er it be, dear friend, so you be well,  
I will endure it all; your wounded state  
Is all the danger I fear towards me.   Stro. 

Nay, mine is nothing; For the seventh day  
This arrow head will out, and I shall live,  
And so shall you, I think; but very hardly.  
It will be hardly, you will scape indeed.   Vin. 

Be as will be; pray heaven your prophecy  
Be happily accomplished in yourself,  
And nothing then can come amiss to me.   Stro. 
What says my Doctor? thinks he I say true?  Ben. 

If your good Lordship could but rest a while,  
I would hope well.   Stro. 

Yes, I shall rest I know,  
If that will help your judgement.   Ben. 

Yes, it will,  
And good my Lord, let's help you in to try.   Stro. 
You please me much, I shall sleep instantly.  Exeunt, Enter Alphonso, and Medice. Alp. 

Why should the humorous boy forsake the chase?  
As if he took advantage of my absence,  
To some act that my presence would offend.   Med. 

I warrant you my Lord, 'tis to that end:  
And I believe he wrongs you in your love.  
Children presuming on their parents' kindness,  
Care not what unkind actions they commit  
Against their quiet: And were I as you,  
I would affright my son from these bold parts,  
And father him as I found his deserts.   Alp. 

I swear I will: and can I prove he aims  
At any interruption in my love,  
I'll interrupt his life.   Med. 

We soon shall see,  
For I have made Madam Corteza search  
With picklocks, all the ladies' cabinets  
About Earl lasso's house; and if there be  
Traffic of love, twixt any one of them,  
And your suspected son; 'twill soon appear,  
In some sign of their amorous merchandise;  
See where she comes, loaded with gems & papers.   Enter. Cort. Cor. 

See here, my Lord, I have robbed all their Caskets,  
Know you this Ring? this carcanet? this Chain?  
Will any of these letters serve your turn?   Alp. 

I know not these things; but come: let me read some of these letters.  
Madam, in this deed  
You deserve highly of my Lord the Duke.   Cor. 

Nay my Lord Medice, I think I told you  
I could do pretty well in these affairs:  
O these young Girls engross up all the love  
From us, (poor Beldames;) but I hold my hand,  
I'll ferret all the Cunni-holes of their kindness  
Ere I have done with them.   Alp. 

Passion of death!  
See, see, Lord Medice, my traitorous son,  
Hath long joyed in the favours of my love:  
Woe to the womb that bore him: and my care  
To bring him up to this accursed hour,  
In which all cares possess my wretched life.   Med. 

What father, would believe he had a son  
So full of treachery to his innocent state?  
And yet my Lord, this letter shows no meeting,  
But a desire to meet.   Cort. 

Yes, yes, my Lord,  
I do suspect they meet; and I believe  
I know well where too; I believe I do;  
And therefore tell me; does no creature know,  
That you have left the chase thus suddenly?  
And are come hither? have you not been seen  
By any of these Lovers?   Alp. 
Not by any.  Cor. 

Come then, come follow me; I am persuaded  
I shall go near to show you their kind hands.  
Their confidence, that you are still a hunting,  
Will make your amorous son that stole from thence,  
Bold in his love-sports; Come, come, a fresh chase,  
I hold this picklock, you shall hunt at view.  
What, do they think to scape? An old wives eye  
Is a blue Crystal full of sorcery.   Alp. 
If this be true, the traitorous boy shall die.  Exeunt. Enter Lasso, Margaret, Bassiolo going before. Lass. 

Tell me I pray you, what strange hopes they are  
That feed your coy conceits against the Duke,  
And are preferred before th'assured greatness  
His highness graciously would make your fortunes?   Mar. 

I have small hopes, my Lord; but a desire  
To make my nuptial choice of one I love,  
And as I would be loath t'impair my state;  
So I, affect not honours that exceed it.   Lass. 

O you are very temperate in your choice,  
Pleading a judgement past your sex, and years.  
But I believe some fancy 'will be found,  
The forge of these gay Gloss: if it be,  
I shall decipher what close traitor 'tis  
That is your Agent in your secret plots.   Bass. 
Swoons.  Lass. 

And him for whom you plot; and on you all  
I will revenge thy disobedience,  
With such severe correction, as shall fright  
All such deluders from the like attempts:  
But chiefly he shall smart that is your factor.   Bass. 
O me, accursed!  Lass. 

Mean time I'll cut  
Your poor craft short i'faith.   Mar. 

Poor craft indeed,  
That I, or any others use, form.   Lass. 

Well Dame, if it be nothing but the jar  
Of your unfined fancy; that procures  
Your wilful coyness to my Lord the Duke,  
No doubt but Time, and judgement will conform it  
To such obedience, as so great desert  
Proposed to your acceptance doth require.  
To which end do you counsel her Bassiolo.  
And let me see Maid 'gainst the duke's return,  
Another tincture set upon your looks  
Then heretofore; For be assured at last  
Thou shalt consent, or else incur my curse:  
Advise her, you Bassiolo.   Exit. Bass. 

ay, my good Lord;  
God's pity, what an errant Ass was I,  
To entertain the PRINCE's crafty friendship?  
'slud, I half suspect, the villain gulled me;   Mar. 
Our Squire I think is starved.  Bass. 

Nay Lady it is true,  
And you must frame your fancy to the Duke,  
For I protest I will not be corrupted,  
For all the friends and fortunes in the world,  
To gull my Lord that trusts me.   Mar. 

O sir, now,  
You're true too late.   Bass. 

No Lady, not a whit,  
'slud, and you think to make an Ass of me,  
May chance to rise betimes; I know't, I know.   Mar. 

Out servile coward, shall a light suspect,  
That hath no slenderest proof of what we do,  
Infringe the weighty faith that thou hast sworn,  
To thy dear friend the Prince that dotes on thee;  
And will in pieces cut thee for thy falsehood;   Bass. 

I care not; I'll not hazard my estate,  
For any Prince on earth: and I'll disclose  
The complot to your father, if you yield not  
To his obedience.   Mar. 

Do if thou dar'st,  
Even for thy scrapped up living, and thy life,  
I'll tell my father then, how thou didst woo me  
To love the young Prince; and didst force me too,  
To take his Letters; I was well inclined,  
I will be sworn. before, to love the Duke,  
But thy vile railing at him, made me hate him.   Bass. 
I rail at him?  Mar. 

I marry did you sir,  
And said he was a pattern for a Potter,  
Fit t'have his picture stamped on a stone jug,  
To keep Ale-knights in memory of Sobriety.   Bass. 
Sh'as a plaguy memory.  Mar. 

I could have loved him else; nay, I did love him,  
Though I dissembled it, to bring him on,  
And I by this time might have been a Duchess:  
And now I think on't better: for revenge,  
I'll have the Duke, and he shall have thy head,  
For thy false wit within it, to his love.  
Now go and tell my Father, pray be gone.   Bass. 
Why and I will go.  Mar. 
Go, for God's sake go, are you here yet?  Bass. 
Well, now I am resolved.  Ma. 

'tis bravely done, farewell: but do you hear sir?  
Take this with you beside; the young Prince keeps  
A certain letter you had writ for me,  
(Endearing, and Condoling, and Mature)  
And if you should deny things, that I hope  
Will stop your impudent mouth: but go your ways,  
If you can answer all this, why 'tis well.   Bass. 

Well Lady, if you will assure me here,  
You will refrain to meet with the young Prince,  
I will say nothing.   Mar. 

Good sir, say your worst,  
For I will meet him, and that presently.   Bass. 

Then be content I pray, and leave me out,  
And meet hereafter as you can yourselves.   Mar. 

No, no sir, no, 'tis you must fetch him to me,  
And you shall fetch him, or I'll do your errand.   Bas. 

'swounds what a spite is this, I will resolve  
T'endure the worst; 'tis but my foolish fear,  
The plot will be discovered: O the gods!  
'tis the best sport to play with these young dames;  
I have dissembled, Mistress, all this while  
Have I not made you in a pretty taking?   Mar. 

O 'tis most good; thus you may play on me;  
You cannot be content to make me love  
A man I hated till you spoke for him,  
With such enchanting speeches, as no friend  
Could possibly resist: but you must use  
Your villainous wit, to drive me from my wits:  
A plague of that bewitching tongue of yours;  
Would I had never heard your scurvy words.   Ba. 

Pardon dear Dame, I'll make amends i'faith,  
Think you that I'll play false with my dear Vincentio  
I swore that sooner Hybla should want bees,  
And Italy bone robes, than I; faith  
And so they shall.  
Come, you shall meet, and double meet, in spite  
Of all your foes, and Dukes that dare maintain them,  
A plague of all old doters, I disdain them:   Exeunt. Mar. 
Said like a friend; O let me comb the coxcomb.  
Fivis Actus Quarti.   

ACTVS Quinti  
SCAENA PRIMA.  Enter Alphonso, Medice, Lasso, Cortezza above. Cor. 

Here is the place will do the deed i'faith;  
This Duke will show thee how youth puts down age,  
I and perhaps how youth does put down youth.   Alp. 

If I shall see my love in any sort  
Prevented, or abused, th'abuser dies.   Lass. 

I hope there is no such intent my Liege,  
For sad as death should I be to behold it.   Med. 

You must not be too confident my Lord,  
Or in your daughter or in them that guard her.  
The Prince is politic, and envies his Father:  
And though not for himself, nor any good  
Intended to your daughter, yet because  
He knows 'twould kill his father, he would seek her.   Cor. 
Whist whist whist, they come.  Enter Bassiolo, Vincentio, and Margaret. Bass. 

Come, meet me boldly, come,  
And let them come from hunting when they dare.   Vin. 
has the best spirit.  Bass. 

Spirit? what a plague,  
Shall a man fear caprices? you forsooth  
Must have your love come t'ee, and when he comes,  
Than you grow shamefaced, and he must not touch you:  
But fie, my Father comes, and foe, my Aunt,  
O 'tis a witty hearing, be't not think you?   Vin. 
Nay, pray thee do not mock her gentle friend.  Bass. 

Nay, you are even as wise a wooer too,  
If she turn from you you even let her turn,  
And say; you do not love to force a Lady.  
'tis too much rudeness; gosh hat, what's a Lady?  
Must she not be touched? what. is she copper think you?  
And will not bide the touch stone? kiss her Vince,  
And thou dost love me, kiss her.   Vin. 

Lady, now  
I were too simple if I should not offer.   Mar. 
O God sir, pray away, this man talks idly.  Bass. 

How shay by that; now by that candle there,  
Were I as Vince is, I would handle you  
In rufty-tufty wise, in your right kind.   Mar. 
O, you have made him a sweet beagle, ha'ye not?  Vin. 

'tis the most true believer in himself:  
Of all that sect of folly faith's his fault.   Bass. 

So to her Vince, I give thee leave my lad,  
Sweet were the words my mistress spoke, when tears fell from He lies down her eyes. by them.  
Thus, as the Lion lies before his den,  
Guarding his whelps, and streaks his careless limbs,  
And when the Panther, Fox, or Wolf comes near  
He never deigns to rise, to fright them hence,  
But only puts forth one of his stern paws,  
And keeps his dear whelps safe, as in a hutch,  
So I present his person, and keep mine.  
Foxes, go by I put my terror forth, Cant,  
Let all the world say what they can,  
Her bargain best she makes,  
That hath the wit to choose a man,  
To pay for that he takes. Belle Piu. etc. iterum cant.  
Dispatch sweet whelps the bug, the Duke comes straight:  
O 'tis a grave old lover that same Duke,  
And chooses Minions rarely, if you mark him.  
The noble Medice, that man, that Bobbadilla,  
That foolish knave, that hose and doublet stinkard.   Med. 
'swounds my Lord, rise, let's endure no more.  Alp. 

A little, pray my Lord, for I believe  
We shall discover very notable knavery.   Lass. 
Alas how I am grieved and shamed in this.  Cor. 
Never care you Lord brother, there's no harm done.  Bass. 

But that sweet Creature, my good Lords sister,  
Madam Cortezza, she, the noblest Dame  
That ever any vein of honour bled;  
There were a wise now, for my Lord the Duke  
Had he the grace to choose her, but in deed,  
To speak her true praise, I must use some study.   Cor. 

Now truly brother, I did ever think  
This man the honestest man that ere you kept.   Lass. 
So sister, so, because he praises you.  Cor. 
Nay sit, but you shall hear him further yet.  Bass. 

Were not her head sometimes a little light,  
And so unapt for matter of much weight,  
She were the fittest, and the worthiest Dame  
To leap a window, and to break her neck,  
That ever was.   Cor. 

God's pity, arrant knave,  
I ever thought him a dissembling varlet.   Bass. 

Well, now my hearts be wary, for by this,  
I fear the Duke is coming; I'll go watch,  
And give you warning: I commend me t'ee.   Exit. Vin. 
O fine phrase,  Mar. 
And very timely used.  Vin. 

What now sweet life, shall we resolve upon?  
We never shall enjoy each other here.   Mar. 

Direct you then my Lord, what we shall do,  
For I am at your will, and will endure  
With you, the cruel'st absence, from the state  
We both were borne too, that can be supposed.   Vin. 

That would extremely grieve me, could myself  
Only endure the ill, our hardest fates,  
May lay on both of us; I would not care,  
But to behold thy sufferance, I should die.   Mar. 

How can your Lordship wrong my love so much,  
To think the more woe I sustain for you,  
Breeds not the more my comfort? I alas  
Have no mean else, to make my merit even  
In any measure, with your eminent worth.   Enter Bassiolo. Bas. 

Now must I exercise my timorous lovers,  
Like fresh armed soldiers, with some false alarms,  
To make them yare and wary of their foe  
The boisterous bearded Duke: I'll rush upon them  
With a most hideous cry, the Duke, the Duke, the Duke.  
Ha, ha, ha, woe ho, come again I say,  
The Duke's not come i'faith.   Vin. 

God's precious man,  
What did you mean to put us in this fear?   Bass 

O sir, to make you look about the more;  
Nay, we must teach you more of this I tell you:  
What, can you be too safe sir? what I say,  
Must you be pampered in your vanities?  
Ah, I do domineer and rule the roast.   Exit. Mar. 

Was ever such an Ingle? would to God,  
(If 'twere not for ourselves) my father saw him.   Las. 

Minion, you have your prayer, and my curse,  
For your good housewifery.   Med. 

What says your Highness?  
Can you endure these injuries any more?   Alp. 

No more, no more, advise me what is best,  
To be the penance of my graceless son?   Med. 

My Lord, no mean but death or banishment,  
Can be fit penance for him: if you mean  
T'enjoy the pleasure of your love yourself.   Cor. 
Give him plain death my Lord, and then you're sure  Alp. 

Death or his banishment, he shall endure,  
For wreak of that joys exile I sustain.  
Come, call our Guard, and apprehend him straight.   Exeunt. Vin. 

I have some jewels then my dearest life,  
Which with whatever we can get beside,  
Shall be our means, and we will make escape.   Enter Bassiolo running. Bas. 

'sblood, the Duke and all come now in earnest;  
The Duke, by heaven, the Duke.   Vin. 

Nay, then i'faith  
Your jest is too too stale.   Bass. 

God's precious,  
By these ten bones, and by this hat and heart,  
The Duke and all comes, see, we are cast away.   Exeunt. Enter Alphonso, Medice, Lasso, Cortezza, and julio. Alp. 
Lay hands upon them all, pursue, pursue.  Lass. 
Stay thou ungracious girl.  Alp. 

Lord Medice,  
Lead you our Guard, and see you apprehend  
The treacherous boy, nor let him scape with life,  
Unless he yield to his external exile.   Med. 
'tis princely said my Lord—  Exit. Lass. 
And take my Usher.  Mar. 

Let me go into exile with my Lord,  
I will not live, if I be left behind.   Lass. 
Impudent damsel, wouldst thou follow him?  Mar. 
He is my husband, whom else should I follow?  Lass. 
Wretch, thou speakest treason to my Lord the Duke.  Alp. 
Yet love me Lady, and I pardon all.  Mar. 
I have a husband, and must love none else.  Alp. 

Despiteful Dame, I'll dis inherit him,  
And thy good Father here shall cast off thee,  
And both shall feed on air, or starve, and die.   Mar. 

If this be justice, let it be our dooms:  
If free and spotless love in equal years,  
With honours unimpaired deserve such ends,  
Let us approve what justice is in friends.   Lass. 

You shall I swear: sister, take you her close  
Into your chamber, lock her fast alone,  
And let her stir nor speak with any one.   Cor. 
She shall not brother: come Niece, come with me.  Mar. 
Heaven save my love, and I will suffer gladly.  Exeunt Cor. Mar. Alp. 

Haste julio, follow thou my son's pursuit,  
And will Lord Medice not to hurt nor touch him,  
But either banish him, or bring him back:  
Charge him to use no violence to his life.   julio 
I will my Lord.  Exit julio. Alp. 

O Nature! how alas  
Art thou and Reason thy true guide opposed?  
More bane thou tak'st, to guide Sense, led amiss,  
Then being guided, Reason gives thee bliss.   Exeunt. Enter Cynanche, Benevenius, Ancilla, Strozza having the Arrow head. Stro. 

Now see good Doctor, 'twas no frantic fancy,  
That made my tongue presage this head should fall  
Out of my wounded side the seventh day;  
But an inspired rapture of my mind,  
Submitted and conjoined in patience,  
To my Creator, in whom I foresaw  
(Like to an Angel) this divine event.   Ben. 

So is it plain, and happily approved,  
In a right christian precedent, confirming  
What a most sacred medicine Patience is,  
That with the high thirst of our souls, clear fire  
Exhausts corpore ill humour; and all pain,  
Casting our flesh off, while we it retain.   Cy. 

Make some religious vow then my dear Lord,  
And keep it in the proper memory,  
Of so Celestial and free a grace.   Str 

Sweet wife, thou restest my good Angel still,  
Suggesting by all means, these ghostly counsels.  
Thou weariest not thy husbands patient ears,  
With motions for new fashions in attire,  
For change of jewels, pastimes, and nice cates,  
Nor studiest eminence, and the higher place  
Amongst thy consorts, like all other Dames:  
But knowing more worthy objects appertain  
To every woman that desires t'enjoy  
A blessed life in marriage: thou contemnest  
Those common pleasures, and pursuest the rare,  
Using thy husband in those virtuous gifts:  
For which, thou first didst choose him, and thereby  
Cloyest not with him, but lov'st him endlessly.  
In reverence of thy motion then, and zeal  
To that most sovereign power, that was my cure.  
I make a vow to go on soot to Rome,  
And offer humbly in S. Peter's Temple,  
This fatal Arrow head: which work, let none judge  
A superstitious Rite, but a right use,  
Proper to this peculiar instrument,  
Which visibly resigned to memory,  
Through every eye that sees, will stir the soul  
To Gratitude and Progress, in the use  
Of my tried patience which in my powers ending,  
Would shut th'example out of future lives.  
No act is superstitious, that applies  
All power to God, devoting hearts, through eyes.   Ben. 

Spoke with the true tongue of a Nobleman:  
But now are all these excitations toys,  
And honour fats his brain with other joys.  
I know your true friend, Prince Vincentio  
Will triumph in this excellent effect  
Of your late prophecy.   Stro. 

O, my dear friend's name  
Presents my thoughts, with a most mortal danger,  
To his right innocent life: a monstrous fact  
Is now effected on him.   Cyn. 
Where? or how?  Stro. 

I do not well those circumstances know,  
But am assured, the substance is too true.  
Come reverend Doctor, let us hearken out  
Where the young Prince remains, and bear with you  
Medicines t'allay his danger: if by wounds,  
Bear precious balsam, or some sovereign juice;  
If by fell poison, some choice Antidote,  
If by black witchcraft, our good spirits and prayers  
Shall exorcize the devilish wrath of hell,  
Out of his princely bosom.   Enter Pogio running. Pog. 
Where? where? where? where's my Lord uncle, my Lord my uncle?  Stro. 
Here's the ill tidings-bringer; what news now, with thy unhappy presence?  Po. 
O my Lord my Lord Vincentio, is almost killed by my Lord Medice.  Stro. 

See Doctor, see, if my presage be true.  
And well I know if he have hurt the Prince,  
'tis treacherously done, or with much help.   Pog. 
Nay sure he had no help, but all the Duke's Guard; and they set upon him indeed; and after he had defended himself, d'ee see? he drew, & having as good as wounded the Lord Medice almost, he struck at him, and missed him, d'ee mark?  Stro. 
What tale is here? where is this mischief done?  Pog. 
At Monk's well, my Lord, I'll guide you to him presently  Str. 

I doubt it not; fools are best guides to ill,  
And mischiefs ready way lies open still.  
Lead sir I pray.   Exeunt. Enter Corteza, and Margaret above. Cort. 

Quiet yourself, Niece; though your love be slain,  
You have another that's worth two of him.   Mar. 

It is not possible; it cannot be  
That heaven should suffer such impiety.   Cort. 
'tis true, I swear niece.  Ma. 

O most unjust truth!  
I'll cast myself down headlong from this Tower,  
And force an instant passage for my soul,  
To seek the wandering spirit of my Lord.   Cort. 

Will you do so Niece? That I hope you will not,  
And yet there was a Maid in Saint Marks street,  
For such a matter did so; and her clothes  
Flew up about her so as she had no harm:  
And grace of God your clothes may fly up too,  
And save you harmless; for your cause and hers  
Are e'en as like as can be.   Mar. 

I would not scape;  
And certainly I think the death is easy.   Cort. 

O 'tis the easiest death that ever was,  
Look Niece, it is so far hence to the ground.  
You should be quite dead, long before you felt it.  
Yet do not leap Niece.   Mar. 

I will kill myself  
With running on some sword; or drink strong poison;  
Which death is easiest I would fain endure.   Cor. 

Sure Cleopatra was of the same mind,  
And did so; she was honoured ever since,  
Yet do not you so Niece.   Mar. 

Wretch that I am; my heart is soft and faint;  
And trembles at the very thought of death,  
Though thoughts tenfold more grievous do torment it;  
I'll feel death by degrees; and first deform  
This my accursed face with ugly wounds,  
That was the first cause of my dear loves death.   Cor. 

That were a cruel deed; yet Adelasia;  
In Petty's Palace of Petit pleasure,  
For all the world, with such a knife as this  
Cut off her cheeks, and nose, and was commended  
More than all Dames that kept their faces whole;  
O do not cut it.   Mar. 

Fie on my faint heart,  
It will not give my hand the wished strength;  
Behold the just plague of a sensual life,  
That to preserve itself in reason's spite,  
And shun death's horror, feels it ten times more.  
Unworthy women, why do men adore  
Our fading Beauties, when their worthiest lives,  
Being lost for us, we dare not die for them?  
Hence hapless Ornaments that adorned this head:  
Disorder ever these entering carls  
And leave my beauty like a wilderness,  
That never man's eye more may dare t'invade.   Cor. 

I'll tell you Niece; and yet I will not tell you,  
A thing that I desire to have you do.  
But I will tell you only what you might do,  
'cause I would pleasure you in all I cud.  
I have an Ointment here, which we Dames use,  
To take off hair when it does grow too low  
Upon our foreheads, and that for a need,  
If you should rub it hard upon your face,  
Would blister it, and make it look most vildly.   Mar. 
O give me that Aunt.  Cor. 

Give it you virgin? that were well indeed:  
Shall I be thought to tempt you to such matters?   Mar. 

None (of my faith) shall know it: gentle Aunt,  
Bestow it on me, and I'll ever love you.   Cor. 
God's pity, but you shall not spoil your face.  Mar. 
I will not then indeed.  Cor. 

Why then Niece take it:  
But you shall swear you will not.   Mar. 
No, I swear.  Cor. 

What, do you force it from me? God's my dear,  
Will you misuse your face so? what, all over?  
Nay, if you be so desperate, I'll be gone—   Exit. Mar. 

Fade hapless beauty, turn the ugliest face  
That ever Aethiop, or affrightful fiend  
show'd in th'amazed eye of profaned light:  
See precious Love, if thou be it in air,  
And canst break darkness, and the strongest Towers,  
With thy dissolved intellectual powers,  
See a worse torment suffered for thy death,  
Than if it had extended his black force,  
In sevenfold horror to my hated life.  
Smart precious ointment. smart. and to my brain  
Sweat thy envenomed fury, make my eyes  
Burn with thy sulphur, like the lakes of hell,  
That fear of me may shiver him to dust,  
That eat his own child with the jaws of lust—   Exit. Enter Alphonso, Lasso, and others. Alp. 

I wonder how far they pursued my boon,  
That no return of him or them appears,  
I fear some hapless accident is chanced,  
That makes the news so loath to pierce mine ears.   Lass. 

High heaven vouchsafe no such effect succeed  
Those wretched causes that from my house flow,  
But that in harmless love all acts may end.   Enter Cortezza. Cort. 

What shall I do? Alas I cannot rule  
My desperate Niece, all her sweet face is spoiled,  
And I dare keep her prisoner no more:  
See, see, she comes frantic and all undressed.   Enter Marg. Mar. 

Tyrant! behold how thou hast used thy love,  
See, thief to Nature, thou hast killed and robbed,  
Killed what myself killed, robbed what makes thee poor.  
Beauty (a lovers treasure) thou hast lost  
Where none can find it; all a poor maids dowry  
Thou hast forced from me: all my joy and hope.  
No man will love me more; all Dames excel me,  
This ugly thing is now no more a face,  
Nor any vile form in all Earth resembled,  
But thy foul tyranny; for which all the pains  
Two faithful Lovers feel, that thus are parted,  
All joys they might have felt, turn all to pains;  
All a young virgin thinks she does endure,  
To lose her love and beauty; on thy heart  
Be heaped and priest down till thy soul depart.   Enter julio. Iul. 

Haste Liege, your son is dangerously hurt.  
Lord Medice contemning your command,  
By me delivered, as your Highness willed,  
Set on him with your Guard; who struck him down;  
And then the coward Lord, with mortal wounds,  
And slavish insolency, ploughed up his soft breast;  
Which barbarous fact in part is laid on you,  
For first enjoining it, and foul exclaims  
In pity of your son, your subjects breath  
'gainst your unnatural fury; amongst whom  
The good Lord Strozza desperately raves,  
And vengeance for his friend's injustice craves.  
See where he comes burning in zeal of friendship.   Enter Srozza, Vincentio, brought in a chair, Benevenius, Pogio, Cynanch with a guard, Strozza before & Medice. Stro. 

Where is the tyrant? let me strike his eyes  
Into his brain, with horror of an object.  
See Pagan Nero; see how thou hast reipped  
Thy better bosom; rooted up that flower,  
From whence thy now spent life should spring anew,  
And in him killed (that would have bred thee fresh)  
Thy mother and thy father.   Vin. 
Good friend cease.  Stro. 

What hag with child of Monster, would have nursed  
Such a prodigious longing? But a father  
Would rather eat the brawn out of his arms  
Then glut the mad worm of his wild desires  
With his dear issues entrails.   Vin. 

Honoured friend;  
He is my father, and he is my Prince,  
In both whose rights he may command my life.   Stro. 

What is a father? turn his entrails gulfs  
To swallow children, when they have begot them?  
And what's a Prince? Had all been virtuous men,  
There never had been Prince upon the earth,  
And so no subject; all men had been Princes:  
A virtuous man is subject to no Prince,  
But to his soul and honour; which are laws,  
That carry Fire and Sword within themselves  
Never corrupted never out of rule;  
What is there in a Prince? That his least lusts  
Are valued at the lives of other men,  
When common faults in him should prodigies be,  
And his gross dotage rather loathed then soothed.   Alp. 

How thick and heavily my plagues descend!  
Not giving my mazde powers a time to speak:  
Pour more rebuke upon me worthy Lord,  
For I have guilt and patience for them all:  
Yet know, dear son, I did forbid thy harm:  
This Gentleman can witness, whom I sent  
With all command of haste to interdict  
This forward man in mischief; not to touch thee:  
Did I not Julio? utter nought but truth.   Iul. 

All your guard heard, my Lord, I gave your charge,  
With loud and violent iterations.  
After all which, Lord Medice cowardly hurt him.  
The Guard. He did my Princely Lord.   Alp. 

Believe then son,  
And know me pierced as deeply with thy wounds:  
And pardon virtuous Lady that have lost  
The dearest treasure proper to your sex.  
Ay me, it seems by my unhappy means!  
O would to God, I could with present cure  
Of these unnatural wounds; and moaning right  
Of this abused beauty, join you both,  
(As last I left you) in eternal nuptials.   Vin. 

My Lord, I know the malice of this man,  
Not your unkind consent hath used us thus.  
And since I make no doubt I shall survive  
These fatal dangers; and your grace is pleased,  
To give free course to my unwounded love;  
'tis not this outward beauty's ruthful loss,  
Can any thought discourage my desires:  
And therefore, dear life, do not wrong me so,  
To think my love the shadow of your beauty,  
I woo your virtues, which as I am sure  
No accident can alter or impair;  
So, be you certain nought can change my love.   Mar. 

I know your honourable mind my Lord,  
And will not do it that unworthy wrong,  
To let it spend her forces in contending  
(Spite of your sense) to love me thus deformed:  
Love must have outward objects to delight him,  
Else his content will be too grave and sour.  
It is enough for me my Lord, you love,  
And that my beauty's sacrifice redeemed  
My sad fear of your slaughter. You first loved me  
Closely for beauty; which being withered thus,  
Your love must fade; when the most needful rights  
Of Fate, and Nature, have dissolved your life,  
And that your love must needs be all in soul,  
Then will we meet again: and then (dear Love)  
Love me again; for then will beauty be  
Of no respect with loves eternity.   Vin. 

Nor is it now; I wooed your beauty first  
But as a lover: now as a dear husband,  
That title and your virtues bind me ever.   Mar. 

Alas, that title is of little force  
To stir up men's affections: when wives want  
Outward excitements, husbands loves grow scant.   Ben. 

Assist me Heaven, and Art, give me your Mask,  
Open thou little storehouse of great Nature,  
Use an elixir drawn through seven years fire,  
That like Medea's Cauldron, can repair  
The ugliest loss of living temperature:  
And for this princely pair of virtuous Turtles,  
Be lavish of thy precious influence  
Lady, t'atone your honourable strife,  
And take all let from your loves tender eyes.  
Let me for ever hide this stain of Beauty,  
With this recureful Mask; here be it fixed  
With painless operation; of itself,  
(Your beauty having brooked three days eclipse)  
Like a dissolved cloud it shall fall off,  
And your fair looks regain their freshest rays:  
So shall your Princely friend, (if heaven consent)  
In twice your suffered date renew recure,  
Let me then have the honour to conjoin  
Your hands, conformed to your constant hearts.   Alp. 

Grave Beneuenius, honourable Doctor,  
On whose most sovereign Aesculapian hand,  
Fame with her richest miracles attends,  
Be fortunate, as ever heretofore,  
That we may quite thee both with gold and honour,  
And by thy happy means, have power to make  
My Son, and his much injured love amends,  
Whose well proportioned choice we now applaud,  
And bless all those that ever furthered it.  
Where is your discreet Usher my good Lord,  
The special furtherer of this equal match?   julio 
Brought after by a couple of your Guard.  Alp. 
Let him be fetched, that we may do him grace.  Po. 
I'll fetch him my Lord: away, you must not go: O here  
He comes; O master Usher, I am sorry for you, you must presently be chopped in pieces.  Bass. 
Woe to that wicked Prince that ere I saw him.  Pog. 
Come, come, I gull you master Usher, you are like to be the Duke's Minion man; d'ee think I would have been seen in your company, and you had been out of favour? Here's my friend master Usher, my Lord.  Alp. 

Give me your hand friend, pardon us I pray,  
We much have wronged your worth, as one that knew the fitness of this match above ourselves.   Bass. 

Sir, I did all thing for the best, I swear,  
And you must think I would not have been guled,  
I know what's fit sir; as I hope you know now:  
Sweet Vince, how far'st thou, be of honoured cheer.   Lass. 

Vince does he call him? O Fool, dost thou call  
The Prince Vince, like his equal?   Bass. 

O my Lord, alas  
You know not what has passed twixt us two;  
Here in thy bosom I will be sweet Vince,  
And die if thou die, I protest by heaven.   Lass. 
I know not what this means.  Alp. 

Nor I my Lord:  
But sure he saw the fitness of the match,  
With freer and more noble eyes than we.   Pog. 
Why I saw that as well as he my Lord; I knew 'twas a foolish match betwixt you two; did not you think so my Lord Vincentio? Lord uncle, did not I say at first of the Duke; will his Antiquity never leave his Iniquity?  Stro. 

Go to, too much of this; but ask this Lord,  
If he did like it.   Pog. 
Who, my Lord Medice?  Stro. 
Lord Stinkard Man, his name is; ask him Lord Stinkard, did you like the match? say.  Pog. 
My Lord Stinkard, did you like the match betwixt the Duke, and my Lady Margaret?  Med. 
Presumptuous sycophant, I will have thy life.  Alp. 

Unworthy Lord, put up: thirst'st thou more blood?  
Thy life is fitt'st to be called in question,  
For thy most murderous cowardice on my son;  
Thy forwardness to every cruelty  
Calls thy pretended Noblesse in suspect.   Stro. 

Noblesse my Lord? set by your princely favour,  
That gave the lustre to his painted state,  
whoever viewed him but with deep contempt,  
As reading vileness in his very looks?  
And if he prove not son of some base drudge,  
Trimmed up by Fortune, being disposed to jest  
And dally with your state, then that good Angel,  
That by divine relation spoke in me,  
Foretelling these foul dangers to your son,  
And without notice brought this reverend man  
To rescue him from death: now fails my tongue,  
And I'll confess, I do him open wrong.   Med. 

And so thou dost; and I return all note  
Of infamy or baseness on thy throat:  
Damn me my Lord, if I be not a Lord.   Stro. 

My Liege, with all desert, even now you said  
His life was duly forfeit, for the death  
Which in these barbarous wounds he sought your son;  
Vouchsafe me then his life, in my friends right,  
For many ways I know he merits death;  
Which, (if you grant) will instantly appear,  
And that I feel with some rare miracle.   Alp. 
His life is thine Lord Strozza, Give him death.  Med. 

What my Lord,  
Will your grace cast away an innocent life?   Stro. 

Villain thou liest, thou guilty art of death  
A hundred ways, which now I'll execute.   Med. 
Recall your word my Lord.  Alp. 
Not for the world.  Stro. 

O my dear Liege, but that my spirit prophetic  
Hath inward feeling of such sins in him,  
As ask the forfeit of his life and soul,  
I would, before I took his life, give leave  
To his confession, and his penitence:  
O, he would tell you most notorious wonders,  
Of his most impious state; but life and soul  
Must suffer for it in him, and my hand  
Forbidden is from heaven to let him live,  
Till by confession he may have forgiveness.  
Die therefore monster.   Vin. 

O be not so uncharitable sweet friend,  
Let him confess his sins, and ask heaven pardon.   Stro. 

He must not Princely friend, it is heavens justice  
To plague his life and soul, and here's heavens justice.   Me. 
O save my life my Lord.  Las. 

Hold good Lord Strozza,  
Let him confess the sins that heaven hath told you,  
And ask forgiveness.   Med. 

Let me good my Lord,  
And I'll confess what you accuse me of;  
Wonders indeed, and full of damned deserts.   Stro. 

I know it, and I must not let thee live  
To ask forgiveness.   Alp. 

But you shall my Lord,  
Or I will take his life out of your hand.   Stro. 

A little then I am content my Liege:  
Is thy name Medice?   Med. 

No my Noble Lord,  
My true name is Mendice.   Stro. 

Mendice? see,  
At first a Mighty scandal done to Honour.  
Of what country art thou?   Med. 

Of no Country, ay,  
But borne upon the Seas, my mother passing  
Twixt Zant and Venice.   Stro. 
Where wert thou christened?  Med. 

I was never christened,  
But being brought up with beggars, called Mendice.   Alp. 
Strange, and unspeakable.  Stro. 

How cam'st thou then  
To bear that port thou didst, entering this Court?   Med. 

My lord when I was young, being able limbed,  
A Captain of the Gipsies entertained me,  
And many years I lived a loose life with them:  
At last I was so favoured, that they made me  
The King of Gipsies; and being told my fortune  
By an old Sorceress, that I should be great  
In some great PRINCE's love, I took the treasure  
Which all our company of Gipsies had  
In many years, by several stealths collected,  
And leaving them in wars, I lived abroad,  
With no less show than now: and my last wrong  
I did to Noblesse, was in this high Court.   Alp. 
Never was heard so strange a counterfeit.  Stro. 
Didst thou not cause me to be shot in hunting?  Med. 
I did my Lord, for which, for heavens love pardon.  Stro. 

Now let him live my Lord, his bloods least drop  
Would stain your Court, more than the Sea could cleanse:  
His soul's too foul to expiate with death.   Alp. 

Hence then, be ever banished from my rule,  
And live a monster, loathed of all the world.   Pog. 
I'll get boys and bait him out a'th' Court my Lord.  Alp. 
Do so I pray thee, rid me of his sight.  Pog. 
Come on my Lord stinkard, I'll play Fox, Fox, come out of thy hole with you i'faith.  Med. 
I'll run and hide me from the sight of heaven.  Pog. 

Fox, Fox, go out of thy hole; a two legged Fox,  
A two legged Fox.   Exit with Pages beating Medice. Beue. 
Never was such an accident disclosed.  Alp. 

Let us forget it honourable friends,  
And satisfy all wrongs with my sons right,  
In solemn marriage of his love and him.   Vin. 

I humbly thank your highness honoured Doctor,  
The balsam you infused into my wounds,  
Hath eased me much, and given me sudden strength  
Enough t'assure all danger is exempt,  
That any way may let the general joy,  
My Princely Father speaks of in our nuptials.   Alp. 

Which my dear Son shall with thy full recure  
Be celebrated in greater Majesty,  
Than ever graced our greatest Ancestry.  
Then take thy love, which heaven with all joys bless,  
And make ye both mirrors of happiness.   
FINIS.