THE CRUEL BROTHER A Tragedy.  
As it was presented, at the private House, in the Blackfriars: By His Majesty's Servants.  
LONDON, Imprinted by A. M. for john Waterson, and are to be sold at the sign of the Crown in Paul's Churchyard, 1630,   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD WESTON, LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND.  
MY LORD,  
I Should do my inclination wrong, to call this, the first Testimony of my Zeal to your Lordship: For I did never think the wonder, or the praise that I have written, just; until I found your Lordship's Character in both: and yet the age is grown unworthy to receive such truths; therefore, some were purposely concealed; and this fit esteem of your Lordship, is chiefly left to delight Posterity. I could urge the dignity of dramatic-poems, but that were vainly to direct, rather than woo, an acceptation. Those errors, your lordship's leisure shall vouchsafe to read in this Tragedy, are its original Crimes, having received no examination since the Birth, and being advised to correct it, by a survey, I said; I had studied your Lordship, and would not lessen, the noble office of your Mercy. This confidence (I hope) shall nothing prejudice  
Your Lordship's humble Servant. WILLIAM D'AVENANT.   

The Scene, Italy.  

The Persons of this Tragedy.  
The DUKE. Of Sienna.  
LUCIO. A Count.  
forest. Creature to Lucio.  
CASTRUCHIO. A satirical-courtier.  
COSIMO. A Courtier, and x to Castruchio.  
DORIDO. A Gentleman, Companion with both.  
LOTHARIO. A frantic young-Gallant.  
BORACHIO. A Rustic, Tenant, and Servant to Lothario.  
A monk. A Suitor.  
A GENTLEMAN. A Suitor.  
CORSA. Sister to forest, Wife to Lucio.  
Luinna. Wife to forest.  
DVARTE. Woman to Corsa.  
A BOY. Who Sings.  
SERVANTS. &c.    

THE CRUEL BROTHER.  

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.  Enter forest and LUCIO. FOREST. 
I must not be so rude as to believe  
That you (my Lord) can your affections set;  
Upon a Maid, so humble in her birth  
As she you name, for regard of honour  
Do not mock the sister of your servant.  Lucio. 
This way to madness leads, teach not my heart  
Such modern Heraldry. Let it dispose  
Of charitable thoughts, with natural eyes,  
Unlimited by customary form,  
Which gain, and nicety have made an Art,  
Virtue, not blood ennobles us, and ernes  
Her attribute, without hereditary help  
From ancestors. O my dear forest?  
Thy sister with such noble wealth is fraught,  
That to be covetous for her, appears,  
A holy sin. But thou art cruel grown  
Thy memory is sick. The old effects  
That witness how I love thy learned soul,  
Are quite forgot.  Fores. 
Young Lord, disclaim that thought!  
Hear I Promulgate, you my Patron are;  
You found me in estate so poor, so low,  
That you were fain to stoop to lift me up,  
You are the Duke's Creature! who dotes by Art,  
Who in his love, and kindness, Method keeps:  
He holdeth thus his Arms, in fearful care  
Not to bruise you with his dear embracements,  
And what is she whose Virgin blood disdains  
To quench your lawful fire? or whom the Duke  
Would not procure to climb your Marriage be  
Upon her Knees? And shall I then  
(Like to the treacherous Moon) strive to eclipse  
The Sun that gives me light? Shall I consent  
That she, that tumbled in a Womb with me,  
Shall give your Issue birth? The royal Duke  
Would thank me for such charity. My Lord  
Though you are wise, you are but young.  Lucio. 
Heart of Viper!  
Sure Time hath lost his feathers from his Heels,  
Mark how slow he goes? Shall I ne'er be old  
That my designs may repute have,  
And credit in the World. I do not ask  
Thy Sister for my Whore; but for my Wife.  Fores. 
Sir 'tis already joined unto my Creed;  
For I would eat your Heart, should it contrive  
A way in thought, how to cheat my Sister  
Of her pure Chastity. I love you so  
That I with care suppose; She not deserves  
To be your Wife, and so esteem of her  
That she is much too good, to be your Whore.  
In this new Argument, I am too bold,  
You know my duty well. The Dukes abroad  
Though but the birth of day. Go Sir!  Enter Duke, Castruchio, Dorido, Cosimo, Page: and Followers. Duke. 
My glorious Boy, you are too vigilant:  
The Sun, and you, do visit me at once.  
This courtship is not safe. You must not meet  
Your Lover, with a Rival, glorious  
As yourself. forest! welcome from Genoa,  
How fares our Brother Cardinal?  Fores. 
In health, and ease. He bad me tell your Grace  
It was a deed of charity to think  
Him worthy of this same great employment.  
And this letter he humbly recommends  
To your perusal.  Duke reads the Letter to himself. Cast. 
How can it choose  
But choke the very Soul, and bruise the Heart  
To think that such a giddy Snipe: a Fool  
(That merely lives to disparage Nature)  
Should creep to this ambitious government.  
Still he rules the Ruler. The Duke is Ward  
Unto a Page; whose Eyebrows wear more Beard,  
Then doth his Chin: And there's his Instrument,  
A dark fellow; that with disguised Looks  
Could cheat an Hypocrite, older than Time.  Dorid. 
I've heard a better Character of both,  
Such, as to the young Count, Wit, and valour gives:  
Unto forest, honest Spirits.  Cast. 
Report is then become a Bawd to Luck;  
Whom Fortune do enrich, Fame doth flatter.  Duke. 
Sure this tame Priest will make us all Cowards.  
We must a truce confirm with Genoa.  
Well, be it so. Where now (my noble Boy)  
Shall I occasion find, to testify  
That you deserve my love, by virtue of your own?  
In sickly times, when War and civil Spleen  
Besiege the Heart, with treacherous designs,  
A friend shall find a cause to make him known,  
But now in fair weather: I need not ask  
What hovel's near?  Lucio. 
In this, I dare discredit Fate.  
They are not so wealthy in affliction:  
With sorrow so well stored; as could suffice  
To try my sufferance: in the behalf  
Of you my Prince, and still royal Master.  Duke. 
Dar'st thou then die for me?  
Here— make thyself a sacrifice to Fame,  Proffers him a naked poniard. 
Take it: and I will be thy Chronicler.  Lucio. 
It were (Sir) but ingratitude in me  
To lessen thus, the number sanctified  
Of your true friends. Be you pleased to sheathe it,  
In that same part, which you do most abhor.  Duke. 
O Lucio! thou art my Earwig now,  
Creepest in my ear, to feast upon my Brains.  
When in my private grave I lie enclosed,  
More silent than my ruined Fame: no tongue  
Shall pay his tribute to my memory  
But thine: for thou art likely to survive.  
Thy years are few, but full of gratitude.—  
Come: hie we to the Park: The sprightful morn  
Gives motion wings, and liberty to those  
Whom lameness stakes unto the ground.  Cast. 
Royal dotard, like tinder, thou dost waste  
Thy forced fire: to give another light  
Whose saucy flame will darken thine. Monstrous!  Dorid. 
Why dost thou spend thy gall in secret thus?  
A pox upon't: turn thoughts to action:  
Heaven knows, I had rather enrich myself,  
Then envy others wealth. Employ thy brain.  
Get the Duke's fist to this; and thou shalt share  
Five hundred Crowns.  Cast. 
What is't?  Dorid. 
The old business.  Cast. 
And not yet signed: This 'tis to be modest.  
Had I had reputation in thy Creed  Enter Foreste. 
It had been done long since. There's my agent.  
Hence and provide me thanks. Save you Signior.  Fores. 
You may with charity.  Cast. 
Am I in your remembrance sir?  Fores. 
Signior Castruchio, as I take you.  Cast. 
The same. Because I never did desire  
To gain by being troublesome, I lost  
The dear benefit of the practic part.  
Custom's a suitor's safe encourager.  
I the Duke have served, since I was able  
To serve myself. Yet never had the luck  
To get by it: and as the times promise,  
Never shall: Unless I imitate the Crab,  
And find my way (as he doth his) backwards.  
That is. to make petition to the foot  
That he will please t'instruct, and teach the head  
When to commiserate my affair.  Fores. 
Signior. I need a comment to your words.  Cast. 
If you will move my Lord (the Count)  
To get the Duke's fair hand, subscribed here;  
Then shall I feel myself well understood.  Fores. 
Sir my abilities are most pregnant  
When I find I may be profitable  
To any Courtiers just, and modest suit.  
I pray what sense carries the inscription?  Cast. 
Only this Sir. There is an Engine made  
Which spends its strength by force of nimble wheels,  
For they once screwed up, in their return  
Will rive on Oak: but with such subtle force  
That motion gives no leisure to impediment.  
The large and ponderous Log is soon consumed,  
To shavings more transparent than a Glass.  
Of these the skillful Boxes make, Scabbards,  
sheaths, Chests, and moulds for children's Cabinets.  Fores. 
Trust me an Engine of importance great.  
But now, what would the engineer himself?  Cast. 
Faith Signior, nought but a Monopoly  
For all those wares, his Engine makes.  Fores. 
Keep it. Good sir keep it. A monopoly  
Why sir the commonwealth hath been so crushed,  
With th'insulting Charter of such Parents,  
That now the very word defiles the cause.  
I had thought you Signior would have engaged  
My industry in such a suit as might  
Noway disparage though it did enrich;  
however not abuse the public weal.  Cast. 
Very good Sir. My Lord the Count, yourself  
(His servile Instrument) and some others,  
Of this new faction that now, engross  
All Offices, and send your Scouts abroad  
Intelligencers strict, that bring you home  
The number, and the rate of what yourselves,  
Or others in the dark can put to sale.  
Nature hath not altered yet: the first  
And antic method to preserve our breaths.  
We must eat bread if we intend to live;  
Which how to get (unless this humble way  
That you deride) In troth I cannot tell.  
It makes me mad to think you should expose  
Us Men of Heart, to those fastidious helps  
That scape your own acceptance. Your wide Threats,  
That soon will swallow any thing which fills  
Although it nourish not. A pox upon you all!  Fores. 
I did expect you would begin to rail.  
Good troubled Soul! I knew you well before.  
You are the only Man, whose wealthy Muse  
Doth furnish all the Fiddlers in the State  
With desperate Ballads, and invective Songs.  
Libels of such weak fancy and composure  
That we do all esteem it greater wrong  
T'have our Names extant in such paltry Rhyme  
Then in the slanderous sense.  Cast. 
Very well Sir!  Fores. 
You, you must be a Satirist forsooth,  
Calumniate by instinct and inspiration.  
As if just Heaven would borrow Gall of you,  
Wherewith to write our faults. (O strict account!)  
Your Gall, which in the Pen so overflows,  
That still it blots, where in inscribes.  
You imitate the property of Dogs,  
Who bark and snarl most at him they know not  
For else among all those you scandalize  
Why named you me? (almost a stranger to your Eye)  
My Ancestors that built no Monument  
For their fames to dwell in; You also bring  
Into the knowledge of the critic World.  
Why I could never see thee yet but drunk:  
Which makes thy Verses reel and stagger so.  Cast. 
Come sir! We may exchange one thrust unseen.  
They draw fight, close, For stings down Cas & disarms him.  Fores. 
A pretty Cur! dare it bite as well as bark!  
How now sir, your Mathematical thrusts!  
Then have at ye— Yield me thy Sword, or else thou diest.  
I have no joy to set at liberty  
A Soul so unprepared. And as thou art  
My Enemy, I take a full revenge,  
By suffering thy corrupted blood to dwell.  Enter a Monk. 
And taint within thy veins. W'are discovered—  
Take thy sword Now get thee home and rail upon't,  
Because 'twould fight no better.  Cast. 
Yet we may meet i'th' dark. You have a throat  
And there are Knives in Italy.  Exit Castruchio. Forest. 
A good day attend my ghostly Father!  
Doth this your tarriance here discover aught,  
You would with me?  Monk. 
Your leisure shall produce my utterance.  
O Son, your fame is of complexion clear,  
Such as ensnares the virtuous Eye, to love  
And adoration. Such as would procure  
All the skilful Angels suitors to her,  
And such as serves for my encouragement  
For I no letters have from Noble friends,  
Which a requital from themselves invite,  
By Courtship bold, and troublesome to others,  
Nor am I with that wicked mettle stored,  
That rules the mighty, and betrays the mind  
To toil in a design, which angers Heaven,  
And makes the Devil blush. But yet (dear Son)  
I have a suit to thee.  Fores. 
Which I desire to know.  Monk, 
In the ancient Covent of S. Austin  
There is a holy brother lately dead,  
Whose place if you will but confirm on me  
By the Duke's letter to the brotherhood,  
Then shall I better leisure have to pray  
For you my Patron.  Fores. 
Alas my Father!  
The times are more observant to your Tribe.  
It is the method now that your deserts  
Need not to usher but succeed reward.  
The Treatise (written lately) to confute,  
The desperate sect in Mantua, calls it you  
The Author?  Monks. 
It knows no other.  Fores. 
There your preferment safely taketh root.  
Believe me (ghostly Father) I will choose  
The fittest time to work in your behalf.  Monk. 
Heaven prosper your designs.  Exit Monk. Forest. 
What throngs of great impediments besiege  
The virtuous mind? so thick in multitude,  
They jostle one another as they come.  
Hath Vice a charter got, that none must rise  
But such, who of the devil's faction are?  
The way to honour is not evermore  
The way to Hell: a virtuous Man may climb.  
Let the flatterer sell his Lies, else where  
It is unthrifty merchandise to change  
My gold for breath. Of all Antagonists  
Most charity I find in envious men.  
For they do sooner hurt themselves, then hurt  
Or me, or him, that raised me up.  
An envious man is made of thoughts.  
To ruminate much doth melt the brain,  
And make the heart grow lean. Such men as these:  
That in opposing waste their proper strengths:  
That sacrifice themselves in silly hope,  
To butcher us; save Revenge a labour,  
And die to make experiment of Wrath.  
Let Fame discourse aloud until she want  
An Antidote: I am not scared with noise.  
Here I dismiss my fears. If I can swell  
(Unpoisoned by those helps, which Heaven forbids)  
Fond love of ease, shall ne'er my soul dehort:  
Maugre all flattery, envy, or report.  Exit Foreste. Suitors within. 
O good your Grace hear us, hear the complaints  
Of us poor Men: O hear us! we are all  
Undone! Good your Honour hear us.  Enter Duke and Lucio. Duke. 
Death encounter 'em! Lucio shut the door!  
'tis the plague of greatness, the curse  
Of pomp, that in our darkest privacy, we must  
Even public be to every Man's affairs.  
How now! All these saucy Troops of brawling  
Suitors, attend on you my glorious Boy.  Lucio 
It is their humble skill not to arrive  
Before your Grace, but by an Advocate  
A Mediator blessed in your Eyes.  Duke 
How apt am I to love! yet now observe  
Unkindness in my care, and bitterness  
In Physic. I study how to make thee less  
That I may make thee more and more my own.  
Office and Dignity are Enemies  
To health, and ease. Respect grows tedious  
Observance troublesome, where t's most due.  
He that gives his Soul no more employment  
Than what's her own: may sleep within a Drum.  
While busy Hearts, that love to undertake  
Beyond their reach of years: are fain to use  
Drowsy potions: yet watch the Winter night  
With more distinction than the Parish Clock.  
Couldst thou resign thy titles and thy cares  
To make me yet more capable of still  
Enjoying thee?  Lucio. 
My zeal unto myself forbids my speech.  
Since if I make reply to this, I but  
disparage duty, and consume my breath.  
Where sight is young, and clear, there Spectacles  
Are troublesome; and rather hide, then show  
The object. The most devout obedience  
Which I shall ever owe unto your Grace  
Becomes my heart, much better than my tongue.  Duke. 
But yet observe (my Lucio)  
Th'unkind tricks of Nature: how we are fooled  
By a religious constancy in Love.  
A PRINCE's hate doth ruin where it falls:  
But his affection warmeth where it shines  
Until it kindle fire to scorch himself.  
If we are subject to the sin of Heaven,  
(Too much charity) extremity of love:  
Let there be mercy shown in punishment.  
Why is the corrupted use of Royal love  
Imputed to our charge, to our Audit laid?  
We that with all those Organs furnished are  
All those faculties natural in Men:  
Yet limited in use of each: prescribed  
Our conversation, by a saucy form  
Of State. How can we choose (by this restraint)  
But struggle more for liberty? make choice  
Of some one Ear; wherein to empty out our Souls,  
When they are full of busy thoughts; of plots  
Abortive, crude, and thin. 'tis cheap, and base  
For Majesty not to be singular  
In all effects. O then, if I must give my heart  
To the command of one: send him (sweet Heaven!)  
A modest appetite: teach him to know  
The stomach sooner surfeits with too much,  
Then starves for lack of that supply  
Which covetous Ambition calleth want.  
For when my Friend begs, my bounty then  
Concludes to make me poor before that he  
Shall so unthrifty be of breath to ask in vain.  
Distraction! tameness! O my Lucio.  
How canst thou construe this. After I have chid  
I seem to flatter thee.  Lucio. 
My gracious Lord!—  Duke. 
Peace—  
I will no more employ my memory  
Thus to discourage thine. Where's forest!  
'tis fit he know you are not vigilant  
In his behalf. Farelo de Sforza  
(My old Secretary) is newly dead:  
The place is his. I shall expect no thanks  
From you, nor yet from him:  
My bounty is requited in her choice.  Lucio. 
Your Grace will bring us both within the reach  
Of public envy.  Duke. 
Thou now wouldst certify,  
His birth obscure and base discourageth  
Such earnest help to his so great promotion.  
Not a jot: Know my Boy! 'tis the vulgar,  
Not the Royal trade to patch up things:  
Or seek to mend what was before of quality  
Perfect enough itself. To make a Man  
Of nothing: why this same creation  
Inclines a little near Divinity.  
Near the old performance; which from Chaos  
Drew this multitude of subtle forms.  Lucio. 
Since you (the royal maker) do commend  
The mettle, and your workmanship; it shows  
There's little skill in those which envy him.  
Foreste is your Creature. Many times  
I do acquaint him what the general voice  
Doth urge in his disgrace. He laughs it out  
And swears he would not lose that privilege  
Which Nature gave him by her kind mistake  
In his nativity, for the Sea's worth.  
As if from's Issue, he could ne'er deserve.  
A Monument, unless himself do hew  
The stones whereof 'tis built: unless he raise  
His Monument on a Wart; his dignity  
On poverty obscure and base.  Duke. 
We do affect his thoughts Such industry  
Proclaims him fit for high designs: Some Men  
Attend the talking Drum, and riddle out  
Their lives on Earth; with Madness Sophistry:  
Calling their loss, their gain, danger, delight.  
Some men converse with Books, and melt the brain  
In sullen study how to vindicate  
The liberal Arts. Those lose formality,  
Then grow Methodical; and die i'th' dark.  
Some practice rules of State, and suffer much  
For honour's sake: nay tread upon themselves  
At first; to reach the higher. Some pursue  
The Plough; and in their wholesome sweat do swim.  
And some that furnished are with nimbler souls,  
Employ their times in wanton exercise;  
Masques and Revels: the compliments of Love,  
And Love I find the easiest vanity.  Lucio. 
O gentle Corsa! make it so with me,  
Fain would I (if I durst) reveal to him  a noise within 
The heat of my affection, and where 'tis fixed.  Duke. 
Hark: sure the gallery door is left unlocked.  
Are we debarred all place of privacy?  
Nature in us hath lost her vulgar right.  
A loud, bawling suitor; doth not waken  
Charity, but deafen her.  
A shame upon 'em all? In Lucio.  Exeunt Duke & Lucio. Enter Suitors at the other door. 
1. Heaven bless his Grace!  
2. Amen: and my Lord the Count's good Honour.  
3. Friend▪ went the Duke this way?  
2. Here. This way.  
3. Pray show me him: they call Signior Lucio  
2. The Count. Come, I'll show you him.  
1. Follow, follow, follow.  Exeunt. Enter Dorido and Cosimo. Dor 
Dost here? Cosimo.  Cosi. 
What sayst thou?  Dor. 
I prithee stay, why slip but here aside  
And thou shalt see the most resplendent fop,  
That ever did discredit Nature. Signior.  
Lothario; a Country Gentleman  
But now the Court Baboon: who persuades himself,  
(Out of a new kind of madness) to be  enter Lothario, Borachio. 
The Duke's favourite. He comes. Th'other is  
A bundle of Proverbs: whom he seduced  
From the Plough; to serve him for Preferment.  Lotha. 
Borachio.  Bor. 
My Lord?  Loth. 
Survey my garments round, and then declare If I have hit it?  Bor. 
You have sir: but not the mark.  Loth. 
What mark? thou bold Parishioner of Hell.  Bor. 
Why Sir, the mark I aim at: Preferment.  
After a storm, comes a calm: the harder  
You blow, the sooner your Cheeks will ache: and he  
That cares for your anger, may have more of't  
When he list, for my part, I know my Mother.  Loth. 
The froward Sisters have conspired Slave! Dog  
Wilt thou never leave this immense folly?  
Can nothing serve these dull Lips but Proverbs?  Bor. 
Sir, I know none of your Proverbs. First come,  
First served. These words that are nearest the tongue,  
Have opportunity soonest to leave  
The mouth.  Loth. 
Is it then decreed, I must grow mad?  Bor. 
I'll be no more flouted, nor bruised, not I  
What need my Lord, be beholding to me  
For's mirth; when he may laugh at's own folly?  
Besides though motion and exercise  
Be good for gross bodies; therefore, must they  
Of the Guard, pitch me up and down like a bar?  Loth. 
Sa, sa, sa, A mutiny in Heaven!  Bor. 
If there be; You are not likely to come  
Thither to appease it, first end this quarrel  
Upon earth, I have served you this six Months,  
In hope of an Office; and am no more  
An Officer than she that bore me.  Loth. 
Alas poor fool!  
I pity thee. Thou wilt believe nothing  
But that which may be seen or understood.  
I say thou art an Officer. Or if thou art not  
Thou shalt be; which is better: for that same  
Which we now enjoy is in some danger  
To be lost: but that which we never had  
Cannot be lost before we have it.  Bora. 
O rare conclusion:  Loth. 
Besides. Look here and then rejoice, Is the Count  
(Whom they call my Rival i'th' Duke's favour)  
Is he (I say) accoutred like to me?  
Why his sleeves sit like stockings on his Arms.  
His Breeches are like two Cloak-bags, half sowed  
Together in the Twist: and his other  
Garments show like Plasters on him. Follow.  
And make thy fortune fat.  Bora. 
Well. He that still expects, but tires his hope,  
What One cannot, another can: 'tis so  
With days and hours too. And for my part  Exeunt Loth. Bor. 
Let the Glass run out.  Dorid. 
His Man's as full of Proverbs  
As a Constable: he coins 'em himself.  Cos. 
And such another Headpiece filled with whey  
As is the Master here, the Sun ne'er saw.  Dorid. 
He walks like a Zealand-stork.  Cast. 
But sure the Duke  
Enables error in their fancy, by some  
Behaviour equivalent to what  
The Master, and the Man expect: for else  
Folly cannot be so sick-eyed; but time  
Will give it strength to know itself.  Dorid. 
Why sir; this dignifies the jest. They scarce  
Ere saw the Duke: and are less known  
Unto the world. His Grace well apprehends,  
These voluntary mistakes of Nature,  
In preservation of their intellects,  
Are fitter subjects for accidental mirth,  
Than a Comical continuance. It is  
A levity too humble in a Prince  
To heed such trifles.  Cos. 
Nay— Prithee lead the way.  Exeunt omnes.  

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.  Enter FORESTS and LVINNA. FORES. 
I cannot tell, why thou (my Girl) shouldst joy  
In my advancement thus. Honour, and place  
Bring sullen thoughts with them: business of such  
A ragged quality, as takes away  
The amorous garb: those soft wanton touches,  
Wherewith the youthful flatterer betrays  
The weaker side to action: whose effects  
More weakness brings. I shall no leisure have  
To comfort thee with smiles: when 'tis assigned  
That I must venture for a Boy: 'twill be  
In haste. My business will not suffer me  
To stay, and make a prologue to the act,  
To kiss, or simper invitation.  Luin. 
It is not fit I apprehend you now,  
But I wish that you would know; My duty  
Is so well preserved from all corruption:  
Which either youth: or foul example might  
Produce: that it implores for sufferance,  
To certify the world how strong it is.  Forest. 
I was assured before. This is the time,  
In which I shall oblige posterity  
Or fall (my wench) by flattering error.  
Hast thou to my sister counsel given?  
Instructions safe! whereby her actions  
May warrant her promotion well deserved.  Luin, 
It was my tongue's last employment.  Fores 
I would have her wear her growing fortunes,  
In a handsome fashion: Do but observe  
The unpolished garb of City dames: of those  
Whom father's purse-strings hoist up to honour.  
How they do suck their Chins into their Necks.  
Simper with unskilful levity: and trip  
On their wanton Toes; like Kibe-heel'd-Fayries.  
The devil's dam shows like a vestal Nun  
To them: more powerful in humility.  
Instruct my Sister, gentle wife.—  Enter Lucio. Lucio 
I shall be earnest to my utmost skill.  Fores. 
My Lord is come, where's my Sister.  Lucin. 
With the Florentine: who instructeth her in music.  Exit. Lucio. 
Signior Foreste,  
You see my love is rude, and bold. I am  
The usher to my own entrance.  Fores. 
My good Lord, The proverb will persuade you:  
To be bold, with what's your own.  
Your title's strong, both to the house, and me.  Lucio. 
I am in debt for both. wilt thou not child.  
To see my heart assume this liberty.  Music. 
Upon my Tongue: before it rightly knows!  
Thy sister's heart:  
The Duke consent, as yet unasked too: heark?  Fores. 
Cease that noise, 'tis troublesome:  cease Muss. Lucio. 
How Forest? Hast thou ears? and wilt thou  
●ence such hopeful harmony, or is  
Thy thirst unnatural, wilt thou forbid  
Thy friend to share in what is good, sweet tongue  
And hand, persist in what your kindness proffered.  Fores. 
Obey him, if the music not deserve  
Your strict attention: You must blame yourself.  Song. Lucio. 
Show me the way Foreste.  Fores. 
Whither sir?  Lucio. 
My heart is stolen out of my ear; let me  
But know the thief, and I'll forgive the robbery.  
Speak; who is't that, with a voice so amorous  
And shrill, confounds the other's hollow organ?  
Still so reserved, and unto me.  Enter Corsa. Fores. 
Why then look there, the voice was hers, go sir  
And take what else you would enforce from my possession.  Lucio. 
Is this that child of Orpheus? how? kneel to me?  Fores. 
Stay Sir— If she consent but to abuse  
The property of motion in such kind  
As may exalt her person but on such  
Above this height: I am her enemy  
For evermore. Consider what you do.  
She brings no portion but humility,  
If her first payment fail: who dares assure  
The future debt? Pray look into her lap:  
You'll find she comes not from the East enriched  
With Diamonds, bright wealth: whose wanton worth  
Unskilful fancy prizes not from use  
But from the idolatrous doting of the eye.  
Her chaste obedience is all her dowry.  
O bitter speech! it cuts my very soul  
To think that fortune should create us two  
Mere patterns of your charity.  Lucio. 
Dare you authorise this Idolatry?  
Then I'll kneel too.  Forest. 
And I,  
Will join to make th'offence seem virtuous.  
Now interchange your souls. Where passion is  
So fond, it cannot well be counterfeit.  
Each unbusied Angel, hear me speak!  
O send, send down unto this youthful pair  
Celestial heat. Such serious love as makes  
A business of delight; Instruct her soul  
To practise duty in the humble strain.  
And furnish him with an acceptance prompt.  
Make her fruitful as the Vine; which grows  
Crooked with the weight of its own increase.  
So blessed in their Issue, that when time  
Shall think them fit to taste the privilege  
Of Death: they shall not need a Monument  
Yet dwell as chief i'th' memory of Fame.  Corsa. 
Amen, Amen.  Lucio. 
Such is my prayer too. O Foreste!  
Excessive joy disturbs my utterance.  
My words are parted on any tongue. O speak!  
Thou know'st my heart! Tell her, there may lie hope,  
I shall deserve those Tears that show like dew  
Upon the Morning cheek. Entreat her, that  
My years may not disgrace my love. Though I  
Am young, I cannot counterfeit,  
I ever speak my thoughts. I am o'ercome.  Corsa. 
Alas sir, so am I, There needs no Art,  
To help belief, where no suspicion is.  Fores. 
Now; I'll leave you to yourselves.  Exit Fores. Corsa. 
I've much to promise in my own behalf:  
Of my future love, and humble duty  
To you my dearest Lord. Time lays his hand  
On Pyramids of Brass, and ruins quite  
What all the fond Artificers did think  
Immortal workmanship. He sends his worms  
To Books, to old Records: and they devour  
Th' inscription. He loves Ingratitude,  
For he destroyed the memory of Man:  
But I shall ne'er forget on what strange terms  
You take me to your bed.  Lucio. 
Excellent wretch! I am undone with joy  
I will not blame the Coward to fear death,  
Since the world contains such joy as this.  
Why do you weep Lady? can you suppose  
Foreste would consent to what is done,  
Unless he knew there were no danger in't?  
Sure his Mother was a Sibyl; he sees  
With a prophetic aim; the end of his  
Designs; before they come to action.  
He is too wise to err. Why weep you then?  Corsa. 
It is a folly in my Eyes.  
I know not why they weep: unless they weep  
Because they now have lost their liberty;  
Heretofore each man, which chance presented,  
Was to them a lawful object: but now,  
They are to look on none but you.  Lucio. 
Mark then the bondage I impose on mine,  
My poor eyes have no object, but your face:  
Of which I will deprive them thus—  Covers her face with her white Veil. 
Shroud thee in thy vestal ornaments.  
Creep, creep, my glorious Sun, behind a cloud.  
For else my eyes, will surfeit with delight.  
I never felt true joy till now. methinks  
A brisk alacrity, a nimble fire,  
conveys me strangely from my flesh.  
Not the Cannons, Iron-entrail, when wrapped  
Within a swarthy case of troubled Air,  
Could equall me in emphasis of Motion.  Corsa. 
Though Modesty would suffer me to boast,  
Yet 'twere not in the power of breath, to make  
My joy so known, as it is felt.  Lucio. 
Come then (my dear Corsa) the Priest attends  
Within; the world wants Men; and Hymen is  
A nimble God. When all is past prevention  
The Duke shall know my choice.  Exit. Enter Dorido: and Cosimo: Dorid. 
This disgrace, makes thy x boil his heart  
In his own blood.  Cos. 
He hath writ a most pestilent Libel  
Which must be sung all about the city,  
By one he calls his Daw; A tall, big, fellow.  Dor. 
I know him. He sings like Phalaris Bull.  Cos. 
I supposed at first, he would have sent him  
A Challenge.  Dor. 
But that's contingent now: Foreste  
Being made Secretary of State.  Cos. 
I'have heard o'th' new edict, which institutes  
A mysterious toy, i'th' 'Hatband, for those  
Of the faction.  Dor. 
Why about two days since: one of the sect  
Sent me a Challenge. Because my sister  
Drunk his Lords health, with her Coif on. Each hour  
These giddy Participles do embark  
Themselves for Duels. The one is a kin  
To my honourable Lady. Th' other  
To my very good Lord.  Enter Castruchio. Cos. 
There comes my x, chawing his lean heart.  Dor. 
Good morrow to the Court Satirist.  Cast. 
The world is altered Dorido, Foreste  
Is stepped beyond my reach: we cannot meet  
In Duel: The Heralds stand between.  
But my fine Thrush, can sing you a new Libel.  Dor. 
We shall have your Thrush, in a Cage shortly.  
Remember, who you deal withal.  Cast, 
Hang him, dull, open slave, His thoughts may be  
Discerned, through the shaving of a deal board.  
I'll sift and winnow him, in an old hat.  Dor. 
Prithee (sweet Castruchio) leave thy barking.  
'Twill bet treason shortly for any man,  
To carry ears, within three, miles of thy Tongue.  Cast. 
Why Signior, what Faction are you of:  Dor. 
Not of your faction (Sir) if none return  
Unto the prison for your libelling.  
You remember your Vices stripped, and whipped.  
Your trim Eclogues, the fulsome satire too,  
Written to his Grace. Wherein you flatter,  
Whine, and damn yourself to get a pardon  
For what seems there a resolute offence.  
Satyrs, are more useful, now then ever.  
Nor grieves it me to see the humour used,  
But thus abused. To see a Bard still reach  
At holy bays, Passion o'me! I'll tell thee.  
Thy Rhymes include not so much Brains, as would  
Suffice to fill a Cherry-stone.  Cast. 
you'd fain make me angry.  Dor. 
ay, with thyself.  Cos. 
And than thou spend'st thy Gall, with more justice,  
Then when, thou rail'st against Foreste.  Cast. 
Cry you mercy (precious Cox) Hath Foreste,  
So great a share in your tongue too? Sympathy  
Is corrupted. Behold society  
Amongst the wicked: whilst a virtuous man,  
Is left alone to resist his bad fate.  
Let him chide the fulsome Age, rail against  
The Times, aloud; though in a Vault: or 'tween  
Two Hills. He shall find no zealous echo,  
To second his bold Language. When I die,  
I die a Martyr to the Commonweal.  Enter Lothario and Borachio. Loth. 
Dull Caitiff, leave these abortive Provects,  
And talk in the newest fashion. I'll have  
My very Dug bark i'th' Courtly garb.  Dor. 
Step aside. They are as mad as thy x.  Loth. 
The excrements and mere defects of nature,  
shall be reduced to Ornaments in me.  
I'll feed upon the tongues of Nightingales,  
For so each fart I let, will be a Song—  Cast. 
For the Peripatetics being Butchers  
Here in Sienna:—  Loth. 
A Pallas hewn in an entire Carbuncle.  
Encircled with a More that flows with Lhasis—  Cast. 
Deriu'd their Augury from the warm Entrails  
Of a Calf.  Bor. 
Sir. These are some of those, that laughed at ye  
In the presence.  Loth. 
At me? thou liest. They laughed at thee.  Bora. 
Why then the Devil, will ne'er give a Man  
Leisure, to believe a truth.  Cast. 
signior Lothario, the great Minion  
To our Duke: I greet your health, with all joy.  Cos. 
And I with all humility.  Dorid. 
And I with all celerity.  Loth. 
Hark! thou dull Sinner. Is this real? hah?  Bora. 
Sir, let him, that hath a heart of his own  
Think what he list.  Loth. 
Do they adore, or flout me now?  Bora. 
All is witchcraft. know when the Moon winks  
There's something in't, besides an eclipse.  Loth. 
Miscreant: What suspicious follies  
Dost thou create within that Wooden-skull?  
And with what Heathen-phrase uttered? Know Dog,  
If I employ my wrath—  Bora. 
Alas sir i've more faults than misbelief.  
Therefore give me your blessing, and let me  
Go home in peace. 'tis true, when the sky falls  
We shall have Larks. But let weaker stomachs,  
Expect such curious meat. I can eat  
Oats, and Garlic, under my own Roof.  Dorid. 
How? will Borachio leave the Court?  Cast. 
What accident of dire portent is fallen?  Loth. 
Gentlemen applaud my patience: Because,  
He cannot furnish me with wholesome Suits,  
He doubts my power to get 'em granted.  Cast. 
Why we, will furnish him with Suits.  Bora. 
But wont ye flout, and play the knave with one?  Cast 
How (Knave!) was that the word?  Bora. 
Interpret the word, as yourself shall please.  
I scorn to be your Dictionary.  
Marry come up: Are your ears so tender?  
I hope I'm a Man, although a sinner.  Cast. 
Use no choler Amorous child. But if  
Thou wantest suits, thy Lord being near the Duke,  
May furnish thee with—  Cos. 
Or methinks thou wouldst become a knighthood  
Get him to beg it for thee.  Bora. 
No, no, Hot words make but warm air, A fig  
For a Knight-errant; that hath a style, and ne'er a hedge.  Dorid. 
Then get a Patent to survey Brine-pits.  
Or else for casting Ordinance in loam.  Cast. 
Or else search Saint Peter's patrimony,  
Lay prebendries are good, and Simony  
Is an old Paradox.  Bora. 
Hold, hold  
Enough sufficeth all women but whores.  
He that expects the Morning lengthens the Night  
Therefore straightway let my Lord get the Duke  
To sign these Patents: which done  
I'll return to the wife of my bowels,  
And die for joy.  Cast. 
Why this, is fit, and requisite.  Cos. 
If Signior Lothario do consent.  Loth. 
It is decreed.  Bora. 
Who would hasten Time, when we may be old  
Too soon. Let me take down a Cushion, and pray.  
For I shall have more dignity than will suffice  
To damn a Monk.  Cast. 
Who could perish in a better cause?  Bora. 
Why, can I help it? If a man be borne  
To Offices. Or as my Master said,  
Predestinate in the womb of greatness.  
'tis not our faults. Each man obeys his Star,  
In spite of his Teeth,  Dor. 
All this is Alcaron.  Bora. 
One thing grieves me. I've a bad memory  
Already, and now 'twill be made worse.  Cast. 
How can preferment hurt thy memory?  Bora. 
O Sir! preferment makes a man forget  
His dearest friends; nay his kindred too.  Cos. 
Look, Thy Master's building more Castles, in the Air.  Cast. 
He has intelligence from Spain, and fortifies,  
To no purpose 'gainst the next Spring.  Loth. 
All offices shall be sold i'th' dark—  Bora. 
How! Grow not old in another's garment,  
Sell what's your own, Some of those offices  
Are mine by promise.  Loth. 
Still, cross to my designs. I'll stretch your Sinews  Dor. 
Hold! Signior Lothario, hold! Mercy  
Becomes the powerful,  Bora. 
Let the Devil take the Knighthood, and make  
His Dam a Lady. I'll not be his Ass,  Exit Bor. Loth. running after him. 
That served for blows, and provender.  Dor. 
let's relieve Borachio, or all our Comic Scenes  
Are at an end.  Exeunt Omnes. Chair out. Enter Duke and Foreste. Duke. 
Foreste  Fores. 
My gracious Lord.  Duke. 
Are yet our Letters to his Holiness  
Dispatched?  Fores. 
They are so please your Grace.  Duke. 
Did the French-ambassador make some show  
Of discontent at his departure hence?  Fores. 
Both in his words and looks: for when he heard  
Th' English-Leiger had opposed his Treaty  
Concerning traffic with the Florentine,  
His anger straight dismissed the Argument,  
And seized upon the Nation, nay railed  
Against the leaguer too, whose opposition,  
Might be chidden as too nice a Virtue,  
But could not be accused as a vice,  
'tis known indeed the French do take a prides,  
In the emphasis of sudden anger,  
As if alacrity in ill did make,  
The fault look handsomely, and dulness add  
Deformity to sin.  Duke. 
'tis faithfully observed.  Fores. 
Swelled with uncharitable pride: such as  
Admits no style of Neighbour; as if grown  
Above the use of friendship. They seem to call  
Those mighty islanders nearest their soil,  
Poor borderers to their Continent. Such,  
Whose thin numbers, have in bloody battle,  
Made their multitudes their impediments,  
Worn their Ensigns, instead of gaudy scarves.  Duke. 
The chance of war,  
Admitteth many times of Miracles,  
Even such, as do discredit History,  
High-providence confers the conquest there,  
Where probability conferred the loss.  
And this is done, that we may attribute  
The praise to him that gave the victory,  
Not to them that got it. Observe beside,  
That when the weak do overcome: the strong,  
Do leave that stain, for their Posterity  
To wipe away: which is already done;  
The French, have fiery nimble spirits.  Fores. 
Your Grace deals justly in your praise. They (have  
Spirits: but they all are useless made,  
By forward and affectate violence.  
He that spends his fury, and his strength  
I'th' first charge, must not hope to make's retreat,  
So nobly, as the modest Combatant,  
Whose onset slowly moves: as careful not  
T'outride his skill. Their valour is t'attempt.  
Not to perform. 'tis a giddy Nation;  
And never serious but in trifles.  Duke. 
Thou dost mistake in natural effects,  
Where Fancy is so rich, the incident  
To some mis-expense. These witty riots  
Divulge the wealth o'th' 'Brain. Fruite that is ripe  
Is prone to fall, or to corrupt it self.  
Accord to the age of Monarchies:  
They now are fully ripe: they reach  
The height, and top of mortal faculties.  
Nature in them doth stand upon the verge  
Of her owne youth The English want  
Three hundred years of that perfection.  
And as the Moon ne'er changes but i'th' full  
Even so the mighty Nations of the Earth,  
Change in their greatest glory. First their strict  
And rugged discipline, to vain delights.  
Their solemn Marches next to wanton Jigs.  
Their Battles fierce to Duels splenative,  enter Lucis. kneel. 
Or witty quarrels of the Pen.  Luc. 
Here may my knees take root: whilst I do grow  
A living Statue of true obedience,  
Or let my royal Master grant his pardon.  Duke. 
Sure we may trust, the judgement of our eyes,  
Thou dost not look as if thou couldst commit  
A sin so horrid, so ugly as can fright  
Our mercy from us. Rise, we pardon thee.  
Now let us know thy crime.  Lucio. 
It is no crime  
Unless against that great prerogative  
Your ear hath overrun. Perhaps my Heart,  
Hath made escape through these fond Eyes. And I  
(I'th' rash discretion of my youthful blood)  
Confined myself in Matrimonial bonds.  Duke. 
Hah! married? speak suddenly, to whom?  Fores. 
Io my Sister. Sir pardon the permission,  Foreste kneels. 
Or frown, and leave your creature more obscure  
Than when you owned him first. Now is the time  
To show your charity Divine. Preserve  
What you have made.  Duke. 
Foreste this is ill.  
What confederate with ungoverned youth?  
But rise, we pardon you. Where's the Lady?  Enter Corsa 
Rare beauty!—  
You have our pardon, and our favour too.  
I thus invite more knowledge of your worth.  
Believe me Lady: you have a feature  
That would betray a more experienced Eye  
Then Lucio's is. Excellent wretch! with a  
Timorous modesty, she stifleth up  
Her utterance. O such a pregnant Eye!  
And yet I slow of speech; is a wonder  
More delightful, than any Nature makes.  
Hast thou Lucio, so much unhappy wit,  
As to be jealous yet? with thou suppose  
thyself secure in our discourse?  Lucio. 
Heaven forbid, your Grace should e'er employ  
Your time so ill, as to discourse with her  
Till grew jealous.  Duke. 
Come hither Lady, come, confess, how chance  
You have bewitched my Boy with subtle smiles,  
With wanton behaviour of those pretty Eyes?  
Doth Heaven bestow such Noble ornaments,  
To be abused in the use: and now  
He is your Prisoner too, in cheerful bonds,  
How can you have the heart to make such spoil,  
And havoc of his beauty? hah! speak Lady!  Corsa. 
I hope your Grace hath thoughts more merciful.  
I know this match was made in Heaven; and not  
Provoked by any sinful art in me.  
How I have used him in this little time  
That he hath been my Lord: let him declare.  
My duty is so strict, I need not blush  
To hear the story told.  Duke. 
No! look, look there. His Eyes for very shame  
Their lustre's lost are crept into his head:  
Encircled with the weakly colour blue.  
The Roses in his Cheeks are withered quite  
His clear and brisk aspect is muddy now  
And dull: His voice (that was so shrill; and could  
Even Trumpetlike, outscold the echo)  
Is hollow grown, and hoarse. Have you then used him well?  Corsa. 
Alas (most gracious sir) go not about  
To make my Lord suspect my Loyalty.  
If Nature sicken in his faculties;  
Which (heaven be thanked) I perceived not yet,  
It cannot prove a guiltiness in me.  Duke. 
believe't (young wife) I am no Proselyte,  
I still aver, you are that greedy Nymph,  
That hath devoured the rich complexion of my Boy.  
See how his feature's shrunk? his beauty stained?  
The Scythian Dame (whose cruelty is such,  
Whose lust so prodigal, that she doth strive  
To kill the able Lecher in the act;  
Making her womb his Sepulchre) would yet  
Have spared that wanton handsomeness; to show  
As pattern of her Lenity.  Corsa. 
I hope, your Grace will pardon Ignorance,  
That so ill mannered is, as not to know  
Your meaning.  Duke. 
No matter Lady.  
My accusation shall withdraw itself.  
Pretty innocence! Lucio, prepare.  
'tis our will to make thy Wife a Courtier;  
She shall be high in favour; if she'll leave  
Her modesty; that's out of fashion now:  
In Neighbour Courts, the ladies so prevail  
With masculine behaviour: they grow  
In factions able to depose their Husbands  
From the charter of their Sex.  Fores. 
'tis strange that his dislike is fled so soon.  Duke. 
Your Marriage we will solemnize with masques,  
And Revels. If Invention ever mean,  
To get reward for subtlety; 'tis now.  
We take notice (Lucio) She is thy wife,  
And thy sister our Foreste.  Fores. Lucio. 
We your grace's humblest Creatures.  Fores. 
Affection is become a Parasite;  
Strives to please, whom it cannot benefit.  Exeunt omnes.  

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.  Enter, DORIDO, COSIMO, CASTRY CHIO. DORIDO, 
Known, by whom by City wits!  Cos. 
Or my lady's workmen.  Dor. 
Who ne'er saw verse, but what their Suitors writ,  
Which they read like Prose too.  Cast. 
I'll not discredit my patience, talk on.  Dor. 
They say you are particular with a  
Great Lady.  Cos. 
Yes, and her Pensioner.  Dor. 
Some loose thing (belike) yet will be at charge,  
To secure her fame from noise. For thou pray'st  
Against all lechery but thine own.  Cos. 
And she hath wished in witty-penitence,  
Thou hadst been single in the world,  Dor. 
ay, for then she had lived chaste. He grows angry,  
His eyes look red.  Cast. 
No Sir. They blush to see a Fool.  Dor. 
'twere fit they would employ their modesty  
At home. For thou art a fool in print.  Cos. 
Yet had he lived, when the old Sibyl,  
Presented her divine Manuscripts, to  
The dull Roman; he would have scolded with her,  
Unless his Pamphlets had attained the first  
Acceptance.  Dor. 
True, for every Poet thinks himself  
The best Poet in the world.  Cos. 
And that satire not the worst; wherein  
He chides Women, for wearing their half-ruffs,  
Which pinned behind trans situates the face,  
Or makes'em look, like janus with two faces.  Dorid. 
A just exception: for going hastily  
To kiss his whore; he could not find her Mouth.  Cos. 
Why sure her breath was strong enough  
To direct him to it.  Cast. 
Yet I have heard nothing, but what deserves  
More pity, than anger.  Dorid. 
Now when he hath provided some high toy  
For the Press; he thinks on dedication,  
straight chooseth one of the faction; who must  
Not Patronize, but buy what he makes vendable,  
With praise in the Epistle.  Cos. 
Can you deny this x Satirist?  Dorid 
And nothing makes Learning so cheap; but that  
Every writer sells his works.  Exit Castruchio. they after him. Cos. 
Nay let's follow; and worry him to pieces.  Enter Lucio, and Foreste. Lucio. Foreste. 
Our ruin is contrived above.  
If our Master prove unkind, the Planets  
Govern ill: For our gratitude, and care,  
Deserves more constancy.  Foreste 
Looks he so strangely on ye?  Lucio 
As if the object were but new to him.  
And his own heart unsettled in his breast.  Fores. 
Is his violence so soon tired? survey  
The Register of your own deeds. Speak Sir,  
Have you so engrossed his ears, as if their  
Organ, were yours, not his. Confined 'em to  
Your own tongue: and so deprived the sorrowful,  
The grieved in heart, of an easy audience?  Lucio. 
never.  Forest. 
Since you have shared the Duke's prerogative,  
And by his love, held opposition.  
At such great advantage. did you e'er slight  
With cheap regard, those of high, and Noble birth?  Lucio. 
My soul abhors such tyranny.  Fores. 
Have those who wear th'eternals Livery  
Bought their wages of ye? Or have they found  
Bold, and skilful flattery, more helps  
Advancement; then deep and modest Learning?  Lucio. 
Never, since my distinction was of power,  
To help its choice.  Forest. 
In nice trial, or evidence of Law,  
Hath Custom (which only gives us hope  
Of certainty in justice) been traduced  
By your obscure help?  Lucio. 
Never.  Fores. 
Hath the desolate Widow scared mercy  
From your eyes, with her old ruined beauty,  
(For grief was never amorous) or hath  
The torn Beggar too soon dismissed your charity  
Because not giddy enough to delight  
Wantonness.  Lucio. 
Never.  Fores. 
Then if our great Master withdraw his love;  
The weight of sufferance cannot bruise ye;  
For the whole world will share i'th' burden.  Enter a young Gentleman with a Letter. Lucio. 
From whom is this sir?  Gent. 
From my Lord marquis de Loretta.  Lucio. 
I humbly kiss his hand.  Gent. 
Now luck flatter me but once, and I am made—  
'tis short, pray heaven it be sweet, or I'll ne'er love  
The Proverb.  Lucio. 
Sir, have you ever been in service,  
Under any eminent Commander?  Gent. 
Never yet.  Lucio. 
read these Foreste.  
How Reputation lessens in esteem.  
Courtesy grows so cheap, that denial,  
Seems less troublesome than consent.  
And performance is only Lazy.  
The labour of subscription hinders more,  
Then thought of that, to which it doth subscribe.  
This Letter would fain make you a Captain  
In the new Troops, sent to the Valtaline.  
But sure your modesty will teach you balk  
The grant, though I should beg ye to receive't.  Fores. 
Sir. Shall the grey head, the old Soldier.  
That tries misfortune by his constancy  
In sufferance; affronts the winter's rage;  
Whilst his blood is frozen into Coral,  
His sins into Wire: whole Valour thinks  
To wear Chained shot, as bracelets on his Loins.  
Shall his preferment be intercepted?  
Shall he now trail a Pike under a Boy,  
Whose experience is younger than his face?  Lucio. 
No, the friendship of the noble marquis  
Shall never countenance unjust deeds.  
Find a Suit more capable of my grant,  
And your acceptance, it is your own.  Chair at the Arras. Gent. 
Noble Signior, I'll put ye to the test.  Fores. 
PRINCE's letters are cheaper far than those  
Which Scriveners put to sale. If such Pigmies,  
Apes in doublets, procure command o'th' Camp,  
Let the Cranes wage war again. No opposition  
Is too weak to ruinate.— Go young Lord,  
The Duke is ill accompanied, if only  
With his own thoughts. Discover more. Perhaps  
His discontent concerns not you.  Lucio 
I fear, yet my hopes would fain comfort me,  
Farewell.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Luinna, and Duarte. Luin. 
I would not be unmannerly, but if  
She be at leisure, tell her, I am here.  Dua. 
Please your Ladyship to sit, I'll tell her so.  enter Corsa. 
She's come already.  Corsa. 
I saw your entrance. How do you Sister?  Luin. 
I humbly thank your honour, I am well,  
Pray dismiss your woman: I would impart  
A privacy.  Corsa. 
Watch my Lords coming from the Duke, and bring  
Me word, before he is uncoached  Dua. 
I shall.  Exit Duarte. Luin. 
O Madam Time is now grown old, and runs  
But slowly, I thought each Hour, a year,  
Until I saw your Ladyship.  Cor. 
Why what's the matter? I hope my brother's well  Luin. 
Yes, I thank heaven. But pray come hither.  
Who do you suppose was with me last night,  
When my husband was at Court?  Corsa 
How should I tell, without you instruct me.  Luin. 
Why give a guess.  Corsa. 
The Lady Benuolia, or the Lady  
Utruvio, who was it?  Luin. 
Nay 'twas a Man too.  Corsa. 
That's fine i'faith, pray name him to me.  Luin. 
What think you of the best man in Sienna?  Corsa. 
How! was the Duke with ye?  Luin. 
Yes, disguised too: he either came, (or else  
Pretended so) to meet your husband there.  
After some talk, (in which he did express  
His love to all our family) he gave  
An ample praise of you: and said he saw  
Already so much worth in your fair breast  
As will add a knot to your Lords Heart,  
And his own: nay and make his constant love  
A pattern for every royal Master.  Corsa. 
Indeed, I daily pray to have it so.  Luin. 
Then he gave me this same jewel; to you  
He recommended the receipt of this.  Corsa 
Trust me wench, they are both full of glory  
Rarely cut, and set.  Luin. 
yours is the better of the twain,  Corsa. 
It is.  
But truly I mislike the manner of  
The gift. Dost thou think his thoughts are honourable?  
I prithee tell me?  Luin. 
theyare such as I suspected at the first,  
Such as made me to refuse these jewels.  
He swore I was a Traitor, if I thought.  
He meant amiss Or if I did deny  
To bear this same to you, I did but ill  
Require his kind request unto my husband.  
Then in the close he used such Art, such subtle phrase,  
To free his thoughts from the strict jealousy  
Of mine; as reconciled me to obey his will.  
You know besides how harsh it is to chide  
With Majesty, or slight princes' favours.  Corsa. 
I'll show to my Lord.  Luin. 
I had thought t'have shown my husband mine too  
But since 'tis capable of curious  
Questioning, I mean to stay awhile.  Corsa. 
Thou counsel'st well. we'll wear 'em both at once.  
Mine is the best, I e'er was Mistress of.  Enter Duarte. Luin. 
And mine is not eclipsed much by yours.  Dua. 
Madam, my Lord is near at hand.  Corsa. 
Come Sister, we shall here the news at Court.  Luin. 
I'll wait upon your Ladyship.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Castruchio, Lothario, Borachio. Cast. 
Sir Knight, believe't Foreste is the Man;  
That dulls your reputation with the Duke.  
And suborns the Count against ye.  Loth. 
Dares he control my purposes?  Cast. 
Ask honest Borachio else.  Bora. 
Nay He'll not believe me: though I should swear  
You flout him behind his back: and when a man  
Sees things plainly; he need not buy spectacles,  
Till he grow old.  Loth. 
I'll mince the Villain into sand, to fill  
My Hourglass—  Cast. 
In this Garden he walks continually  
After dinner. Here stay, and expect him.  
And Signior in this skin of parchment; mark  
What pains I take, to perfect your revenge.  
I'th' shape of tree (which takes root in Hell)  
You shall discover all his base descent.  
On that branch appears a Hangman. Then,  
A jakes-man, then, a Tinker. On's Mother's side  
A Bawd professed. then, a Tyb. then a Tripe-wife.  
A Synagogue of Welsh rabbis; could not  
Express more skill in Genealogies,  
Than this includes. Sir, show it him, and he  
Insaniates straight.  Loth. 
I'll make him wear it on his forehead.  Cast. 
Excellent rage! but not a word of me.  
I humbly take my leave.  exit Castruchio. Loth. 
Not the four winds (met in March) shall cool my spleen  Bora. 
Sir, now we are private, 'tis a fit time  
To be troublesome—  Loth. 
I'll cram Cerberus, with sops made of the slave's blood—  Bora. 
Concerning those Offices. I've thought on'em.  
And will have 'em all in spite of Bolten's teeth.  ent. For, Fores. 
Signior Lothario! Boracho too.  
Thou art an honest fellow.  Bora. 
ay, your worship is wise, to speak no more,  
Than what you may well stand too.  Loth. 
Base stem, derived from I soap root,  
Our Ancestors were not so familiar.  
Behold, & grow more mannerly.  shows him a Parchment. Fores. 
What's here? My Pedigree? Some saucy knave  
Hath counselled him, to this affront. What he,  Enter servants. 
I must know th'original projector.  
Lay hold upon those fools.  Loth. 
Lay hold on me?  
Take off your hands; or I will toss ye all  
Into the clouds, and kick the Mountains after ye.  Bora. 
I pray bid the Gentleman take good heed;  
For my Master, can do all this, and more too  
I have seen him.  Ser. 
Be you quiet. You that desire Offices.  Bora. 
If I do, what then? there be those desire  
Worse things.  Loth. 
Know ye not Rogues, that I can muzzle up  
The testify Unicorn, in a spinner's thread?  Fores. 
Lay all hold on him.  Bora. 
He that cannot run for his Liberty  
Hath no courage in his Heels. Let the Gout  
Take him, that hath Legs, and won't use'em  he runs away, Fores. 
No matter, let him go. Convey that fool,  
Unto the porter's Lodge.  Loth. 
A Chaos shall succeed this same.  Exeunt servants with Lothario. Enter Lucio. Foreste. 
Whither so fast (sweet Lord!)  Lucio. 
Foreste, I have ta'en my leave o'th' Duke.  Fores. 
Must ye away tonight.  Lucio. 
Now, presently. My followers attend  
At door. I only came to kiss thy hands.  Fores. 
The Sun will fail ye, ere ye reach Lucca.  Lucio. 
I must through. His grace will have it so.  
Why dost thou make thy head, to shake and reel,  
Upon thy shoulders thus. Is it o'ercome  
With thoughts, and such as must be hid from me?  Fores. 
Take heed, suspicion is the Favourite  
Of Time, and Nature, it takes a sudden growth:  
And gathers in the breast, like Balls of snow,  
In snow; until the weight make it deny  
To be removed: then melts at leisure too.  Lucio. 
He's too moderate, that will at my years,  
Be satisfied thus.  Fores. 
Why then consider thus. You go to Lucca,  
There to congratulate the sate approach  
Of the pope's Legate; He hath been there a week;  
And why he was not visited ere this  
Or why upon such strict, and short summons.  
yourself must now be sent; quite puzzles me.  
Actions rare, and sudden, do commonly  
Proceed from fierce necessity: or else  
From some oblique design: which is ashamed,  
To show itself i'th' public Road.  Lucio. 
Foreste is this all?  Forest. 
Why me sweet Patron: this is enough  
Of danger, since none is merited.  Lucio. 
Young thoughts encourage me to sufferance.  
Each storm is usher to a gentle calm:  
Why toils with speed, gets soonest home to rest.  
The plodding Mule shall sleep eternally.  
Why should the stricken deer bemoan his death:  
His obsequies, were full of noble rites:  
Actaeon's Choir, a jolly Requiem gave:  
And th' Arrow from the bow did sing his dirge.  Fores. 
Thus thy years do riddle grief away;  
Making sorrow swift, because 'tis mortal.  
Let me wait, on your Lordship to your horse,  
And at your better leisure read this same.  
I'll tell ye as we go, who brought it me.  Exeunt Omnes. Enter Duke. Duke. 
To wrong my boy, unkind, incestuous heat!  
Why is Copulation legal; it gives  
Authority to lust, for chastity  
Would soon conclude the World. O virtuous  
Prejudice, when error, prevents folly!  
fiends, Devils, that do live in liquid fire,  
Have constitutions not half so hot,  
So riotous as mine. But why this?  
The beauteous Corsa is not yet defiled.  
He that repents ere he commits a fault,  
Doth like a thirsty, sinner store his Soul  
With mercy, to absolve that sin himself;  
Which he may afterwards, more securely  
Fall into. Enough this soon Initiates.  Enter Castruchio. 
The credulous Count her husband, I have sent  
To Lucca. And tomorrow he returns.  
My plots are limited too short a time  
To become Actions. Nor was it skill  
To send the jewel by her sister. Mark!  
My Soul and brain, are perfect Courtiers grown;  
In my declension, and my greatest want  
They leave me to instruct, and help myself.  Cast. 
These fancies are not old: the whole Court  
Observes him strangely altered. But why  
Am I sent for? that I must know, by safe,  
And cautelous insinuation.  Duke. 
How soon, I've profited in discipline  
Of Hell I must through What I did mean  
Adultery at first; will now I fear  
Become a Rape.  Cast. 
Hah! still upon that string? I like it well,  
'tis musical.  Duke. 
Castruchio! art thou come?  
Thou hast been a Courtier long; but whether  
'Twas want of skill in me to choose a Man,  
Or want of luck in thee to be my choice;  
Suspense makes neutral. But know; my love  
Was tardy, because still void of leisure;  
To warrant passion well bestowed; by safe  
(Though tedious) trials. Affection  
That is slow, is sure: And now, I wear my heart  
Not in mine own breast, but thine.  Cast. 
I have but one life, it is some error  
In your Grace, thus t'oblige me to the loss  
Of more, in your dear service.  Duke. 
I am not skilled in words. But I affect  
Thy fury. For thou art the bold satire,  
That whips Foreste, and the wanton Count,  
In thy tart Verse.  Cast. 
My gracious Lord! I shall conceive much grief,  
If my zeal mistake in accusation  
Of those Men, which th'uncertain Tongue of Fame  
Delivers to my charge.  Duke. 
Nay, make not thy confession an excuse  
Rather than a story: For there needs none.  
I hate Foreste, and the Count, and would  
device succinct ways to my revenge.  Cast. 
Heaven forbid: I'd rather far disgrace  
The skill of my subject; call accusation  
Slander: then that the busy multitude  
Should note inconstancy in you,  Duke. 
This is a damned Hypocrite. Chameleons  
Changes, are not so intricate to sense.  
Castruchio! ease me with nimble apprehension.  
I have not leisure, to be modest now.  
Speak; haste no acquaintance with any near  
Corsa's person; the Count's fair wife?  Cast. 
I humbly beg, your Grace would not mistake  
The conditions of my duty.  Duke. 
I beg of thee not to mistake the sense  
Of my designs. My words import my heart,  
And both, no danger unto thee.  Cast. 
I hope my skill in servitude, will not  
Provoke my Prince to tempt my honour.  Duke. 
What prolix love is this; Dost thou indent  
With my acceptance, make choice of services!  Cast. 
Your Grace will give me leave; since that I know  
I not deserve to share in your high secrets,  
To doubt my safety in knowing this.  Duke. 
Death! and horror! thy suspicions are too thin.  
Consider why I sent the Count to Lucca?  
Upon my life thou art secure: therefore  
Reply unto my former question.  Cast. 
My gracious Lord, I have some interest  
In her woman.  Duke. 
In Corsa's woman known to thee?  Cast. 
She is. Perhaps—  Duke. 
Discharge thy tongue. May my ears blister  
If they digest words to thy prejudice.  Cast. 
Perhaps I knew her, beyond the modest strain.  Duke. 
There's Gold. Castruchio, show some pity  flings him a Bag. 
On rebellious blood. Be my Harbinger,  
Billet me this night where she doth lie  
And thou art made for ever.  Cast. 
Must it be this night?  Duke. 
Strict opportunity will have it so.  
Her Lord returns with the next Sun.  Cast. 
I cannot say herself shall porter be  
Unto your entrance; but her woman shall.  Duke. 
Enough! here's more Gold. Summon up thy brain  
Thy heart, thy soul, to meet in consolation,  
And so contrive my peace, Farewell.  Cast. 
I will instruct your Grace e'er long: both when,  
And how to make this armorous assault.  Duke. 
myself and my Exchequer are thine own.  
There needs no Art to work him into evil;  
He is bad enough t'infect the Devil.  Exeunt several ways.  

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.  Enter DORIDO. DORIDO, 
Good! they have left the Garden door unlocked  
I'll venture in to help discovery.  
Castruchio is graced with rare employment:  
The Duke and he do here consume the Night.  
These are hours for Ghosts, Adulterers  
And Thieves. The slave is Haggard. At Supper  
Being full of gold: his vain Appetite  
Fed at Nero's rate; I was discarded  
With a frown: shaken like a burr from's sleeve.  
As if my closure heretofore had been  
Impertinent. Ambition lessens all  
Beneath itself to nothing: the higher  Enter Castru. 
We do stand: so much less those men appear  Duarte. 
Whom we behold below— Hark! Kind Fortune  
Lend me thy Ears—  Cast. 
The night grows aged now. 'twere fit the Duke  
Would hasten his departure. In troth Wench,  
Thy service to him exceeds requital.  
But what; she took it willingly!  Dua. 
No, but she did not.  Cast. 
Pox o' these modest Lies! I say she did,  Duar. 
In troth you do abuse her then; I'm sure  
Her shrieks did scare my heart up to my lips.  Cast. 
Then thou couldst have Kissed heartily.  Duar. 
I wonder, it wakened not the whole house.  Cast. 
Is't possible! what means did the Duke use  
To stifle up this noise?  Dua. 
Nay, I know not. But since she was no more  
Pliant; it doth repent me much, I e'er  
Was instrument to his other actions.  Cast. 
What, repent! I prithee sweet Duarte  
Wrong not Divinity so much: waste not  
A virtue, that would more profit others:  
And to suppose that the Lady was ravished,  
Is an heresy, which my Soul must ne'er  
Be guilty of. Do not I know Women  
Are a kind of soft wax, that will receive  
Any impression?  Dua. 
And do not I know: there is difference  
In workmen as in wax. Hard wax (when cold)  
Accepts of no impression. By coldness  
I in far chastity: for chastity  
Is cold,  Cast. 
But those workmen are harder far  
Than that hard wax. And 'tis hardest of all  
To find those workmen: unless by Russia  
Where the people freeze, till they spit snow. Come,  
Kiss me Chuck. Again, once more—  Dor. 
A precious Satirist! This surly Dog,  
inveighs 'gainst lechery in others ,'cause  
He would engross all Women to himself.  Cast. 
Your greatest Thieves, are commonly begot  
When Parents do their lechery by stealth.  
Men get Cowards, when frighted in the Act.  
And by such vulgar consequence: 'tis now  
A proper time to beget a Pander.  
One, that may hereafter do other men  
The same office: which we do the Duke now.  
Come. Shall we, in and try?  Dua. 
You presume much, on an easy nature;  
And how extravagant you are abroad;  
I am not so unkind to question.  Cast. 
Faith Wench: I've some interest in every Child  
That plays i'th' street, The Duke's come down. Go, go,  enter Duke. 
Give your Lady a caudle: and let me hear  
How she likes her new Bedfellow. I'll meet  Exit Duar. 
His Grace two hours hence: when he hath dismissed  
Those thoughts, which still succeed unlawful lust.  Exit Dor. 
O damned villainy: Is this th'imployment  Castru. 
That doth make ye proud? I will haunt ye still,  
To strengthen my intelligence.  Exit Dor. after. Cast. Duke. 
O silly, weak evasion! being dark,  
I creep within my Cloak. 't is modesty  
In sin to practise every disguise  
To hide it from the World. But Creatures free from guilt  
Affect the Sun, and hate the dark; because  
It hides their innocence. O traitor Lust.  
That leads us with encouragement to fight,  
And when we have discharged our Veins for thee,  
W'are besieged with thoughts, that more perplex us  
Then the former. For then we did complain  
Of strength; but now of weakness more.  
Away, away. 'tis time that I were gone:  
The modest Morn doth blush i'th' East, as if  
Ashamed to see so foul a Ravisher.  exit Duke. Enter Castruchio, and Dorido. Dorido. 
So swift of foot! I must overtake ye.  Cast. 
How now! the World is wide enough: wherefore  
Dost thou jostle me?  Dor. 
Cry mercy Signior: the day's blear Eyed yet,  
And my own haste made me unmannerly.  Cast. 
Signior Dorido is it you? 'tis much  
To see you appear before the Sun.  Dor. 
Faith Signior; the Count being out o' Town  
I thought forest would have more leisure  
To peruse my new Suit. He's early up;  
Which caused my vigilance.  Cast. 
Why Signior use a means more absolute;  
It is true, Foreste does all: but how?  
As th'instrument governed i'th' workman's hand.  
Instruct me with conveniency of time,  
And I will work the Duke in thy behalf.  Dor. 
Then Signior, you will oblige my prayers.  Cast. 
At supper, when you departed from me,  
You gave demonstrations of discontent:  
Who knows, but whilst the soul's employed within;  
The body might neglect some outward form,  
Which curiosity prefers to custom.  
Custom to abuse. It was my business  
Not disrespect of you, that did deprive  
My compliment of vanity. I shall  
Rejoice when I can show you kindness.  Dorid. 
I will be bold to think so.  Cast. 
I'd have thee build thy Mansion on a Rock.  
Favourites are served in with those Dishes  
The Prince best loves. And meat we most affect  
We soonest surfeit on. Instruct thy soul.  
The Count is but a glorious trifle.  
And to be factious without benefit—  
Well, think upon't. I know a way to get  
The Duke's best Ear, without Foreste's help.  
Farewell.  Exit Castruchio. Dor. 
The Profit of the day be yours. These tricks  
Shall make me wear him in my Eyes. The slave  
Doth usher out his breath in state; as if  
His honours had out grown his own knowledge.  
Yet but a tame Pander. The beauteous Corsa  
Is ravished by the Duke. O black horror.  
Arise my soul, inspire my industry  
With noble purpose. Something I'll do  
That shall proclaim my Spirit.  Exit. Enter Corsa, and Duarte. Corsa. 
Hence, hence, like Time; who swiftly flies away,  
But evermore returns. Go cruel wench!  
Thou hast betrayed thy Mistress, even to  
Eternal loss. Th'Angels that live above  
Have seen it all. They know thee well enough.  
In the general Session of the world;  
It will not my adultery be called;  
But a prodigious Rape derived from thee.  Duarte. 
Good Madam, your Conscience is too bold:  
It troubles you too much. Dismiss't: think,  
That other ladies have offended more.  Corsa. 
Out Devil. Wilt thou betray my soul too?  
Duarte hence! I am inspired with strength  
To make revenge prove masculine.  
Fly quickly hence. Why dost thou stay? There's Gold.  
I prithee wench in all thy Pilgrimage  
Disperse my fault in charitable sense.  
Use me nobly with thy Tongue. So farewell.  Duarte. 
Or let my sin no mercy find in Heaven,  
No pity here on Earth.  Exit Duarte. Corsa. 
Now all the motives of my Lords delight  
Exterminate for evermore with me.  
My silent Lute's interred in the Case.  
My voice now rather frights, then captivates  
The sense.  Enter Luinna. 
O Sister, dare you visit me?  
I am a strumpet grown. Hence, and secure  
Your fame.  Luin. 
Alack, what prodigy is this!  Corsa. 
I will tell thee all. For I should disgrace  
Iniquity to be modest now. The Duke—  Luin. 
Ay me! What in that name can privilege  
Offence?  Corsa. 
Hear my Luinna, hear. In midst of night,  
By my pernicious woman's help; He opes  
My chamber door: whose faithful Hinges shrieked,  
To warn me of his dire approach. His Hand  
Employed a Torch, a Torch; whose fancy weak  
Aged, and black, had overgrown the flame.  
And showed( methought) like unto Tarquin's Ghost;  
Preaching in fire: as if it counselled him,  
To prevent such penance by forsaking  
His attempt. This, I told him too. But he  
(That came not to consider, but to act)  
o'erruled my Hands with his: then made shipwreck  
Of my Honour.  Luin. 
O royal Villain!  
My joints and sinews dissipated are,  
And scattered in a trembling fear. But mark  
More sorrows yet. My Husband looking in  
My Cabinet, did spy that jewel there,  
Which the Duke last gave me. It was to him  
A new, and unknown star: and comet like,  
Employed his thoughts with such Astrology  
As made an Optic of his jealousy;  
Through which, he would discern the cause, th' effect  
Of its being there. I told him all the truth:  
And Truth's oftener praised, then rewarded  
Here on Earth: for he dismissed me straight  
With fatal looks.  Corsa. 
My Brother is a noble Gentleman.  
Go, go, and kneel to him. All jealousy  
Must still be strangled in its birth: or Time  
Will soon conspire to make it strong enough  
To overcome the truth. Shield us sweet Heaven!  
The sibyls dance about my Heart. They lay  
Their verges here: infusing a prophetic fear:  
Which whispers we shall never meet again,  
let's take a solemn leave— farewell for ever  they kiss. Luin. 
Farewell! the noblest Lady o'th' World.  Exeunt several Ways. Enter Cosimo, and Borachio. Cos. 
I am glad to see thee well Borachio!  
But where's thy Master? what, in durance still?  Bora 
Alas Sir, I (Good Gentleman,) the Room  
Wherein they have put him, is so little  
He fills it up to the Roof: and is fain  
To leave his Legs Sentinels without door,  
To watch the rest of his body. 'tis no  
Chamber, but a Court. Cupboard.  Cos. 
But they make him amends in his diet.  Bora. 
They cannot Sir, For he's a faint eater,  
If he would pray so often as he fasts;  
He had been at liberty long ago.  
He'll dine upon a single Pea; and leave Orts.  Cos. 
Do they no more regard his potent hopes?  Bora. 
Alas Sir, when Fortune's Tippet stands up,  
Few men will lend a pin to tack it down,  
ay, and my lineage have sweet loss of him:  
I'm sure of'at,  Cos. 
Nay, that's too evident.  Bora. 
O sir! I would not ha' givengiuen this Rush;  
T'have been assured all th'offices in's gift  
But hang such Dukes (I say) that suffer thus  
Their Favourites to be imprisoned.  Cos. 
How now Borachio! Dost thou speak treason?  Bora. 
Sir, I have said no more, than what I mean  
To unsay again: which is but a kind  
Of losing one's labour. And 'tis better,  
To be ill employed then to be idle.  enter Castruchio. Cos. 
How the slave sows his Proverbs together.  
Are you come? I have stayed until the Clock  
Gave your promise the lie.  Cast. 
My time was spent to more advantage.  
I have declared my interest in your blood.  
If you assist my plots; you needs must share  
Success, that hath already warranted  
A large requital.  Cos. 
I am resolved: and wish myself more able.  Cast. 
'tis well. But now you undertake business:  
You must be as serious as a Musle.  
That is: wear your Beard, upon your tongue: talk,  
Bravely. But of all avoid Dorido  
As you would to drink  
A violent poison.  Cos. 
Enough, he is a stranger to my thoughts.  Cast. 
There's fresh encouragement—  gives him Gold. Cos. 
A little more of this mettle would puzzle  
My Geography; Is this Italy  
Or the Indies, There Borachio! Weep no more  
For thy Master.  Bora. 
Alas I'm apt to weep, though I but see  
An Onion stripped naked.  Cast. 
I thought to meet thy Master here. I'm sure  
I saw the warrant signed for his release.  Bora. 
The Devil take your worship for me, why,  
D'ye bring such good news, on a worky day?  Cast. 
But thou prayest ill, in praying the Devil  
To take me.  Bora. 
Why could he ever come to less purpose  
Than when he finds you doing well. Though he  
Lose his labour once: I dare warrant ye,  
He'll come again on the same errand.  Cast. 
A bitter fool.  Bora. 
Sir, let we friends be true to one another.  
There are but few true friends extant. Let them  
Be kindly used and kept, if only for breed.  Cast. 
With all my heart, translate thy meaning.  Bora. 
Is my Master at liberty?  Cast. 
I'll defer an answer of this, until  
Thy own Eyes be a little elder.  Bora. 
Well, is he still in favour with the Duke?  Cast. 
Why he shall shortly govern all at Court,  
And be a very Mote in the duke's eye.  Bora. 
Enough. 'tis not wholesome to burst with joy.  Cast. 
But what then?  Bora. 
I've thought with much care on these Offices:  
And find myself fitting to be in'em.  
I will have'em all; come Cut, and longtail.  
For my Wife, will be such a glad woman.  Enter Lothario. Cos. 
Look! who comes there?  Bora. 
O Sir! give me your blessing—  He kneels. Loth. 
Weep not Borachio! I have prepared  
Such bloody art in my revenge; as makes  
Men's wits, more famous than their cruelty,  
Let horror propagate. All's too little  
For my use. But you Sir had the honour,  
To release me.  Cast. 
Or else I had been much dishonoured.  Cos. 
Sir, now he supposeth you in durance:  
And is himself secure; happily drunk,  
Or riding in the stews; you may take some  
Advantage on his soul too. Lose no time.  Loth. 
That's my intent.  
For it were dull humanity to aim  
No farther than his life. I'll pursue him  
Even to Hell.  Cast. 
And let me alone so to facilitate  
The project, by search of fit time, and means:  
As shall declare the act less troublesome,  
Then thus to threaten it with words.  Bora. 
You Signior Castruchio! Signior Coxcomb!  
Are you tired with doing well? you have scarce  
Brought my poor Lord out of the Prison doors;  
But you long to have him in again. Nay,  
ne'er look! For my Sword dwells within a Yard  
Of my Tongue, and shall defend what I say  Cast. 
What a pernicious Calf is this?  Bora. 
What harm have my poor Wife, and Children done  
To you, or yours; that seeing me within  
A hair's breadth, of a hundred offices,  
You confound all, by leading my poor Lord  
Into new broils.  Loth. 
Bold Miscreant! If I but stir—  Cos. 
Nay Signior! let him alone. Borachio!  
Steep thy wrath in cold water: follow,  
And be dumb. All shall be well.  Bora. 
Yes, persuade me to dry Ice in an Oven!  
But I'll follow your Heels so close: as I'll  
Go near to tread upon your Kibes.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Dorido, and Foreste. Dorido. 
Signior, I knew ye a brave Commander  
Under the great Petruchio; and since  
That time your constant virtues have deserved  
More recompense, than Fate will minister  
By me. My kindness is no miracle:  
Since gratitude is only sick, not dead.  
But pray believe what I have said is truth.  Fores. 
O Sir, 'tis th'error of unskilful love  
To be too constant in her charity  
To all. But I have grounds more relative  
To make me jealous of the truth: and I  
Believe you with my heart: and yet 'tis strange.  
Doth this Castruchio think his haggard fate  
Can triumph over mine? because in lust  
The Devil did instruct his industry:  
Dares he attempt my life?  Dor. 
I give you real grounds for my suspense.  
Reward (sir) may make a Villain bloody  
Though it cannot make him valiant. The Duke  
Will let him want no Gold.  Fores. 
Nay 'tis often seen.  
Amongst the several Creatures of a Prince,  
Such instruments as these most profit reap.  
Employments noble do requite themselves,  
And honour pays, the great of heart: who lose  
But Time in service which is the Body's wealth.  
Your friend stays. If you please t'appear with him  
From thence, at my summons: I shall discover more.  Dor. 
Noble Signior, I am yours,  exit Dorid. Forest. 
What hoa? Luinna! Wife!  Enter Luinna. Luin. 
My Lord!  Fores. 
Come hither Love. Signify in secret  
When was the royal Lecher here disguised?  
What did he send thee last? when must ye quench  
The Cyprian fire: hah! you may tell me all,  
For I'll not blab. Alas, I'm more silent  
Than my Grandsire in his Tomb. A subtle Pimp, ay,  
A Pander learned in the art. Tell me Chuck?  Luin. 
Alas my noble Lord! what do ye mean?  Fores. 
Why nothing, I: yet 'tis enough I feel  
The wrong, If ignorant, I suffer twice.  
And therefore let me know my Enemy.  
The little worm, when trod upon; will turn  
His Head, to look upon his Murderer.  
And hath my Spleen no Eyes: Is the revenge  
Of Man less curious than a worm's.— She weeps,  
O Luinna, the sacred knot's untied.  
Thou hast defiled and stained the vestal Sheets,  
Thy Breast shall be no more my Pillow.  Luin. 
O say not so. Let Thunder strike me dead,  
If I e'er knew thee 'Duke; with knowledge more  
Dishonest, then what harbours in the Eyes;  
Only by sight.  Fores. 
O new horror! such brazen impudence,  
Would make a Negro blush. Come glorious whore,  
Acquaint me with your tricks. Who! when, where, how?  
For besides the jewel which he gave thee:  
I have proofs, that will even dam my sister;  
And convince thee too.  Luin. 
My dear Lord? be not cruel in your Faith;  
What I have said is truth.  Fores. 
Still constant in thy perjury. Mercy  
Were tameness then. Thou shalt die  
Like an heroic Whore: a stout Martyr  Enter Doride and his Friend in visards. 
To thy concealed lover. Appear ho!  
Here my she goat! These men are full and fresh;  
But if they cannot tire ye out: I will  
Procure ye some of larger Thighs; that feed  
On th' unctuous Lhasis, and the Persian-Crab.  
Or bring the riotous Horse, and the Town Bull  
To drowned ye in the act. Take her aside,  
And agree who shall begin.  Luin. 
Stay, stay, O my Husband, my dearest Lord?  
Will you permit such cruelty against  
Your own Wife. She, that hath so often slept  
Within your Bosom. O speak? do you want  
The natural touch? stay, stay, I will confess't.  Forest. 
Stay, I'm of too easy, too soft a Soul.  
My Heartstrings (sure) are made of silk: and 'tis  
A subtle whore, she knows it well enough.  
But come, be brief. Charm me not with stories  
Of my former love between us.  
I see thee as thou art, and thou appear'st  
Like an entire, proportionable boil.  
Why speak'st thou not?  Luin. 
Sorrow was ever slow of utterance,  
And I do tremble still. I knew the time,  
My duty hath been held in more regard  
Than now it is. All former interest  
Is quit forgot.  Fores. 
Mark, did not I suspect, she would begin  
Her Charms again. Away with her.  Luin. 
O stay, now, now, I will reveal all.  Fores. 
Be nimble then: and tell me punctual truth,  
For my revenge is honest, and would not  
Willingly mistake, when it shall strike.  Luin. 
'tis true, your Sister's ravished by the Duke.  
Which fatal truth, this morning I received  
From her own mouth, But if I e'er did break  
My Marriage vows, or think unlawfully;  
Then may I lose my interest in Heaven.  
My duty, and my love remain still yours,  
And this constancy deserves some kindness.  
Therefore, if 'tis decreed that I must die:  
Let me die a modest death. Expose not  
Your poor wife, unto the cruelty  
Of Ravishers.  Fores. 
What think ye sir?  Dor. 
My thoughts continue in the former sense:  
I have a chaste, and virtuous wife; however  
You desired assurance from a trial  
So unkind as this.  Fores. 
Still methinks that jewel which he gave her,  
Procured the same requital that my Sister made.  
But let it pass. I do conjure ye both,  
(As y'have been soldiers) to keep your Tongues,  
A safe distance from your Ears, Let not words  
Disperse what you have heard. 'tis external  
Reputation that keeps some Men from sin.  
Our faults once known, we do neglect to mend:  
Since Reputation suffers still: for that  
Admits of help, but it is never cured.  
And so the fatal jars 'tween Man, and Wife,  
If secret kept, dissension falls asleep.  
But if once known to Fame; Fame talks so loud  
She waketh it again. Your silence Signiors,  
Shall challenge much from my requital.  Dor. 
Besides our obligations to your worth,  
Even both our honours would impose it  
As a virtue, not a trouble. We are  
Your humble servants.  Exit Dorido with his Friend, Fores. 
I will deserve you for my friends. Rise—  
You must be cleared by a stricter trial:  
Till when I do neglect the large Charter  
Of Husbands o'er their Wives: and command ye  
As a judge th'offender. Hence, and become  
My Prisoner in your Closet. Take heed,  
No curiosity in fear make you,  
To pry in my designs.  Luin. 
I do obey ye cheerfully.  exit Luinna. Forest. 
O my heart! shall my industry, and hopes  
Find this period? My sufferance is tired.  
It is an old inconstancy in Fate,  
Soon to erect, and soon to ruinate.  Exit.  

A Chair at the Arras. Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.  Enter FORESTE Solus. 
forest, No, no, my Stars, it is too much to bear,  
Though I were stomached like an ostrich,  
Yet could I not digest such hard dealing.  
My Wife defiled, Corsa ravished. The Count  
Abused where satisfaction is exempt  
By Nature. myself proscribed to suffer  
By the cheap valour of obscure Villains.  
Would I had trodden the humble path, and made  
My industry less ambitious. The Shrub  
securely grows. The tallest Tree, stands  
Most in the wind. And thus we distinguish  
The Noble from the base: the Noble find  
Their lives, and deaths still trouble some:  
But humility doth sleep, whilst the storm  
Grows hoarse with scolding My Gall o'erflows my heart:  
And drowns propitious Thoughts. I will be just  
Yet cruel too. The darkness of the Night  
Is thick. I feel as I grope for way—  
Stay— That sickly light from her chamber breaks.  
Minion I'll begin with you.  Exit. Enter Corsa and a Boy. Corsa. 
Sing gentle youth; who knows if I shall live  
T'employ thy voice again.  

Song.  
Boy. Weep no more for what is passed  
For Time in motion makes such haste  
He hath no leisure to descry  
Those errors which he passeth by.  
If we consider Accident,  
And how repugnant unto sense,  
It pays desert with bad event:  
We shall disparage Providence.  Enter Foreste. Forest. 
This is your Dirge,  Corsa. 
Hah! who is there?  Fores 
'tis. I. Dismiss that trifle hence, and shut  
The door.  Corsa. 
Farewell Youth! Get he to bed.  exit Boy. Fores. 
But where's the wriggled Hag; th' incestuous lump  
Of heat? where is she, speak?  Corsa. 
Alas Sir, who do you mean?  Fores. 
Why she that Gossips with the devil's Dam,  
The subtle Bawd, your Woman. O Sister! Corsa kneels.  
I have heard all.— Nay do not work distinction thus.  
Kneel not to me; you are my patron's wife.  
But yet where obligation is endeared;  
There Injury condemns itself. Can you  
survive a wrong so eminent: a wrong  
Committed 'gainst your Husband, and my Patron?  Corsa. 
O Sir! I hope if you have heard the truth:  
You will conclude it as a rape i'th' Duke;  
And no adultery in me.  Fores. 
How, a rape! o weak, and immodest shift,  
Were Aretine alive; or had I brought  
A Crew of Midwives here: whose obscene art  
Might warrant the distinction good;  
Although the cause did blush, to own th'effect;  
Yet thy appeal might stand: but here are none.  
If compulsion doth insist, until  
Enforcement breed delight, we cannot say,  
The female suffers. Acceptance at the last,  
Disparageth the not consenting at the first:  
Calls her denial, her unskilfulness;  
And not a virtuous frost i'th' blood.  
Come, sit thee down.— Or if ye mean to pray,  
Kneel, and be nimble in devotion.  
That art to die.  Corsa. 
My Noble Brother!  
Do not fright my sufferance: use me kindly  
With your tongue, and looks: I am already  
Reconciled to Heaven; and would perhaps  
Consent to your design.  Fores. 
Blessed speech! thou shalt prescribe my gesture  
And my Phrase.  Corsa. 
'twere not unnatural in me, to wish  
For life! yet minding what constructions  
The world may make of my sinister chance—  Fores. 
ay there's the point. The giddy multitude  
Have neither skill, nor leisure to convince  
Supposition, with Arguments of strength  
And charity. Their quick censure, brings such  
Effect, as Spectacles, when used in haste;  
Which then do rather aggravate the shape:  
Then give distinction of the form. Who, who,  
Would live to be an Argument for them?  Corsa. 
Do ye conclude then, that I must now die?  Fores. 
Why is't not apt, and pregnant to your sense,  
It should be so?  Corsa. 
Ere I take my last leave of my kind Lord.  Fores. 
Ceremonious form, doth oft, so long  
Delay our journey; till it prove too late  
To reach our home. 'tis a long way to Heaven.  
We must make haste. Nay, if your courage fail  
Before it comes unto the test: I shall  
Prepare to be unkind. Grim, black fancy  
Could you endure to see your Lord; defiled,  
Polluted as you are? That kind Patron  
To all our family; whose constant love  
Is warranted by Time; that best can judge  
Of constancy. Who took you to his bed;  
Upon conditions cheap, and dangerous  
To his own estate.  Corsa. 
Sir, speak no more: but use me as you please;  
I will obey in all.  Fores. 
Come, stretch down your Arm: and permit this Scarf  
To fasten it to th' Chair. Then veil your Eyes.  
We must not trust a Woman's valour so—  Corsa. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Fores, 
The torture's past. Thy wrist veins are cut, Here  
In this Basin bleed: till dryness make them curl  
Like Lute-strings in the fire—  Corsa. 
Commend me to my dearest Lord. I am  
His humble sacrifice. he'll not be more  
Unwilling to grant atonement: then I  
Have been to need it. The Fates give others  
Expiation: which now they want themselves.  
I speak too loud. For who dares chide with them  
That may employ Thunder.  Fores. 
Her beauty 'gins to wither. She distils  
Like to a Rose. O could I separate  
The blood defiled from what is pure: I would  
Shed that; then restrain the current, know!  
(Unskilful Nature) If operation  
Should long subsist in such gross mixture: Men,  
Would be Devils 'ere they lived in Hell.  Corsa. 
I come Celestial Choir!—  She riseth up. Fores. 
Ecstasy! through weakness in expense of blood!  
Dear sister! Disturb not your last Minutes.  Corsa. 
I must ascend—  Fores. 
How! would you enter Heaven; with fetters on  
Your Soul? clogged with these mortal Limbs. Sit down,  
Expire in peace.  Corsa. 
O my Brother! whilst I am yet humane,  
Let me feel some interest in your blood.  
What fault of mine deserves impediments  
In my last journey? If my Lord were here  
He would have seen me used with mercy.  Fores. 
Sweet Soul! these, are but mistakes of weakness.  Corsa. 
Will not my Lord be merciful; to me,  
And to my memory.  riseth up: Fores. 
Sit still. I bring no negative reply.  
Thy worth shall shine in such a Character:  
That being dead; he needs must woo thy Ghost.  Corsa. 
And will Posterity consent, that I  
Abide in List; with those of modest fame?  Fores. 
That ginger; who spies thee first  
Within a Star: must not find thee billeted  
near to Venus. Such error in his Act;  
Would make me wreathe his Body into Cords.  
And with prolix strength draw the dull Caitiff,  
Through his slender Optic.  Corsa. 
Oh, oh, oh—  Recorders: Sadly. Fores. 
A Convulsion in her Arteries!  Corsa. 
Mercy Heaven!  She dies. still Music above. Fores. 
Hark!  
As she ascends, the Spheres do welcome her,  
With their own Music.— Her Soul is gone!  
Hah? whether is it gone? O vast suspense!  
Madness succeeds inquiry. fools of Nature!  Cease Rec. 
What Ancestor (that died long since) hath brought  
Us news of his abode! or told us how  
They use him in the other world? O this  
Wild mystery so much concerneth Man:  
That we would willingly dismiss suspense  
With Eyesight not with consequence.  
For he that sees through Faith, but flatters doubt.  
Faith's a Perspective; through whose narrow lane;  
Little things (far off) seem so much too great,  
Too near: that what was first unknown is more  
Estranged from knowledge, than it was before.  
Yet by the rules of lawful notion: It  
Goes well with her: for she was ever given  
To prayer: superstitious in humility:  
And even unthrifty in her charity.  
She held her Virtues in such high extremes,  
That her Divinity was troublesome.  
Grew from a Saint, a holy Cynic. Sleep here:  
A sacrifice to thy wronged Lord: Till I  
(Thy Priest) become an Executioner  
To him; who was thy cruel Ravisher.  Exit Foreste. Enter Duke, and Castruchio. Duke. 
Doth she insist in censure of the act  
With such a stern impatience, and dislike?  Cast. 
even so (Sir) my intelligence imports.  
For since her Woman, was dismissed: she sent  
A Messenger unto Lucca; to urge,  
Her Lords return: whom (by a laboured consequence)  
I do expect within this Hour. he'll choose  
To travail in the Night for privacy.  Duke. 
And I have sent to stay him there: until  
A new Commission order his return.  Cast. 
Most royal Sir, you then may guess what frights  
Such opposition in these messages  
Will nourish in his Heart. And being young,  
He cannot feed on doubts. he'll rather think  
His interest in you his privilege to err:  
So, slight your Mandate, and come home,  
To settle his suspense.  Duke 
Remorse doth cherish danger! Let me be safe,  
Secure me in thy wholesome Art. I would  
Express myself without a Tongue—  Cast. 
My gracious Lord; my apprehension lies  
Not in my Ears but in my Brain. I can  
Conceive without the noise of words. It shows  
Apparent to my intellect: the Count  
Presuming on that free address, he still  
Hath had unto your person: will hither bring Corsa, and Foreste to show the shape,  
And quality, of his new sufferance.  
Be you within your bed, to free you from  
The world's suspicion: whilst I do place  
Behind the Gallery door (which leads unto  
Your Closet Chapel) such trusty spirits,  
As shall dare to thrust their weapons home.  Duke. 
O quintessence of Soul. I will devote  
My actions wholly to thy use. Good night.  Exit Cast. 
May slumber cease upon your royal Eyes  
With gentle closure. Know, poor Foreste!  
The bag that holds my Gall is so immense,  Enter Duke. 
That when I steep thee in it thou art drowned.  Duke. 
Castruchio; I have better thought upon't.  Cast 
My gracious Lord.  Duke. 
I would not have thee hurt my Boy: use him  
Kindly for my sake.  Cast. 
Shall I not strike him here; between the Ribs?  Duke. 
Not for the world. Thou dost not know his Soul.  
He's of so soft, so sweet a property,  
That he enchants where he is known. Besides,  
I find I am so powerful o'er his youth:  
That I shall soon extirpate from his memory  
The wrong I did his Wife, and him. As for  
Foreste: his experience is of growth  
Too stubborn, of practice stiff; and will not  
Be removed from his revenge, by strength of words.  
Therefore, let him no mercy feel: but let;  
My Boy be gently used for my sake. Farewell—  Exit Duke. Cast. 
This is a silly kind of love!  
But let me think— So to contrive this plot:  
That Lothario may destroy Foreste,  
And him to make his silence safe! humh—  Enter Duke. Duke. 
No; it must not be—  Cast. 
My royal Lord!  Duke. 
Lucio (my Boy) is not proscribed. Take heed  
Castruchio! If thou dost extend thy hand:  
In motion, boisterous, and rough to him;  
Thou dost infect all thy other kindness:  
And I shall see thee as a Cockatrice:  
That will enforce my Optic-nerves to shrink,  
And pull my Eyes into my skull. Look to't.  Cast. 
Most gracious Sir, were his person bulwarked  
With the Alps: were he hidden in's own fear;  
He could not be more safe, than you have made him.  Duke. 
Once more than good Night.  exit. Cast. 
A plague upon this turdy love. Such thoughts  
When first your Blood did make your Veins to swell  
(Like Bridges o'er your flesh) had prevented  
My employment. Softly, softly.  
Fear, and suspicion ever walk on Eggs.  Enter Foreste, and Servants with a Light. Fores. 
Leave here the Light, and go to Bed.  Exit Servant. within cry 
Break ope the door, break open the door.  Fores. 
Hah! who counsel so unlawfully?  Enter Lucio and Servants. Lucio. 
O Foreste! the fatal Hour is come  
Ring out your Bells, until they wake the dead.  
Let the Drum murmur in a sable Bag.  
Reverse your Muskets, and trail your stubborn Pikes  
In slimy-Channels. Let Trumpets groan,  
And the shrill Phip be hoarse. The fatal Hour,  
Is come.  Forest. 
Why, what's the matter Sir?  Lucio. 
O my wife! by this she did entreat me  he shows a Letter. 
Suddenly, (upon some urgent cause)  
To haste from Lucca to her: Just now;  
I lighted from my Horse, entered her Chamber:  
And found her newly murdered in her Chair.  
My Servants say that my arrival there,  
Did just succeed your departure from her.  Fores. 
Dismiss your Servants, and you shall know all.  Lucio. 
Hence, and expect me straight at home.  Exeunt. sern. Fores. 
I pray come hither Sir.— Do you dislike  
That justice which deprived your Wife of breath?  Lucio 
Dost thou call it justice?  Fores. 
Yes, in the noblest strain: she was defiled.  
The royal Goat (the Duke) hath ravished her:  
And I (that never could admit excuse  
In points of honour)( wherever suspicion  
Sufficeth to condemn) did summon up  
My memory: wherein the kind effects,  
Of your best love to us are registered.  
And finding you betrayed in your own Fort!  
I slit her Wrist-veins, and gave perpetual  
Liberty, to her polluted Blood.  Lucio. 
O Villain! more bloody than the Tiger;  
Whose empty Entrails noise, doth (Trumpet like)  
Encourage cruelty; Though thou didst flight her  
As my poor Wife: yet she might well expect  
Some mercy, as being thy own sister.  Fores. 
Had she included all propinquity  
Of blood; which lawful Marriage keepeth known,  
Or promiscuous Copulation, maketh  
Intricate: this bare word (Honour) had been  
Enough, t'have divorced her from my mercy.  
Sweet Lord; do not mistake your Servant:  
Whose kindness thinks his own Sister (when defiled)  
Was too base for your use.  Lucio. 
A bloody kindness to distinguish so  
She was no Adulteress, but enforced. Her thoughts  
Were pure: and such a noble sympathy  
endeared her Soul to mine; that her own Tears,  
Might soon have washed away her Body's stain,  
And she again seem clean. Corsa!  
O my Wife! my bosom Girl! where art thou?  
Speak, no reply? Art thou so much busied  
With thy new acquaintance now in Heaven:  
That thy poor Lord, may not borrow one word  
At parting? Draw, draw ingrateful Monster!  
That haste prevented thus our Dialogue.  Fores. 
Sir, cool your spleen! take breath awhile:  
And hear me speak.  Lucio. 
No false Siren! thou holy Hypocrite!  
I know thy tricks too well! 'Cause I am young,  
Too soft of heart, and apt to melt  
In every flame of my own trivial love;  
Therefore thou thinkst to practise on me now  
With subtle phrase. Draw, or else thou diest.  Fores. 
Come— Let me die (as she) a sacrifice  
To thee my Patron.  offers his naked breast. Lucio. 
A sacrifice to me! O Foreste!  
Why dost thou multiply thy skill  flings away his Sword. 
To thy friend's prejudice? It is not well,  
In troth it is not. Employ thy own heart:  
Think upon't thyself. 'tis not kindly done:  
I should not have used you thus—  Fores. 
O my dear Lord! where did I lose your heart?  
I am o'ercome at these expressions.  
I cannot weep much: yet my Eyes are moist.  
O my unskilful gratitude! what dire  
Mistake, confounds our properties! I killed  
A Sister, to secure a Friend. 'twas ill,  
'twas not the right way. A true Roman now,  
Would walk aside, and with his own Sword  
Dismiss his own Soul: and not permit  
Moisture in youthful Eyes, thus to disgrace  
The strength of elder love. I cannot weep,  
But our divinity supplies us with  
Discreeter ways, to make affection known;  
Enough. I will prefix but one short Hour,  
To think upon't. Here sir. Sheath your good sword,  
Till revenge prove ripe. And I conjure  
By all my sister's love to follow me:  
In whose behalf, your justice may employ  
itself. Which done, you shall behold my Heart  
Without a Perspective.  
If it concerneth her; by whom thou dost  
Conjure my service, I'm bound to follow thee.  Fores. 
What hoa!  Enter Luinna. Luin. 
My Lord.  Fores. 
Come Minion, come along with us. You walk  
Unto the bar. If trial find thee false;  
Thou shalt be scattered into Atoms.  Luin. 
O my divining Soul! Sure my Sister  
Is not safe.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Castruchio, Lothario, Cossimo, several ways. Cast. 
Signior Lothario!  Loth. 
Here! Signior Cossimo!  Cos. 
I am here. Speak low. x Castruchio.  Cast. 
I am here too. Why are we scattered thus?  Cos. 
'tis in search of Borachio; who fearing  
Danger in this action, commits himself  
Very tamely to his Heels.  Cast. 
Let him be damned unthought of. Have you heard,  
Or seen a Passenger.  Cos. 
No, yet Lothario gives me notice:  
Of a noise far off: but you know the length  
Of an ass's ear.  Loth. 
Pastes there (say you) who is't?  Cos. 
He echoes by mistake. nobody: but  
My x says he'll lug the ass's ear,  
Speaking of your Man.  Loth. 
The butcher's dog shall save him a labour.  Cast. 
Well Gentlemen, I have intelligence  
(By my Boy) that Foreste, and the Count,  
Are coming hither. Look to't. But let the Count  
Be safe. You know his voice Lothario?  Loth. 
Very distinctly.  Cast. 
Well, any Man (but he) that stirs his Tongue,  
invites his own ruin Give me your Hands  
I'll bring ye to a door: through which, if they  
Do pass, it must be over us.  Loth. 
Leave Foreste to my charge for I am  
His impediment.  Cos. 
Softly, softly.  Exeunt Omnes. The Duke (on his Bed) is drawn forth. Enter Foreste, Lucio, Luinna. Fores. 
Now set the reflex at liberty:  He opens a dark lantern. 
Here let me beg your tarriance: till I  
Resolve a doubt that most concerns my Heart.  Lucio. 
You shall. But do not execute revenge,  
Upon the Duke; till my assent encourage thee.  Fores. 
My actions are confined: Upon, not in  
The Bed? Guilt confounds all order, and makes,  
Our rest unnatural. Mistress, stand you there.  He leads Her to stand at the Bea's feet. Duke. 
Hah! from whence that light! who waits within  Foreste, 
is it you? what do you mean  
By this uncivil visitation!  Fores. 
I am not so unthrifty of time  
To join replies, unto demands, I must  
Deprive you of your Soul.  Duke. 
How? Is this Language lawful, unto me  
Thy Sovereign Prince. Did not high-providence,  
Treble the assurance of my safety:  
By Guards invisible, when I was first  
Predestinate to this supreme function?  
And dar'st thou tempt the strength of Heaven?  Fores. 
I know t' were a profane curiosity  
In me, to question the prerogatives  
Of a free Prince. For Ignorance, and a dull,  
Easy faith; must flatter bondage still.  
Or Liberty (th'eldest Child of Nature)  
Confounds predominance, by suing for  
Equality amongst the Sons of Men:  
And so revokes a Chaos.  Duke. 
Which soon returns: unless distinction  
Persuade thee fix my Royalty, above  
Thy reach: that art my natural Subject.  Fores. 
Enough false Sir. Warm not the air with words.  
Be still, or I conclude ye in a trice,  
And now requite the Leisure, I permit  
For prayer: by a true reply to what  
I shall demand.  Duke. 
I will.  Fores. 
Look on your opposite.  
Did you ever make her an Adulteress?  
Speak truth, so come your Soul to Heaven.  Duke. 
Never. So come my Soul to Heaven, as I  
Speak truth.  Fores. 
O Sir?  
Take heed the Perjurer hath little hope  
On the last day, to hide himself i'th' Crowd.  
He is a sinner much too eminent.  
But what meant that jewel which you gave her;  
And which she concealed; till its own lustre  
Did betray it?  Duke. 
I gave it to disguise the cause, for which  
I sent the other unto Corsa.  Lucio. 
That name will prick my fury on: although  
I strive to be propitious.  Fores. 
I know Luinna, thou art merciful:  
Forgive me gentle Girl. It was the first  
Bargain we did make i'th' Church, to Share  
In sufferance.  Luin. 
And 'tis my duty Sir, to be most prompt  
In the observance.  Fores, 
My Lord!  Lucio. 
A rude summons, that calls me as a judge,  
To censure on the errors of my Prince.  Duke. 
What, Is he there too? O killing object!  Fores. 
Behold (young Lord) the cruel Ravisher.  
Whom Time himself shall never parallel,  
Though he survey his old Records, and scratch  
His reverend Head to waken memory.  Lucio 
O horror! furnish us (sweet Heaven) with some  
Instinct. Inspire remorse: or we accuse  
Thy skilfulness to predestine us a Prince:  
Murdering, whom thou didst anoint our Sovereign.  Fores. 
My heart swells. I'm full of grief, and danger.  
Some Iron Hoops to help my Ribs, or I shall burst.  Duke. 
The cause deserves great alteration.  
More than mortality can see, and yet  
Be safe. I wonder Heaven takes so little  
Notice of it. I am not singed to death  
With Lightning Like the door: nor murdered through  
The Ear with thunder; like a bat. O Lucio!  
Mind not my former love: but strike, until  
I groan my last.  Lucio. 
Foreste sheath thy sword. It must not be.  
He was our Royal Master once, and might  
In modesty compare himself; with all  
But Princes; whom Fame reserves as Patterns,  
For my sake sheath your Sword.  Duke. 
O I shall survive my Royal Charter!  
My creature is more beautiful than I:  
More wealthy in his love.  Fores. 
For my own part, I will annihilate  
myself: for should I live, I should grow mad.  
But I am bound to care for you (my Lord)  
Take heed! I know the tricks of Majesty.  
They think they cannot be secure after  
Doing ill; but by doing worse: that is,  
By killing quite, whom erst they did but wound.  Lucio. 
And that's the surgery, which I desire.  
I will endure all. O my Lord, my Lord;  
I will not bid Posterity tell tales: nor charge  
Historians to insert in Annals;  
On such a Night a great Italian. Duke,  
Ravished his Creature Lucio's Wife: Sister  
To Foreste, his active Councillor.  Fores. 
Lucio, composed of such an humble love:  
That to secure his Master's feet, would spread.  
And scatter all his Limbs, for him to walk upon.  Lucio. 
And Foreste, whose industry, and care  
Outwatched Lean-vigilance, till she grew mad.  
But come, Let's leave him to contrive our deaths.  
My Heart so fills my mouth, I cannot speak.  Duke. 
Lucio stay, Foreste stay awhile.  
Leave me not thus anatomised with breath.  He riseth from the Bed. 
Dissect me really with your good Swords.  
Behold my Breast, take out my Heart: and if  
You find your figures there, then use my Fame  
With Mercy.  Lucio. 
Foreste come away.  Fores. 
Make haste Luinna.  Luin. 
I am waked out of a strange amazement.  Exeunt Foreste, Lucio, Luinna. Duke. 
Hide me swelling Hills! rough, and scabbed Rocks,  
Ye Quarrels cleave, and suck me in, then join  
Again. Would it not make a Patriarch mad?  
O who shall bribe the Sun, that in the day  
Of general accounts: he may avouch  
He never saw me here. Hah! false Memory!  
I forgot to tell 'em of Castruchio.  
'tis best to o'ertake 'em. I cannot guess  
Which way they went.  Exit the other way. Enter Castruchio, Lothario, Cosimo. Cast. 
Hell, and the pillory take such dull Ears.  
It cannot be, but they have passed the Cloisters,  
And ere this, with help of private Keys,  
Entered the Duke's Bedchamber.  Loth. 
Those were Authors of that noise, I spoke of.  Cast. 
The very same. A pox upon demurs.  Cos. 
Will you lead the way, that we may harken  enter Duke, 
If they be there, or no.  Duke. 
If I should come too late?—  Loth. 
That's none of the Count's voice. Have at ye sir;  Duke. 
O, O, O, I am surprised in my own snare.  Cast. 
It is Foreste sure. Let's make safe work  
Kill Lothario, lay him by him, and depart,  Cos. 
A match.  Loth. 
O Villains, O, O, O.  Luthario dies, Enter Foreste, Lucio, Luinna. Fores. 
What noise is that?  Cast. 
Another Foreste.  Lucio. 
My Royal Master bleeding on the Ground:  
O murderous Villains:  Luin. 
Murder, murder. Help! oh help?  Exit Lucio fights with Cossimo, Foreste with Castruchio. Fores. 
The Duke my Sovereign slain, and Lucio  
Bleeding at his feet. Villain take this thrust  
At my own prejudice.  Lucio. 
I am foiled by a base hand.  Cast. 
Fly Cosimo, fly.  Exeunt Cast. and Cos. Fores. 
Some comfort yet remains: in that I am,  
Proscribed to share in thy fate, though it be bad.  
I lose much blood. O trivial fortitude,  
False Sinews, do you begin to shrink?  He falls down. Duke. 
Lucio, Let my Soul, carry your pardon  
With her unto Heaven; and yours Foreste.  
This stratagem was mine, but the success,  
Was much against my will.  Lucio. 
Sir, I forgive you all.  Fores. 
Nay let us join Hands.— We do forgive  
Each other, and the World. The like mercy  
May Heaven bestow on us.  Duke. 
Amen, Amen.  Lucio. 
Amen, Amen.  they die. Fores. 
There his heartstrings broke. Lucio (my Patron)  
Already chap-fallen to: that sight deserves a Tear:  
Though I should stab my Eyes to warrant it.  Enter Dorido, Luinna, Courtiers with Light: Castruchio: and Cosimo: led in. Dor. 
Bring the slaves in, their deeds will soon convince  
Their faint denial, where did you leave 'em Lady?  Luin. 
Here, here, O my Lord, my Lord.  Fores. 
I have not breath enough to comfort thee.  
With words, mercy Heaven.  dies. Luin. 
O my Lord? my Husband He's dead, he's dead.  Dor. 
Hold the Lady there: O dire spectacle.  
the Duke, Lucio, Foreste, and Lothario  
Lie here breathless. I did suspect some black  
Conspiracy. Which made me haunt them two  
Unto the Palace, but I did lose 'em  
By the Chapel stairs; bloody dogs, what Devil  
Prompted thee to this action.  Cast. 
I hope, I've not so much Blood left, as will preserve  
Me for an answer.  Cos. 
I feel my end too near.  Dor. 
Take 'em away, and close their wounds, though there  
Be some mercy shown, by thus deferring  
That reward which your black souls shall receive  
In Hell. Yet know the Law will here on Earth  
Provide such tortures as shall make your deaths  
Exemplary to all succeeding times.—  exeunt some with Cast. and Cos. 
Gentlemen, your silence may be excused.  
Where, there's so much cause of admiration.  
Some help transfer the dead from hence, others  
Call up the Councillors of state.  
So intricate is heaven's revenge 'gainst lust.  
The righteous suffer here, with the unjust.  Exeunt. omnes. 
FINIS.