THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.  

Actus Primus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Gentleman and Jaques. Gent. 
WHat happiness waits on the life at Court,  
What dear content, greatness, delight & ease?  
What ever-springing hopes, what tides of honour,  
That raise their fortunes to the height of wishes?  
What can be more in man, what more in nature,  
Then to be great and feared? A Courtier,  
A noble Courtier, 'Tis a name that draws  
Wonder, and duty, from all eyes and knees.  Jaq. 
And so your worship's land within the walls,  
Where you shall have it all enclosed and sure.  Gent. 
Peace knave; dull creature, bred of sweat and smoke,  
These mysteries are far above thy faith:  
But thou shalt see—  Jaq. 
And then I shall believe;  
Your fair revenues, turned into fair suits,  
I shall believe your Tenants bruised and rent  
Under the weight of Coaches, all your state  
Drawn through the streets in triumph, suits for places  
Plied with a mine of gold, and being got  
Fed with a great stream, I shall believe all this.  Gent. 
You shall believe, and know me glorious.  
cousin good day and health. Enter Cozen.  Couzen. 
The same to you Sir,  
And more, without my wishes, could you know  
What calm content dwells in a private house:  
Yet look into yourself, retire: this place  
Of promises, and protestations, fits  
Minds only bent to ruin, you should know this,  
You have their language perfect, you have tutors  
I do not doubt sufficient: but beware.  Gent. 
You are merry cousin:  Cozen. 
Yet your patience,  
You shall learn that too, but not like itself  
Where it is held a virtue; tell me Sir,  
Have you cast up your state, rated your land,  
And find it able to endure the change  
Of time and fashion? is it always harvest?  
Always vintage? have you ships at Sea  
To bring you gold, and stone from rich Peru  
Monthly returning treasure? doth the King  
Open his large Exchequer to your hands  
And bid you be a great man? can your wife  
Coin off her beauty? or the week allow  
Suits to each day? and know no ebb in honour?  
If these be possible, and can hold out,  
Then be a Courtier still, and still be wasting,  Gen. 
cousin, pray give me leave:  Cous. 
I have done.  Gen. 
I could requite your gall, and in a strain  
As bitter, and as full of Rhubarb, preached  
Against your Country life, but 'tis below me  
And only subject to my pity, know  
The eminent court, to them that can be wise,  
And fasten on her blessings, is a sun  
That draws men up from course and earthly being,  
I mean these men of merit that have power  
And reason to make good her benefits,  
Learns them a manly boldness, gives their tongues  
Sweetness of language, makes them apt to please;  
Files of all rudeness, and uncivil 'haviour,  
Shows them as neat in carriage as in clothes;  
cousin have you ever seen the Court?  Cous. 
No Sir,  
Nor am I yet in travail with that longing.  Gent. 
O the state, and greatness of that place  
Where men are found  
Only to give the first creation glory!  
Those are the models of the ancient world  
Left like the Roman statues to stir up  
Our following hopes, the place itself puts on  
The brow of Majesty, and flings her lustre  
Like the air newly lightened, form, and order,  
Are only there themselves, unforced, and sound,  
As they were first created to this place.  Cous. 
You nobly came, but will go from thence base.  Gent. 
'Twas very pretty, and a good conceit;  
You have a wit good Cousin, I do joy in't,  
Keep it for Court: but to myself again,  
When I have viewed these pieces, turned these eyes,  
And with some taste of superstition,  
Looked on the wealth of Nature, the fair dames,  
Beauties, that lights the Court, and makes it show  
Like a fair heaven, in a frosty night:  
And 'mongst these mine, not poorest, 'tis for tongues  
Of blessed Poets, such as Orpheus was,  
To give their worth and praises; O dear Cousin:  
You have a wife, and fair, bring her hither,  
Let her not live to be the Mistress of a farmer's heir  
And be confined ever to a serge,  
Far courser then my horse-cloth.  
Let her have Velvets, Tiffanies, Jewels, Pearls,  
A Coach, an Usher, and her two Lackeys,  
And I will send my Wife to give her rules,  
And read the rudiments of Court to her.  Cous. 
Sir I had rather send her to Virginia  
To help to propagate the English nation. Enter Servant.  Gen. 
Sirrah, how slept your Mistress, and what visitants  
Are to pay service?  Ser. 
Sir as I came out,  
Two Counts were newly entered.  Gent. 
This is greatness,  
But few such servants wait a Country beauty.  Cous. 
They are the more to thank their modesty,  
God keep my wife, and all my Issue female  
From such uprisings. Enter a Doctor.  Gent. 
What? my learned Doctor?  
You will be welcome, give her health and youth  
And I will give you gold. Exit Doctor.  
cousin, how savours this? is it not sweet?  
And very great, tastes it not of Nobleness?  Cous. 
Faith Sir my  is too dull and lazy  
I cannot taste it, 'tis not for my relish,  
But be so still.  
Since your own misery must first reclaim ye,  
To which I leave you Sir,  
If you will yet be happy, leave the humour  
And base subjection to your Wife, be wise,  
And let her know with speed you are her husband,  
I shall be glad to hear it.  
My horse is sent for. Exit.  Gent. 
Even such another country thing as this  
Was I, such a piece of dirt, so heavy,  
So provident to heap up ignorance,  
And be an ass: such musty clothes wore I,  
So old and threadbare: I do yet remember  
Divers young Gallants lighting at my gate,  
To see my honoured wife, have offered pence,  
And bid me walk their horses, such a slave  
Was I in show then: but my eyes are opened.  Enter Gent. Wife. 
Many sweet morrows to my worthy Wife.  Wife. 
'Tis well, and aptly given, as much for you,  
But to my present business, which is money—  Gent. 
Lady I have none left.  Wife. 
I hope you dare not say so, nor imagine so base and low,  
A thought: I have none left.  
Are these words fitting for a man of worth,  
And one of your full credit? Do you know  
The place you live in? me, and what I labour  
For, you? and your advancement?  Gent. 
Yes my dearest.  Wife. 
And do you pop me off with this slight answer,  
In troth I have none left? in troth you must have;  
Nay stare not, 'tis most true, send speedily  
To all that love you, let your people fly  
Like thunder through the City,  
And not return under five thousand crowns.  
Try all, take all, let not a wealthy merchant be untempted  
Or any that hath the name of money,  
Take up at any use, give band, or land,  
Or mighty statutes able by their strength  
To tie up Sampson were he now alive,  
There must be money gotten; for be persuaded,  
If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink,  
Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin,  
And then goodnight to all, (but our disgrace)  
Farewell the hope of coming happiness,  
And all the aims we levied at so long.  
Are ye not moved at this? no sense of want,  
Towards yourself yet breeding? be old,  
And common; jaded to the eyes  
Of grooms, and pages, chambermaids, and garders,  
And when you have done, put your poor house in order  
And hang yourself, for such must be the end  
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes  
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin.  
All that I say is certain, if ye fail  
Do not impute me with it, I am clear.  Gent. 
Now heaven forbid I should do wrong to you  
My dearest Wife, and Madam; yet give leave  
To your poor creature to unfold himself.  
You know my debts are many more than means,  
My bands not taken in, my friends at home  
Drawn dry with these expenses, my poor Tenants  
More full of want than we, then what new course  
Can I beget to raise those crowns by? speak,  
And I shall execute.  Wife. 
Pray tell me true,  
Have you not land in the Country?  Gent. 
Pardon me, I had forgot it.  Wife. 
Sir, you must remember it,  
There is no remedy, this land must be  
In Paris ere tomorrow night.  Gent. 
It shall, let me consider, some 300. acres  
Will serve the turn.  Wife. 
'Twill furnish at all points,  
Now you speak like yourself, and know like him,  
That means to be man, suspect no less  
For the return will give ye five for one,  
You shall be great tomorrow, I have said it.  
Farewell, and see this business be afoot  
With expedition. Exit Wife.  Gent. 
Health, all joy, and honour  
Wait on my lovely wife. What? Jaques, jaques.  Enter Jaques. Ja. 
Sir did you call?  Gent. 
I did so, hie the jaques.  
Down to the Bank, and there to some good Merchant  
(Conceive me well good jaques, and be private)  
Offer 300. acres of my land:  
Say it is choice, and fertile, ask upon it  
Five thousand Crowns, this is the business  
I must employ thee in, be wise and speedy.  Ja. 
Sir do not do this.  Gent. 
Knave I must have money.  Ia. 
If you have money thus, your knave must tell ye  
You will not have a foot of land left, be more wary  
And more friend to yourself, this honest land  
Your Worship has discarded, has been true,  
And done you loyal service.  Gent. 
Gentle jaques,  
You have a merry wit, employ it well  
About the business you have now in hand.  
When ye come back, inquire me in the presence,  
If not, in the Tennis-Court, or at my house. Exit.  Ia. 
If this vain hold, I know where to inquire ye.  
Five thousand crowns, this with good husbandry  
May hold a month out, than 5000. more,  
And more land a bleeding for't, as many more  
And more land laid aside. God and St. Dennis  
Keep honest minded young men Bachelors.  
'Tis strange My Mr. should be yet so young  
A puppy, that he cannot see his fall  
And got so near the sun. I'll to his cousin  
And once more tell him on't, if he fail,  
Then to my mortgage, next unto my sale. Exit.  Enter Longovile, Bewford, and the Servant. Serv. 
Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while,  
I shall return with knowledge how, and where  
We shall have best access unto my Mistress  
To Tender your devotions. Exit  Long. 
Be it so:  
Now to our first discourse.  Bew. 
I prithee peace;  
Thou canst not be so bad, or make me know  
Such things are living, do not give thyself  
So common and so idle, so open vile,  
So great a wronger of thy worth, so low,  
I cannot, nor I must not credit thee.  Lon. 
Now by this light I am a Whoremaster,  
An open and an excellent Whoremaster,  
And take a special glory that I am so:  
I thank my stars I am a Whoremaster,  
And such a one as dare be known and seen,  
And pointed at to be a noble wencher.  Bew. 
Do not let all ears hear this, hark ye Sir,  
I am myself a Whoremaster, I am  
Believe it Sir (In private be it spoken)  
I love a Whore directly, most men are Wenchers,  
And have professed the science, few men  
That looks upon ye now, but Whoremasters,  
Or have a full desire to be so.  Lon. 
This is noble.  Bew. 
It is without all question, being private,  
And held as needful as intelligence,  
But being once discovered, blown abroad,  
And known to common senses, 'tis no more  
Than geometrical rules in Carpenters  
That only know some measure of an art,  
But are not grounded: be no more deceived,  
I have a conscience to reclaim you, Sir.  
Mistake me not: I do not bid you leave your whore  
Or less to love her; forbid it  
I should be such a villain to my friend,  
Or so unnatural: 'twas never harboured here,  
Learn to be secret first, then strike your deer.  Long. 
Your fair instructions Monsieur I shall learn.  Bew. 
And you shall have them: I desire your care.  Long. 
They are your servants.  Bew. 
You must not love.  Long. 
How Sir?  Bew. 
I mean a Lady, there's danger  
She hath an Usher and a Waiting-Gentlewoman,  
A page, a Coachman, these are feed, and fee'd  
And yet for all that will be prating.  Long. 
So.  Bew. 
You understand me Sir, they will discover't,  
And there is a loss of credit: table talk  
Will be the end of this, or worse, than that;  
Will this be worthy of a Gentleman?  Long. 
Proceed good Sir.  Bew. 
Next leave your City Dame;  
The best of that tribe are most merely coy,  
Or most extremely foolish, both which vices  
Are no great stirrers up, unless in husbands  
That owe this Cattle, fearing her that's coy  
To be but seeming, her that's fool too forward.  Long. 
This is the rarest fellow, and the soundest  
I mean in knowledge, that ere wore a Codpiece,  
H'as found out that will pass all Italy,  
All France and England, to their shames I speak  
And to the griefs of all their Gentlemen  
The noble theory of luxury.  Bew. 
Your patience,  
And I will lay before your eyes a course  
That I myself found out, 'tis excellent,  
Easy, and full of freedom.  Long. 
O good Sir,  
You rack me till I know it.  Bew. 
This it is,  
When your desire is up, your blood well heated  
And apt for sweet encounter, choose the night  
And with the night your wench the streets have store,  
There seize upon her, get her to your chamber,  
Give her a cardecu, 'tis royal payment  
When ye are dull, dismiss her, no man knows  
Nor she herself, who hath encountered her.  Lon. 
O but their faces.  Bew. 
ne'er talk of faces:  
The night allows her equal with a Duchess,  
Imagination doth all think her fair,  
And great, clapped in velvet, she is so  
Sir, I have tried those, and do find it certain  
It never fails me, 'tis but twelve nights since  
My last experience.  Lon. 
O my meiching varlet, I'll fit ye as I live.  
'Tis excellent, I'll be your Scholar Sir.  Enter Lady and Servant. Wife. 
You are fairly welcome both: troth Gentlemen  
You have been strangers, I could chide you for't,  
And task ye with unkindness, what's the news?  
The town was never empty of some novelty;  
Servant, what's your intelligence?  Ser. 
Faith nothing.  
I have not heard of any worth relating  Bew. 
Nor I sweet Lady.  Lon. 
Then give me attention,  
Monsieur shatillion's mad.  Wife. 
Mad?  Lon. 
Mad as May-butter,  
And which is more, mad for a wench.  Lady. 
'Tis strange, and full of pity.  Lon. 
All that comes near him  
He thinks are come of purpose to betray him,  
Being full of strange conceit: the wench he loved  
Stood very near the Crown.  Lady. 
Alas good Monsieur;  
A' was a proper man, and fair demeaned,  
A person worthy of a better temper.  Lon. 
He is strong opinioned that the wench he loved  
Remains close prisoner by the king's command:  
Fearing her title, when the poor grieved Gentlewoman  
Follows him much lamenting, and much loving  
In hope to make him well, he knows her not,  
Nor any else that comes to visit him.  Lady. 
Let's walk in Gentlemen, and there discourse  
His further miseries, you shall stay dinner,  
In truth you must obey.  Om. 
We are your servants. Exeunt.  Enter Couzen. Cous. 
there's no good to be done, no cure to be wrought  
Upon my desperate kinsman: I'll to horse  
And leave him to the fool's whip, misery.  
I shall recover twenty miles this night,  
My horse stands ready, I'll away with speed.  Enter Shattillion. Shat. 
Sir, may I crave your name?  Cous. 
Yes Sir you may:  
My name is Cleremon.  Shat. 
'Tis well, your faction?  
What party knit you with?  Cous. 
I know no parties,  
Nor no factions Sir.  Shat. 
Then wear this cross of white:  
And where you see the like they are my friends,  
Observe them well, the time is dangerous.  Cous. 
Sir keep your cross, I'll wear none, sure this fellow  
Is much beside himself, grown mad.  Shat. 
A word Sir;  
You can pick nothing out of this, this cross  
Is nothing but a cross, a very cross,  
Plain without spell or witchcraft, search it,  
You may suspect, and well, there's poison in't,  
Powder, or wildfire, but 'tis nothing so.  Cous. 
I do believe you Sir, 'tis a plain cross.  Shat. 
Then do your worst, I care not, tell the King,  
Let him know all this, as I am sure he shall;  
When you have spit your venom, then will I  
Stand up a faithful, and a loyal subject,  
And so God save His Grace, this is no Treason.  Cous. 
He is March mad, farewell Monsieur. Exit Couzen.  Shat. 
Farewell;  
I shall be here attending, 'tis my life  
They aim at, there's no way to save it, well  
Let 'em spread all their nets: they shall not draw me  
Into any open Treason, I can see,  
And can beware, I have my wits about me,  
I thank heaven for't.  Enter Love. Love. 
There he goes,  
That was the fairest hope the French Court bred,  
The worthiest and the sweetest tempered spirit,  
The truest, and the valiantest, the best of judgement,  
Till most unhappy I: severed those virtues  
And turned his wit wild with a coy denial,  
Which heaven forgive me, and be pleased, O heaven  
To give again his senses: that my love  
May strike off all my follies.  Shat. 
Lady.  Lov. 
I Sis  Shat. 
Your will with me sweet Lady.  Lov. 
Sir I come.  Shat. 
From the dread sovereign King, I know it Lady,  
He is a gracious Prince, long may he live,  
Pertain you to his chamber?  Lov. 
No indeed Sir,  
That place is not for women, do you know me?  Shat. 
Yes, I do know you.  Lov. 
What's my name? pray you speak.  Shat. 
That's all one, I do know you and your business,  
You are discovered Lady, I am wary,  
It stands upon my life; pray excuse me,  
The best man of this kingdom sent you hither,  
To dive into me, have I touched you? ha?  Lov. 
You are deceived Sir, I come from your love,  
That sends you fair commends, and many kisses.  Shat. 
Alas poor soul how does she? is she living?  
keeps she her bed still?  Lov. 
Still Sir, She is living,  
And well, and shall do so.  Shat. 
Are ye in counsel?  Lov. 
No Sir, nor any of my sex.  Shat. 
Why so,  
If you had been in counsel, you would know,  
Her time to be but slender; she must die.  Lov. 
I do believe it Sir.  Shat. 
And suddenly,  
She stands too near a fortune.  Lov. 
Sir?  Shat. 
'Tis so,  
There is no jesting with a PRINCE's title,  
Would we had both been borne of common parents  
And lived a private and retired life,  
In homely cottage, we had then enjoyed,  
Our loves, and our embraces, these are things,  
That cannot tend to treason—  Lov. 
I am wretched.  Shat. 
O I pray as often for the King as any,  
And with as true a heart, for's continuance,  
And do moreover pray his heirs may live;  
And their fair issues, then as I am bound  
For all the states and commons, if these prayers  
Be any ways ambitious, I submit,  
And lay my head down let 'em take it off;  
You may inform against me, but withal  
Remember my obedience to the crown,  
And service to the state.  Lov. 
Good Sir, I love ye.  Shat. 
Then love the gracious King, and say with me  Lov. 
Heaven save his grace.  Shat. 
This is strange—  
A woman should be sent to undermine me,  
And buzz love into me to try my spirit;  
Offer me kisses and enticing follies,  
To make me open and betray myself;  
It was a subtle and a dangerous plot,  
And very soundly followed, farewell Lady,  
Let me have equal hearing, and relate  
I am an honest man. Heaven save the King. Exit.  Love. 
I'll never leave him, till by art or prayer  
I have restored his senses, If I make  
Him perfect man again, he's mine still, when  
I here abjure all loves of other men. Exit  Enter. cousin, and Jaques. Jaques. 
Nay, good Sir be persuaded, go but back,  
And tell him he's undone, say nothing else;  
And you shall see how things will work upon't.  Cozen. 
Not so good Jaques, I am held an ass  
A country fool, good to converse with dirt  
And eat course bread, wear the worst wool,  
Know nothing but the high way to Paris,  
And wouldst thou have me bring these stains,  
And imperfections to the rising view  
Of the right worshipful thy worthy Master?  
They must be bright and shine, their clothes  
Soft velvet and the trojan purple  
Like the Arabian gums, hung like the Sun,  
Their golden beams on all sides;  
Such as these may come and know,  
Thy Master, I am base and dare not speak unto him,  
he's above me.  Ja. 
If ever you did love him, or his state,  
His name, his issue, or yourself, go back:  
'Twill be an honest and a noble part  
Worthy a kinsman, save 300 acres  
From present execution; they have had sentence,  
And cannot be reprieved, be merciful.  Co. 
Have I not urged already all the reasons,  
I had to draw him from his will? his ruin?  
But all in vain, no counsel will prevail,  
Has fixed himself, there's no removing Jaques,  
'Twill prove but breath and labour spent in vain,  
I'll to my horse, farewell.  Ja.. 
For God's sake Sir,  
As ever you have hope of joy turn back;  
I'll be your slave for ever, do but go,  
And I will lay such fair directions to you  
That if he be not doting on his fall,  
He shall recover sight, and see his danger,  
And ye shall tell him of his wives abuses,  
I fear, to foul against him; how she plots,  
With our young monsieurs, to milk dry her husband,  
And lay it on their backs, the next her pride,  
Then what his debts are, and how infinite  
The curses of his tenants, this will work  
I'll pawn my life and head, he cries away,  
I'll to my house in the Country.  Co. 
Come I'll go, and once more try him,  
If he yield not, so,  
The next that tries him shall be want and woe. Exeunt    

Actus secundus.  Enter. Gentleman Solus. Gent. 
Jaques.  Jaq. 
Sir. within.  Gent. 
Rise Jaques 'tis grown day,  
The country life is best, where quietly  
Free from the clamour of the troubled Court,  
We may enjoy our own green shadowed walks,  
And keep a moderate diet without art.  
Why did I leave my house and bring my wife,  
To know the manner of this subtle place?  
I would when first the lust to fame an honour,  
Possessed me, I had met with any evil.  
But that, had I been tied to stay at home  
And earn the bread for the whole family  
With my own hand happy had I been.  Enter Jaques. Ja. 
Sir this is from your wonted course at home,  
When did ye there keep such inordinate hours?  
Go to bed late? start thrice? and call on me?  
Would you were from this place; our Country sleeps,  
Although they were but of that moderate length  
That might maintain us in our daily work.  
Yet were they sound and sweet.  Gent. 
I Jaques, there we dreamed not of our wives, we lay together;  
And needed not; now at length my cousin's words,  
So truly meant, mixed with thy timely prayers  
So often urged, to keep me at my home,  
Condemn me quite.  Ja. 
'Twas not your father's course:  
He lived and died in Orleans, where he had  
His Vines as fruitful as experience  
(Which is the art of husbandry) could make;  
He had his presses for 'em, and his wines  
Were held the best, and outsold other men's,  
His corn and cattle served the neighbour Towns  
With plentiful provision, yet his thrift  
Could miss one beast amongst the herd,  
He ruled more where he lived, then ever you will here.  Gent. 
'Tis true, why should my wife then 'gainst my good,  
Persuade me to continue in this course?  Ja. 
Why did you bring her hither at the first,  
Before you warmed her blood with new delights!  
Our country sports could have contented her,  
When you first married her; a puppet-play  
Pleased her as well as now the tilting doth.  
She thought herself brave in a bugle chain,  
Where Orient pearl will scarce content her now.  Gent. 
Sure Jaques, she sees something for my good  
More than I do, she oft will talk to me  
Of offices, and that she shortly hopes  
By her acquaintance with the friends she hath  
To get a place shall many times outweigh  
Our great expenses, and if this be so—  Ja. 
Think better of her words, she doth deceive you,  
And only for her vain and sensual ends  
Persuade ye thus. Let me be set to dwell  
For ever naked in the barest soil  
So you will dwell from hence.  Gent. 
I see my folly,  
Pack up my stuff, I will away this morn.  
Haste— haste.  Ja. 
ay, Now I see your Father's honours  
Trebling upon you, and the many prayers  
The country spent for him, which almost now  
Begun to turn to curses, turning back,  
And falling like a timely shower  
Upon ye.  Gent. 
Go, call up my wife.  Ja. 
But shall she not prevail,  
And sway you, as she oft hath done before?  Gent. 
I will not hear her, but rail on her  
Till I be ten miles off.  Ja. 
If you be forty,  
'Twill not be worse Sir:  Gent. 
Call her up,  Ja. 
I will Sir. Exit.  Gent. 
Why what an Ass was I that such a thing  
As a wife is could rule me?  
Know not I that woman was created for the man,  
That her desires, nay all her thoughts should be  
As his are? is my sense restored at length?  
Now she shall know, that which she should desire,  
She hath a husband that can govern her,  Enter Wife. 
If her desires leads me against my will;  
Are you come?  Wife. 
What sad unwonted course  
Makes you raise me so soon, that went to bed  
So late lastnight.  Gent. 
O you shall go to bed sooner hereafter,  
And be raised again at thrifty hours,  
In Summertime we'll walk  
An hour after our supper, and to bed,  
In winter you shall have a set at Cards,  
And set your maids to work.  Wife. 
What do you mean?  Gent. 
I will no more of your new tricks, your honours,  
Your offices, and all your large preferments,  
Which still you beat into my ears, hang o'er me.  
I'll leave behind for others, the great sway  
Which I shall bear at Court: my living here  
With countenance of your honoured friends  
I'll be content to lose: for you speak this  
Only that you may still continue here  
In wanton ease: and draw me to consume  
In clothes and other things idle for show  
That which my Father got with honest thrift.  Wife. 
Why, who hath been with you Sir,  
That you talk thus out of Frame.  Gent. 
You make a fool of me:  
You provide one to bid me forth to supper  
And make me promise; then must some one or other  
Invite you forth, if you have borne yourself  
Loosely to any Gentleman in my sight  
At home, you ask me how I like the carriage,  
Whether it were not rarely for my good,  
And opened not a way to my preferment?  
Come I perceive all: talk not, we'll away.  Wife. 
Why Sir, you'll stay till the next triumph  
Day be passed?  Gent. 
ay, you have kept me here triumphing  
This seven years, and I have ridden through the streets,  
And bought embroidered hose and foot-cloths too,  
To show a subject's zeal, I rode before  
In this most gorgeous habit, and saluted  
All the acquaintance I could espy  
From any window, these were ways ye told me  
To raise me; I see all: make you ready straight,  
And in that gown which you came first to Town in,  
Your safeguard, cloak, and your hood suitable:  
Thus on a double gelding shall you amble,  
And my man Jaques shall be set before you.  Wife. 
But will you go?  Gent. 
I will.  Wife. 
And shall I too?  Gen. 
And you shall too.  Wife. 
But shall I by this light?  Gen. 
Why by this light you shall.  Wife. 
Then by this light  
You have no care of your estate, and mine.  
Have we been seven years venturing in a ship,  
And now upon return with a fair wind  
And a calm sea, full fraught with our own wishes  
Laden with wealth and honour to the brim,  
And shall we fly away and not receive it?  
Have we been tilling, sowing, labouring  
With pain and charge a long and tedious winter,  
And when we see the corn above the ground,  
Youthful as is the morn and full ear  
That promises to stuff our spacious garners,  
Shall we then let it rot, and never reap it?  Gent. 
Wife talk no more, your Rhetoric comes too late,  
I am inflexible; and how dear you  
Adventure to direct my course of life?  
Was not the husband mad to rule the wife?  Wife. 
'Tis true but where the man doth miss his way,  
It is the woman's part to set him right;  
So Fathers have a power to guide their Sons  
In all their courses, yet you oft have seen  
Poor little children that have both their eyes  
Lead their blind Fathers.  Gen. 
She has a plaguy wit,  
I say you're but a little piece of man.  Wife. 
But such a piece, as being ta'en away  
Man cannot last: the fairest and tallest ship,  
That ever sailed, is by a little piece of the same  
Wood, steered right, and turned about.  Gen. 
'Tis true she says, her answers stand with reason.  Wife. 
But Sir, your cousin put this in your head  
Who is an enemy to your preferment,  
Because I should not take place of his wife;  
Come by this kiss thou shalt not go sweet heart.  Gen. 
Come, by this kiss I will go Sweetheart,  
On with your riding stuff; I know your tricks,  
And if preferment fall ere you be ready,  
'Tis welcome, else adieu the City life.  Wife. 
Well Sir I will obey.  Gent. 
About it then,  Wife. 
To please your humour I would dress myself,  
In the most loathsome habit you could name  
Or travel any whether o'er the world  
If you command me, it shall ne'er be said  
The frailty of a woman whose weak mind,  
Is often set on loose delights and shows,  
Hath drawn her husband to consume his state,  
In the vain hope of that which never fell.  Gen. 
About it then, women are pleasant creatures,  
When once a man begins to know himself.  Wife 
But hark you Sir because I willbe sure,  
You shall have no excuse, no word to say  
In your defence hereafter; when you see  
What honours were prepared for you and me  
Which you thus willingly have thrown away,  
I tell you I did look for present honour,  
This morning for you, which I know had come  
But if they do not come ere I am ready  
(Which I will be the sooner lest they should)  
When I am once set in a country life,  
Not all the power of earth shall alter me,  
Not all your prayers or threats shall make me speak  
The Least words to my honourable friends  
To do you any grace.  Gent. 
I will not wish it.  Wife. 
And never more hope to be honourable,  Gent. 
My hopes are lower.  Wife. 
As I live you shall not,  
You shall be so far from the name of noble  
That you shall never see a Lord again;  
You shall not see a mask, or Barriers,  
Or tilting or a solemn christening,  
Or a great marriage, or new fireworks,  
Or any bravery; but you shall live  
At home bespotted with your own loved dirt  
In scurvy clothes as you were wont to do,  
And to content you I will live so too.  Gen. 
'Tis all I wish, make haste the day draws on,  
It shall be my care to see your stuff pact up.  Wife. 
It shall be my care to gull you: you shall stay. Ex. Gen.  
And more than so entreat me humbly too  
You shall have honours presently; Maria.  Enter Maria. Mar. 
Madam.  Wife. 
Bring hither, pen, ink, and paper.  Ma. 
'Tis here.  Wife. 
Your Master Will not stay,  
Unless preferment come within an hour.  Mar. 
Let him command one of the City gates  
In time of mutiny, or you may provide him,  
To be one of the counsel for invading,  
Some savage country to plant christian faith.  Wife. 
No, no, I have it for him, call my page  
Now my dear husband there it is will fit you. Exit. Maria  
And when the world shall see what I have done,  
Let it not move the spleen of any wife,  
To make an ass of her beloved husband  
Without good ground, but if they will be drawn  
To any reason by you, do not gull them;  
But if they grow conceited of themselves,  
And be fine Gentlemen, have no mercy,  
Publish them to the world, 'twill do them good  
When they shall see their follies understood,  
Go bear these letters to my servant,  
And bid him make haste, I will dress myself,  
In all the journey clothes I used before  
Not to ride but to make the laughter more. Exit.  Enter. Gentleman. and Jaques. Gent. 
Is all pact up?  Ja. 
All, all Sir, there is no tumbler,  
Runs throw his hoop with more dexterity  
Than I about this business: 'tis a day  
That I have long longed to see.  Gent. 
Come where's my spurs?  Ja. 
Here Sir, and now 'tis come.  Gent. 
I Jaques now  
I thank my fates, I can command my wife.  Ja. 
I am glad to see it Sir.  Gent. 
I do not love always,  
To be made a puppy, jaques.  Ja. 
But yet methinks your worship does not look,  
Right like a country Gentleman.  Gent. 
I will, give me my t'other hat.  Ja. 
Here.  Gen. 
So, my jerkin.  Ja. 
Yes Sir.  Gent. 
On with it Jaques, thou and I  
Will live so finely in the country, Jaques,  
And have such pleasant walks into the woods  
A mornings, and then bring whom riding rods,  
And walking staves—  Ja. 
And I will bear them Sir,  
And scourge-sticks for the children.  Gen. 
So thou shalt,  
And thou shalt do all, over see my work folks  
And at the week's end pay them all their wages.  Ja. 
I will Sir, so your worship give me money.  Gent. 
Thou shalt receive all too: give me my drawers  Ja. 
They are ready Sir.  Gent. 
And I will make thy Mistress,  
My wife, look to her laundry and her dairy,  
That we may have our linen clean on Sundays.  Ja. 
And holy days.  Gent. 
I and ere we walk about the grounds  
Provide our breakfast,  
Or she shall smoke, I'll have her a good housewife  
She shall not make a voyage to her sisters,  
But she shall live at home,  
And feed her pullen fat, and see her maids  
In bed before her, and lock all the doors  Ja. 
Why that will be a life for Kings and Queens.  Gen. 
Give me my Scarf with the great button quickly.  Ia. 
'Tis done Sir.  Gen. 
Now my Mittens.  Ia. 
Here they are Sir.  Gen. 
'Tis well? now my great dagger.  Ia. 
There.  Gen. 
Why so; thus it should be, now my riding rod.  Iaq. 
There's nothing wanting Sir.  Gen. 
Another, man, to stick under my girdle.  Ia. 
There it is.  Gen. 
All is well.  Ia. 
Why now methinks your Worship looks  
Like to yourself, a man of means and credit,  
So did your grave and famous Ancestors,  
Ride up and down to fairs, and cheapen cattle.  Gent. 
Go, hasten your Mistress, Sirrah.  Ia. 
It shall be done. Exit jaques.  Enter servant and Page. Ser. 
Who's that? who's that boy?  Page. 
I think it be my Master.  Ser. 
Who, he that walks in grey whisking his riding rod?  Page. 
Yes Sir, 'tis he.  Ser. 
'Tis he indeed; he is prepared  
For his new journey; when I wink upon you  
Run out and tell the Gentleman 'tis time—  
Monsieur good day.  Gen. 
Monsieur your Mistress is within, but yet not ready.  Ser. 
My business is with you Sir; 'tis reported,  
I know not whether by some enemy  
Maliciously that envies your great hopes,  
And would be ready to sow discontents  
Betwixt his Majesty and you, or truly,  
Which on my faith I would be sorry for,  
That you intend to leave the Court in haste.  Gen. 
Faith Sir within this half hour. jaques?  jaques within: 
Sir?  Gen. 
Is my wife ready?  Ia. 
Presently.  Ser. 
But Sir,  
I needs must tell you as I am your friend,  
You should have ta'en your journey privater  
For 'tis already blazed about the Court.  Gen. 
Why Sir, I hope it is no Treason, is it?  Ser. 
'Tis true Sir, but 'tis grown the common talk,  
There's no discovery else held, and in the presence  
All the Nobility and Gentry  
Have nothing in their mouths but only this,  
Monsieur Marine that noble Gentleman,  
Is now departing hence, every man's face  
Looks ghastly on his fellows, such a sadness  
(Before this day) I ne'er beheld in Court,  
Men's hearts begin to fail them when they hear it,  
In expectation of the great event  
That needs must follow it, pray heaven it be good!  Gen. 
Why I had rather all their hearts should fail  
Then I stay here until my purse fail me.  Ser. 
But yet you are a Subject, and beware  
I charge you by the love I bear to you  
How you do venture rashly on a course  
To make your sovereign jealous of your deeds  
For princes' jealousies where they love most,  
Are easily found, but they be hardly lost.  Gen. 
Come these are tricks, I smell 'em, I will go.  Ser. 
Have I not still professed myself your friend?  Gen. 
Yes, but you never showed it to me yet.  Ser. 
But now I will, because I see you wise,  
And give ye thus much light into a business  
That came to me but now, be resolute,  
Stand stiffly to it that you will depart,  
And presently.  Gen. 
Why so I mean to do.  Ser. 
And by this light you may be what you will;  
Will you be secret Sir?  Gen. 
Why? what's the matter?  Ser. 
The King does fear you.  Gent. 
How?  Ser. 
And is now in Counsel;  Gent. 
About me;  Ser. 
About you, and you be wise,  
You'll find he's in Counsel about you?  
His Counsellors have told him all the truth.  Gent. 
What truth?  Ser. 
Why? that which now he knows too well.  Gent. 
What is't?  Ser. 
That you have followed him seven years  
With a great train: and though he have not graced you,  
Yet you have dived into the hearts of thousands,  
With liberality and noble carriage;  
And if you should depart home preferred  
All discontented, and seditious spirits  
Would flock to you and thrust you into action:  
With whose help, & your Tenants, who doth not know  
(If you were so disposed:)  
How great a part of this yet fertile peaceful realm of Fran.  
You might make desolate? but when the King  
Heard this—  Gent. 
what said he?  Ser. 
Nothing, but shook,  
As never Christian Prince did shake before.  
And to be short you may be what you will?  
But be not ambitious Sir, sit down  
With moderate honours, lest you make yourself  
More feared.  Gent. 
I know Sir what I have to do  
In mine own business. Enter Longavile.  Long. 
Where's Monsieur Mount Marine.  Ser. 
Why there he stands, will you ought with him?  Long. 
Yes: Good day Monsieur Marine.  Gent. 
Good day to you.  Long. 
His Majesty doth commend himself,  
Most kindly to you Sir, and hath by me,  
Sent you this favour: kneel down, rise a Knight.  Gent. 
I thank his Majesty.  Long. 
And he doth further request you,  
Not to leave the Court so soon,  
For though your former merits have been slighted,  
After this time there shall no Office fall;  
Worthy your spirit, as he doth confess  
There's none so great, but you shall surely have it.  Ser. 
Do you hear, if you yield yet you are an ass.  Gent. 
I'll show my service to his Majesty  
In greater things than these, but for this small one  
I must entreat his Highness to excuse me.  Long. 
I'll bear your Knightly words unto the King,  
And bring his Princely answer back again. Exit Long.  Ser. 
Well said, be resolute a while, I know  
There is a tide of honours coming on.  
I warrant you.  Enter Bewford. Bew. 
Where is this new made Knight?  Gent. 
Here Sir.  Bew. 
Let me enfold you in my arms,  
Then call you Lord, the King will have it so,  
Who doth entreat your Lordship to remember  
His message sent to you by Longavile.  Ser. 
If ye be dirty, and dare not mount aloft;  
You may yield now, I know what I would do.  Gent. 
Peace, I will fit him; tell his Majesty  
I am a Subject, and I do confess  
I serve a gracious Prince, that thus hath heaped  
Honours on me without desert, but yet  
As for the message, business urgeth me,  
I must be gone, and he must pardon me,  
Were he ten thousand Kings and Emperors.  Bew. 
I'll tell him so.  Ser. 
Why, this was like yourself.  Bew. 
As he hath wrought him, 'tis the finest fellow  
That ere was Christmas Lord, he carries it  
So truly to the life, as though he were  
One of the plot to gull himself. Exit Bewf.  Ser. 
Why so, you sent the wisest and the shrewdest  
Unto the King, I swear, my honoured friend  
That ever any Subject sent his Liege.  Gent. 
Nay now I know I have him on the hip,  
I'll follow it.  Enter Longavile. Long. 
My honourable Lord,  
Give me your noble hand right courteous Peer,  
And from henceforth be a courtly Earl;  
The King so will, and Subjects must obey:  
Only he doth desire you to consider  
Of his request.  Ser. 
Why faith your well my Lord, yield to him.  Gent. 
Yield? why 'twas my plot.  Ser. 
Nay 'twas your wife's plot.  Gent. 
To get preferment by it,  
And thinks he now to pop me i'th' mouth  
But with an Earldom, I'll be one step higher.  Ser. 
'Tis the finest Lord, I am afraid anon  
He will stand upon't to share the Kingdom with him.  Enter Bewford. Bew. 
where's this Courtly Earl?  
His Majesty commends his love unto you;  
And will you but now grant to his request,  
He bids you be a Duke, and choose of whence.  Ser. 
Why if you yield not now, you are undone,  
What can you wish to have more, but the Kingdom?  Gent. 
So please his Majesty, I would be Du. of Burgundy  
Because I like the place.  Bew. 
I Know the King is pleased.  Gen. 
Then will I stay and kiss his highness' hand.  Bew. 
His Majesty will be a glad man when he hears it.  Lon. 
But how shall we keep this from the world's ear  
That some one tell him not, he is no Duke?  Ser. 
we'll think of that anon.  
Why Gentlemen, is this a gracious habit for a Duke?  
Each gentle body set a finger to  
To pluck the clouds of this his riding weeds  
From off the orient sun of his best clothes;  
I'll pluck one boot and spur off.  Long. 
I another.  Bew. 
I'll pluck his Jerkin off.  Ser. 
Sit down my Lord;  
Both his spurs off at once good Longavile  
And Bewford take that scarf off, and that hat  
Doth not become his largely sprouting forehead.  
Now set your gracious foot to this of mine,  
One pluck will do it, so, off with the other.  Lon. 
lo thus your servant Longavile doth pluck  
The trophy of your former gentry off,  
Off with his Jerkin Bewford.  Ser. 
Didst thou never see  
A nimble footed tailor stand so in his stockings,  
Whilst some friend help to pluck his Jerkin off,  
To dance a Jig?  Enter Jaques. Lon. 
Here's his man Jaques come  
Booted and ready still.  Ja. 
My Mistress stays;  
Why how now Sir? what do your Worship mean,  
To pluck your grave and thrifty habit off?  Gent. 
My slippers, Jaques.  Lon. 
O thou mighty Duke  
Pardon this man,  
That thus hath trespassed in ignorance.  Gent. 
I pardon him.  Lon. 
His grace's slippers, Jaques.  Ia. 
Why what's the matter?  Lon. 
Footman, he's a Duke:  
The King hath raised him above all his land.  Ja. 
I'll to his cousin presently, and tell him so;  
O what a dunghill country rogue was I! Exit jaques.  Enter Wife. Ser. 
See, see, my Mistress.  Lon. 
Let's observe their greeting.  Wife. 
Unto your will as every good wife ought,  
I have turned all my thoughts, and now am ready.  Gent. 
O Wife I am not worthy to kiss the least  
Of all thy toes, much less thy thumb,  
Which yet I would be bold with; all thy counsel  
Hath been to me Angelical, but mine to thee  
Hath been most dirty like my mind:  
Dear duchess I must stay.  Wife. 
What are you mad to make me  
Dress, and undress, turn and wind me,  
Because you find me pliant? said I not  
The whole world should not alter me, if once  
I were resolved? and now you call me Duchess:  
Why what's the matter?  Gent. 
lo a Knight doth kneel.  Wife. 
A Knight?  Gent. 
A Lord.  Wife. 
A fool.  Gent. 
I say doth kneel an Earl, a Duke.  Long. 
In drawers.  Bew. 
Without shoes.  Wife. 
Sure you are lunatic.  Ser. 
No honoured Duchess  
If you dare but believe your servants truth,  
I know he is a Duke.  Long. 
God save his Grace.  Wife. 
I ask your grace's pardon.  Gent. 
Then I rise,  
And here in token that all strife shall end  
'Twixt thee and me, I let my drawers fall  
And to thy hands I do deliver them:  
Which signifies, that in all acts and speeches,  
From this time forth my wife shall wear the breeches.  Ser. 
An honourable composition. Exeunt omnes.   

Actus Tertius.  Enter x and jaques. Cous. 
Shall I believe thee jaques.  Ja. 
Sir you may.  Cous. 
Didst thou not dream?  Ja. 
I did not.  Coz. 
Nor imagine?  Ja. 
Neither of both: I saw him great and mighty,  
I saw the Monsieurs bow, and heard them cry  
Good health and fortune to my Lord the Duke.  Cous. 
A Duke art sure? a Duke?  Ja. 
I am sure a Duke,  
And so sure as I know myself for Jaques.  Cous. 
Yet the sun may dazzle? Jaques, was it not  
Some lean Commander of an angry Blockhouse  
To keep the Flemish Eel-boats from invasion,  
Or some bold Baron able to dispend  
His fifty pounds a year, and meet the foe  
Upon the Kings command in gilded canvas,  
And do his deeds of worth? or was it not  
Some place of gain, as Clerk to the great Band  
Of maribones, that people call the Switzers?  
Men made of beufe, and sarsenet?  Ja. 
Is a Duke his chamber hung with Nobles like a presence?  Cous. 
I am something wavering in my faith;  
Would you would settle me, and swear 'tis so,  
Is he a Duke indeed?  Ja. 
I swear he is.  Cous. 
I am satisfied, he is my Kinsman. Jaques,  
And I his poor unworthy Cousin.  Ja. 
True Sir.  Cous. 
I might have been a Duke too, I had means,  
A wife as fair as his, and as wise as his;  
And could have brooked the Court as well as his,  
And laid about her for her husband's honour:  
O Jaques had I ever dreamed of this,  
I had prevented him.  Ja. 
Faith Sir it came  
Above our expectation, we were wise  
Only in seeking to undo this honour,  
Which showed our dunghill breeding and our dirt.  Cous. 
But tell me jaques,  
Why could we not perceive? what dull Devil  
Wrought us to cross this noble course, persuading  
'Twould be his overthrow? for me a Courtier  
Is he that knows all, jaques, and does all,  
'Tis as his noble Grace hath often said,  
And very wisely, Jaques, we are fools,  
And understand just nothing.  Ia. 
ay, as we were, I confess it.  
But rising with our great Master,  
We shall be called to knowledge with our places,  
'Tis nothing to be wise, not thus much there,  
there's not the least of the billet dealers,  
Nor any of the Pastry, or the Kitchen,  
But have it in measure delicate.  Coz. 
methinks this greatness of the Dukes my cousins  
(I ask you mercy, jaques, that near name  
Is too familiar for me) should give promise  
Of some great benefits to his attendants.  Ja. 
I have a suit myself, and it is sure,  
Or I mistake my ends much.  Cous. 
What is 't jaques,  
May I not crave the place?  Ja. 
Yes Sir you shall,  
'Tis to be but his grace's Secretary,  
Which is my little all, and my ambition,  
Till my known worth shall take me by the hand  
And set me higher; how the fates may do  
In this poor thread of life is yet uncertain;  
I was not born I take it for a trencher,  
Nor to espouse my Mistress Dairy-maid.  Cous. 
I am resolved my wife shall up to Court;  
I'll furnish her, that is a speeding course,  
And cannot choose but breed a mighty fortune;  
What a fine youth was I, to let him start,  
And get the rise before me? I'll dispatch  
And put myself in moneys.  Ja. 
Mass 'tis true,  
And now you talk of money, Sir my business  
For taking those Crowns must be dispatched?  
This little plot in the Country lies most fit  
To do his Grace such serviceable uses,  
I must about it.  Cous. 
Yet before you go  
Give me your hand, and bear my humble service  
To the great Duke your Master, and his Duchess,  
And live yourself in favour: say my wife  
Shall there attend them shortly, so farewell.  Ja. 
I'll see you mounted Sir.  Cous. 
It may not be,  
Your place is far above it, spare yourself,  
And know I am your servant, fare ye well. Exit x.  Ja. 
Sir I shall rest to be commanded by you;  
This place of Secretary will not content me,  
I must be more and greater, let me see,  
To be a Baron is no such great matter  
As people take it: for say I were a Count,  
I am still an under person to this Duke,  
Which methinks sounds but harshly: but a Duke?  
O I am strangely taken, 'tis a Duke  
Or nothing, I'll advise upon't, and see  
What may be done by wit and industry. Exit.  Enter Wife, Longoveil, Bewford, Servants. Wife. 
It must be carried closely with a care  
That no man speak unto him, or come near him  
Without our private knowledge, or be made  
Aforehand to our practice:  
My good husband  
I shall entreat you now to stay a while,  
And prove a noble coxcomb:  
Gentlemen,  
Your counsel and advice about this carriage.  Ser. 
Alas good man, I do begin to mourn  
His dire massacre: what a persecution  
Is pouring down upon him? sure he is sinful.  Long. 
Let him be kept in 's chamber under show  
Of state and dignity, and no man suffered  
To see his noble face, or have access,  
But we that are Conspirators.  Bew. 
Or else down with him into the country amongst his Tenants,  
There he may live far longer in his greatness,  
And play the fool in pomp amongst his fellows.  Wife. 
No, he shall play the fool in the City, and stay  
I will not lose the greatness of this jest  
That shall be given to my wit for the whole revenues.  Ser. 
Then thus we'll have a guard about his person,  
That no man come too near him, and ourselves  
Always in company; have him into the City  
To see his face swell; whilst in divers corners,  
Some of our own appointing shall be ready  
To cry heaven bless your Grace, long live your Grace.  Wife. 
Servant, your counsels excellent good,  
And shall be followed, 'twill be rarely strange  
To see him stated thus, as though he went  
A shroving through the City, or intended  
To set up some new stake:  
I shall not hold  
From open laughter when I hear him cry  
Come hither my sweet Duchess: let me kiss  
Thy gracious lips: for this will be his phrases?  
I fear me nothing but his legs will break  
Under his mighty weight of such a greatness.  Bew. 
Now methinks dearest Lady you are too cruel;  
His very heart will freeze in knowing this.  Wife. 
No, no, the man was never of such deepness  
To make conceit his Master: Sir I'll assure ye  
He will outlive twenty such pageants.  
Were he but my cousin or my Brother,  
And such a desperate killer of his fortune,  
In this belief he should die, though it cost me  
A thousand crowns a day to hold it up;  
Or were I not known his wife, and so to have  
An equal feeling of this ill he suffers,  
He should be thus till all the boys i'th' Town  
Made suit to wear his badges in their hats,  
And walk before his Grace with sticks and nosegays,  
We married women hold—  Ser. 
'Tis well, no more.  
The Duke is entering, set your faces right,  
And bow like Country prologues: here he comes.  
Make room afore, the Duke is entering.  Enter Duke. Long. 
The chiefest fortunes wait upon our Duke,  Ser. 
And give him all content and happiness.  Bew. 
Let his great name live to the end of time.  Duke. 
We thank you, and are pleased to give you notice  
We shall at fitter times wait on your Loves,  
Till when, be near Us.  Long. 
'Tis a valiant purge, and works extremely;  
'thas delivered him  
Of all Right worshipful and gentle humours,  
And left his belly full of nobleness.  Du. 
It pleased the King my Master  
For sundry virtues not unknown to him,  
And the all-seeing state, to lend his hand  
And raise me to this eminence, how this  
May seem to other men, or stir the minds  
Of such as are my fellow Peers, I know not,  
I would desire their loves in just designs.  Wife. 
Now by my faith he does well, very well:  
Beshrew my heart I have not seen a better  
Of a raw fellow, that before this day  
Never rehearsed his state: 'tis marvellous well.  Ser. 
Is he not Duke indeed, see how he looks  
As if his spirit were a last, or two  
Above his veins, and stretched his noble hide.  Long. 
he's high braced like a drum, pray God he break not.  Bew. 
Why let him break, there's but a Calves-skin lost.  Long. 
May it please your Grace to see the City,  
'twill be to the minds and much contentment  
Of the doubtful people.  Du. 
I am determined so, till my return  
I leave my honoured Duchess to her chamber.  
Be careful of your health, I pray you be so.  Ser. 
Your grace shall suffer us your humble servants  
To give attendance fit so great a person  
Upon your body.  Duke. 
I am pleased so.  Long. 
Away good Bewford, raise a guard sufficient  
To keep him from the reach of tongues, be quick;  
And do you hear, remember how the streets  
Must be disposed with for cries, and salutations.  
Your grace determines not to see the King—  Du. 
Not yet, I shall be ready ten days hence  
To kiss his highness' hand, and give him thanks,  
As it is fit I should for his great bounty  
Set forward Gentlemen.  Groom. 
Room for the Duke there. Exeunt Duke & train.  Wife. 
'Tis fit he should have room to show his mightiness,  
He swells so with his poison,  
'Tis better to reclaim ye thus, then make  
A sheepshead of you, It had been but your due;  
But I have mercy Sir, and mean to reclaim you  
By a directer course.  
That woman is not worthy of a soul  
That has the sovereign power to rule her husband,  
And gives her title up, so long provided  
As there be fair play, and his state not wronged.  Enter Shattillion. Shat. 
I would be glad to know whence this new Duke springs,  
The people buzz abroad, or by what title  
He received his dignity, 'tis very strange  
There should be such close juggling in the State,  
But I am tied to silence, yet a day  
May come, and soon to perfect all these doubts.  Wife. 
It is the mad Shattillion by my soul  
I suffer much for this poor Gentleman;  
I'll speak to him, may be he yet knows me.  
Monsieur Shattillion.  Shat. 
Can you give me reason from whence  
This great Duke sprang that walks abroad?  Wife. 
Even from the King himself.  Shat. 
As you are a woman, I think you may be covered  
Yet your prayer would do no harm good woman.  Wife. 
God preserve him.  Enter Shattillions Love. Shat. 
I say Amen, and so say all good subjects.  Love. 
Lady as ever you have loved, or shall,  
As you have hope of heaven lend your hand,  
And wit to draw this poor distracted man  
Under your roof from the broad eyes of people,  
And wonder of the streets.  Wife. 
With all my heart;  
My feeling of his grief and loss is much.  Love. 
Sir now you are come so near the prison, will ye  
Go in, and visit your fair Love: poor soul  
She would be glad to see you.  Shat. 
This same Duke is but  
Apocryphal, there's no creation  
That can stand where titles are not right.  Love. 
'Tis true Sir.  Shat. 
This is another draught upon my life;  
Let me examine well the words I spoke.  
The words I spoke were, that this novel Duke  
Is not o'th' true making, 'tis to me most certain.  Wife. 
You are as right Sir as you went by line.  Shat. 
And to the grief of many thousands more.  Wife. 
If there be any such, God comfort them.  Shat. 
Whose mouths may open when the time shall please;  
I'm betrayed, commend me to the King,  
And tell him I am sound, and crave but justice;  
You shall not need to have your guard upon me,  
Which I am sure are placed for my attachment;  
Lead on; I'm obedient to my bonds.  Love. 
Good Sir be not displeased with us;  
We are but servants to his highness' will,  
To make that good.  Shat. 
I do forgive you even with my heart;  
Shall I entreat a favour?  Wife. 
Any thing.  Shat. 
To see my love before that fatal stroke,  
And publish to the world my christian death,  
And true obedience to the Crown of France.  Love. 
I hope it shall not need Sir, for there is mercy  
As well as justice in his Royal heart. Exeunt.  Enter three Gentlemen. 1 Gen. 
Every man take his corner, here am I,  
You there, and you in that place, so be perfect,  
Have a great care your cries be loud; and faces  
Full of dejected fear and humbleness.  
He comes.  Enter Jaques. Ja. 
Fie how these streets are charged and swelled  
With these same rascally people? give more room,  
Or I shall have occasion to distribute  
A martial alms amongst you; as I am a Gentleman  
I have not seen such rude disorder,  
They follow him like a prize, there's no true gaper  
Like to your Citizen, he will be sure  
The bears shall not pass by his door in peace,  
But he and all his family will follow.  
Room there afore? Sound?  Enter Duke and his company. Ja. 
Give room, and keep your places  
And you may see enough; keep your places.  Long. 
These people are too far unmannered, thus  
To stop your grace's way with multitudes.  Du. 
Rebuke them not good Monsieur 'tis their loves  
Which I will answer, if it please my stars  
To spare me life and health.  2 Gen. 
Bless your Grace.  Du. 
And you with all my heart.  1 Gen. 
Now heaven preserve your happy days:  Du. 
I thank you too.  3 Gen. 
Now heaven save your Grace;  Du. 
I thank you all.  Bew. 
On there before.  Du. 
Stand Gentlemen, stay yet a while,  
For I am minded to impart my love  
To these good people, and my friends  
Whose love and prayers for my greatness,  
Are equal in abundance, note me well,  
And with my words; my heart? for as the tree—  Long. 
Your Grace had best beware, 'twill be informed  
Your greatness with the people.  Duke. 
I had more  
My honest and ingenious people.— But  
The weight of business hath prevented me.  
I am called from you: but this tree I spoke of  
Shall bring forth fruit I hope to your content,  
And so I share my bowels amongst you all.  Omnes. 
A noble Duke, a very noble Duke.  Enter a Gentleman. Ser. 
Afore there Gentlemen.  Gen. 
You're faithfully met good Monsieur Mount Marine.  Ser. 
Be advised, the time is altered.  Gen. 
Is he not the same man he was afore?  Duke. 
Still the same man to you Sir.  Long. 
You have received mighty grace, be thankful.  Gen. 
Let me not die in ignorance;  Long. 
You shall not.  
Then know the King out of his love hath pleased  
To style him Duke of Burgundy.  Gen. 
O great Duke,  
Thus low, I plead for pardon, and desire  
To be enrolled amongst your poorest slaves.  Du. 
Sir you have mercy, and withal my hand,  
From henceforth let me call you one of mine.  Ser. 
Make room afore there, and dismiss the people.  Du. 
Every man to his house in peace and quiet.  Peop. 
Now heaven preserve the Duke, heaven bless the Duke.  Exeunt Omnes. Enter Wife. Wife. 
This letter came this morn from my cousin  
To the great Lady, high and mighty Duchess  
Of Burgundy, be these delivered O,  
For a stronger lace to keep my breath  
That I may laugh the nine days till the wonder  
Fall to an ebb: the high and mighty duchess?  
The high and mighty God? what a style is this?  
Methinks it goes like a Duchy lope-man,  
A ladder of 100. rounds will fail  
To reach the top on't, well my Gentle Cousin  
I know by these contents your itch of honour;  
You must to the Court, you say, and very shortly:  
You shall be welcome; and if your wife have wit  
I'll put her in a thriving course, if not  
Her own sin on her own head, not a blot  
Shall stain my reputation, only this  
I must for health's sake sometimes  
Make an ass of the tame moil my husband;  
'Twill do him good, and give him fresher brains,  
Me fresher blood.  
Now for the noble Duke, I hear him coming.  Enter Duke, his train. 
Your Grace is well returned.  Du. 
As well as may be:  
Never in younger health, never more able:  
I mean to be your bedfellow this night,  
Let me have good encounter.  Bow. 
Bless me heaven  
What a hot meat this greatness is?  Long. 
It may be so,  
For I'll be sworn he hath not got a snap  
This two months on my knowledge, or her woman  
Is dammed for swearing it.  Du. 
I thank you Gentlemen for your attendance  
And also your great pains, pray know my lodgings  
Better and oftener, do so Gentlemen.  
Now by my honour, as I am a Prince,  
I speak sincerely, know my lodgings better,  
And be not strangers, I shall see your service  
And your deservings, when you least expect.  Om. 
We humbly thank your Grace for this great favour.  Du. 
Jaques?  Ja. 
Your Grace.  Du. 
Be ready for the Country,  
And let my Tenants know the Kings great love:  
Say I would see them, but the weight at Court  
Lies heavy on my shoulders: let them know  
I do expect their duties in attendance  
Against the next feast, wait for my coming  
To take up post-horse, and be full of speed. Exit Jaques.  Wife. 
I would desire your Grace—  Du. 
You shall desire, and have your  
Full desire, sweet duchess speak.  Wife. 
To have some conference with a Gentleman  
That seems not altogether void of reason?  
He talks of titles, and things near the Crown,  
And knowing none so fit as your good Grace,  
To give the difference in such points of State—  Du. 
What is he? If he be noble, or have any part  
That's worthy our converse, We do accept him.  Wife. 
I can assure your Grace his strain is noble,  
But he's very subtle.  Duke. 
Let him be so.  
Let him have all the brains, I shall demonstrate  
How this most Christian Crown of France can bear  
No other show of title than the Kings.  
I will go in and meditate for half an hour,  
And then be ready for him presently,  
I will convert him quickly or confound him.  Ser 
Is mad Shattillion here?  Wife. 
Is here, and's Lady,  
I prithee servant fetch him hither.  Ser. 
Why, what do you mean to put him to?  Wife. 
To chat with the mad lad my husband;  
'Twill be brave to hear them speak, babble,  
Stare, and prate.  Bew. 
But what shall be the end of all this, Lady?  Enter. Shattillion, and Servant. Wife 
Leave that to me, now for the grand dispute,  
For see here comes Shattillion: as I live methinks  
All France should bear part of his griefs.  Long. 
I le fetch my Lord the Duke.  Shat. 
Where am I now, or whether will you lead me?  
To my death? I crave my privilege,  
I must not die but by just course of law.  Ser. 
His Majesty hath sent by me your pardon,  
He meant not you should die; but would entreat you  
To lay the full state of your Title open,  
Unto a grave and noble Gentleman.  Enter Duke and Longovile. 
The Duke of Burgundy who here doth come,  
Who either by his wisdom will confute you,  
Or else inform and satisfy the King.  Bew. 
May 't please your grace, this is the Gentleman.  Duke. 
Is this he that chops logic with my liege?  Shat. 
d'ee mock me? you are great, the time will come  
When you shall be as much contemned as I,  
Where are the ancient compliments of France,  
That upstarts brave the Princes of the blood?  Duke. 
Your title Sir, in short.  Shat. 
He must Sir,  
Be a better states man then yourself, that can  
Trip me in any thing, I will not speak  
Before these witnesses.  Duke. 
Depart the room, for none shall stay,  
No not my dearest Duchess.  Wife. 
we'll stand behind the Arras & hear all. Exeunt.  Duke. 
In that chair take your place, I in this,  
Discourse your title now.  Shat. 
Sir you shall know,  
My loves true title, mine by marriage,  
Setting aside the first race of French Kings  
Which will not here concern us, as Pharamont,  
With Clodian, Meron, and Chilperik,  
And to come down unto the second race,  
Which we will likewise slip—  Duke. 
But take me with you.  Shat. 
I pray you give me leave, of Martell Charles,  
The Father of King Pippin, who was, Sir,  
To Charles the great and famous Charlemagne.  
And to come to the third race of French Kings,  
Which will not be great pertinent in this cause,  
Betwixt the King and me, of which you know  
HUGH CAPET was the first,  
Next his Son Robert, Henry then, and Philip  
With Lewis, and his Son a Lewis too,  
And of that name the seventy, but all this  
Springs from a female as it shall appear.  Duke. 
Now give me leave, I grant you this your title  
At the first sight carries some show of truth;  
But if ye weigh it well ye shall find light.  
Is not his Majesty possessed in peace,  
And justice executed in his name,  
And can you think the most Christian King  
Would do this if he saw not reason for it?  Shat. 
But had not the tenth Lewis a sole daughter?  Duke. 
I cannot tell.  Shat. 
But answer me directly.  Duke. 
It is a most seditious question.  Shat. 
Is this your justice?  Duke 
I stand for my King.  Shat. 
Was ever heir apparent thus abused?  
I'll have your head for this.  Duke. 
Why, do your worst.  Shat. 
Will no one stir to apprehend this traitor?  
A guard about my person will? none come?  
Must my own royal hands perform the deed?  
Then thus I do arrest you.  Duke. 
Treason, help.  Enter Wife, Long, and Bew. and Servant. Wife. 
Help, help, my Lord and husband.  Duke. 
Help thy Duke.  Long. 
Forbear his grace's person.  Shat. 
Forbear you to touch him that,  
Your heir apparent weds,  
But by this hand I will have all your heads. Exit.  Ser. 
How doth your grace?  Duke. 
Why? well.  Ser. 
How do you find his title?  Duke. 
'Tis a dangerous one,  
As can come by a female.  Ser. 
I 't is true,  
But the law Salic, cuts him off from all.  Long. 
I do beseech your grace how stands his title?  Duke. 
Pew, nothing, the law Shallicke cuts him off from all  Wife. 
My gracious husband you must now prepare,  
In all your grace's pomp to entertain  
Your cousin, who is now a convertite,  
And follows here, this night he will be here.  Duke. 
Be ready all in haste, I do intend,  
To show before my cousins wondering face Exeunt omnes.  
The greatness of my pomp, and of my place.   

Actus quartus.  Enter Cozen. his Wife. Co. 
Sirrah is all things carried to the tailor,  
The measure and the fashion of the gown  
With the best trim?  Man. 
Yes Sir & 'twill be ready within this two days.  Co. 
For myself I care not,  
I have a suit or two of ancient velvet;  
Which with some small correcting and addition  
May steal into the presence.  Wife. 
Would my Gown were ready husband, I'll lay my life,  
To make you something ere tomorrow night.  Co. 
It must not be  
Before we see the Duke, and have advice,  
How to behave ourselves: let's in the while,  
And keep ourselves from knowledge till time shall call us  Enter Long. and Bewford. Exeunt. Long. 
I much admire the fierce masculine spirit,  
Of this dread Amazon.  Bew. 
This following night I'll have a wench in solace.  Long. 
Sir, I hear you,  
And will be with you if I live, no more.  Enter Maria. Ma. 
My Lady would entreat your presence Gentleman.  Bew. 
We will obey your Lady, she is worthy.  Long. 
You light alone, a word, or two.  Ma. 
Your will Sir.  Long. 
Hark in your ear, wilt thou be married? speak, wilt thou marry?  Ma. 
Married? to whom Sir?  Long. 
To a proper fellow, landed, and able bodied,  Ma. 
Why do you flout me Sir?  Long. 
I swear I do not, I love thee for thy Lady's sake, be free,  Ma. 
If I could meet such matches as you speak of,  
I were a very child to lose my time, Sir.  Long. 
What sayest thou to monsieur Bewford.  Mar. 
Sir I say he's a proper Gentleman, and far  
Above my means to look at.  Long. 
Dost thou like him?  Ma. 
Yes Sir, and ever did.  Long 
He is thine own.  Mar. 
You are too great in promises.  Long. 
Be ruled and follow my advice, he shall be thine  Mar. 
Would you would make it good Sir.  Long. 
Do but thus,  
Get thee a cushion underneath thy clothes,  
And leave the rest to me.  Mar. 
I'll be your scholar,  
I cannot lose much by the venture sure.  Long. 
Thou wilt lose a pretty maiden head, my rogue,  
Or I am much o'th' bow hand, you'll remember  
If all this take effect, who did it for you,  
And what I may deserve for such a kindness.  Ma. 
Yours Sir. Exeunt.  Enter Jaques and Shatillion severally. Ja. 
Save ye Sir.  Sha. 
Save the King.  Ja. 
I pray you Sir, which is the nearest way?  Sha. 
Save the King, this is the nearest way.  Ja. 
Which is the nearest way to the post house?  Sha. 
God save the King and his post-horse.  Ja. 
I pray Sir direct me to the house;  Sha. 
Heaven save the King, you cannot catch me Sir.  Ja. 
I do not understand you Sir.  Sha. 
You do not, I say you cannot catch me Sir.  Ja. 
Not catch you Sir?  Sha. 
No Sir, nor can the King,  
With all his stratagems, and his forced tricks,  
Although he put his nobles in disguise;  
Never so oft to sift into my words,  
By course of law, lay hold upon my life.  Ja. 
It is business that my Lord the Duke  
Is by the King employed in, and he thinks  
I am acquainted with it.  Sha. 
I shall not need to rip the cause up,  
From the first to you,  
But if his Majesty had suffered me  
To marry her, though she be after him,  
The right heir general to the Crown of France.  
I would not have conveyed her into Spain,  
As it was thought, nor would I ere have joined,  
With the reformed Churches to make them,  
Stand for my cause.  Ja. 
I do not think you would.  Shat. 
I thank you Sir,  
And since I see you are a favourer  
Of virtues, kept in bondage;  
Tell directly to my sovereign King,  
For so I will acknowledge him for ever,  
How you have found my stayed affections  
Settled for peace, and for the present state.  Ja. 
Why Sir?  Sha. 
And good Sir tell him further this,  
That notwithstanding all suggestions  
Brought to him against me and all his suspicions,  
Which are innumeral to my treasons,  
If he will warrant me but public trial,  
I'll freely yield myself into his hands;  
Can he have more than this?  Ja. 
No by my troth.  Sha. 
I would his Majesty would hear but reason,  
As well as you.  Ja. 
But Sir you do mistake me,  
For I never saw the King  
In all my life but once, therefore good Sir,  
May it please you to show me which is the post house.  Sha. 
I cry you mercy Sir, then you're my friend.  Ja. 
Yes Sir.  Sha. 
And such men are very rare with me,  
The post house is hard by, farewell;  Ja. 
I thank you Sir, I must ride hard tonight,  
And it is dark already.  Shat. 
I am cruel to send this man directly to his death  
That is my friend, and I might easily save him,  
He shall not die, come back my friend, come back.  Ja. 
What is your will?  Sha. 
do you not know?  Ja. 
Not I.  Sha. 
And do you gather nothing by my face?  Ja. 
No Sir.  Sha. 
Virtue is ever innocent,  
La not the fault on me, I grieve for you,  
And wish that all my tears might win your safety.  Ja. 
Why Sir?  Sha. 
Alas good friend you are undone,  
The more ill fortune, mine to be the means  
Of your sad overthrow: you know not me.  Ja. 
No truly Sir.  Sha. 
Would you had never seen me,  
I am a man pursued by the whole state  
And sure some one hath seen me talk with you.  Ja. 
Yes divers Sir.  Sha. 
Why then your head is gone.  Ja. 
I'll out of town.  Sha. 
Would it were soon enough,  
Stay if you love your life, or else you are taken.  Ja. 
What shall I do?  Sha. 
I'll venture deeply for him,  
Rather than to cast away an innocent,  
Take courage friend, I will preserve thy life,  
With hazard of mine own.  Ja. 
I thank you Sir.  Sha. 
This night thou shalt be lodged within my doors,  
Which shall be all looked fast, and in the morn  
I'll so provide, you shall have free access,  
To the Sea side and so be shipped away,  
Ere any know it.  Ja. 
Good Sir suddenly I am afraid to die.  Sha. 
Then follow me. Exeunt.  Enter Shatillion's Love. Love. 
This way he went, and there's the house I hope,  
His better Angel hath directed him,  
To leave the wandering streets, poor Gentleman.  
Would I were able with as free a heart,  
To set his soul right, as I am to grieve,  
The ruin of his fame, which God forgive me;  
Sir if you be within, I pray Sir speak to me.  Shat. 
I am within and will be, what are you?  Love. 
A friend.  Shat. 
No Sir you must pardon me,  
I am acquainted with none such: be speedy,  
Friend there is no other remedy.  Love. 
A word Sir I say I am your friend.  Shat. 
You cannot scape by any other means,  
Be not fearful, God save the King,  
What's your business Sir?  Lov. 
To speak with you.  Shat. 
Speak out then?  Lov. 
Shall I not come up?  Shat. 
Thou shalt not: fly if thou be'st thin own friend,  
There lies the suit and all the furniture  
Belonging to the head, on with it friend.  Lov. 
Sir do you hear?  Shat. 
I do, God bless the King,  
It was a habit I had laid aside,  
For my own person if the state had forced me.  Love. 
Good Sir unlock your door.  Shat. 
Be full of speed, I see some 20 Musketeers in ambush,  
whate'er thou art, know I am here and will be,  
Seest thou this bloody sword that cries revenge?  
Shake not my friend, through millions of these foes  
I'll be thy guard and set thee safe aboard.  Lov. 
Dare you not trust me Sir?  Shat. 
My good before me,  
And my allegiance to the King I tell thee  
Captain (for so I guess thee by thy arms)  
And the loose flanks of halberdeers about thee,  
Thou art too weak and foolish to attempt me.  
If you be ready follow me, and hark you  
Upon your life speak to no living wight,  
Except myself.  Love. 
Monsieur Shattillion?  Shat. 
Thou shalt not call again; thus with my sword,  
And the strong faith I bear unto the King;  
Whom God preserve, I will descend my chamber,  
And cut thy throat, I swear I'll cut thy throat,  
Steal after me and live.  Love. 
I will not stay.  
The fury of a man so far distracted. Exit Love.  Enter Shattillion. 
Where's the Officer that dares not enter,  
To entrap the life of my distressed friend?  
ay, have you hid yourself? you must be found,  
What do you fear? is not authority on your side  
Nay, I know the king's command  
Will be your warrant, why then fear you? speak  
What strange designs are these? Shattillion,  
Be resolute and bear thyself upright,  
Though the whole world despise thee: soft, methinks.  
I heard a rushing which was like the shake  
Of a discovered Officer, I'll search  
The whole street over, but I'll find thee out. Exit.  Enter Jaques. in women's apparel. Ja. 
How my joints do shake, where had I been  
But for this worthy Gentleman, that  
Hath some touch of my infortunes: would I were  
Safe under hatches once for calicut,  
Farewell the pomp of Court, I never more  
Can hope to be a Duke or any thing,  
I never more shall see thy glorious face;  
Of my fair spreading Lord that loved me well.  Enter Shattillion. Shat. 
Fly you so fast? I had a sight of you,  
But would not follow you; I was too wise,  
You shall not lead me with a cunning trick,  
Where you may catch me; poor Shatillion;  
Hath the king's anger left thee never a friend?  
No, all men's loves move by the breath of Kings.  Ja. 
It is the Gent. that saved my life, Sir.  Shat. 
Bless Shatillion, another plot.  Ja. 
No Sir, 'tis I.  Shat. 
Why, who are you?  Ja. 
Your friend whom you preserved.  Shat. 
Whom I preserved?  
My friend? I have no woman friend but one,  
Who is to close in prison to be here;  
Come near let me look on you.  Ja. 
'Tis I.  Shat. 
You should not be a woman by your stature.  Ja. 
I am none Sir.  Shat. 
I know it, then keep off,  
Strange men and times! how I am still preserved?  
Here they have sent a yeoman of the guard  
Disguised in woman's clothes to work on me,  
To make love to me; and to trap my words,  
And so ensnare my life, I know you Sir,  
Stand back upon your peril, can this be  
In christian common weals? from this time forth  
I'll cut off all the means to work on me.  
I'll ne'er stir from my house: and keep my doors  
Locked day and night, and cheapen meat and drink  
At the next shops by signs, out of my window,  
And having bought it draw it up in my garters.  Ja. 
Sir, will you help me?  Shat. 
Do not follow me,  
I'll take a course to live despite of men. Exit Shat.  Ja. 
He dares not venture for me, wretched Jaques  
Thou art undone for ever and for ever,  
Never to rise again: what shall I do?  Enter Bew. 
Where shall I hide me? here's one to take me,  
I must stand close, and not speak for my life.  Bew. 
This is the time of night, and this the haunt,  
In which I use to catch my waistcoatiers,  
It is not very dark, no I shall spy 'em,  
I have walked out in such a pitchy night.  
I could not see my fingers this far off,  
And yet have brought whom venison by the smell,  
I hope they have not left their old walk, ah?  
Have I spied you sitting by this light?  
To me there's no such fine sight in the world,  
As a white-apron twixt twelve and one;  
See how it glisters? do you think to scape?  
So now I have you fast; come and do not strive,  
It takes away the edge of appetite;  
Come I'll be liberal every way, Exeunt  
Take heed you make no noise for waking of the watch.  Enter Cozen and his Wife. Coz. 
Now the blessing of some happy guide,  
To bring us to the Duke and we are ready.  Enter Long. and Servant. 
Come forward see the door is opened,  
And two of his Gent. I'll speak to them,  
And mark how I behave myself, God save ye;  
For less I cannot wish to men of sort, & of your seeming  
Are you of the Dukes?  Long. 
We are Sir, and your servants, your salutes,  
We give you back again with many thanks.  Co. 
When did you hear such words before wife? peace,  
Do you not dare to answer yet; is't fit  
So mean a Gentleman as myself should crave,  
The presence of the great Duke your Master?  Ser. 
Sir you may.  Long. 
Shall we desire your name and business Sir,  
And we will presently inform him of you.  Co. 
My name is Cleremont  Ser. 
You are his grace's kinsman,  
Or I am much mistaken;  Co. 
You are right,  
Some of his noble blood runs through these veins,  
Though far unworthy of his grace's knowledge.  Long. 
Sir we must all be yours; his grace's kinsman,  
And we so much forgetful? 'twas a rudeness,  
And must attend your pardon, thus I crave it:  
First to this beauteous Lady, whom I take  
To be your wife Sir, next your mercy.  Cous. 
You have it Sir, I do not like this kissing,  
It lies so open to a world of wishes.  Ser. 
This is the merry fellow, this is he  
That must be noble too.  Long. 
And so he shall.  
If all the art I have can make him noble,  
I'll dub him with a Knighthood; if his wife  
Will be but forward, and join issue,  
I like her above excellent.  Ser. 
Wilt please you  
To walk a turn or two, whilst to the Duke  
We make your coming known? Exit Ser. & Long.  Cous. 
I shall attend, Sir.  Wife. 
These Gentlemen are very proper men,  
And kiss the best that ere I tasted.  
For goodness-sake husband let us never more  
Come near the Country, whatsoe'er betide us;  
I am in malice with the memory  
Of that same stinking dunghill.  Cous. 
Why now you are my chicken and my dear,  
Love where I love, hate where I hate, now  
You shall have twenty gowns, and twenty chains,  
See, the door is opening.  Groom. 
Room afore there, the Duke is entering.  Enter Duke, Wife, Long. Servant, Maria. Cos. 
'Tis the Duke, even he himself, be merry,  
This is the golden age the Poet speaks on.  Wife. 
I pray it be not brazened, by their faces,  
And yet methinks they are the neatest pieces  
For shape and cutting that ere I beheld.  Cous. 
Most gracious Duke, my poor Spouse & myself  
Do kiss your mighty foot, and next to that  
The great hand of your Duchess, ever wishing  
Your honours ever-springing, and your years.  Du. 
cousin?  Cous. 
Your grace's vassal, far unworthy  
The nearness of your blood.  Du. 
Correct me not, I know the word I speak,  
And know the person.  
Though I be something higher than the place  
Where common men have motion, and descending  
Down with my eye, their forms are lessened to me,  
Yet from this pitch can I behold my own,  
From millions of those men that have no mark,  
And in my fearful stoop, can make them stand.  
When others feel my soul and perish, cousin  
Be comforted, you are very welcome, so  
Is your fair wife: the charge of whom I give  
To my own dearest and best beloved.  
Tell me, have you resolved yourself for Court,  
And utterly renounce the slavish Country,  
With all the cares thereof?  Cous. 
I have sir.  Du. 
Have you dismissed your eating household,  
Sold your hangings of Nebuchadnezar, for such they were,  
As I remember, with the furnitures  
Belonging to your beds and chambers?  Cous. 
I Sir.  Du. 
Have you most carefully ta'en off the lead,  
From your roof weak with age, and so prevented  
The ruin of your house, and clapped him  
In a summer suit of thatch to keep him cool?  Cous. 
All this I have performed.  Du. 
Then lend me all your hands, I will embrace my cousin  
Who is an understanding Gentleman,  
And with a zeal mighty as is my name,  
Once more I bid you welcome to the Court;  
My state again.  Duch. 
As I was telling you your husband  
Must be no more Commander, look to that,  
Be several at meat, and lodging, let him have  
Board-wages and diet 'mongst his men i'th' town  
For pleasure if he be given too't let him have it,  
Else as your own fancy shall direct you.  
cousin, you see this mighty man here: he was an ass  
When he came first to town: indeed he was  
Just such another coxcomb as your husband,  
God bless the mark and every good man's child!  
This must not stir you Cousin.  Wife. 
Heaven forbid?  Long. 
Sweet Maria, provide the cushion ready for it.  Mat. 
It shall be done.  Du. 
Receive all your advices from ourself,  
Be once a day with us, and so farewell  
For this time, my fair cousin; Gentlemen  
Conduct him to his lodging.  Duch. 
Farewell, and think upon my words.  Wife. 
I shall observe them. Exit Duke and duchess.  Cous. 
Health, and the Kings continual love attend you.  Ser. 
O for a private place to ease my lungs!  
Heaven give me patience, such a pair of Jades  
Were never better ridden to this hour,  
Pray heaven they hold out to the journey's end.  Long. 
Twitch him aside good Monsieur, whilst I break  
Upon the body of his strength, his wife,  
I have a constant promise: she is my own.  Ser. 
Ply her to windward Monsieur, you have taken  
The most compendious way to raise yourself,  
That could have been delivered by a council.  Cous. 
I have some certain aims Sir: but my wife—  Ser. 
Your wife? you must not let that trouble you.  Cous. 
It will Sir, to see her in a stranger's arms.  Ser. 
What mean you? let her alone, be wise, stir not a foot  
For if you do, all your hopes are buried:  
I swear you are a lost man if you stir.  Cous. 
I thank you Sir, I will be more advised.  Ser. 
But what great Office do you level at?  Cous. 
Sir, they are kissing.  Ser. 
Let them kiss,  
And much may do their good hearts; they must kiss  
And kiss, and double kiss, and kiss again,  
Or you may kiss the post for any rising:  
Had your noble Kinsman ever mounted  
To these high Spheres of honour, now he moves in,  
But for the kisses of his wife?  Cous. 
I Know not.  Ser. 
Then I do; credit me, he had been lost,  
A fellow of no mark, and no repute,  
Had not his wife kissed soon, and very sweetly  
She was an excellent woman, and dispatched him  
To his full, being in a moment Sir— Exit Long. & Wife.  Cous. 
But yet methinks he should not take her Sir  
Into a private room.  Ser. 
Now stand and flourish,  
You are a made man for ever.  
I do envy you if you stand your fortunes up,  
You are the happiest man: but your great Cousin  
This day in Court: well I will marry surely,  
And not let every man outrun me thus.  
'Tis time to be mine own friend, I live  
In town here, and direct the readiest way,  
To other men, and be a slave myself.  Co. 
Nay good Sir be not moved, I am your servant,  
And will not be ungrateful for this knowledge.  Ser. 
Will you be walking home?  Co. 
I would desire to have my wife along.  Ser. 
You are too raw,  
Be gone and take no notice where you left her,  
Let her return at leisure, if she stay  
A month 'twill be the better, understand me  
This Gentleman can do't. Exit Cozen.  Co. 
I will Sir, & wife remember me a Duke, a Duke wife.  Ser. 
Aboard her Longaveile she's thine own,  
To me the fooling of this fool, is venery. Exit Servant.  Enter Bewford and Jaques. Bew. 
Come, prithee come, have I not crowns? behold  
And follow me, here; not a word, go in  
Grope by the walls, and you shall find a bed,  
Lie down there, see, see, a turn or two to give  
My blood some heat; and I am presently  
For action, darkness by thy leave I come. Exit Bew.  Enter Maria. Ma. 
I am perfect in my lesson, be my speed,  
Thou God of marriage, this is the door, I'll knock.  Bew. within. 
whose's there? I cannot come yet.  Ma. 
monsieur Bewford?  Bew. 
Stay till I light a candle, who are ye?  Mar. 
Sir? a poor Gentlewoman.  Enter Bewford. Bew. 
O come in, I'll find a time for you too, be not loud.  Mar. 
Sir you have found that time already, shame  
On my soul therefore.  Bew. 
Why? what's the matter?  Mar. 
Do you not see Sir, is your light so dim?  Bew. 
Do you not wait on the Lady Mount Marine?  Mar. 
I do Sir, but my love on you.  Bew. 
Poor soul! how cam'st thou by this big belly?  Mar. 
By yourself.  Bew. 
By heaven I ne'er touched your body.  Mar. 
Yes, unswear that oath again, I'll tell you all;  
These two years I have loved you, but the means  
How to enjoy you, I did never know  
Till twelve night last, when hearing of your game  
To take up wenches private in the night,  
I apprehended straight this course to make  
myself as one of them, and wait your coming;  
I did so, and enjoyed you, and now this child  
That now is quick within me: hide my shame,  
And marry me: or else I must be forced—  Long within. 
Monsieur Bewford, Monsieur Bewford.  Bew. 
whose's that calls?  Long. 
Are you a-bed?  Bew. 
No Sir, the hangings.  Enter Long. Long. 
Nay monsieur, I'll forbid that, we'll have fair play  
Lend me your candle, are you taken Bewford?  
A lecher of your practice, and close carriage  
To be discovered thus? I am ashamed  
So great a Master in his art should fail,  
And stagger in his grounds.  Bew. 
Your wide,  
This woman and myself are man and wife,  
And have been so this half year,  
Where are you now? have I been discovered?  
You cannot break so easily on me Sir,  
I am too wary to be opened by you.  Long. 
But these are but illusions to give colour  
To your most mystic lechery, but Sir  
The belly hath betrayed you all, it must out.  Bew. 
Good Longavile believe me on my faith,  
I am her husband.  Long. 
On my faith I cannot unless I saw  
Your hands fast and your hearts.  Bew. 
Why Longavile when did I give that to your ears  
That was not truth? by all the world she's mine,  
She is my wife and to confirm you better  
I give myself again, here take my hand  
And I yours, we are once more married,  
Will this content you?  Long. 
Yes, I am believing, and God give you joy.  Bew. 
My loving wife I will not wrong thee,  
Since I am thine and only loved of thee  
From this hour I, vow myself a new man,  
Be not jealous: for though I had a purpose,  
To have spent an hour or two in solace otherwise,  
And was provided for it, yet my love  
Shall put a better temper to my blood,  
Come out thou woman of unwholesome life,  
Be sorry for thy sins, and learn to mend,  
Nay never hide your face, you shall be seen.  Long. 
Jaques, why Jaques, art thou that Jaques,  
The very staff, and right hand of our Duke?  
Speak, thou bearded Venus.  Ja. 
I am he, by miracle preserved to be that Jaques,  
Within this two hours Gentlemen, poor Jaques  
Was but as corpse in grave: a man of wisdom,  
That of my conscience if he had his right  
Should have a pretty state, but that's all one  
That noble Gentleman did save this life,  
I keep it for him, 'tis his own.  Long. 
Oh Bacchus! is all the world drunk? come we'll to the Duke  
And give thanks for this delivery.   

Actus quintus.  Enter Duke, and Jaques. Duke. 
Not gone unto my Tenants to relate  
My grace and honour; and the mightiness  
Of my new name which would have struck a terror  
Through their course doublets, to their very hearts?  Ja. 
Alas great Lord and Master, I could scarce  
With safety of my life return again  
Unto your grace's house, and but for one  
That had some mercy, I had sure been hanged.  Duke. 
My house?  Ja. 
Yes Sir, this house, your house i'th' town.  Duke. 
Jaques we are displeased, hath it no name?  Ja. 
What name?  Duke. 
Dull rogue; what hath the King bestowed  
So many honours, opened all his springs,  
And showered his graces down upon my head,  
And has my house no name? no title yet?  
Burgundy house you Ass.  Ja. 
Your grace's mercy,  
And when I was come off, and had recovered  
Burgundy house, I durst not yet be seen,  
But lay all night for fear of pursuivants  
In Burgundy privy house.  Duke. 
O Sir, 'tis well,  
Can you remember now? but Jaques know  
Since thy intended journey is so crossed,  
I will go down myself this morning.  Ja. 
Sir?  Duke. 
Have I not said this morning?  Ja. 
But consider,  
That nothing is prepared yet for your journey,  
Your grace's teams not here to draw your clothes;  
And not a carrier yet in town to send by.  Duke. 
I say once more go about it,  
You're a wise man, you'd have me linger time,  
Till I have worn these clothes out: will ye go?  
Make ye ready wife. Exit. Jaques.  Enter Wife. Dutches. 
I am so, mighty Duke.  Duke. 
Nay for the Country.  Dutch. 
How? for the Country?  Duke. 
Yes I am resolved to see my Tenants in this bravery  
Make them a sumptuous feast, with a slight show,  
Of Dives, and Lazarus, and a squib or two,  
And so return.  Dutches. 
Why Sir? you are not mad?  Duke. 
How many Dukes have ye known mad? I pray speak.  Dutch. 
You are the first Sir, and I hope the last,  
But you are stark horn mad.  Duke. 
Forbear good wife.  Dutch. 
As I have faith you're mad: your horns  
Have been too heavy for you, and have broke  
Your skull in pieces: If you be in earnest.  Duke. 
Well you shall know my skull and wits are whole  
Ere I have done, and yet I am in earnest.  Dutches. 
Why, do you think I'll go?  Duke. 
I know you shall.  Dutch. 
I shall? by what authority shall I?  Duke. 
I am your husband.  Dutch. 
True I confess it,  
And by that name the world hath given you  
A power to sway me; but Sir you shall know  
There is a greater bond that ties me here,  
Allegiance to the King; has he not heaped  
Those honours on you to no other end,  
But to stay you here, and shall I have a hand  
In the offending such a gracious Prince?  
Besides, our own undoings lies upon't,  
Were there no other cause, I do not see,  
Why you should go: If I should say you should not.  Duke. 
Do you think so?  Dutch. 
Yes faith.  Duke. 
Now good wife make me understand that point.  Dutch. 
Why that you shall, did I not bring you hither?  Duke. 
Yes.  Dutch. 
And were not all those honours wrought out of the fire by me?  Duke. 
By you?  Dutch. 
By me; how strange you make it?  
When you came first did you not walk the Town,  
In a long cloak half compass? an old hat,  
Lined with velour, and on it for a band,  
A skein of crimson cruel?  Duke. 
I confess it.  Dutch. 
And took base courses?  Duke. 
Base?  Dutch. 
Base by this light, extreme base, and scurvy, monstrous base.  Duke. 
What were these courses, wife?  Dutch. 
Why you shall know,  
Did you not thus attired trot up and down,  
Plotting for vild and lousy offices,  
And agreed with the sergeant of the bears,  
To buy his place? deny this if you can.  Duke. 
Why it is true.  Dutch. 
And was not that monstrous base?  Duke. 
Be advised wife, a bear's a princely beast.  Dutch. 
A bear?  Duke. 
Yes wife, and one side venison.  Dutch. 
You're more then one side fool, I'm sure of that  Duke. 
But since you have vexed me wife, know you shall go  
Nor you shall never have penny from me.  Dutch. 
Nay I have done, and though I know 'twill be  
Your overthrow, I'll not forsake you now.  Duke. 
Be ready then. Exit Duke.  Dutch. 
I will.  Enter Bewf. Long. Serva. Maria. Long. 
What are you married Bewford?  Bew. 
I as fast as words, and hearts, and hands & Priest can make us.  Dutch. 
O Gentlemen, we are undone.  Long. 
For what?  Dutch. 
This Gentleman the Lord of lost my husband,  
Will be gone down to show his play fellows,  
Where he is gay.  Bew. 
What, down into the Country?  Dutch. 
Yes faith, was ever fool but he so cross?  
I would as fain be gracious to him,  
As he could wish me, but he will not let me;  
Speak faithfully, will he deserve my mercy?  Long. 
According to his merits he should wear,  
A guarded coat, and a great wooden dagger.  Dutch. 
If there be any woman that doth know,  
The duties twixt a husband and his wife,  
Will speak but one word for him he shall scape;  
Is not that reasonable? but there's none,  
Be ready therefore, to pursue the plot  
We had against a pinch, for he must stay.  Long. 
Wait you here for him whilst I go  
And make the King acquainted with your sport,  
For fear he be incensed for our attempting;  
Places of so great honour. Exit Long.  Dutch. 
Go, be speedy.  Enter Duke, Cozen, Wife, Jaques, Man. Duke. 
Come let me see how all things are disposed of.  Ja. 
One Cart will serve for all your furniture,  
With room enough behind to ease the footman  
A capcase for your linen, and your plate,  
With a strange lock that opens with Amen;  
For my young Lord because of easy portage,  
A quiver of your graces lined with cunny,  
Made to be hanged about the Nurse's neck,  
Thus with a scarf or towel.  Duke. 
Very good.  Ja. 
Nay, 'tis well, but had you stayed another week,  
I would have had you, furnished in such pomp,  
As never Duke of Burgundy was furnished,  
You should have had a sumpter though't had cost me  
The laying on myself: where now you are fain,  
To hire a ripper's mare, and buy new dossers,  
But I have got them painted with your arms,  
With a fair darnex Carpet of my own  
Laid cross for the more state.  Duke. 
Jaques I thank you: your Carpet shall be brushed  
And sent you home; what, are you ready wife?  Dutch. 
An hour ago  Duke. 
I cannot choose but kiss thy royal lips,  
Dear Duchess mine, thou art so good a woman.  Bew. 
you'd say so if you knew all, goodman Duckling.  Coz. 
This was the happiest fortune could befall me  
Now in his absence will I follow close  
Mine own preferment, and I hope e ere long,  
To make my mean and humble name so strong,  
As my great cousins, when the world shall know,  
I bear too hot a spirit to live low  
The next Spring will I down my wife and household,  
I'll have My Ushers, and my four Lackeys,  
Six spare croches too: but mum, no more,  
What I intend to do, I'll keep in store.  Duke. 
Mountye, mountye, jaques, be our querry.  Groom. 
To horse there Gentlemen, and fall in couples.  Duke. 
Come honoured duchess. Enter Longavile.  Long. 
Stand thou proud man.  Duke. 
Thieves, jaques, raise the people.  Long. 
No, raise no people, 'tis the king's command,  
Which bids thee once more stand thou haughty man,  
Thou art a monster, for thou art ungrateful,  
And like a fellow of a rebel nature,  
Hast flung from his embraces: and for  
His honours given thee, hast not returned  
So much as thanks, and to oppose his will,  
Resolved to leave the Court, and set the Realm  
A fire, in discontent, and open action:  
Therefore he bids thee stand thou proud man,  
Whilst with the whisking of my sword about  
I take thy honours off: this first sad whisk  
Takes off thy Dukedom, thou art but an Earl.  Duke. 
You are mistaken, Longavile.  Long. 
O would I were, this second whisk divides  
Thy Earldom from thee, thou art yet a Baron.  Duke. 
No more whisks if you love me Longavile.  Long. 
Two whisks are past, and two are yet behind,  
Yet all must come, but not to linger time.  
With these two whisks I end, now Mount Marine,  
For thou art now no more, so says the King,  
And I have done his Highness will with grief.  Duke. 
Disgraced from my honours?  Lon. 
'Tis too certain.  Duke. 
I am no Traitor sure that I know of;  
Speak jaques? hast thou ever heard me utter word  
Tending to treason, or to bring in the enemy?  Ia. 
Alas sir I know nothing,  
Why should your Worship bring me in to hang me?  
God's my judge Gentlemen I never meddled  
But with the brushing of his clothes, or fetching  
In water in a morning for his hands.  Cous. 
Are these the honours of this place? Antony  
Help me to take her gown off quickly  
Or I'll so swinge ye for't—  Wife. 
Why husband? Sir?  Cous. 
I'll not lose a penny by this town.  Long. 
Why what do you mean sir, have her to her lodging,  
And there undress her, I will wait upon her.  Cous. 
Indeed you shall not, your month is out I take it,  
Get you out before me wife:  
Cousin farewell, I told you long ago,  
That pride begins with pleasure, ends with woe.  Exit with's Wife. Bew. 
Go thy way sentences, 'twill be thy fortune,  
To live and die a Cuckold and Churchwarden.  Duch. 
O my poor husband! what a heavy fortune  
Is fallen upon him?  Bew. 
methinks 'tis strange,  
That heaven forewarning great men of their falls,  
With such plain tokens, they should not avoid them?  
For the last night betwixt eleven and twelve,  
Two great and hideous blazing stars were seen  
To fight a long hour by the clock, the one  
Dressed like a Duke, the other like a King,  
Till at the last the crowned star o'ercame.  Ser. 
Why do ye stand so dead, Monsieur Marine?  Duke. 
So Caesar fell when in the Capitol  
They gave his body two and thirty wounds.  
Be warned all ye Peers, and by my fall,  
Hereafter learn to let your wives rule all.  Ser. 
Monsieur Marine, pray let me speak with you;  
Sir I must wave you to conceal this party,  
It stands upon my utter overthrow;  
Seem not discontented, nor do not stir a foot,  
For if you do, you and your hope—  
I swear you are a lost man if you stir.  
And have an eye to Bewford, he'll tempt you.  Bew. 
Come, come, for shame go down;  
Were I Marine, by heaven I would go down:  
And being there, I would rattle him such an answer  
Should make him smoke.  Duke. 
Good Monsieur Bewford peace  
Leave these rebellious words,  
Or by the honours which I once enjoyed,  
And yet may swear by,  
I'll tell the King of your proceedings;  
I am satisfied.  Wife. 
You talked of going down when 'twas not fit,  
But now let's see your spirit,  
A thousand and a thousand will expect it.  Duke. 
Why wife, are you mad?  Wife. 
No nor drunk, but I'd have you know your own strength  Duke. 
You talk like a most foolish woman wife;  
I tell you I will stay, yet I have a  
Cratchet troubles me.  Long. 
More crotchets yet?  Duke. 
Follow me Jaq. I must have thy counsel,  
I will return again, stay you there Wife.  Long. 
I fear this loss of honour will give him some few stools.  Wife. 
No, no, he is resolved, he will not  
Stir a foot I'll lay my life.  Bew. 
ay but he's discontented, how shall we resolve that  
And make him stay with comfort?  Wife. 
Faith Bewford we must even let nature work,  
For he's the sweetest tempered man for that  
As one can wish, for let men but go about to fool him,  
And he'll have his finger as deep in 't as the best;  
But see where he comes frowning, bless us all!  Enter Duke. Duke. 
Off with your hats, for here doth come  
The high and mighty Duke of Burgundy.  
whatever you may think, I have thought  
And thought, and thought upon't, and I find it plain,  
The King cannot take back what he has given,  
Unless I forfeit it by course of Law.  
Not all the water in the river Seen,  
Can wash the blood out of these Princely veins.  Wife. 
God a mercy husband, thou art the best  
To work out a thing at a pinch, in France.  Duke. 
I will ascend my state again,  
duchess take your place,  
And let our Champion enter.  Long. 
Has he his Champion? that's excellent.  Duke. 
And let loud music sound before his entrance.  
Sound Trumpet.  Enter jaques in armour, one carrying a scutcheon before him, and a two-handed sword. Wife. 
How well our Champion doth demean himself,  
As if he had been made for such an action?  
methinks his sturdy truncheon he doth wield,  
Like Mars approaching to a bloody field.  Duke. 
I think there's no man so desperate  
To dare encounter with our Champion,  
But trust me, jaques, thou hast pleased us well;  
Once more our warlike music, then proceed. En: Shat.  Shat. 
What wondrous age is this? what close proceedings?  
I hear the clang of Trumpets in this house,  
To what intent do not our Statesmen search?  
O no, they look not into simple truth;  
For I am true, and they regard not me,  
A man in armour too: God save the King  
The world will end, there's nought but treachery.  Ia. 
I Ja. servant to the high & mighty Godfrey Duke of Burgundy, do come hither to prove by natural strength and activity of my body, without the help of sorcery, enchantment, or negromancy, that the said Godfrey late of Mount Marine, & now of Burgundy, hath perfect right thereto, notwithstanding the Kings command to the contrary, & no other person whatsoever: & in token that I willbe ready to make good the same: I throw down my gage, which is my honour, pronounced the 37. of Feb. stilo novo, God save the D.  Shat. 
Of all the plots the King hath laid for me  
This was the shrewdest, 'tis my life they seek,  
And they shall have it: if I should refuse  
To accept the challenge in the king's behalf,  
They have some cause to take away my life,  
And if I do accept it, who can tell,  
But I may fall by doubtful chance of war?  
'Twas shrewd, but I must take the least of evils,  
I take thy gauntlet up thou treacherous man,  
That stands in armed coat against the King,  
Whom God preserve, and with my single sword  
Will justify whatever he commands;  
I'll watch him for catching of my words.  Duke. 
Jaques go on, defend our Princely title.  Shat. 
Why shrinkest thou back? thou hast an evil cause;  
Come forward man, I have a rock about me,  
I fight for my true Liege.  Du. 
Go forward Jaques.  Ja. 
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,  
I will not fight with him, with any else  
I'll show my resolution speedily.  Shat. 
Come do thy worst, for the King shall see  
All is not true that is reported of me.  Ja. 
I may not fight with him by law of arms.  Du. 
What? shall my title fall? wilt thou not fight?  Ja. 
Never with him that once hath saved my life.  Shat. 
Dar'st thou not fight? behold then I do go  
Strong with the zeal I bear my Sovereign,  
And seize upon that haughty man himself.  
Descend the steps that (thou hast thus usurped  
Against the King and State) down to the ground,  
And if thou do utter but a syllable  
To cross the king's intent, thou art but dead;  
There, lie upon the earth and pine and die.  
Did ever any man wade through such storms,  
To save his life, as poor Shattillion?  Long. 
I fear this challenge hath spoiled all.  Duch. 
ne'er fear it, he'll work it out again servant.  
See where Shattillions Love, poor Lady, comes. En: Love.  Duke. 
Jaques.  Ja. 
Lie still sir if you love your life, I'll whistle when he's gone,  Love. 
O Gentlemen, I charge you by the love  
Which you bear to women, take some pity  
On this distressed man, help to restore  
That precious jewel to him he hath lost.  Bew. 
Lady whatever power doth lie in us  
By art or prayer, or danger, we are yours,  Love. 
A strange conceit hath wrought this malady,  
Conceits again must bring him to himself,  
My strict denial to his will wrought this?  
And if you could but draw his wilder thoughts  
To know me, he would sure recover sense.  Long. 
That charge I'll undertake.  Duke. 
Look Jaques, look, for God's sake let me rise,  
This greatness is a Jade, I cannot sit it.  Ja. 
His sword is up, and yet he watcheth you.  Du. 
I'll down again, pray for thy Master, Jaques.  Shat. 
Now the King may see all the suggestions are not true,  
He hath received against my loyalty;  
When all men else refuse, I fight his battles,  
And thrust my body into danger's mouth;  
I am become his Champion, and this sword  
Has taught his enemies to know themselves;  
O that he would no more be jealous of me!  Long. 
Monsieur Shattillion, the King assigns you,  
That for this valiant loyal act of yours,  
He hath forgot all jealousies and fears,  
And never more will tempt you into danger.  Shat. 
But how shall I believe this? what new token  
Of reconcilement will he show me?  
Let him release my poor love from her torment,  
From her hard fare and strict imprisonment.  Long. 
He hath done this to win your after-love,  
And see your Lady sent you from the King  
By these two Gentlemen: be thankful for her.  Shat. 
She lives, she lives, I know her by the power  
Shoots from her eyes.  Love. 
Rise dear Shattillion.  Shat. 
I Know my duty,  
Next unto my King, I am to kneel to you.  Love. 
I'll have you rise, fetch me a chair, sit down shalt.  Shat. 
I am commanded, and faith tell me Mistress,  
What usage have you had? pray be plain?  Love. 
O my most loved Shattillion, pain enough,  
But now I am free, thanks to my God and King.  Long. 
His eyes grow very heavy, not a word,  
That his weak senses may come sweetly home.  Shat. 
The King is honourable.  Duke. 
When do you whistle Jaques?  Ja. 
By and by.  Long. 
Come hither Monsieur, canst thou laugh a little?  Ser. 
Yes Sir.  Long. 
So thou shalt then. Bewford how dost thou?  Bew. 
Why well.  Long. 
I'm glad on't, and how does thy wife?  Bew. 
Why you may see her Sir, she stands behind you.  Lon. 
By the mass she's there indeed, but where's her belly?  Bew. 
Belly?  Lon. 
Her great belly man: what hast thou sent thee?  Ser. 
A boy I'll lay my life, it tumbled so.  Bew. 
catched by this light.  Long. 
I'll be a gossip Bewford.  Ser. 
And I.  Long. 
I have an odd Apostle spoon.  Bew. 
S'foot catched.  Duch. 
Why what's the matter Gentlemen?  Long. 
He's married to your woman.  Duch. 
And I not know it?  Ser. 
'Twas a venial sin.  Bew. 
Gall, gall, gall.  Duch. 
Forgive her Monsieur Bewford, 'twas her love.  Bew. 
You may rise if you please, I must endure it.  Long. 
See how my great Lord lies upon the ground  
And dare not stir yet?  
Jaques, whistles?  Duke. 
Jaques, Jaq. is the king's Champion gone yet,  Ja. 
No, but he's asleep.  Duke. 
Is he asleep art sure?  Ia. 
I am sure he is, I hear him snore.  Duke. 
Then by your favours Gentlemen I rise,  
And know I am a Duke still.  Jaq. 
And I am his Champion.  Duch. 
Hold thee there, and all France cannot mend thee.  Du. 
I am a Prince as great within my thoughts  
As when the whole state did adorn my person;  
What trial can be made to try a Prince?  
I will oppose this noble corpse of mine  
To any danger that may end the doubt.  Duch. 
Great Duke and husband there is but one way  
To satisfy the world of our true right,  
And it is dangerous.  Duke. 
What may it be?  
Were it to bring the great Turk bound in chains  
Through France in triumph: or to couple up  
The Sophy, and great Prester john together,  
I would attempt it Duchess, tell the course.  Duch. 
There is a strong opinion through the world,  
And no doubt grounded on experience  
That lions will not touch a lawful Prince,  
If you be confident then of your right,  
Amongst the Lions bear your naked body,  
And if you come off clear and never winch,  
The world will say you are a perfect Prince.  Du. 
I thank you Duchess for your kind advice,  
But now we do not affect those ravenous beasts.  Long. 
A Lion is a beast to try a King;  
But for the trial of such a state like this  
Pliny reports a mastive dog will serve.  Du. 
We will not deal with dogs at all: but men.  Ser. 
You shall not need to deal with them at all,  
Hark you Sir, the King doth know you are a Duke:  Duke. 
No, does he?  Ser. 
Yes, and is content you shall be, but with this caution,  
That none know it but yourself:  
For if ye do, he'll take it away by act of Parliament.  Du. 
Here's my hand, and whilst I live or breath,  
No living wight shall know I am a Duke.  Ser. 
Mark me directly Sir, your wife may know it.  Du. 
May not Jaques?  Ser. 
Yes, he may.  Du. 
May not my country Cousin?  Ser. 
By no means sir, if you love your life and state.  Du. 
Well then, know all I am no Duke.  Ser. 
No I'll swear it.  Long. 
See he wakes.  Shat. 
Where am I, or where have I been all this while?  
Sleep hath not sat so sound upon mine eyes  
But I remember well that face;  
O thou too cruel, leave at length to scorn  
Him that but looking on thy beauty dies,  
Either receive me, or put out my eyes.  Love. 
Dearest Shattillion see upon my knees,  
I offer up my love, forget my wrongs.  Shat. 
Art thou mine own?  Love. 
By heaven I am.  Shat. 
Then all the world is mine.  Love. 
I have stranger things to tell thee, my dearest love.  Shat. 
Tell nothing but that thou art mine own:  
I do not care to know where I have been,  
Or how I have lived, or any thing,  
But that thou art my own.  Bew. 
Well wife, though 'twere a trick that made us wed,  
we'll make ourselves merry soon in bed.  Du. 
Know all I am no Duke.  Wife. 
What say?  Du. 
Jaques?  Ja. 
Sir.  Du. 
I am a Duke.  Both. 
Are ye?  Duke. 
Yes faith, yes faith.  
But it must only run amongst ourselves,  
And Jaques thou shalt be my Secretary still.  Wife. 
Kind Gentlemen, lead in Shattillion,  
For he must needs be weak and sickly yet.  
Now all my labours have a perfect end as I could wish,  
Let all young sprightly wives that have  
Dull foolish Coxcombs to their husbands,  
Learn by me their duties, what to do,  
Which is to make 'em fools, and please 'em too.    

The Prologue.  
WIt is become an antic: and puts on  
As many shapes of variation,  
To court the Time's applause, as the times dare,  
Change several fashions, nothing is thought rare  
Which is not new and followed, yet we know,  
That what was worn some twenty year ago,  
Comes into grace again, and we pursue  
That custom, by presenting to your view  
A play in fashion then, not doubting now  
But 'twill appear the same, if you allow  
you 've their noble memory, whose name,  
Beyond all power of death live in their fame.   

The Epilogue.  
THe Monuments of virtue and desert,  
Appear more goodly when the gloss of art  
Is eaten off by time, then when at first  
They were set up, not censured at the worst.  
We have done our best for your contents to fit  
With new pains this old monument of wit.