THE captain.  

Actus primus:  

Scaena prima.  Enter Lodovico, and Piso. Lodovico. 
THe truth is Piso, so she be a woman  
And rich and wholesome, let her be of what  
Condition & Complexion it please,  
She shall please me I am sure; Those men are fools  
That make their eyes their choosers, not their needs.  Piso. 
methinks I would have her honest too, & handsome.  Lod. 
Yes if I could have both, but since they are  
Wishes so near impossibilities,  
Let me have that that may be.  Piso. 
If it were so,  
I hope your conscience would not be so nice  
To start at such a blessing.  Lod. 
No believe me,  
I do not think I should.  Piso. 
But thou wouldst be  
I do not doubt upon the least suspicion  
Unmercifully jealous  Lod. 
No I should not,  
For I believe those mad that seek vexations,  
A wife, though she be honest, is a trouble,  
Had I a wife as fair as Helen was  
That drew so many Cuckolds to her cause,  
These eyes should see another in my Saddle  
Ere I believe my beast would carry double.  Piso. 
So should not I by'r Lady, and I think  
My patience (by your leave) as good as yours,  
Report would stir me mainly, I am sure on't.  Lod. 
Report? you are unwise; report is nothing;  
For if there were a truth in what men talk,  
I mean of this kind, this part of the world  
I am sure would be no more called Christendom.  Piso. 
What then?  Lod. 
Why Cuckoldom, for we should lose  
Our old faiths clean, and hold their new opinions:  
If talk could make me sweat, before I would marry,  
I'd tie a surer knot, and hang myself;  
I tell thee there was never woman yet,  
Nor never hope there shall be, though a Saint,  
But she has been a subject to men's tongues,  
And in the worse sense: and that desperate husband,  
That dares give up his peace, and follow humours  
(Which he shall find too busy, if he seek'em)  
Beside the forcing of himself an Ass  
He dies in chains, eating himself with anger.  Piso. 
Having these Antidotes against opinion  
I would marry any one; an arrant whore.  Lod. 
Thou dost not feel the nature of this physic  
Which I prescribe not to beget diseases,  
But where they are, to stop them.  Piso. 
I conceive ye.  
What thinkest thou? thy way of the widow Lelia?  Lod. 
Faith thou hast found out one I must confess  
Would stagger my best patience: From that woman  
As I would bless myself from plagues and surfeits  
From men a war at Sea, from storms, and quicksands,  
From hearing Treason and concealing it,  
From daring of a Madman, or a Drunkard,  
From Heresy, ill wine, and stumbling post-horse;  
So would I pray each morning, and each night  
(And if I said each hour, I should not lie)  
To be delivered of all these in one,  
The woman thou hast named.  Enter julio, Angilo and Father. Piso. 
Thou hast set her in a pretty litany.  Ang. 
Pray take my council.  Jul. 
When I am myself  
I'll hear you any way; love me though thus  
As thou art honest, which I dare not be  
Lest I despise myself. Farewell. Exit. julio.  Piso. 
Do you hear my friend: Sir are you not a setter,  
For the fair widow here of famous memory?  Fa. 
Ha? am I taken for a Bawd? oh God  
To mine own child too? misery, I thank thee  
That keeps me from their knowledge: Sir believe me  
I understand ye not.  Lod. 
You love plain dealing.  
Are you not parcel Bawd? confess your Function,  
It may be we would use it.  Fa. 
Were she worse,  
As I fear strangely she is ill enough,  
I would not hear this tamely.  Piso. 
here's a shilling  
To strike good luck withal.  Fa. 
here's a Sword Sir  
To strike a Knave withal, thou liest, and basely,  
Be what thou wilt.  Ang. 
Why how now Gentlemen?  Fa. 
You are many: I shall meet you, Sir, again,  
And make you understand, you've wronged a woman  
Compared with whom thy Mother was a sinner. Farewell. Exit Fa.  Piso. 
He has amazed me.  Ang. 
With a blow?  
By'r Lady 'twas a sound on; are ye good  
At taking knocks? I shall know you hereafter:  
You wear too blame to tempt a man so far  
Before you knew him certain: h'as not hurt ye?  Piso. 
No I think.  Lod. 
We were too blame indeed to go so far,  
For men may be mistaken: if he had swinged us  
he'd served us right: Beshrew my heart I think,  
We have done the Gentlewoman as much wrong too,  
For hang me, if I know her  
In my particular.  Piso. 
Nor I; this 'tis to credit  
Men's idle tongues; I warrant they have said  
As much by our two mothers.  Lod. 
Like enough.  Ang. 
I see a beating now and then does more  
Move and stir up a man's contrition  
Then a sharp Sermon, here probatum est.  Enter Fredrick and Servant, Ser. 
What shall I tell your Sister?  Fred. 
Tell her this,  
Till she be better conversationed  
And leave her walking by herself, and whining  
To her old melancholy Lute, I'll keep  
As far from her as the Gallows. Exit Servant.  Ang. 
Who's that Fredrick?  Fred. 
Yes marry is't. O Angelo how dost thou?  Ang. 
Save you Sir, how does my Mistress?  Fred. 
She is in love I think, but not with you.  
I can assure you, saw ye Fabritio?  Ang. 
Is he come over?  Fred 
Yes a week ago: Shall we dine?  Ang. 
I cannot:  Fred. 
Prithee do.  Ang. 
Believe me I have business.  Fred. 
Have you too, gentlemen?  Piso. 
No sir.  Fred. 
Why then let's dine together:  Lod. 
With all my heart.  Fred. 
Go then: Farewell good Angelo,  
Commend me to your friend.  Ang. 
I will. Exeunt.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Frank and Clora. Clo. 
Do not dissemble Franc, mine eyes are quicker  
Than such observers, that do ground their faith  
Upon one smile or tear; you're much altered,  
And are as empty of those Excellencies  
That were companions to you; I mean mirth  
And free disposure of your blood and Spirit,  
As you were borne a mourner.  Fran. 
How I prithee?  
For I perceive no such change in myself.  Clora. 
Come, come, this is not wise, nor provident  
To halt before a Cripple: If you love  
Be liberal to your friend, and let her know it,  
I see the way you run, and know how tedious  
'Twill prove without a true companion.  Fran. 
Sure thou wouldst have me love.  Clor. 
Yes marry would I  
I should not please ye else.  Fran. 
And who for God's sake?  
For I assure myself, I know not yet:  
And prithee Clora, since thou'lt have it so  
That I must love, and do I know not what:  
Let him behold a pretty handsome fellow,  
And young, and if he be a little valiant  
'twill be the better; and a little wise  
And faith a little honest.  Clo. 
Well I will sound ye yet for all your craft.  Fra. 
Heigh ho! I'll love no more.  Clor. 
Then one; and him  
You shall love Frank.  Fran. 
Which him? thou art so wise  
People will take thee shortly for a witch:  
But prithee tell me Clora, if I were  
So mad as thou wouldst make me, what kind of man  
Wouldst thou imagine him?  Clo. 
Faith some pretty fellow?  Fra. 
With a clean strength, that cracks a cudgel well  
And dances at a wake, and plays at nine holes.  
O God what pretty commendations thou hast given him'  
Faith if were in love, as I thank God  
I do not think I am; this short Epistle  
Before my love would make me burn the legend.  Clor. 
You are too wild, I mean some gentleman.  Fra. 
So do not I, till I can know'em wiser:  
Some Gentleman, no Clora, till some Gentleman  
Keep some land, and fewer whores believe me  
I'll keep no love for him, I do not long  
To go afoot yet, and solicit causes.  Clor. 
What think you then of an adventurer?  
I mean some wealthy Merchant.  Fra. 
Let him venture  
In some decayed Crare of his own: he shall not  
Rig me out, that's the short on't; out upon't:  
What young thing of my years would endure  
To have her husband in another Country  
Within a month after she is married  
Chopping for rotten raisins, and lie pining  
At home under the mercy of his foreman? no,  
Though they be wealthy, and indifferent wise  
I do not see that I am bound to love'em.  Clor. 
I see you're hard to please; yet I will please ye.  Fran. 
Faith not so hard neither, if considered;  
What woman may deserve as? she is worthy:  
But why do we bestow our time so idly?  
Prithee let us entertain some other talk,  
This is as sickly to me as faint weather.  Clor. 
Now I believe I shall content you Frank,  
What think you of a Courtier?  Fra. 
Faith so ill,  
That if I should be full, and speak but truth,  
'Twould show as if I wanted charity,  
Prithee good wench let me not rail upon 'em,  
Yet I have an excellent stomach, and must do it;  
I have no mercy of these infidels;  
Since I am put in mind on't, good bear with me,  
Can no man fit you? I will find him out.  Fra. 
This summer fruit, that you call Courtier,  
While you continue cold and frosty to him  
Hangs fast, and may be found: but when you fling  
Too full a heat of your affections—  
Upon his root and make him ripe too soon,  
you'll find him rotten i'th' the handling;  
His oaths and affections are all one  
With his apparel, things to set him off,  
He has as many mistresses, as faiths,  
And all apocryphas; his true belief  
Is only in a private Surgeon,  
And for my single self, I'd sooner venture—  
A new conversion of the Jndies,  
Then to make Courtiers, able men or honest.  Clo. 
I do believe you love no Courtier,  
And by my troth to guess you into love  
With any I can think of; is beyond  
Either your will, or my imagination.  
And yet I am sure you're caught: and I will know him,  
there's none left now worthy the thinking of;  
Unless it be a Soldier, and I am sure,  
I would ever bless myself from such a fellow.  Fra. 
Why prithee?  Clo. 
Out upon 'em firelocks,  
They are nothing i'th' world, but Buff and Scarlet,  
Tough unhewn pieces, to hack swords upon;  
I had as lief be courted by a Cannon,  
As one of those.  Fra. 
Thou art too malicious,  
Upon my faith methinks they're worthy men.  Clor. 
Say ye so? I'll pull ye on a little further.  
What worth can be in those men, whose profession  
Is nothing i'th' world but drink and damn me,  
Out of whose violence they are possessed  
With legions of unwholesome whores and quarrels;  
I am of that opinion, and will die in't,  
There is no understanding, nor can be  
In a soused Soldier.  Fra. 
Now 'tis ignorance  
I easily perceive that thus provokes thee,  
And not the love of truth; I'll lay my life  
If God had made thee man, thou hadst been a coward.  Clo. 
If to be valiant, be to be a Soldier; I'll tell ye true,  
I had rather be a Coward, I am sure with less sin.  Fra. 
This heresy must be looked too in time: for if it spread  
'Twill grow too pestilent; were I a Scholar  
I would so hamper thee for thy opinion,  
That ere I left, I would write thee out of credit  
With all the world, and make thee not believed  
Even in indifferent things; that I would leave thee  
A reprobate out of the state of honour.  
By all good things, thou hast flung aspersions  
So like a fool (for I am angry with thee)  
Upon a sort of men; (that let me tell thee  
Thy mother's mother would have been a Saint  
Had she conceived a Soldier) they are people  
(I may commend 'em, while I speak but truth)  
Of all the old world, only left to keep  
Man as he was, valiant and virtuous:  
They are the model of those men, whose honours  
We heave our hands at when we hear recited.  Clo. 
They are, and I have all I sought for, 'tis a soldier  
You love, hide it no longer; you have betrayed yourself;  
Come, I have found your way of commendations,  
And what I said, was but to pull it from ye.  Fra. 
'Twas pretty, are you grown so cunning, Clora?  
I grant I love a soldier; But what soldier  
Will be a new task to ye? But all this  
I do imagine was but laid to draw me  
Out of my melancholy.  Clo. 
I will have the man  
Ere I forsake ye.  Fra. 
I must to my chamber.  Clo. 
May not I go along?  Fra. 
Yes, but good wench  
Move me no more with these fond questions,  
They work like Rhubarb with me.  Glo. 
Well, I will not. Exeunt.   

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Laelia and her waiting woman. Lel. 
How now? who was that you stayed to speak withal.  Wom. 
The old man forsooth.  Lel. 
What old man?  Wom. 
The poor old man that uses to come hither he that you call Father.  Lel. 
Have you dispatched him?  Wom. 
No; he would fain speak with you.  Lel. 
Wilt thou never learn more manners, than to draw in such  
Needy rascals to disquiet me? go, answer him I will  
Not be at leisure.  Wom. 
He will needs speak with you; and good old man he weeps so,  
That by my troth I have not the heart to deny him, pray let you are not in love  
Him speak with you.  Lel. 
Lord how tender stomached you are grown of late?  
With him, are ye; if ye be, strike up the match; you shall have  
Three, l. & a pair of blankets; will ye go answer him?  Wom. 
Pray let him speak with you, he will not away else.  Lel. 
Well, let him in then if there be no remedy; I thank God I am  
Able to abuse him, i shall ne'er come clear else of him.  
Now Sr. what is your business? pray be short; for I have other  
Matters of more moment to call me from ye.  Enter Father. Fath. 
If you but look upon me like a daughter  
And keep that love about ye that makes good  
A Father's hope, you'll quickly find my business,  
And what I would say to you, and before  
I ask, will be a giver: say that sleep,  
I mean that love, or be but numbed within ye,  
The nature of my want is such a searcher,  
And of so mighty power, that where he finds  
This dead forgetfulness, it works so strongly,  
That if the least heat of a child's affection  
Remain unperished, like another nature,  
It makes all new again; pray do not scorn me,  
Nor seem to make yourself a greater business  
Than my relieving.  Lel. 
If you were not old  
I should laugh at ye; what a vengeance ails ye  
To be so childish to imagine me  
A founder of old fellows? make him drink wench,  
And if there be any cold meat in the Buttery,  
Give him some broken bread and that, and rid him.  Fath. 
Is this a child's love? or a recompense  
Fit for a father's care? O Lelia,  
Had I been thus unkind, thou hadst not been;  
Or like me miserable: But 'tis impossible  
Nature should die so utterly within thee,  
And lose her promises; thou art one of those  
She set her stamp more excellently on,  
Then common people, as foretelling thee  
A general example of her goodness;  
Or say she could lie, yet religion  
(For love to parents is religious)  
Would lead thee right again: Look well upon me  
I am the root that gave thee nourishment,  
And made thee spring fair, do not let me perish  
Now I am old and sapless.  Lel. 
As I live  
I like ye far worse now ye grow thus holy,  
I grant you are my father; am I therefore  
Bound to consume myself and be a beggar  
Still in relieving you? I do not feel  
Any such mad compassion yet within me.  Fath. 
I gave up all my state to make yours thus.  Lel. 
'Twas as ye ought to do, and now ye cry for't  
As children do for babies back again.  Fath. 
How wouldst thou have me live?  Lel. 
I would not have ye,  
Nor know no reason Fathers should desire  
To live, and be a trouble, when children  
Are able to inherit, let them die,  
'Tis fit, and looked for, that they should do so.  Fath. 
Is this your comfort?  Lel. 
All that I feel yet.  Fath. 
I will not curse thee.  Lel. 
If you do I care not.  Fath. 
Pray you give me leave to weep  Lel. 
Why pray take leave,  
If it be for your ease.  Fath. 
Thy mother died,  
Sweet peace be with her, in a happy time.  Lel. 
She did Sir, as she ought to do, would you  
Would take the pains to follow; what should you  
Or any old man do wearing away  
In this world with diseases, and desire  
Only to live to make their children scourge-sticks,  
And hoard up mill-money? methinks a marble  
Lies quieter upon an old man's head  
Then a cold fit a'th' palsy.  Fa. 
O good God!  
To what an impudence thou wretched woman,  
Hast thou begot thyself again! well, justice  
Will punish disobedience.  Lel. 
You mistake Sir;  
'twill punish beggars, fie for shame go work  
Or serve, you are grave enough to be a Porter  
In some good man of worship's house, and give  
Sententious answers to the comers in,  
A pretty place; or be of some good Consort,  
You had a pleasant touch o'th' Cithron once,  
If idleness have not bereft you of it:  
Be any thing but old, and beggarly,  
Two sins that ever do out grow compassion;  
If I might see you offer at a course  
That were a likely one, and showed some profit,  
I would not stick for ten groats, or a noble.  Fa. 
Did I beget this woman?  Lel. 
Nay, I know not:  
And till I know, I will not thank you for't;  
however, he that got me had the pleasure,  
And that methinks, is a reward sufficient.  Fa. 
I am so strangely strooken with amazement,  
I know not where I am, nor what I am.  Lel. 
You had best take fresh air somewhere else, 'twill bring ye  
Out of your trance the sooner.  Fa. 
Is all this  
As you mean Lelia?  Lel. 
Yes believe me is it,  
For yet I cannot think you are so foolish,  
As to imagine you are young enough  
To be my heir, or I so old to make  
A Nurse at these years for you, and attend  
While you sup up my State in penny pots  
Of Malmsey: when I am excellent at caudles,  
And cullises. and have enough spare gold  
To boil away, you shall be welcome to me;  
Till when I'd have you be as merry Sir  
As you can make yourself with that you have,  
And leave to trouble me with these relations;  
Of what you have been to me, or you are,  
For as I hear them, so I lose them; this  
For ought I know yet, is me resolution.  Fa. 
Well God be with thee, for I fear thy end  
Will be a strange example. Exit Father.  Lel. 
Fare ye well Sir;  
Now would some poor tender hearted fool have wept,  
Relented, and have been undone: such children  
I thank my understanding I hate truly,  
For by my troth I had rather see their tears;  
Then feel their pities: my desires and ends  
Are all the kindred that I have, and friends. Enter Woman.  
Is he departed?  Wom. 
Yes, but here's another.  Lel. 
Not of his tribe I hope; bring me no more  
I would wish you such as he is, If thou seest  
They look like men of worth, and state, and carry  
Ballast of both sides like tall Gentlemen  
Admit 'em, but no snakes to poison us  
With poverty; wench you must learn a wise rule,  
Look not upon the youths of men, and making,  
How they descend in blood, nor let their tongues  
Though they strike suddenly, and sweet as music  
Corrupt thy fancy: see, and say them fair too,  
But ever keep thyself without their distance:  
Unless the love thou swallows be a pill,  
Gilded to hide the bitterness it brings,  
Then fall on without fear wench, yet so wisely  
That one encounter cloy him not; nor promise  
His love hath made thee more his, than his moneys;  
Learn this and thrive,  
Then let thine honour ever,  
(For that's the last rule) be so stood upon,  
That men may fairly see  
'Tis want of means, not virtue makes thee fall;  
And if you weep 'twill be a great deal better,  
And draw on more compassion, which includes  
A greater tenderness of love and bounty;  
This is enough at once, digest it well:  
Go let him in wench, if he promise profit,  
Not else.  Enter julio. 
O you are welcome my fair servant,  
Upon my troth I have been longing for ye.  Wom. 
This, by her rule should be a liberal man,  
I see the best on's may learn every day.  Lel. 
there's none come with you.  Iul. 
No.  Lel. 
You do the wiser,  
For some that have been here (I name no man)  
Out of their malice, more than truth, have done me  
Some few ill offices.  Iul. 
How, sweet?  Lel. 
Nay nothing,  
Only have talked a little wildly of me;  
As their unruly youth directed 'em:  
Which though they bite me not, I would have wished  
Had light upon some other that deserved 'em.  Iul. 
Though she deserve this of the loosest tongue,  
(Which makes my sin the more) I must not see it;  
Such is my misery: I would I knew him.  Lel. 
No, no, let him go,  
He is not worth your anger: I must chide you  
For being such a stranger to your Mistress,  
Why would you be so, Servant?  Iul. 
I should chide,  
If chiding would work any thing upon you:  
For being such a stranger to your Servant,  
I mean to his desires: when my dear Mistress,  
Shall I be made a happy man?  Lel. 
Fie Servant  
What do you mean, unhand me, or by heaven,  
I shall be very angry, this is rudeness.  Iul. 
'Twas but a kiss or two, that thus offends you  Lel. 
'Twas more I think then you have warrant for.  Iul. 
I am sorry I deserved no more.  Lel. 
You may,  
But not this rough way Servant: we are tender,  
And ought in all to be respected so;  
If I had been your horse, or whore, you might  
Back me with this intemperance; I thought  
You had loved as worthy men, whose fair affections  
Seek pleasures warranted, not pulled by violence,  
Do so no more.  Iul. 
I hope you are not angry?  Lel. 
I should be with another man, I am sure,  
That durst appear but half thus violent.  Iul. 
I did not mean to ravish ye  Lel. 
You couldn't.  Iul. 
You are so willing—  Lel. 
How?  Iul. 
methinks this shadow,  
If you had so much shame as fits a woman:  
At least of your way, Mistress, long ere this  
Had been laid of to me that understand ye.  Lel. 
That understand me? Sir ye understand,  
Nor shall no more of me then modesty,  
Will without fear deliver to a stranger;  
You understand I am honest; else I tell ye  
(Though you were better far than julio)  
You, and your understanding are two fools,  
But were we Saints, thus we are still rewarded.  
I see that woman had a pretty catch on't,  
That had made you the Master of a kindnesses,  
She durst not answer openly; o me!  
How easily we women may be cozened?  
I took this julio as I have a faith,  
(This young dissembler with the sober vizard)  
For the most modest tempered Gentleman,  
The coolest, quietest, and best companion;  
For such an one I could have wished a woman.  Iul. 
You have wished me ill enough a conscience,  
Make me no worse for shame: I see the more  
I work by way of service to obtain ye  
You work the more upon me. Tell me truly  
(While I am able to believe a woman,  
For if you use me thus, that faith will perish)  
What is your end, and whether will you pull me?  
Tell me, but tell me that I may not start at,  
And have a cause to curse ye.  Lel. 
Bless me goodness!  
To curse me did you say Sir? let it be  
For too much loving you then, such a curse  
Kill me withal and I shall be a Martyr;  
You have found a new way to reward my doting,  
And I confess a fit one for my folly,  
For you yourself if you have good within ye,  
And dare be Master of it, know how deadly  
This heart has held you ever; oh good God!  
That I had never seen that false man's eyes,  
That dare reward me thus with fears and curses,  
Nor never heard the sweetness of that tongue,  
That will when this is known, yet cozen women:  
Curse me good julio, curse me bitterly,  
I do deserve it for my confidence,  
And I beseech thee, if thou hast a goodness  
Of power yet in thee to confirm thy wishes,  
Curse me to earth; for what should I do here  
Like a decaying flower, still withering  
Under his bitter words, whose kindly heat  
Should give my poor heart life? No, curse me julio,  
Thou canst not do me such a benefit  
As that, and well done, that the heavens may hear it.  Iul. 
Oh fair tears were you but as chaste, as subtle,  
Like Bones of Saints, ye would work miracles;  
What were these women to a man that knew not  
The thousand, thousand ways of their deceiving?  
What riches had he found? Oh he would think  
Himself still dreaming of a blessedness,  
That like continual spring should flourish ever.  
For if she were as good as she is seeming,  
Or like an Eagle could renew her virtues,  
Nature had made another world of sweetness;  
Be not so grieved sweet Mistress, what I said  
You do, or should know, was but passion;  
Pray wipe your eyes and kiss me; take these trifles,  
And wear them for me, which are only rich  
When you will put them on; Indeed I love ye,  
Beshrew my sick heart, if I grieve not for ye.  Lel. 
Will you dissemble still? I am a fool,  
And you may easily rule me, if you flatter,  
The sin will be your own.  Iul. 
You know I do not.  Lel. 
And shall I be so childish once again,  
After my late experience of your spite  
To credit you? you do not know how deep  
(Or if you did, you would be kinder to me,)  
This bitterness of yours have struck my heart.  Jul. 
I pray no more.  Lel. 
Thus you would do I warrant,  
If I were married to you.  Jul. 
Married to me?  
Is that your end?  Lel. 
Yes, Is not that the best end,  
And as all hold, the noblest way of love?  
Why do you look so strange Sir? do not you  
Desire it should be so?  Jul. 
Stay.  Lel. 
Answer me.  Jul. 
Farewell. Exit Julio.  Lel. 
ay, are you there? are all these tears lost then?  
Am I so overtaken by a fool  
In my best days and tricks? my wise fellow  
I'll make you smart for't as I am a woman,  
And if thou be'st not timber, yet I'll warm thee:  
And is he gone?  Enter Woman. Wom. 
Yes.  Lel. 
He's not so lightly struck  
To be recovered with a base repentance,  
I should be sorry then: Fortune I prithee  
Give me this man but once more in my arms,  
And if I lose him, women have no charms. Exeunt omnes    

Actus Secundus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Jacamo and Fabricio. Iaco. 
SEigneur, What think you of this sound of wars?  Fab. 
As only of a sound; they that intend  
To do are like deep waters that run quietly  
Leaving no face of what they were behind 'em,  
This rumour is too common and too loud  
To carry truth.  Iac. 
Shall we never live to see  
Men look like men again,  
Upon a march?  
This cold dull rusty peace makes us appear  
Like empty Pictures, only the faint shadows  
Of what we should be:  
Would to God my Mother  
Had given but half her will to my begetting  
And made me woman, to sit still and sing,  
Or be sick when I list, or any thing  
That is too idle for a man to think of:  
Would I had been a whore 'thad been a course  
Certain, and of my conscience of more gain  
Than two commands, as I would handle it:  
Faith I could wish I had been any thing  
Rather than what I am, a Soldier  
A career, or a Cobbler, when I knew  
What 'twas to wear a Sword first; for their trades  
Are and shall be a constant way of life,  
While men send cheeses up, or wear out buskins.  Fab. 
Thou art a little too impatient,  
And mak'st thy anger a far more vexation  
Than the not having wars: I am a Soldier  
Which is my whole Inheritance, yet I  
Though I could wish a breach with all the world  
If not dishonourable, I am not so malicious,  
To curse the fair peace of my Mother Country;  
But thou want'st money; and the first supply  
Will bury these thoughts in thee.  Jac. 
Pox a peace.  
It fills the Kingdom full of holidays,  
And only feeds the wants of whores and pipers;  
And make the idle drunken Rogues, get Spinsters.  
'Tis true I may want money, and no little,  
And almost clothes too: of which if I had both  
In full abundance: yet against all peace,  
That brings up mischief thicker than a shower,  
I would speak louder than a Lawyer;  
By heaven it is the surfeit of all youth,  
That makes the toughness, and the strength of nations  
Melt into women. 'Tis an ease that brood's  
Thieves, and bastards only.  Fab. 
This is more,  
(Though it be true) then we ought to lay open,  
And seasons only of an indiscretion,  
Believe me Captain such distempered spirits  
Once out of motion, though they be proof valiant,  
If they appear thus violent and fiery,  
Breed but their own disgraces; and are nearer  
Doubt, and suspect in Princes, than rewards.  Jac. 
'Tis well they can be near 'em any way,  
But call you those true spirits, ill affected  
That whilst the wars were, served like walls and ribs,  
To girdle in the Kingdom?  
And now fall'n  
Through a faint peace into affliction,  
Speak but their miseries? come, come, Fabritio  
You may pretend what patience ye please,  
And seem to yoke your wants like passions;  
But while I know thou art a Soldier,  
And a deserver, and no other harvest  
But what thy Sword reaps for thee to come in,  
You shall be pleased to give me leave to tell ye,  
You wish a Devil of this musty peace:  
To which prayer,  
As one that's bound in conscience, and all  
That love our trade, I cry, Amen.  Fab. 
Prithee no more, we shall live well enough,  
There's ways enough besides the wars to men  
That are not logs, and lie still for the hands  
Of others to remove 'em.  Jac. 
You may thrive Sir,  
Thou art young and handsome yet, and well enough  
To please a widow: thou canst sing, and tell  
These foolish love-tales; and indite a little,  
And if need be, compile, a pretty matter  
And dedicate it to the honourable,  
Which may awaken his compassion,  
To make ye clerk a'th' kitchen, and at length  
Come to be married to my Lady's woman,  
After she's cracked i'th' ring.  Fab. 
'Tis very well Sir.  Jac. 
But what dost thou think shall become of me,  
With all my imperfections? let me die  
If I think I shall ever reach above  
A forlorn Tapster, or some frothy fellow,  
That stinks of stale beer.  Fab. 
Captain Jacamo,  
Why should you think so hardly of your virtues?  Ja. 
What virtues? by this light I have no virtue,  
But down right buffeting: what can my face  
That is no better than a ragged Map now  
Of where I have marched and travelled profit me?  
Unless it be for Ladies to abuse, and say  
'Twas spoiled for want of a Bongrace when I was young,  
And now 'twill make a true prognostication  
Of what man must be? Tell me of a fellow  
That can mend noses, and complain,  
So tall a soldier should want teeth to his stomach?  
And how it was great pity, that it was,  
That he that made my body, was so busied  
He could not stay to make my legs too? but was driven  
To clap a pair of Catskins to my knees, for which  
I am indebted to two Schoolboys? this  
Must follow necessary.  Fab. 
there's no such matter.  Ja. 
Then for my morals, and those hidden pieces,  
That art bestows upon me, they are such  
That when they come to light: I am sure will shame me.  
For I can neither write, nor read, nor speak  
That any man shall hope to profit by me,  
And for my Languages, they are so many  
That put them altogether, they will scarce  
Serve to beg single beer in: the plain truth is,  
I love a Soldier, and can lead him on,  
And if he fight well I dare make him drunk:  
This is my virtue, and if this will do  
I'll scramble yet amongst 'em.  Fab. 
'Tis your way  
To be thus pleasant still, but fear not man  
For though the wars fail, we shall screw ourselves  
Into some course of life yet.  Ja. 
Good Fabritio,  
Have a quick eye upon me, for I fear  
This peace will make me something that I love not;  
For by my troth though I am plain and dudgeon,  
I would not be an Ass: and to sell parcels,  
I can as soon be hanged; prithee bestow me  
And speak some little good, though I deserve not.  Enter Father. Fab. 
Come we'll consider more: stay, this  
Should be another windfall of the wars.  Jac. 
He looks indeed like an old tattered Colours,  
That every wind would borrow from the Staff;  
These are the hopes we have for all our hurts:  
They have not cast his tongue too.  Father. 
They that say  
Hope never leaves a wretched man that seeks her,  
I think are either patient fools, or liars,  
I am sure I find it so, for I am mastered,  
With such a misery and grief together  
That that staid Anchor men lay hold upon  
In all their needs, is to me lead that bows,  
Or breaks, with every strong sea of my sorrows.  
I could now question heaven, (were it well  
To look into their justice) why those faults,  
Those heavy sins, other provoke 'em with  
Should be rewarded on the heads of us,  
That hold the least alliance to their vices?  
But this would be too curious; for I see  
Our suffering, not disputing, is the end,  
Revealed to us of all these miseries.  Jac. 
Twenty such holy Hermits in a Camp,  
Would make 'em all Carthusians, I'll be hanged  
If he know what a whore is: or a health,  
Or have a nature liable to learn,  
Or so much honest nurture to be drunk.  
I do not think he has the spleen to swear  
A greater oath than Sempsters utter Socks with,  
S'pur him a question.  Fath. 
They are strangers both  
To me, as I to them I hope: I would not have  
Me and my shame together known by any,  
I'll rather lie myself unto another.  Fab. 
I need not ask you Sir your Country,  
I hear you speak this tongue: pray what more are ye?  
Or have you been? if it be not offensive  
To urge ye so far, misery in your years,  
Gives every thing a tongue to question it.  Fath. 
Sir, though I could be pleased to make my ills  
Only mine own, for grieving other men,  
Yet to so fair and courteous a demander  
That promises compassion, at worst, pity,  
I will relate a little of my story.  
I am a Gentleman, however thus  
Poor and unhappy; which believe me sir  
Was not borne with me: for I well have tried  
Both the extremes of fortune; and have found  
Both dangerous: my younger years provoked me,  
Feeling in what an case I slept at home,  
Which to all stirring spirits is a sickness,  
To see far Countries, and observe their Customs.  
I did so; and I travelled till that course  
Stored me with language, and some few slight manners,  
Scarce worth my money; when an ich possessed me  
Of making arms my active end of travel.  Fab. 
But did you so?  Fath. 
I did; and twenty winters  
I wore the Christian Cause upon my sword  
Against his enemies, at Buda siege  
Full many a cold night have I lodged in armour  
When all was frozen in me but mine honour:  
And many a day, when both the Sun and Canon  
Strove, who should most destroy us: have I stood  
Malled up in steel, when my rough sinews shrunk,  
And this parched body ready to consume  
As soon to ashes, as the pike I bore:  
Want has been to me as another nature,  
Which makes me with this patience still profess it;  
And if a Soldier may without vainglory  
Tell what h'as done, believe me Gentlemen  
I could turn over annals of my dangers:  
With this poor weakness have I manned a breach,  
And made it firm with so much blood, that all  
I had to bring me off alive was anger.  
Thrice was I made a slave, and thrice redeemed  
At price of all I had; The miseries  
Of which times, if I had a heart to tell,  
Would make ye weep like children; But I'll spare ye  Ja 
Fabricio, we two have been soldiers  
Above these fourteen years, yet o' my conscience  
All we have seen, compared to his experience  
Has been but cudgel-play, or .  
By all the faith I have in arms, I reverence  
The very poverty of this brave fellow:  
Which were enough itself, and his to strengthen  
The weakest town against half Christendom.  
I was never so ashamed of service  
In all my life before, now I consider  
What I have done; and yet the rogues would swear  
I was a valiant fellow; I do find  
The greatest danger I have brought my life through,  
Now I have heard this worthy, was no more  
Than stealing of a Maypole, or at worst,  
Fighting at single billet with a Bargeman.  Fab. 
I do believe him Jacamo.  Jac. 
Believe him?  
I have no faith within me, if I do not.  Fath. 
I see they are soldiers?  
And if we may judge by affections  
Brave and deserving men: how they are stirred  
But with a mere relation of what may be?  
Since I have won belief, and am not known,  
Forgive me honour, I'll make use of thee.  Fab. 
Sir would I were a man, or great, or able  
To look with liberal eyes upon your virtue.  Jac. 
Let's give him all we have, and leave off prating:  
Here Soldier, there's even five months' pay: be merry,  
And get thee handsome clothes.  Fab. 
What mean you Jacamo?  Jac. 
Ye are a fool.  
The very story's worth a hundred pound.  
Give him more money.  Fath. 
Gentlemen, I know not  
How I am able to deserve this blessing.  
But if I live to see fair days again,  
Something I'll do in honour of your goodness,  
That shall show thankfulness, if not desert.  Fab. 
If you please Sir, till we procure ye place,  
To eat with us, or wear such honest garments  
As our poor means can reach to, you shall be  
A welcome man; to say more, were to feed ye  
Only with words; we honour what you've been,  
For we are soldiers, though not near the worth  
You spoke of lately.  Fath. 
I do guess ye so,  
And knew, unless he were a soldier,  
He could not find the way to know my wants.  Ja. 
But methinks all this while you're too temperate;  
Do you not tell men sometimes of their dulness  
When you are gripped, as now you are with need?  
I do, and let them know those silks they wear  
The War weaves for 'em: and the bread they eat  
We sow, and reap again to feed their hunger:  
I tell them boldly, they are masters of  
Nothing but what we fight for: their fair women  
Lie playing in their arms, whilst we like Lares  
Defend their pleasures: I am angry too,  
And often rail at these forgetful great men  
That suffer us to sue for what we ought  
To have flung on us, ere we ask.  Fath. 
I have  
Too often told my griefs that way, when all  
I reaped, was rudeness of behaviour;  
In their opinions men of War that thrive,  
Must thank 'em when they rail: and wait to live.  Fab. 
Come Sir, I see your wants need more relieving,  
Then looking what they are: pray go with us.  Fath. 
I thank you Gentlemen: since you are pleased  
To do a benefit, I dare not cross it,  
And what my service or endeavours may  
Stand you in need, you shall command, not pray.  Ja. 
So you shall us; I'll to the Tailors with you bodily Exeunt   

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Frederick, Lodovico, and Piso. Lod. 
Well, if this be true; I'll believe a woman  
When I have nothing else to do.  Piso. 
'Tis certain; if there be a way of truth,  
In blushes, smiles, and commendations;  
For by this light, have heard her praise you fellow  
In such a pitch, as if she'd studied  
To crowd the worths of all men into him,  
And I imagine these are seldom used  
Without their special ends, and by a maid  
Of her desires and youth.  Fred. 
It may be so.  
She's free as you or I am, and may have  
By that prerogative, a liberal choice  
In the bestowing of her love.  Lod 
Bestowing?  
If it be so, she has bestowed herself  
Upon a trim youth: Piso, what do you call him?  Piso. 
Why, Captain Jacamo.  Lod. 
O Captain Jack-boy,  
That is the Gentleman.  Fred. 
I think he be  
A Gentleman at worst.  Lod. 
So think I too,  
Would he would mend Sir.  Fred. 
And a tall one too.  Lod. 
Yes of his teeth; for of my faith I think  
They are sharper than his sword, and dare do more  
If the Beuffe meet him fairly.  Fred. 
Very well.  Piso. 
Now do I wonder what she means to do  
When she has married him.  Lod. 
Why well enough,  
Trail his pike under him, and be a Gentlewoman  
Of the brave captain's company.  Fred. 
Do you hear me?  
This woman is my sister, Gentlemen.  Lod. 
I am glad she is none of mine: but Frederick,  
Thou art not such a fool sure to be angry  
Unless it be with her; We are thy friends man.  Fred. 
I think ye are.  Lod. 
Yes faith, and do but tell thee  
How she will utterly o'erthrow her credit,  
If she continue gracing of this potgun.  Piso. 
I think she was bewitched, or mad, or blind,  
She would never have taken such a scarecrow else  
Into protection: of my life he looks  
Of a more rusty swarth complexion  
Then an old arming doublet.  Lod. 
I would send  
His face to the Cutlers then, and have it sanguined,  
'Twill look a great deal sweeter; then his nose  
I would have shorter, and my reason is,  
His face will be ill mounted else.  Piso. 
For his body,  
I will not be my own Judge, lest I seem  
A railer, but let others look upon't,  
And if they find it any other thing  
Than a trunk-seller, to send wines down in,  
Or a long walking-bottle, I'll be hanged for't:  
His hide, (for sure he is a beast) is ranker  
Than the Muscovy leather: and grained like it.  
And by all likelihoods he was begotten  
Between a stubborn pair of winter boots.  
His body goes with straps, he is so churlish.  Lod. 
he's poor and beggarly besides all this:  
And of a nature far uncapable  
Of any benefit: for his manners cannot  
Show him a way to thank a man that does one,  
He's so uncivil: you may do a part  
Worthy a brother, to persuade your sister  
From her undoing: if she prove so foolish  
To marry this cast Captain, look to find her  
Within a month, where you, or any good man  
Would blush to know her: selling cheese and prunes,  
And retailed bottle ale: I grieve to think  
Because I loved her, what a march this Captain  
Will set her into.  Fred. 
You are both, believe me,  
Two arrant Knaves; and were it not for taking  
So just an execution from his hands  
You have belied thus, I would swaddle ye,  
Till I could draw off both your skins like scabbards.  
That man that you wronged thus, though to me  
He be a stranger, yet I know, so worthy,  
However low in fortune, that his worst parts,  
The very wearing of his clothes, would make  
Two better Gentlemen than you dare be,  
For there is virtue in his outward things.  Lod. 
Belike you love him then.  Fred. 
Yes marry do I.  Lod. 
And will be angry for him.  Fred. 
If you talk  
Or pull your face into a stitch again,  
As I love truth I shall be very angry.  
Do not I know thee, though thou hast some land  
To set thee out thus among Gentlemen,  
To be a prating and vainglorious ass?  
I do not wrong thee now, for I speak truth.  
Do not I know thou hast been a cudgeled coward,  
That has no cure for shame but cloth of silver?  
And thinkst the wearing of a gaudy suit  
Hides all disgraces?  Lod. 
I understand you not, you hurt not me  
Your anger flies so wide.  Piso. 
signior Frederick,  
You much mistake this Gentleman.  Fred. 
No Sir.  Piso. 
If you would please to be less angry,  
I would tell you how.  Fred. 
You had better study Sir  
How to excuse yourself if ye be able,  
Or I shall tell you once again.  Piso. 
Not me Sir;  
For I protest what I have said, was only  
To make you understand your sister's danger.  Lod. 
He might if it pleased him conceive it so.  Fred. 
I might if it pleased me stand still and hear  
My sister made a may-game, might I not?  
And give allowance to your liberal jests  
Upon his person, whose least anger would  
Consume a legion of such wretched people,  
That have no more to justify their actions  
But their tongues ends? that dare lie every way  
As a mill grinds? From this hour I renounce  
All part of fellowship that may hereafter  
Make me take knowledge of ye, but for Knaves;  
And take heed, as ye love whole skins, and coxcombs,  
How, and to whom ye prate thus; for this time  
I care not if I spare ye: do not shake,  
I will not beat ye, though ye do deserve it  
Richly.  Lod. 
This is a strange course Frederick;  
But sure you do not, or you would not know us,  
Beat us?  Piso. 
'Tis somewhat low Sir, to a Gentleman.  Fred. 
I'll speak but few words, but I'll make 'em truths;  
Get you gone both, and quickly, without murmuring,  
Or looking big: and yet before you go  
I will have this confessed, and seriously,  
That you two are two rascals.  Lod. 
How?  Fred. 
Two Rascals.  
Come speak it from your hearts, or by this light  
My sword shall fly among ye; answer me,  
And to the point directly.  Piso. 
You shall have  
Your will for this time: since we see you're grown  
So far untemperate; Let it be so Sir  
In your opinion.  Fred. 
Do not mince the matter,  
But speak the words plain; and you Lodovick  
That stand so tally on your reputation,  
You shall be he shall speak it.  Lod. 
This is pretty,  Fred. 
Let me not stay upon't.  Lod. 
Well we are rascals,  
Yes Piso, we are rascals. Exit Lod. and Piso.  Fred. 
Get ye gone now, not a word more, you're rascals.  Enter Fabritio. Fab. 
That should be Frederick.  Jac. 
'Tis he: Frederick?  Fred. 
Who's that?  Jac. 
A friend Sir.  Fred. 
It is so, by the voice  
I have sought you Gentlemen, and since I have found you,  
So near our house, I'll force ye stay a while,  
I pray let it be so.  Fab. 
It is too late,  
we'll come and dine tomorrow with your sister,  
And do our services.  Jac. 
Who were those with you?  Fred. 
We met two came from hence:  
Two idle fellows,  
That you shall beat hereafter, and I'll tell ye  
Some fitter time a cause sufficient for it.  Fabr. 
But Frederick, tell me truly; do you think  
She can affect my friend?  Fred. 
No certainer  
Than when I speak of him, or any other,  
She entertains it with as much desire  
As others do their recreations.  Fabr. 
Let not him have this light by any means;  
He will but think he's mocked, and so grow angry,  
Even to a quarrel: he's so much distrustful  
Of all that take occasion to commend him—  
Women especially: for which he shuns  
All conversation with 'em, and believes  
He can be but a mirth to all their Sex.  
Whence is this music?  Fred. 
From my sister's chamber.  Fab. 
The touch is excellent 'let's be attentive.  Jac. 
Hark, are the weights abroad?  Fabr. 
Be softer prithee,  
'Tis private music.  Jac. 
What a din it makes?  
I had rather hear a Jews-trump than these Lutes,  
They cry like Schoolboys.  Fabr. 
Prithee Jacamo.  Jac. 
Well I hear, or sleep, I care not whether.  The SONG. Enter at the window Francke and Clora. 1. 
TEll me dearest what is Love?  2. 
'Tis a lightning from above,  
'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire,  
'Tis a boy they call Desire.  Both. 
'Tis a grave,  
Gapes to have  
Those poor fools that long to prove.  1. 
Tell me more, are women true?  2. 
Yes, some are, and some as you.  
Some are willing, some are strange,  
Since you men first taught to change.  Both. 
And till troth  
Be in both,  
All shall love, to love anew.  1. 
Tell me more yet, can they grieve?  2. 
Yes, and sicken sore, but live:  
And be wise, and delay,  
When you men are as wise as they.  Both. 
Then I see  
Faith will be,  
Never till they both believe.  Franc. 
Clora, come hither; who are these below there?  Clor. 
Where?  Fran. 
There.  Clor. 
Ha? I should know their shapes  
Though it be darkish; there are both our brothers,  
What should they make thus late here?  Fran. 
What's the tother?  Clor. 
What t'other?  Fran. 
He that lies along there.  Clor. 
O, I see him  
As if he had a branch of some great Pedigree  
Grew out on's belly.  Fra. 
Yes.  Clor. 
That should be,  
If I have any knowledge in proportion.—  Fab. 
They see us.  Fred. 
'Tis no matter.  Fab. 
What a log  
Is this, to sleep such music out?  Fred. 
No more let's hear 'em.  Clor. 
If I have any knowledge in proportion,  
The Captain Jacamo, those are his legs  
Upon my conscience.  Fra. 
By my faith, and neat ones.  Clor. 
You mean the boots, I think they are neat by nature,  Fra. 
As thou art knavish, would I saw his face!  Clor. 
'Twould scare you in the dark.  Fra. 
A worse than that  
Has never scared you Clora to my knowledge.  Clora. 
'Tis true, for I never have seen a worse;  
Nor while I say my prayers heartily,  
I hope I shall not.  Fran. 
Well, I am no tell tale:  
But is it not great pity, tell me Clora,  
That such a brave deserving Gentleman  
As every one delivers this to be,  
Should have no more respect, and worth flung on him  
By able men? Were I one of these great ones,  
Such virtues should not sleep thus.  Clora. 
Were he greater  
He would sleep more I think: I'll waken him.  Frank. 
Away ye fool.  Clor. 
Is he not dead already, and they two taking order  
About his Blacks? methinks they are very busy,  
A fine clean corpse he is: I would have him buried  
Even as he lies, cross legged, like one o'th' Templars  
(If his west-phaly gammons will hold crossing)  
And on his breast, a buckler with a pike in't,  
In which I would have some, learned Cutler  
Compile an Epitaph, and at his feet  
A musket, with this word upon a Label  
Which from the cock's mouth thus should be delivered,  
I have discharged the office of a Soldier.  Frank. 
Well, if thy Father were a Soldier  
Thus thou wouldst use him.  Clora. 
Such a Soldier,  
I would indeed.  Fab. 
If he hear this, not all  
The power of man could keep him from the windows  
till they were down and all the doors broke open:  
For God's sake make her cooler: I dare not venture  
To bring him else: I know he will go to buffets  
Within five words with her, if she holds this spirit;  
Let's waken him, and away, we shall hear worse else.  Fran. 
Well if I be not even with thee Clora  
Let me be hanged for this: I know thou dost it  
Only to anger me, and purge your wit  
Which would break out else.  Clora. 
I have found ye,  
I'll be no more cross, bid'em good night  Fran. 
No, no, they shall not know, we have seen'em;  
Shut the window. Exit Fran. and Clora.  Fab. 
Will you get up Sir?  Jac. 
Have you paid the Fiddlers?  Fab. 
You are not left to do it: Fie upon thee,  
Hast thou forsworn manners?  Jac. 
Yes unless  
They would let me eat my meat without long graces  
Or drink without a preface to the pledger;  
Oft will it please you, shall I be so bold sir  
Let me remember your good bedfellow,  
And lie and kiss my hand unto my Mistress  
As often as an Ape does for an Apple;  
These are mere Schisms in Soldiers; where's my friend?  
These are to us as bitter as purgations,  
We love that general freedom we are bred to;  
Hang these faint fooleries, they smell of peace,  
Do they not friend?  Fab. 
Faith Sir to me they are  
As things indifferent, yet I use'em not,  
Or if I did, they would not prick my conscience.  Fred. 
Come, shall we go? 'tis late.  Jac. 
Yes any whether,  
But no more Music, it has made me dull.  Fab. 
Faith any thing but drinking disturbs thee Jacomo  
we'll even to bed.  Jac. 
Content.  Fab. 
Thou wilt dream of wenches.  Jac. 
I never think of any I thank God  
But when I am drunk, and then 'tis but to cast  
A cheap way how they may be all destroyed  
Like vermin; let's away I am very sleepy.  Fab. 
ay, thou art ever so, or angry, come. Exeunt.    

Actus Tertius,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Julio and Angilo. Jul. 
I Will but see her once more Angilo  
That I may hate her more, and then I am  
myself again.  Ang. 
I would not have thee tempt lust,  
'tis away dangerous, and will deceive thee  
Hadst thou the constancy of all men in thee.  Jul. 
Having her sins before me, I dare see her  
Were she as catching as the plague, and deadly,  
And tell her she is fouler than all those  
And far more pestilent, if not repentant,  
And like a strong man, chide her well, and leave her.  Arg. 
'Tis easily said, of what complexion is she?  Iul. 
Make but a curious frame unto thyself  
As thou wouldst shape an Angel in thy thought  
Such as the Poets, when their fancies sweat  
Imagine juno is, or fair eyed Pallas  
And one more excellent, than all those figures  
Shalt thou find her; she's brown, but of a sweetness,  
(If such a poor word may express her beauty)  
Believe me Angilo would do more mischief  
With a forc't smile, than twenty thousand Cupids  
With their love quivers, full of ladies' eyes,  
And twice as many flames, could fling upon us.  Ang. 
Of what age is she?  Iul. 
As a Rose at fairest,  
Neither a bud, nor blown, but such a one,  
Were there a Hercules to get again  
With all his glory, or one more than he  
The god would choose out 'mongst a race of women  
To make a mother of; she is outwardly  
All that bewitches sense; all that entices,  
Nor is it in our virtue to uncharm it.  
And when she speaks, oh Angilo, than music  
(Such as old Orpheus made, that gave a soul  
To aged mountains, and made rugged beasts  
Lay by their rages; and tall trees that knew  
No sound but tempests, to bow down their branches  
And hear, and wonder; and the Sea, whose surges  
Shook their white heads in heaven, to be as midnight  
Still, and attentive; steals into our souls  
So suddenly, and strangely, that we are  
From that time no more ours but what she pleases.  Ang. 
Why look, how far you have thrust yourself again  
Into your old disease? are you that man  
With such a resolution, that would venture  
To take your leave of folly, and now melt  
Even in repeating her?  Iul. 
I had forgot me.  Ang. 
As you will still do.  Iul. 
No, the strongest man  
May have the grudging of an ague on him,  
This is no more; let's go, I would fain be fit  
To be thy friend again, for now I am no man's.  Ang. 
Go you, I dare not go, I tell you truly  
Nor were it wise I should.  Iul. 
Why?  Ang. 
I am well.  
And if I can, will keep myself so.  Iul. 
Ha? thou mak'st me smile, though I have little cause,  
To see how prettily thy fear becomes thee;  
Art thou not strong enough to see a woman?  Ang. 
Yes, twenty thousand: but not such a one  
As you have made her; I'll not lie forth' matter:  
I know I am frail, and may be cozened too  
By such a Siren.  Iul. 
Faith thou shalt go, Angilo  Ang. 
Faith but I will not; no I know how far Sir  
I am able to hold out, and will not venture  
Above my depth: I do not long to have  
My sleep ta'en from me, and go pulingly  
Like a poor wench had lost her market money;  
And when I see good meat, sit still and sigh,  
And call for small beer; and consume my wit  
In making Anagrams, and faithful poses;  
I do not like that Itch, I am sure I had rather  
Have the main pox, and safer.  Iul. 
Thou shalt go,  
I must needs have thee as a witness with me  
Of my repentance; as thou lov'st me go.  Ang. 
Well I will go, since you will have it so,  
But if I prove a fool too, look to have me  
Curse you continually, and fearfully.  Iul. 
And if thou seest me fall again, good Angilo  
Give me thy council quickly lest I perish.  Ang. 
Pray God I have enough to save myself,  
For as I have a soul, I had rather venture  
Upon a savage Island, than this woman. Exeunt   

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Father and Servant. Fath. 
From whom Sir, comes this bounty? for I think  
You are mistaken.  Serv. 
No Sir, 'tis to you,  
I am sure my Mistress sent it.  Fath. 
who's your Mistress,  
That I may give her thanks?  Ser. 
The virtuous Widow,  Fath. 
The virtuous widow Sir? I know none such:  
Pray what's her name?  Ser. 
Laelia.  Fath. 
I knew you erred  
'Tis not to me I warrant ye; there Sir,  
Carry it to those she feeds fat with such favours,  
I am a stranger to her.  Ser. 
Good Sir take it,  
And if you will, I'll swear she sent it to you,  
For I am sure mine eye never went off ye  
Since you forsook the Gentlemen you talked with  
Just at her door.  Fath. 
Indeed I talked with two  
Within this half hour in the street.  Ser. 
'Tis you Sir,  
And none but you I am sent to: wiser men  
Would have been thankful sooner, and received it,  
'Tis not a fortune every man can brag of,  
And from a woman of her excellence.  Fa. 
Well Sir, I am Catechized; what more belongs to't?  Ser. 
This only Sir; she would entreat you come  
This evening to her without fail.  Fa. 
I will.  Ser. 
You guess where.  Fa. 
Sir I have a tongue else. Exit Ser.  
She is downright Devil; or else my wants  
And her disobedience have provoked her  
To look into her foul self, and be sorry.  
I wonder how she knew me? I had thought  
I had been the same to all, I am to them  
That changed me thus: God pardon me for lying,  
For I have paid it home: many a good man  
That had but found the profit of my way  
Would forswear telling true again in haste.  Enter Lodovico and Piso. 
Here are my praters; now if I did well  
I should be labour 'em, but I have found  
A way to quiet 'em, worth a thousand on't.  Lod. 
If we could get a fellow that would do it.  Fa. 
What villainy is now in hand?  Piso. 
'Twill be hard to be done in my opinion  
Unless we light upon an Englishman  
With sevenscore surfeits in him.  Lod. 
Are the Englishmen such stubborn drinkers?  Piso. 
Not a leak at Sea  
Can suck more liquour; you shall have their children  
Christened in mulled sack, and at five years old, able  
To knock a Dane down: Take an Englishman  
And cry St. George, and give him but a rasher,  
And you shall have him upon even terms  
Defy a hogshead; such a one would do it  
Home boy, and like a workman: at what weapon?  Lod. 
Sherry sack: I would have him drink stark dead,  
If it were possible: at worst past pottage.  Piso. 
What is the end then?  Lod. 
Dost thou not perceive it?  
If he be drunk dead, there's a fair end of him.  
If not, this is my end, or by enticing,  
Or by deceiving, to conduct him where  
The fool is, that admires him; and if sober,  
His nature be so rugged, what willt be  
When he is hot with wine? come let's about it,  
If this be done but handsomely, I'll pawn  
My head she hath done with soldiers.  Piso. 
This may do well.  Fa. 
Here's a new way to murder men alive,  
I'll choke this train: God save ye Gentlemen.  
It is to you, stay: yes it is to you.  Lod. 
What's to me?  Fath. 
You are fortunate,  
I cannot stand to tell you more now, meet me  
Here soon, and you'll be made a man. Exit Father.  Lod. 
What Vision's this?  Piso. 
I know not.  Lod. 
Well, I'll meet it,  
Think you o'th' other, and let me a while  
Dream of this fellow.  Piso. 
For the Drunkard, Lodowick,  
Let me alone.  Lod. 
Come, let's about it then. Exeunt   

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Clora and Frank. Clo. 
Ha, ha, ha, pray let me laugh extremely.  Fra. 
Why? prithee why? hast thou such cause?  Clo. 
Yes faith, my brother will be here straightway, &—  Fra. 
What?  Clo. 
The other party: ha, ha, ha.  Fra. 
What party?  
Wench thou art not drunk.  Clo. 
No faith.  Fra. 
Faith thou hast been among the bottles Clora;  Clo. 
Faith but I have not Frank: Prithee be handsome,  
The Captain comes along too, wench.  Fra. 
O is that it?  
That tickles ye.  Clo. 
Yes, and shall tickle you too,  
You understand me?  Fra. 
By my troth thou art grown  
A strange lewd wench: I must e'en leave thy company,  
Thou wilt spoil me else.  Clo. 
Nay, thou art spoiled to my hand;  
Hadst thou been free, as a good wench ought to be,  
When I went first a birding for thy Love,  
And roundly said, that is the man must do it,  
I had done laughing many an hour ago.  Fra. 
And what dost thou see in him, now thou know'st him,  
To be thus laughed at?  Clo. 
Prithee be not angry  
And I'll speak freely to thee.  Fra. 
Do, I will not.  Clo. 
Then as I hope to have a handsome husband,  
This fellow in mine eye, and Frank I am held  
To have a shrewd guess at a pretty fellow,  
Appears a strange thing.  Fra. 
Why how strange for God's sake?  
He is a man, and one that may content  
(For any thing I see) a right good woman:  
And sure I am not blind.  Clo. 
There lies the question?  
For, but you say he is a man, and I  
Will credit you, I should as soon have thought him  
Another of God's creatures; out upon him,  
His body, that can promise nothing  
But laziness and long strides.  Fra. 
These are your eyes;  
Where were they Clora, when you fell in love  
With the old footman, for singing of Queen Dido?  
And swore he looked in his old velvet trucks  
And his sliced Spanish Jerkin, like Don john?  
You had a perilous judgement then, my Clora.  Clo. 
Who told you that?  Fra. 
I heard it.  Clo. 
Come, be friends,  
The Soldier is a Mars, no more, we are all  
Subject to slide away.  Fra. 
Nay, laugh on still.  Clo. 
No faith, thou art a good wench, and 'tis pity  
Thou shouldst not be well quarred at thy entering,  
Thou art so high flown for him: Look, whose's there?  Enter Fabricio and jacamo. Iac. 
Prithee go single, what should I do there,  
Thou know'st I hate these visitations,  
As I hate peace or perry.  Fab. 
Wilt thou never  
Make a right man?  Iac. 
You make a right fool of me  
To lead me up and down to visit women,  
And be abused and laughed at; let me starve  
If I know what to say, unless I ask 'em  
What their shoes cost?  Fab. 
Fie upon thee, coward,  
Canst thou not sing?  Iac. 
Thou knowest I can sing nothing  
But Plumpion park.  Fab. 
thou'lt be bold enough,  
When thou art entered once.  Jac. 
I had rather enter  
A breach: If I miscarry, by this hand  
I will have you byth' ears for't.  Fab. 
Save ye Ladies.  Clora. 
Sweet brother I dare swear, you're welcome hither,  
So is your Friend;  Fab. 
Come, blush not, but salute 'em.  Frank. 
Good Sir believe your Sister; you are most welcome,  
So is this worthy Gentleman whose virtues  
I shall be proud to be acquainted with.  Iac. 
She has found me out already, and has paid me;  
Shall we be going?  Fab. 
Peace;  
Your goodness Lady  
Will ever be afore us, for myself  
I will not thank you single, lest I leave  
My friend, this Gentleman, out of acquaintance.  Iac. 
More of me yet?  Fra. 
Would I were able Sir,  
From either of your worths to merit thanks.  Clo. 
But brother, is your friend thus sad still? methinks  
'Tis an unseemly nature in a Soldier.  Iac. 
What hath she to do with me, or my behaviour?  Fab. 
He does but show so, prithee to him Sister.  Iac. 
If I do not break thy head, I am no Christian,  
If I get off once.  Clo. 
Sir, we must entreat you  
To think yourself more welcome, and be merry,  
'Tis pity a fair man of your proportion  
Should have a soul of sorrow.  Iac. 
Very well;  
Pray Gentlewoman what would you have me say?  Clo. 
Do not you know Sir?  Ia. 
Not so well as you  
That talk continually.  Fra. 
You have hither, Sir.  Clo. 
I thank him, so he has,  
Fair fall his sweet face for't.  Iac. 
Let my face  
Alone, I would wish you, lest I take occasion  
To bring a worse in question.  Clor. 
Meaning mine?  
Brother, where was your friend brought up? h'as sure  
Been a great lover in his youth of pottage,  
They lie so dull upon his understanding.  Fab. 
No more of that, thou'lt anger him at heart.  Clo. 
Then let him be more manly, for he looks  
Like a great Schoolboy that had been blown up  
Last night at dust-point.  Fra. 
You will never leave  
Till you be told how rude you are, fie Clora.  
Sir will it please you sit?  Clo. 
And I'll sit by you.  Iac. 
Woman be quiet, and be ruled I would wish you.  Clo. 
I have done, Sir Captain.  Fab. 
Art thou not ashamed?  Iac. 
You are an ass, I'll tell you more anon.  
You had better ha' been hanged then brought me hither.  Fab. 
You are grown a sullen fool; either be handsome,  
Or by this light I'll have wenches bait thee;  
Go to the Gentlewoman, and give her thanks,  
And hold your head up; what?  Ia. 
By this light I'll brain thee.  Fra. 
Now o my faith this Gentleman does nothing  
But it becomes him rarely; Clora, look  
How well this little anger, if it be one,  
Shows in his face.  Clo. 
Yes, it shows very sweetly.  Fra. 
Nay do not blush Sir, o my troth it does,  
I would be ever angry to be thus.  
Fabritio, o my conscience if I ever  
Do fall in love, as I will not forswear it  
Till I am something wiser, it must be,  
I will not say directly with that face,  
But certainly, such another as that is,  
And thus dispose my chance to hamper me.  Fab. 
Dost thou hear this, and stand still?  Iac. 
You will prate still;  
I would you were not women, I would take  
A new course with ye.  Clo. 
Why courageous?  Iac. 
For making me a stone to whet your tongues on.  Clo. 
Prithee sweet Captain.  Iac. 
Go, go spin, go hang.  Clo. 
Now could I kiss him.  Iac. 
If you long for kicking,  
You're best come kiss me, do not though, I'd wish ye,  
I'll send my Footman to thee, he shall leap thee,  
And thou want'st horsing: I'll leave ye Ladies.  Fra. 
Beshrew my heart you are unmannerly  
To offer this unto a Gentleman  
Of his deserts, that comes so worthily  
To visit me, I cannot take it well.  Iac. 
I come to visit you, you foolish woman?  Fra. 
ay, though you did Sir, and for that I thank you,  
I would be loath to lose those thanks; I know  
This is but some odd way you have, and faith  
It does become you well to make us merry;  
I have heard often of your pleasant vein.  Fab. 
What wouldst thou ask more?  Ja. 
Pray thou scurvy fellow  
Thou hast not long to live; adieu dear Damsels,  
You silthy women farewell, and be sober,  
And keep your chambers.  Clor. 
Farewell old Don Diego.  Fra. 
Away, away, you must not be so angry,  
To part thus roughly from us; yet to me  
This does not show, as if 'twere yours, the wars  
May breed men something plain I know,  
But not thus rude; give me your hand good Sir  
I know 'tis white, and—  Jac. 
If I were not patient,  
What would become of you two prating housewives?  Clo. 
For any thing I know, we would in to supper,  
And there begin a health of lusty Claret  
To keep care from our hearts, and it should be—  Fab. 
Faith to whom? Mark but this Jacamo.  Clo. 
Even to the handsomest fellow now alive.  Fab. 
Do you know such a one?  Fra. 
He may be guessed at,  
Without much travel.  Fab. 
There's another item.  Clo. 
And he should be a Soldier.  Fra. 
'Twould be better.  Clo. 
And yet not you sweet Captain  Fra. 
Why not he?  Ja. 
Well; I shall live to see your husbands beat you,  
And hiss 'em on like bandogs.  Clo. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Jac. 
Green sicknesses and serving-men light on ye  
With greasy Codpieces, and woollen stockings,  
The Devil (if he dare deal with two women)  
Be of your counsels: Farewell Plasterers— Exit Jacamo.  Clor. 
This fellow will be mad at Midsummer  
Without all doubt.  Fab. 
I think so too.  Fra. 
I am sorry  
he's gone in such a rage; but sure this holds him  
Not every day.  Fab. 
Faith every other day  
If he come near a woman.  Clor. 
I wonder how his mother could endure  
To have him in her belly he's so boisterous.  Fra. 
He's to be made more tractable I doubt not.  Clo. 
Yes, if they taw him as they do whitleather  
Upon an iron, or beat him soft like Stockfish.   

Scaena quarta.  Enter Laelia and her waiting woman with a veil. Lel. 
Art sure 'tis he?  Wom. 
Yes, and another with him.  Lel. 
The more the merrier; did you give that money  
And charged it to be delivered where I showed you?  Wom. 
Yes, and what else you bade me.  Lel. 
That brave fellow,  
Though he be old, whate'er he be, shows toughness,  
And such a one I long for, and must have  
At any price; these young soft melting gristles  
Are only for my safer ends.  Wom. 
They are here.  Lel. 
Give me my veil, and bid the boy go sing  
That song above, I gave him: the sad Song:  
Now if I miss him, I am cursed, go wench  
And tell 'em I have utterly forsworn  
All company of men; yet make a venture  
At last to let 'em in; thou know'st these things,  
Do 'em toth' life.  Wom. 
I warrant you I am perfect.  Lel. 
Some ill woman for her use would give  
A million for this wench, she is so subtle.  Enter to the door Julio and Angilo. Wom. 
Good Sir desire it not, I dare not do it,  
For since your last being here, Sir, believe me  
She has grieved herself out of all company,  
And (sweet soul) almost out of life too.  Jul. 
Prithee,  
Let me but speak one word.  Wom. 
You will offend Sir  
And yet your name is more familiar with her  
Then any thing but sorrow, good Sir go.  Ang. 
This little varlet hath her lesson perfect,  
These are the baits they bob with.  Iul. 
Faith I will not.  Wom. 
I shall be chidden cruelly for this;  
But you are such a Gentleman—  Iul. 
No more.  Aug. 
There's a new Tyre-wench; peace, thou art well enough.  Iul. 
What, has she music?  Wom. 
Yes; for God's sake stay,  
'Tis all she feeds upon.  Iul. 
Alas poor soul.  Ang. 
Now will I pray devoutly, for there's need on't.  

The SONG.  
AWay delights, go seek some other dwelling,  
For I must die.  
Farewell false Love, thy tongue is ever telling  
Lie after lie.  
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts,  
Alas, for pity go,  
And fire their hearts  
That have been hard to thee, mine was not so.   

Never again deluding love shall know me,  
For I will die:  
And all those griefs that think to overgrow me  
Shall be as I.  
For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry,  
Alas for pity stay  
And let us die  
With thee, men cannot mock us in the day.   Iul. 
Mistress? not one word, Mistress if I grieve ye  
I can depart again.  Ang. 
Let's go then quickly,  
For if she get from under this dark cloud,  
We shall both sweat I fear for't.  Iul. 
Do but speak  
Though you turn from me, and speak bitterly,  
And I am gone, for that I think will please you.  Ang. 
Oh that all women were thus silent ever,  
What fine things they were.  Iul. 
You have looked on me,  
When (if there be belief in women's words  
Spoken in tears) you swore you loved to do so.  Lel. 
O me my heart!  Ang. 
Now Julio play the man,  
Or such another will undo thee:  
Would I had any thing to keep me busy  
I might not hear her; think but what she is,  
Or I doubt mainly, I shall be i'th' mash too.  Jul 
Pray speak again;  Lel. 
Where is my woman?  Wom. 
Here.  Ang. 
Mercy upon me! what a face she has?  
Would it were veiled again.  Lel. 
Why did you let  
This flattering man in to me? did not I  
Charge thee to keep me from his eyes again,  
As carefully as thou wouldst keep thine own?  
Thou hast brought me poison in a shape of heaven  
Whose violence will break the hearts of all,  
Of all weak women, as it has done mine,  
That are such fools to love, and look upon him.  
Good Sir be gone, you know not what an ease  
Your absence is.  Ang. 
By heaven she is a wonder,  
I cannot tell what 'tis, but I am squeamish.  Jul. 
Though I desire to be here more than heaven  
As I am now, yet if my sight offend you,  
So much I love to be commanded by you  
That I will go: Farewell—  Lel. 
I should say something  
ere you depart, and I would have you hear me:  
But why should I speak to a man that hates me?  
And will but laugh at any thing I suffer?  Jul. 
If this be hate—  Lel. 
Away, away deceiver.  Jul. 
Now help me Angilo!  Ang. 
I am worse than thou art.  Lel. 
Such tears as those might make another woman  
Believe thee honest Julio: almost me  
That know their ends, for I confess they stir me.  Ang. 
What will become of me? I cannot go now  
If you would hang me, from her: o brave eye!  
Steal me away for God's sake Julio.  Jul. 
Alas poor man! I am lost again too strangely.  Lel. 
No, I will sooner trust a Crocodile  
When he sheds tears, for he kills suddenly,  
And ends our cares at once; or any thing  
That's evil to our natures, than a man;  
I find there is no end of his deceivings,  
Nor no avoiding 'em, if we give way:  
I was requesting you to come no more,  
And mock me with your service, 'tis not well,  
Nor honest to abuse us so far: you may love too;  
For though, I must confess I am unworthy  
Of your love every way: yet I would have you  
Think I am somewhat too good to make sport of.  Jul. 
Will you believe me?  Lel. 
for your vows and oaths,  
And such deceiving tears as you shed now,  
I will as you do, study to forget 'em.  Jul 
Let me be most despised of men—  Lel. 
No more;  
There is no new way left, by which your cunning  
Shall once more hope to catch me; no, thou false man  
I will avoid thee, and for thy sake all  
That bear thy stamp; as counterfeit in love.  
For I am open eyed again, and know thee.  
Go, make some other weep, as I have done,  
That dare believe thee: go, and swear to her  
That is a stranger to thy cruelty,  
And knows not yet what man is, and his lyings,  
How thou diest daily for her: pour it out  
In thy best lamentations; put on sorrow,  
As thou canst, to deceive an Angel, Julio,  
And vow thyself into her heart, that when  
I shall leave off, to curse thee for thy falsehood,  
Still a forsaken woman may be found,  
To call to heaven for vengeance.  Ang. 
From this hour,  
I heartily despise all honest women;  
I care not if the world took knowledge on't,  
I see there's nothing in them, but that folly  
Of loving one man only: give me henceforth  
(Before the greatest blessing can be thought of)  
If this be one, a whore; that's all I aim at.  Iul. 
Mistress, the most offending man is heard  
Before his sentence, why will you condemn me  
ere I produce the truth to witness with me  
How innocent I am of all your angers?  Lel. 
There is no trusting of that tongue, I know't,  
And how far if it be believed it kills; no more Sir.  Iul. 
It never lied to you yet; if it did  
'Twas only when it called you mild and gentle.  Lel. 
Good Sir no more; make not my understanding  
After I have suffered thus much evil by you,  
So poor to think I have not reached the end  
Of all your forced affections; yet because  
I once loved such a sorrow too too dearly,  
As that would strive to be; I do forgive ye  
Even heartily, as I would be forgiven,  
For all your wrongs to me; my charity  
Yet loves you so far, (though again I may not)  
And wish when that time comes, you will love truly  
(If you can ever do so) you may find  
The worthy fruit of your affections,  
True love again, not my unhappy harvest,  
Which like a fool I sowed in such a heart  
So dry and stony, that a thousand showers  
From these two eyes, continually raining,  
Could never ripen.  Iul. 
Y'ave conquered me:  
I did not think to yield, but make me now,  
Even what you will my Lelia, so I may  
Be but so truly happy to enjoy you.  Lel. 
No, no, those fond imaginations,  
Are dead and buried in me, let 'em rest.  Iul. 
I'll marry you.  Ang. 
The Devil thou wilt julio  
How that word wakened me? come hither friend,  
Thou art a fool, look steadfastly upon her  
Though she be all that I know excellent  
As she appears, though I could fight for her,  
And run through fire; though I am stark mad too  
Never to be recovered, though I would  
Give all I had i'th' world to lie with her  
Even to my naked soul, I am so far gone,  
Yet methinks still we should not dote away  
That that is something more than ours, our honours  
I would not have thee marry her by no means,  
Yet I should do so; is she not a whore?  Iul. 
She is; But such a one—  Ang. 
'Tis true, she's excellent,  
And when I well consider, julio  
I see no reason we should be confined  
In our affections; when all creatures else  
Enjoy still where they like.  Iul. 
And so will I then,  Lel. 
He's fast enough I hope now, if I hold him.  Ang. 
You must not do so though, now I consider  
Better what 'tis.  Iul. 
Do not consider Angilo,  
For I must do it.  Ang. 
No I'll kill thee first.  
I love thee so well that the worms shall have thee  
Before this woman, friend.  Iul. 
I was your counsel.  Ang. 
As I was a knave,  
Not as I loved thee.  Iul. 
All this is lost upon me Angilo,  
For I must have her: I will marry ye  
When you please; pray look better on me.  Ang. 
Nay then no more friend; farewell julio,  
I have so much discretion left me yet  
To know, and tell thee thou art miserable.  Iul. 
Stay thou art more than she, and now I find it.  Lel. 
Is he so?  Iul. 
Mistress.  Lel. 
No, I'll see thee starved first. Exit Lel.  Iul. 
Friend.  Ang. 
Fly her as I do, julio, she's a witch.  Iul. 
Beat me away then, I shall grow here still else.  Ang. 
That were the way to have me grow there with thee  
Farewell for ever. Exit Ang.  Iul. 
Stay, I am uncharmed,  
Farewell thou cursed house, from this hour be  
More hated of me then a Leprosy. Exit julio.  Enter Lelia. Lelia. 
Both gone? a plague upon 'em both,  
Am I deceived again? Oh I would rail  
And follow 'em; but I fear the spite of people,  
Till I have emptied all my gall; the next  
I seize upon, shall pay their follies  
To the last penny; This will work me worse  
He that comes next, by heaven shall feel their curse. Exit.   

Scaena quinta.  Enter jacamo at one door Fabritio at another. Fab. 
O ye are a sweet youth, so uncivilly  
To rail and run away?  Ja. 
O are you there Sir?  
I am glad I have found ye, you have not now your Ladies  
To show your wit before.  Fab. 
Thou wilt not, wilt 'a?  Ja. 
What a sweet youth I am, as you have made me,  
You shall know presently.  Fab. 
Put up your sword  
I have seen it often, 'tis a Fox.  Iac. 
It is so,  
And you shall feel it too; will you dispatch Sir?  
And leave your mirth out? or I shall take occasion  
To beat ye, and disgrace you too.  Fab. 
Well since, there is no other way to deal with you  
Let's see your sword, I am sure you scorn all odds,  
I will fight with you—  Jac. 
How now? they measure, and Fab get his Sword.  Fab. 
Nay stand out,  
Or by this light I'll make ye.  Ja. 
This is scurvy  
And out of fear done.  Fab. 
No Sir out of judgement,  
For he that deals with thee, thou'rt grown so boisterous  
Must have more wits, or more lives than another,  
Or always be in Armour, or enchanted;  
Or he is miserable.  Ja. 
Your end of this Sir?  Fab. 
My end is only mirth to laugh at thee,  
Which now I'll do in safety; ha, ha, ha.  Ja. 
'sheart? than I am grown ridiculous.  Fab. 
Thou art,  
And wilt be shortly sport for little children,  
If thou continuest this rude stubbornness.  Jac. 
O God, for any thing that had an edge?  Fab. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Jac. 
Fie, what a shame it is,  
To have a lubber show his teeth?  Fab. 
Ha, ha.  Jac. 
Why dost thou laugh at me thou wretched fellow?  
Speak with a pox; and look ye render me  
Just such a reason—  Fab. 
I shall die with laughing.  Jac. 
As no man can find fault with: I shall have  
Another Sword; I shall ye fleering puppy.  Fab. 
Does not this testiness show finely in thee?  
Once more take heed of children, if they find thee  
They'll break up school, to bear thee company,  
Thou wilt be such a pastime, and whoo'te at thee:  
And call thee bloody bones, and Spade, and Spitfire,  
And Gaffer Madman; and go by jeronimo,  
And will with wisp and come aloft, and crack rope,  
And old Saint Dennis with the dudgeon Codpiece:  
And twenty such names.  Jac. 
No I think they will not.  Fab. 
Yes but they will: and Nurses still their children  
Only with thee, and here take him jacanto.  Iac. 
God's precious, That I were but over thee  
One Steeple height: I would fall and break thy neck.  Fab. 
This is the reason I laugh at thee,  
And while thou art thus, will do: tell me one thing.  Jac. 
I wonder how thou durst thus question me,  
Prithee restore my Sword.  Fab. 
Tell me but one thing,  
And it may be I will: Nay Sir; keep out  Jac. 
Well I will be your fool now, speak your mind Sir.  Fab. 
Art thou not breeding Teeth?  Jac. 
How? Teeth?  Fab. 
Yes Teeth, thou wouldst not be so froward else.  Jac. 
Teeth?  Fab. 
Come, 'twill make thee  
A little rheumatic, but that's all one,  
we'll have a Bib, for spoiling of thy doublet;  
And a fringed Muckender, hang at thy girdle,  
I'll be thy Nurse, and get a Coral for thee:  
And a fine Ring of Bells.  Jac. 
Faith this is somewhat  
Too much Fabritio, to your friend that loves you;  
methinks your goodness, rather should invent,  
A way to make my follies less, then breed 'em;  
I should have been more moderate to you,  
But I see ye despise me.  Fab. 
Now I love ye,  
There, take your Sword, continue so: I dare not  
Stay now to try your patience, Soon I'll meet ye,  
And as you love your honours, and your state,  
Redeem yourself well to the Gentlewoman,  
Farewell till soon. Exit Fab.  Jac. 
Well I shall think of this. Exit Jac.   

Scaena Sexta  Enter Host, Piso, and Boy with a glass of wine. Piso. 
Nothing i'th' world but a dried Tongue or two—  Host 
Taste him and tell me.  Piso. 
Is a valiant wine,  
This must be he mine Host.  Host. 
This shall be Ipse,  
Oh he 's a devilish bitten wine, a Tyrant;  
Where he lays hold Sir, This is he that scorns  
Small Beer should quench him, or a foolish caudle  
Bring him to bed; no if he flinch I'll shame him,  
And draw him out to mull amongst old Midwives.  Piso. 
There is a Soldier, I would have thee better  
Above the rest, because he thinks there's no man  
Can give him drink enough.  Host. 
What kind of man?  Pis. 
That thou mayst know him perfectly, he's one  
Of a left-handed making, a lank thing,  
As if his belly were ta'en up with straw,  
To hunt a match.  Host. 
Has he no beard to show him?  Piso. 
Faith but a little; yet enough to note him,  
Which grows in parcels here, and there a remnant:  
And that thou mayst not miss him, he is one  
That wears his forehead in a vellet scabbard.  Host. 
That note's enough, he's mine, I'll fuddle him  
Or lie i'th' suds; you will be here too?  Piso. 
Yes, till soon, farewell and bear up.  Host. 
If I do not,  
Say I am recreant; I'll get things ready.    

Actus Secundus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter julio, and Angilo. Iul. 
'TIs strange thou shouldst be thus, with thy discretion  Ang. 
I am sure I am so.  Iul. 
I am well you see.  Ang. 
Keep yourself warm then, & go home, & sleep,  
And pray to God thou mayst continue so;  
Would I had gone toth' Devil of an arrant,  
When I was made a fool to see her: Leave me  
I am not fit for conversation.  Iul. 
Why, thou art worse than I was.  Ang. 
Therefore leave me,  
The nature of my sickness is not eased  
By company, or council, I am mad,  
And if you follow me with questions  
Shall show myself so.  Iul. 
This is more than error.  Ang. 
Pray be content, that you have made me thus,  
And do not wonder at me.  Iul. 
Let me know, but what you mean to do and I am gone  
I would be loath to leave you thus else.  Ang. 
Nothing  
That needs your fear, that is sufficient;  
Farewell, and pray for me.  Iul. 
I would not leave you.  Ang. 
You must and shall.  Iul. 
I will then: would yond woman  
Had been ten fathom under ground, when first  
I saw her eyes.  Ang. 
Yet she had been dangerous,  
For to some wealthy Rock of precious stone,  
Or mine of gold as tempting, her fair body  
Might have been turned; which once found out by labour  
And brought to use, having her spells within it,  
Might have corrupted States, and ruined Kingdoms  
Which had been fearful (Friend) Go, when I see thee  
Next, I will be as thou art, or no more.  
Pray do not follow me, you'll make me angry.  Iul. 
Heaven grant you may be right again.  Ang. 
Amen. Exeunt.   

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Tavern Boys etc. Boy. 
Score a gallon of Sack, and a pint of Olives to the Unicorn.  Above within. 
Why drawer?  Boy. 
A non, a non.  Another boy. 
Look into the nag's head there.  2. Boy. 
Score a quart of Claret to the Bar,  
And a pound of Sausages into the flowerpot.  Enter first Servant with wine. 1 Ser. 
The devil's in their throats, anon, anon.  Enter second Servant. 2. Ser. 
Mull a pint of Sack there for the women in the Flowerdeluce, & put in ginger enough, they belch like potguns,  
And Robin fetch Tobacco for the Peacock, they will not  
Drunk till midnight else: how now how does my Master.  2 Boy. 
Faith he lies drawing on apace.  1. Boy. 
That's an ill sign.  2. Boy. 
And fumbles with the pots too.  1. Boy. 
Then there's no way but one with him.  2. Boy. 
All the rest.  
Except the Captain are in Limbo patrum,  
Where they lie sod in sack.  1. Boy. 
Does he bear up still.  2. Boy. 
Afore the wind still, with his lights up bravely  
All he takes in I think he turns to juleps,  
Or has a world of stowage in his belly,  
The rest look all like fire-drakes, and lie scattered  
Like rushes round about the room. My Master  
Is now the lovingest man, I think above ground,  1. Boy. 
Would he were always drunk then.  
Within .Drawer.  2. B. 
Anon, anon Sir,  1 B. 
And swears I shall be free tomorrow, and so weeps  
And calls upon my Mistress.  2 B. 
Then he's right.  1. B. 
And swears the Captain must lie this night with her  
And bade me break it to her with discretion,  
That he may leave an issue after him:  
Able to entertain a dutch Ambassador,  
And tells him feelingly how sweet she is,  
And how he stool her from her friends i'th' Country;  
And brought her up disguised with the Carriers,  
And was nine nights bereaving her her maiden head,  
And the tenth got a drawer, here they come.  Enter Jac. Host, Lod. Piso. 
Within cry drawer .Anon, anon, speak to the Tiger, Peter.  Host. 
there's my Bells boys, my silver Bell.  Piso. 
Would he were hanged  
As high as I could ring him.  Host. 
Captain.  Iac. 
Hoe Boy.  Lod. 
Robin, sufficient single Beer, as cold as crystal,  
Quench Robin, quench.  1. Boy. 
I am gone Sir.  Host. 
Shall we bear up still? Captain how I love thee?  
Sweet Captain let me kiss thee, by this hand  
I love thee next to malmsey in a morning,  
Of things transitory.  Ja. 
I love thee too, as far as I can love a fat man.  Host. 
Dost thou Captain?  
Sweetly? and heartily?  Jac. 
With all my heart Boy.  Host. 
Then welcome death, come close mine eyes sweet Captain  
Thou shalt have all.  Jac. 
What shall your wife have then?  Host. 
Why she shall have besides my blessing, and a silver spoon  
Enough to keep her stirring in the world,  
Three little Children, one of them was mine  
Upon my conscience, th'other two are Pagans.  Iac. 
'Twere good she had a little foolish money,  
To rub the time a way with.  Host. 
Not a rag,  
Not a Denier, no let her spin a God's name:  
And raise her house again,  Jac. 
Thou shalt not die though,  
Boy see your Master safe delivered,  
He's ready to lie in.  Host. 
God night.  Jac. 
God morrow,  
Drink tell the Cow come home, 'tis all paid boys.  Lod. 
A pox of Sack.  Host. 
Marry God bless my butts, Sack is a jewel,  
'Tis comfortable Gentlemen.  Jac. 
More Beer boy.  
Very sufficient single Beer.  Boy. 
Here Sir.  
How is it Gentlemen?  Jac. 
But e'en so, so.  Host. 
Go before finely Robin, and prepare  
My wife, bid her be right and straight, I come boy  
And Sirrah, if they quarrel let 'em use,  
Their own discretions, by all means, and stir not,  
And he that's killed shall be as sweetly buried;  
Captain, adieu, adieu sweet bully Captain ne,  
One kiss before I die, one kiss.  Jac. 
Farewell Boy.  Host. 
All my sweet boy's farewell. Exit Host.  Lod. 
Go sleep, you are drunk.  Jac. 
Come Gentlemen, I'll see you at your Lodging,  
You look not lustily, a quart more.  Lod. 
No Boy.  Piso. 
Get us a Torch.  Boy. 
'Tis day Sir.  Iac. 
That's all one.  Piso. 
Are not those the stars, thou scurvy Boy?  Lod. 
Is not Charles-wain there, tell me that, there?  Iac. 
Yes;  
I have paid 'em truly: do not vex him Sirrah.  Piso. 
Confess it Boy, or as I live I'll beat  
Midnight into thy brains.  Boy. 
I do confess it.  Piso. 
Then live, and draw more small Beer presently.  Iac. 
Come Boys, let's hug together, and be loving,  
And sing, and do brave things cheerly my hearts,  
A pox a being sad; now, could I fly  
And turn the world about upon my finger,  
Come ye shall love me, I am an honest fellow:  
Hang care and fortune, we are friends.  Lod. 
No Captain.  Iac. 
Do not you love me? I love you too dearly.  Piso. 
No by no means; you are a fighting Captain,  
And kill up such poor people as we are, byth' dozens.  Lod. 
As they kill flies with Fox-tails, Captain.  Iac. 
Well Sir.  Lod. 
methinks now as I stand, the Captain shows,  
To be a very merciful young man.  
(And prithee Piso, let me have thy opinion)  Piso. 
Then he shall have mercy, that merciful is,  
Or all the Painters are Apocrypha.  Iac. 
I am glad you have your wits yet, will ye go?  Piso. 
You had best say we are drunk.  Iac. 
Ye are.  Lod. 
Ye lie.  Iac. 
You're Rascals, drunken rascals.  Piso. 
'Tis sufficient.  Iac. 
And now I'll tell you why, before I beat ye,  
You have been tampering any time these three days,  
Thus to disgrace me.  Piso. 
That's a lie too.  Iac. 
Well Sir,  
Yet I thank God I have turned your points on you,  
For which I'll spare ye somewhat, half a beating.  Piso. 
I'll make you fart fire Captain, by this hand,  
And ye provoke, do not provoke I'd wish you.  Iac. 
How do you like this?  Lod. 
Sure I am enchanted.  Piso. 
Stay till I draw.  Iac. 
Despatch then, I am angry.  Piso. 
And thou shalt see how suddenly I'll kill thee.  Iac. 
Thou dar'st not draw, ye cold, tame, mangy Cowards  
Ye drunken Rogues, can nothing make you valiant?  
Not wine, nor beating?  Lod. 
If this way be suffered  
'Tis very well.  Iac. 
Go there's your way, go and sleep:  
I have pity on you, you shall have the rest  
Tomorrow when we meet.  Piso. 
Come Lodowick,  
he's monstrous drunk now, there's no talking with him.  Iac. 
I am so, when I am sober, I'll do more. Exit Lod. & Piso.  
Boy where's mine Host?  Boy. 
he's on his bed asleep Sir. Exit Boy.  Iac. 
Let him alone then: Now am I high proof  
For my action, now could I fight bravely,  
And charge into a wild fire; or I could love  
Any man living now, or any woman,  
Or indeed any creature that loves Sack  
Extremely, monstrously; I am so loving,  
Just at this instant, that I might be brought  
I feel it, with a little labour, now to talk  
With a justice of peace, that to my nature  
I hate next an ill Sword: I will do  
Some strange brave thing now, and I have it here:  
Pray God the air keep out; I feel it buzzing. Exit.   

Scaena Tertia  Enter Fredrick, Frank, Clora. Clor. 
she loves him too much, that's the plain truth Fredrick  
For which if I might be believed, I think her  
A strange forgetter of herself; there's julio,  
Or twenty more—  Fred. 
In your eye I believe you,  
But credit me the Captain is a man:  
Lay but his rough affections by, as worthy.  Clor. 
So is a resty jade, a horse of service,  
If he would leave his nature, give me one  
By your leave Sir to make a husband of  
Not to be weaned, when I should marry him;  
methinks a man is misery enough,  Fred. 
You are too bitter,  
I would not have him worse.  
Yet I shall see you hampered one day Lady,  
I do not doubt it, for this heresy  Clor. 
I'll burn before; come prithee leave this sadness;  
This walking by thyself to see the Devil,  
This mumps, this Lachrimae, this love in sippets;  
It fits thee like a French-hood.  Fra. 
Does it so?  
I am sure it fits thee to be ever talking,  
And nothing to the purpose, take up quickly;  
Thy wit will founder of all four else wench,  
I thou hold'st this pace; take up when I bid thee.  Clor. 
Before your Brother fly?  Fred. 
I can endure it.  Enter jacamo. Clor. 
here's Rawhead come again; Lord how he looks?  
Pray God we scape with broken pates.  Fra. 
Were I he,  
Thou shouldst not want thy wish, he has been drinking  
Has he not Fredrick?  Fred. 
Yes but do not find it.  Clor. 
Peace and let's hear his wisdom.  Fred. 
You will mad him.  Jac. 
I am somewhat bold, but that's all one.  Clor. 
A short and pithy saying of a Soldier.  Fra. 
As I live  
Thou art a strange mad wench.  Clor. 
To make a parson.  Jac. 
ladies I mean to kiss ye  Clor. 
How he wipes his mouth like a young Preacher;  
We shall have it.  Jac. 
In order as you lie before me; first  
I'll begin with you.  Fra. 
With me Sir?  Iac. 
Yes  
If you will promise me to kiss in ease.  Fra. 
I care not if I venture.  Jac. 
I will kiss according to mine own inventions  
As I shall see cause; sweetly I would wish you,  
I love ye.  Fra. 
Do you Sir?  Jac. 
Yes indeed do I,  
Would I could tell you how.  Fra. 
I would you would Sir.  Jac. 
I would to God I could, but 'tis sufficient,  
I love you with my heart.  Fra. 
Alas poor heart.  Jac. 
And I am sorry; but we'll talk of that,  
Hereafter if it please God.  Fra. 
e'en when you will Sir.  Clor. 
he's dismal drunk, would he were muzzled.  Jac. 
You  
I take it are the next.  Fra. 
Go to him fool.  Clor. 
Not I, 'a will bite me.  Jac. 
When wit? when?  Clor. 
Good Captain.  Jac. 
Nay, and you play bo-peep; I'll ha', no mercy  
But catch as catch may.  Fred. 
Nay, I'll not defend ye.  Clor. 
Good Captain do not hurt me, I am sorry  
That ere I angered ye.  Iac. 
I'll tew you for't  
By this hand wit, unless you kiss discreetly.  Clor. 
No more Sir.  Iac. 
Yes a little more sweet wit,  
One taste more o' your office: go thy ways  
With thy small kettle drums; upon my conscience  
Thou art the best, that e'er man laid his leg o'er.  Clor. 
He smells just like a Cellar,  
Fie upon him.  Iac. 
Sweet Lady now to you.  Clor. 
For love's sake kiss him.  Fred 
I shall not keep my countenance.  Fra. 
Try prithee.  Iac. 
Pray be not coy sweet woman, for I'll kiss ye,  
I am blunt  
But you must pardon me.  Clor. 
O God my sides.  All. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Iac. 
Why ha, ha, ha? why laugh?  
Why all this noise sweet Ladies?  Clor. 
Lusty Laurence,  
See what a Gentlewoman you have saluted;  
Pray God she prove not quick.  Fred. 
Where were thine eyes  
To take me for a woman, ha, ha, ha.  Jac. 
Who art 'a, art 'a mortal?  Fred. 
I am Fredrick  Jac. 
Then Fredrick is an Ass,  
A scurvy Fredrick to laugh at me.  Fra. 
Sweet Captain.  Iac. 
A way woman;  
Go stitch and serve God, I despise thee woman,  
And Fredrick shall be beaten; 'Sblood ye Rogue  
Have you none else to make your puppies of, but me?  Fre. 
I prithee be more patient  
there's no hurt done.  Iac. 
'Sblood but there shall be, Scab.  Clor. 
Help, help for love's sake.  Fra. 
whose's within there?  Fred. 
So now you have made a fair hand.  Jac. 
Why?  Fred. 
You have killed me— Fall as killed.  Clor. 
Call in some Officers, and stay the Captain.  Jac. 
You shall not need.  Clor. 
This is your drunkenness.  Fra. 
O me unhappy Brother, Fredrick,  
Look but upon me, do not part so from me,  
Set him a little higher he is dead.  Clor. 
O villain, villain. Enter Fabritio.  Fab. 
How now what's the matter?  Fra. 
O Sir my Brother! o my dearest Brother!  Clor. 
This drunken trough has killed him.  Fab. 
Killed him?  Clor. 
Yes.  
For heaven God sake hang him quickly, he will do  
Every day such a murder else. there is nothing  
But a strong Gallows that can make him quiet,  
I find it in his nature too late.  Fabr. 
Pray be quiet,  
Let me come to him.  Clor. 
Some go for a Surgeon.  Fra. 
Oh what a wretched woman has he made me!  
Let me alone good Sir.  Fab. 
To what a fortune,  
Hast thou reserved thy life.  Ja. 
Fabritio.  Fab. 
Never entreat me, for I will not know thee,  
Nor utter one word for thee, unless it be  
To have thee hanged; for God sake be more temperate.  Jac. 
I have a sword still, and I am a villain.  Clor. 
etc. Hold, hold, hold.  Jac. 
Ha?  Clor. 
Away with him for heaven's sake  
He's too desperate for our enduring.  Fab. 
Come, you shall sleep, come strive not  
I'll have it so, here take him to his lodging, and  
See him laid before you part.  Ser. 
We will Sir.  Fred. 
ne'er wonder, I am living yet, and well,  
I thank you sister for your grief, pray keep it  
Till I am fitter for it.  Fab. 
Do you live Sir?  Fred. 
Yes, but 'twas time to counterfeit, he was grown  
To such a madness in his wine.  Fab. 
'Twas well Sir,  
You had that good respect unto his temper,  
That no worse followed.  Fred. 
If I had stood him, certain one of us must have perished,  
How now Frank?  Fra. 
Beshrew my heart I tremble like an aspen.  Clo. 
Let him come here no more for heaven's sake  
Unless he be in chains.  Fra. 
I would fain see him  
After he has slept, Fabritio, but to try  
How he will be; chide him, and bring him back.  Clor. 
You'll never leave till you be worried with him.  Fra. 
Come brother, we'll walk in, and laugh a little.  
To get this Fever off me.  Clo 
Hang him squib,  
Now could I grind him into priming powder.  Fra. 
Pray will you leave your fooling?  Fa. 
Come, all friends. Exeunt.  Fra. 
Thou art enough to make an age of men so,  
Thou art so cross and peevish.  Fab. 
I will chide him,  
And if he be not graceless, make him cry for't.  Clo. 
I would go a mile (to see him cry) in slippers  
He would look so like a whey cheese;  Fra. 
Would we might see him once more.  Fab. 
If you dare  
Venture a second trial of his temper  
I make no doubt to bring him.  Clor. 
No good Frank  
Let him alone, I see his vain lies only  
For falling out at Wakes and bearbaitings,  
That may express him sturdy.  Fab. 
Now indeed  
You are too sharp sweet sister, for unless  
It be this sin, which is enough to drown him,  
I mean this sourness, he's as brave a fellow,  
As forward, and as understanding else  
As any He that lives.  Fra. 
I do believe you,  
And good Sir when you see him, if we have  
Distasted his opinion any way,  
Make peace again.  Fab. 
I will: I'll leave ye Ladies.  Clo. 
Take heed you had best, h'as sworn to pay you else.  Fab. 
I warrant you, I have been often threatened.  Clo. 
When he comes next, I'll have the cough or toothache,  
Or something that shall make me keep my chamber,  
I love him so well.  Fra. 
Would you would keep your tongue. Exeunt.   

Scaena Quarta.  Enter Angilo. Ang. 
I cannot keep from this ungodly woman,  
This Lelia, whom I know too, yet am caught,  
Her looks are nothing like her; would her faults  
Were all in Paris print upon her face,  
Cum Privilegio, to use 'em still.  
I would write an Epistle before it, on the inside of her mask  
And dedicate it to the whore of Babylon, with a preface upon  
Her nose to the gentle Reader; & they should be to be sold  
At the sign of the whore's head i'th' pottage pot, in what  
Street you please: But all this helps not me;— I  
Am made to be thus catched, past any redress, with a thing  
I contemn too.  
I have read Epictetus twice over against the  
Desire of these outward things, and still her face runs in  
My mind, I went to say my prayers, and they were  
So laid out o'th' way, that if I could find any prayers I  
Had, I'm no Christian.  
This is the door, and the short  
Is, I must see her again.— He knocks.  Enter Maid. Maid. 
Who's there?  Ang. 
'Tis I, I would speak with your Mistress.  Maid. 
Did she send for you?  Ang. 
No, what then? I would see her, prithee by thy leave.  Maid. 
Not by my leave; for she will not see you, but doth hate you, and  
Your friend, and doth wish you both hanged, which being so proper  
Men, is great pity, that you are not.  Ang. 
How's this?  Maid. 
For your sweet self in particular, who she resolves persuaded your  
Friend to neglect her, she deemeth whipcord the most  
Convenient unction for your back and shoulders.  Ang. 
Let me in, I'll satisfy her.  Ma. 
And if it shall happen that you are in doubt of these my speeches,  
Insomuch that you shall spend more time in arguing at the  
Door, I am fully persuaded that my Mistress in person from  
Above, will utter her mind more at large by way of  
Urine upon your head, that it may sink the more soundly  
Into your understanding faculties.  Ang. 
This is the strangest thing, good pretty soul, why dost thou use me so?  
I pray thee let me in sweet heart.  Maid. 
Indeed I cannot sweetheart.  Ang. 
Thou art a handsome one, and this crossness does become thee.  Maid. 
Alas I cannot help it.  Ang. 
Especially to me; thou know'st when I was here, I said I liked thee of  
All thy Mistress servants.  Maid. 
So did I you, though it be not my fortune to express  
It at this present: for truly if you would cry, I cannot  
Let you in.  Ang. 
Pox on her, I must go the downright way: look you  
Here is ten pound for you, let me speak with her.  Maid. 
I like your gold well, but it is a thing by heaven  
I cannot do, she  
Will not speak with you, especially at this time, she has affairs.  Ang. 
This makes her leave her jesting yet, but take it  
And let me see her, bring me to a place  
Where undiscerned of herself I may  
Feed my desiring eyes but half an hour.  Ma. 
Why faith I think I can, and I will stretch my wits  
And body too for gold: if you will swear as you  
Are gentle, not to stir, or speak, where you shall  
See or hear, now, or hereafter: give me your gold, I'll plant you  Ang. 
Why, as I am a Gentleman, I will not.  Maid. 
Enough, quick, follow me.  Exit Ang. & Maid. Enter Servant. 
Why where's this maid, she has much care of her business. Nell?  
I think she be sunk;— why Nell— whew—  Maid within. 
What's the matter?  Enter Maid. Ser. 
I pray you heartily come away, oh, come, come, the Gentleman,  
My Mistress invited, is coming down the street, and the banquet  
Not yet brought out?— They bring in the Banquet  Lel. 
within .Nell, Sirrah?  Maid. 
I come forsooth.  Ser. 
Now must I walk: when there's any fleshly matters in hand, my  
Mistress sends me of a four hours' errand: but if I go not  
About mine own bodily business as well as she, I am a Turk. Exit Servant.  Enter Father. Fa. 
What, all wide open? 'Tis the way to sin  
Doubtless; but I must on; the gates of hell  
Are not more passable than these; how they  
Will be to get out, God knows, I must try.  
'Tis very strange, if there be any life  
Within this house, would it would show itself.  
What's here? a Banquet? and no mouth to eat,  
Or bid me do it? this is something like  
The entertainment of adventurous Knights  
Entering enchanted Castles: For the manner  
Though there be nothing dismal to be seen  
Amazes me a little; what is meant  
By this strange invitation? I will sound  
My daughter's meaning, ere I speak to her,  
If it be possible, for by my voice— Music.  
She will discover me! hark, whence is this.  

The SONG.  
COme hither you that love, and hear me sing  
of joys still growing  
Green, fresh, and lusty, as the pride of Spring,  
and ever blowing.  
Come hither youths that blush, and dare not know  
what is desire,  
And old men worse than you, that cannot blow  
one spark of fire.  
And with the power of my enchanting Song,  
Boys shall be able men, and old men young.  Enter Angilo above. 
Come hither you that hope, and you that cry,  
leave off complaining,  
Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never die,  
are here remaining.  
Come hither fools, and blush, you stay so long  
from being blessed,  
And mad men worse than you, that suffer wrong,  
Yet seek no rest.  
And in an hour, with my enchanting Song,  
You shall be ever pleased, and young maids long.   Enter Lelia and her maid with a Nightgown and Slippers. Lel. 
Sir you are welcome hither, as this kiss  
Given with a larger freedom than the use  
Of strangers will admit, shall witness to you.  
Put the gown on him, in this chair sit down;  
Give him his slippers: be not so amazed,  
Here's to your health, and you shall feel this wine  
Stir lively in me, in the dead of night.  
Give him some wine; fall to your banquet Sir,  
And let us grow in mirth; though I am set  
Now thus far off you, yet four glasses hence  
I will sit here,  
And try, till both our bloods  
Shoot up and down to find a passage out,  
Then mouth, to mouth will we walk up to bed,  
And undress one another as we go;  
Where both my treasure, body, and my soul  
Are yours to be disposed of.  Fa. 
Umh, umh.— Makes signs of his white head & heard.  Lel. 
You are old,  
Is that your meaning? why, you are to me  
The greater novelty, all our fresh youth  
Are daily offered me, though you perform  
As you think little, yet you satisfy  
My appetite: from your experience  
I may learn something in the way of lust  
I may be better for. But I can teach  
These young ones;  
But this day I did refuse  
A pair of 'em, Julio, and Angilo,  
And told them they were as they were  
Raw fools and whelps. 
a Ang. makes discontented signs.   Maid. 
Pray God he speak not 
b Maid lais her finger cross her mouth to him.   Lel. 
Why speak you not sweet Sir?  Fath. 
Umh.— Stops his ears, shows he is troubled with the Music.  Lel. 
Peace there, that music, now Sir speak  
To me.  Fath. 
Umh.— Points at the Maid.  Lel. 
Why? would you have her gone? you need not keep  
Your freedom in for her; she knows my life  
That she might write it;  
Think she is a stone?  
she is a kind of bawdy Confessor,  
And will not utter secrets.  Fath. 
Umh.— Points at her again.  Lel. 
Be gone then, since he needs will have it so,  
'tis all one. Exit Maid.— Fath. locks the door.  
'Is all now as you would? come meet me then,  
And bring a thousand kisses on thy lips,  
And I will rob thee of 'em, and yet leave  
Thy lips as wealthy as they were before.  Fa. 
Yes, all is as I would but thou.  Lel. 
By heaven 'tis my Father.— Starts  Fath. 
And I do beseech thee  
Leave these unheard of lusts which worse become thee,  
Then mocking of thy Father; let thine eyes  
Reflect upon thy soul, and there behold  
How loathed black it is; and whereas now  
Thy face is heavenly fair, but thy mind foul,  
Go but into thy Closet, and there cry  
Till thou hast spoiled that face, and thou shalt find  
How excellent a change, thou wilt have made  
For inward beauty.  Lel. 
Though I know him now  
To be my Father, never let me live  
If my lust do abate.  
I'll take upon me  
To have known him all this while.  Fath. 
Look, dost thou know me?  Lel. 
I knew ye Sir before.  Fath. 
What didst thou do?  Lel. 
Knew you, and so unmovedly have you borne  
All the sad crosses that I laid upon you,  
With such a noble temper, which indeed  
I purposely cast on you, to discern  
Your carriage in calamity, and you  
Have undergone 'em with that brave contempt,  
That I have turned the reverence of a child  
Into the hot affection of a Lover.  
Nor can there on the earth be found but yours  
A spirit fit to meet with mine.  Fath. 
A woman? thou art not sure.  Lel. 
Look and believe.  Fath. 
Thou art  
Something created to succeed the Devil  
When be grows weary of his envious course,  
And compassing the world; but I believe thee  
Thou didst but mean to try my patience,  
And dost so still; but better be advised:  
And make thy trial with some other things  
That safelier will admit a dalliance:  
And if it should be earnest, understand  
How cursed thou art, so far from heaven, that thou  
Believest it not enough to damn alone,  
Or with a stranger, but wouldst heap all sins  
Unnatural upon this aged head  
And draw thy Father to thy Bed, and hell.  Lel. 
You are deceived Sir, 'tis not against nature  
For us to lie together; if you have  
An arrow of the same tree with your bow,  
Is't more unnatural to shoot it there  
Then in another? 'Tis our general nature  
To procreate, as fires is to consume,  
And it will trouble you to find a stick  
The fire will turn from: If't be nature's will  
We should not mix, she will discover to us  
Some most apparent crossness, as our organs  
Will not be fit; which if we do perceive  
we'll leave, and think it is her pleasure  
That we should deal with others.  Fath. 
The doors are fast; thou shalt not say a prayer,  
'Tis not God's will thou shouldst; when this is done  
I'll kill myself, that never man may tell me  
I got thee 
* Fath. draws his sword. Angilo discovers himself. .  Lel. 
I pray you Sir, help there, for God's sake Sir.  Ang. 
Hold reverend Sir, for honour of your age.  Fath. 
who's that?  Ang. 
For safety of your soul, and of the soul  
Of that too wicked woman yet to die.  Fa. 
What art thou? and how cam'st thou to that place?  Ang. 
I am a man so strangely hither come,  
That I have broke an oath in speaking this,  
But I believe 'twas better broke than kept,  
And I desire your patience; let me in,  
And I protest I will not hinder you  
In any act you wish, more than by word,  
If so I can persuade you, that I will not  
Use violence, I'll throw my sword down to you:  
This house holds none but I, only a maid  
Whom I will lock fast in as I come down.  Fa. 
I do not know thee, but thy tongue doth seem  
To be acquainted with the truth so well  
That I will let thee in: throw down thy sword.  Ang. 
There 'tis.  Lel. 
How came he there? I am betrayed to shame,  
The fear of sudden death struck me all over  
So violently, that I scarce have breath He lets in Ang. and locks the door.  
To speak yet: But I have it in my head,  
And out it shall, that (Father) may perhaps  
o'erreach you yet.  Enter Father and Angelo. Fat. 
Come Sir, what is't you say?  Lel. 
My Angilo, by all the joys of love  
Thou art as welcome as these pliant arms  
Twined round, and fast about thee, can persuade thee.  Ang. 
Away.  Lel. 
I was in such a fright before thou cam'st,  
You old mad fellow, (it will make thee laugh  
Though it feared me) has talked so wildly here—  
Sirrah, he rushed in at my doors, and swore  
He was my Father, and I think believed it:  
But that he had a sword, and threatened me—  
I'faith he was good sport, good, thrust him out  
That thou and I may kiss together; wilt thou?  Fath. 
Are you her Champion? & with these fair words,  
Got in to rescue her from me. Offer to run at him.  Ang. 
Hold sir,  
I swear I do not harbour such a thought,  
I speak it not, for that you have two swords,  
But for 'tis truth.  Lel. 
Two swords my Angilo?  
Think this, that thou hast two young brawny arms  
And ne'er a sword, and he has two good swords  
And ne'er an arm to use 'em; rush upon him,  
I could have beaten him with this weak body,  
If I had had the spirit of a man.  Ang. 
Stand from me, and leave talking, or by heaven  
I'll trample thy last damning word out of thee.  Fath. 
Why do you hinder me then? stand away  
And I will rid her quickly.  Lel. 
Would I were  
Clear of this business, yet I cannot pray.  Ang. 
Oh be advised, why you were better kill her  
If she were good; Convey her from this place  
Where none but you, and such as you appoint  
May visit her; where let her hear of nought  
But death and damning, which she hath deserved,  
Till she be truly, justly sorrowful,  
And then lay mercy to her, who does know  
But she may mend?  Fa. 
But whither should I bear her?  Ang. 
To my house,  
'Tis large, and private, I will lend it you.  Fa. 
I thank you Sir, and happily it fits  
With some design I have, but how shall we  
Convey her?  Lel. 
Will they carry me away?  Fa. 
For she will scratch and kick, & scream so loud  
That people will be drawn to rescue her.  Ang. 
Why? none can hear her here, but her own maid,  
Who is as fast as she.  Fa. 
But in the street?  Ang. 
Why, we will take 'em both into the Kitchen,  
There bind 'em, and then gag 'em, and then throw 'em  
Into a Coach I'll bring to the backdoor,  
And hurry 'em away.  Fa. 
It shall be so,  
I owe you much for this; and I may pay you,  
There is your sword, lay hold upon her quickly,  
This way with me, thou disobedient child.  
Why does thy stubborn heart beat at thy breast?  
Let it be still, for I will have it searched  
Till I have found a well of living tears  
Within it, that shall spring out of thine eyes,  
And flow all o'er thy body fouled with sin,  
Till it have washed it quite without a stain. They drag her.  Lel. 
Help! help! ah! ah!  
Murder, I shall be murdered, I shall be murdered.  Fa. 
This helps thee not.  Lel. 
Basely murdered, basely.  Fa. 
I warrant you. Exeunt.    

Actus Quintus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Lodowick and Piso. Lod. 
THis roguy Captain has made fine work with us.  Piso 
I would the Devil in a storm would carry him  
Home to his Garrison again; I ache all over,  
That I am sure of; Certainly my body  
Is of a wildfire, for my head rings backward,  
Or else I have a morris in my brains.  Lod. 
I'll deal no more with soldiers: well remembered,  
Did not the Vision promise to appear  
About this time again?  Piso. 
Yes, here he comes:  
He's just on's word.  Enter Father. Fath. 
O, they be here together,  
she's penitent, and by my troth I stagger  
Whether (as now she is) either of these  
Two fools be worthy of her; yet because  
Her youth is prone to fall again, ungoverned,  
And marriage now may stay her, one of 'em:  
And Piso, since I understand him abler,  
Shall be the man; the other bear the charges,  
And willingly, as I will handle it.  
I have a Ring here, which he shall believe  
Is sent him from a woman I have thought of:  
But ere I leave it, I'll have one of his  
In pawn worth two on't: for I will not lose  
By such a mess of sugar-sops as this is:  
I am too old.  Lod. 
It moves again, let's meet it.  Fa. 
Now if I be not out, we shall have fine sport,  
I am glad I have met you Sir, so happily,  
You do remember me, I am sure.  Lod. 
I do Sir.  Piso. 
This is a short praeludium to a challenge.  Fa. 
I have a message Sir, that much concerns you,  
And for your special good; Nay you may hear too.  Piso. 
What should this fellow mean?  Fa. 
There is a Lady,  
(How the poor thing begins to warm already)  
Come to this Town, (as yet a stranger here Sir)  
Fair, young, and rich, both in possessions,  
And all the graces that make up a woman,  
A widow, and a virtuous one: It works,  
He needs no broth upon't,  Lod. 
What of her Sir?  Fath. 
No more but this; she loves you.  Lod. 
Loves me?  Fa. 
Yes.  
And with a strong affection, but a fair one,  
If ye be wise and thankful, you are made: there's the whole matter.  Lod. 
I am sure I hear this.  Fath. 
Here is a Ring Sir, of no little value:  
Which after she had seen you at a window,  
She bade me haste, and give it, when she blushed  
Like a blown rose.  Lod. 
But pray Sir by your leave—  
methinks your years should promise no ill meaning.  Fa. 
I am no Bawd, nor cheater, nor a coarser  
Of broken-winded women: if you fear me  
I'll take my leave: and let my Lady use  
A fellow of more form; an honester  
I am sure she cannot.  Lod. 
Stay, you have confirmed me,  
Yet let me feel, you are in health.  Fa. 
I hope so,  
My water's well enough, and my pulse.  Lod. 
Then  
All may be excellent: pray pardon me;  
For I am like a boy that had found money,  
Afraid I dream still.  Piso. 
Sir, what kind of woman?  
Of what proportion is your Lady?  Lod. 
ay,  Fa. 
I'll tell you presently her very picture,  
Do you know a woman in this town they call,  
Stay, yes, it is so, Lelia?  Piso. 
Not by sight.  Fa. 
Nor you Sir?  Lod. 
Neither.  Fa. 
These are precious Rogues  
To rail upon a woman they never saw;  
So they would use their Kindred.  Piso. 
We have heard though  
She is very fair and goodly.  Fa. 
Such another,  
Just of the same complexion, making, speech,  
But a thought sweeter is my Lady.  Lod. 
Then  
She must be excellent indeed.  Fa. 
Indeed she is,  
And you will find it so; you do believe me?  Lod. 
Yes marry do I, and I am so altered—  Fa. 
Your happiness will alter any man.  
Do not delay the time Sir: at a house  
Where Don Valasco lay, the Spanish Signior  
(Which now is Signieur Angelo's) she is.  Lod. 
I know it.  Fa. 
But before you show yourself,  
Let it be night by all means, willingly  
By day she would not have such gallants seen  
Repair unto her 'tis her modesty.  Lod. 
I'll go and fit myself.  Fa. 
Do, and be sure  
You send provision in, in full abundance,  
Fit for the marriage; for this night I know  
She will be yours: Sir, have you never a token  
Of worth to send her back again? you must,  
She will expect it.  Lod. 
Yes, pray give her this,  
And with it all I have; I am made for ever. Exit Lod.  Piso. 
Well, thou hast fools luck; should I live as long  
As an old oak, and say my prayers hourly  
I should not be the better of a penny.  
I think the Devil be my ghostly Father;  
Upon my conscience I am full as handsome,  
I am sure I have more wit, and more performance,  
Which is a pretty matter.  Fa. 
Do you think sir,  
That your friend Signeur Piso will be constant  
Unto my Lady? you should know him well.  Piso. 
Who? Signieur Piso?  Fa. 
Yes, the Gentleman.  Piso. 
Why, you are wide Sir.  Fa. 
Is not his name Piso?  Piso. 
No, mine is Piso.  Fa. 
How?  Piso. 
'Tis indeed Sir,  
And his is Lodowick.  Fa. 
Then I am undone Sir,  
For I was sent at first to Piso; what a rascal  
Was I, so ignorantly to mistake you?  Piso. 
Peace.  
There is no harm done yet.  Fa. 
Now 'tis too late,  
I know my error:  
At turning of a Street,  
For you were then upon the right hand of him,  
You changed your places suddenly: where I  
(Like a cross Blockhead) lost my memory:  
What shall I do? my Lady utterly  
Will put me from her favour.  Piso. 
Never fear it,  
I'll be thy guard, I warrant thee, O, O,  
Am I at length reputed? for the Ring,  
I'll fetch it back with a light vengeance from him:  
Had better keep tame Devils, than that Ring;  
Art thou not Steward?  Fa. 
No.  Piso. 
Thou shalt be shortly  Fa. 
Lord how he takes it?  Piso. 
I'll go shift me straight;  
Art sure it was to Piso?  Fa. 
O too sure Sir.  Piso. 
I'll mount thee if I live for't,  
Give me patience heaven to be are this blessing I beseech thee;  
I am but man; I prithee break my head  
To make me understand, I am sensible.  Fa. 
Lend me your dagger, and I will Sir.  Piso. 
No  
I believe now like a good Christian.  Fa. 
Good Sir make haste; I dare not go without ye  
Since I have so mistaken.  Piso. 
'Tis no matter,  
Meet me within this half hour at St. Margret's.  
Well go thy ways old leg, thou hast the trick on't. Exit. Piso.  Enter Angilo, and Julio. Ang. 
How now? the news?  Fa. 
Well, passing well, I have 'em,  
Both in a leash and made right for my purpose.  Jul. 
I am glad on't I must leave you.  Ang. 
Whether man?  Jul. 
If all go right, I may be fast enough too.  Ang. 
I cry you mercy Sir, I know your meaning,  
Clora's the woman, she's Frank's bedfellow,  
Commend me to 'em, and go Julio  
Bring 'em to supper all, to grace this matter;  
They serve for witnesses.  Ju. 
I will, Farewell. Exit Jul at one door, & Ang, & Fa, at another.   

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Clora, Frank, and Fredrick, and Maid. Fred. 
Sister, I brought you Jacamo to the door,  
He has forgot all that he said last night:  
And shame of that makes him more loath to come,  
I left Fabritio persuading him, but 'tis in vain.  Fra. 
Alas my fortune Clora.  Clor. 
Now Frank, See what a kind of man you love,  
That loves you when he's drunk; If so  
Faith I would marry him; My friends I hope  
Would make him drink.  Clor. 
'Tis well considered Frank, he has such pretty humours then,  
Besides being a Soldier, 'tis better he should love  
You when he's drunk, then when he's sober, for then he  
Will be sure to love you, the greatest part on's life.  Fra. 
And were not I a happy woman then?  Clor. 
That ever was borne Frank. i'faith—  Fred. 
How now? what says he?  Enter Fabritio. Fab. 
Faith you may as well 'tice a dog up with a whip, and bell  
As him, by telling him of love and women, he swears  
They mock him.  Fred. 
Look how my Sister weeps.  Fab. 
Why who can help it?  Fred. 
Yes, you may safely swear she loves him.  Fab. 
Why so I did; and may do all the oaths,  
Arithmetic can make, ere he believe me,  
And since he was last drunk, he is more jealous  
They would abuse him: If we could persuade him  
She loved, he would embrace it.  Fred. 
She herself  
Shall bate so much of her own modesty  
To swear it to him; with such tears as now  
You see rain from her.  Fab. 
I believe 'twould work,  
But would you have her do't i'th' open street?  
Or if you would he'll run away from her,  
How shall we get him hither?  Fred. 
By entreaty.  Fab. 
'Tis most impossible, No, If we could  
Anger him hither, as there is no way  
But that to bring him; and then hold him fast  
Women, and men, whilst she delivers to him the truth  
Sealed with her tears, he would be plain  
As a pleased child; he walks below for me  
Under the window.  Clor. 
we'll anger him I warrant ye,  
Let one of the maids take a good bowl of water,  
Or say it be a piss-pot, and power't on's head.  Fab. 
Content hang me If I like not the cast of it rarely, for no question it,  
Is an approved receipt to fetch such a fellow  
Take all the womenkind in this house, betwixt the age of one,  
And one hundred, & let them take unto them a pot or a  
Bowl containing seven quarts or upwards, & let them  
Never leave, till the above named,  
pot or Bowl become full, then let one of them stretch out  
Her arm and power it on his head, add Probatum est, it  
Will fetch him, for in his anger he will run up, & then let  
Us alone.  Clor. 
Go you and do it. Exit Maid.  Fra. 
Good Clora, no.  Clor. 
Away I say & do it; never fear, we have enough of that  
Water ready distilled.  Fra. 
Why this will make him mad Fabritio,  
he'll neither love me drunk, nor sober now.  Fab. 
I warrant you: what, is the wench come up?  Enter Wench above. Clo. 
Art thou there wench?  Wench. 
I.  Fab. 
Look out then if thou canst see him.  Wench. 
Yes I see him, & by my troth he stands so fair I could not  
Hold were he my Father; his hat's of too, & he's scratching  
His head.  Fab. 
O wash that hand I prithee. (I have thrown thee  Wench. 
God send thee good luck, this the second time,  
Out today, ha, ha, ha, just on's head.  Fra. 
Alas!  Fab. 
What does he now?  Wench. 
He gathers stones, God's light, he breaks all the Street windows  Jac. 
Whore's Bawds, your windows, your windows.  Wench. 
Now he is breaking all the low windows with his Sword,  
Excellent sport, Now he's beating a fellow that laughed at him;  
Truly the man takes it patiently; Now he goes down the Street  
Gravely, looking on each side, there's not one more dare laugh.  Fra. 
Does he go on?  Wench. 
Yes.  Fra. 
Fabritio, you have undone a Maid Fran. kneels.  
By treachery; know you some other better,  
You would prefer your friend to? If you do not  
Bring him again, I have no other hope,  
But you that made me loose hope, If you fail me,  
I ne'er shall see him, but shall languish out  
A discontented life, and die contemned.  Fab. 
This vexes me, I pray you be more patient lift her up  
If I have any truth, let what will happen,  
I'll bring him presently, Do you all stand  
At the Street door, the Maids, and all, to watch  
When I come back, and have some private place  
To shuffle me into, for he shall follow  
In fury, but I know I can out run him:  
As he comes in, clap all fast hold on him,  
And use your own discretions.  Fred. 
we will do it.  Fab. 
But suddenly for I will bring him hither,  
With that unstopped speed that you shall run over  
All that's in's way: and though my life be ventured  
'Tis no great matter, will do't.  Fra. 
I thank you,  
Worthy Fabritio. Exeunt.   

Scaena Tertia  Enter Jacamo. Iac. 
I ever knew no woman could abide me,  
But am I grown so contemptible, by being once drunk  
Amongst 'em, that they begin to throw piss on my head?  
For surely it was piss huh, huh. seem to smell.  Enter Fabritio. Fab. 
Jacamo, how dost thou?  Jac. 
Well, something troubled with waterish humours.  Fab. 
Foh, how thou stink'st; prithee stand further of me  
Me things these humours become thee better than thy dry  
Choleric humours, or thy wine-wet humours; ha?  Jac. 
You're pleasant, but Fabrito know I am not in the wood of  
Suffering jest.  Fab. 
If you be not i'th' mood I hope you will not be moody  
But truly I cannot blame the Gentlewoman, you stood eavesdropping,  
Under their window, and would not come up.  Jac. 
Sir, I suspect now, by your idle talk  
Your hand was in't, which if I once believe,  
Be sure you shall account to me.  Fab. 
The Gentlewomen and the Maids have counted to you already  
The next turn I see is mine.  Jac. 
Let me die but this is very strange; good Fabritio  
Do not provoke me so.  Fab. 
Provoke you? you're grown the strongest fellow; there's no  
Keeping company with you, phish; take you that.  Jac. 
O all the Devils? stand Slave. Fab. give him a box o'th' ear suddenly, & throws him from him, & goes his walls, whilst Iaca. draws his Sword.  Fab. 
follow me if thou dar'st.  Jac. 
Stay coward, stay.— Ja: runs after Fabritio.   

Scaena quarta.  Enter Fred. Fra. Clora. and Servant and Maid Clor. 
Be ready for I see Fabritio running,  
And Jacamo behind him.  Enter Fabritio. Fab. 
where's the place.  Fred. 
That way Fabritio. Exit Fab.  Enter Jacamo. Jac. 
Where art thou treacher? Fred. Clor, and Maid, lay hold on Jacamo.  
What is the matter Sirs?  
Why do you hold me? I am basely wronged,  
Torture, and hell, be with you; let me go. they drag him to a chair and hold him down in't.  Fred. 
Good jacamo be patient, and but hear  
What I can say, you know I am your friend,  
If you yet doubt it, by my soul I am.  Iac. 
'Sdeath stand away;  
I would my breath were poison.  Fred. 
As I have life that which was thrown on you,  
And this now done, were but to draw you hither  
For causes weighty, that concern yourself  
Void of all malice, which this Maid my Sister  
Shall tell you.  Iac. 
Puh, a pox upon you all; you will not hold me  
For ever here, and till you let me go,  
I'll talk no more.  Frank. 
As you're a Gentleman  
Let not this boldness make me be believed,  
To be immodest; If there were a way  
More silently to be acquainted with you  
God knows, that I would choose, But as it is  
Take it in plainness: I do love you more  
Than you do your content, If you refuse  
To pity me, I'll never cease to weep,  
And when mine eyes be out I will be told  
How fast the tears I shed for you do fall,  
And if they do not flow abundantly,  
I'll fetch a sigh shall make 'em start, and leap,  
As if the fire wear under.  Iac. 
Fine mocking, fine mocking.  Fred. 
Mocking? look how she weeps.  Iac. 
does she counterfeit crying too.  Fred. 
Behold how the tears flow, or pity her  
Or never more be called a man.  Iac. 
How's this? soft you, soft you my Masters: Is't possible think you,  
She should be in earnest?  Clor. 
Earnest? I in earnest: she's a fool to break so many sleeps,  
That would have been sound ones, & venture such a face, &  
So much life, for ere an humorous ass i'th' world.  Fra. 
Why Clora? I have known you cry as much?  
For Julio, that has not half his worth,  
All night you write and weep too much I fear  
I do but what I should.  Clor. 
If I do write  
I am answered Frank.  Fra. 
I would I might be so.  Jac. 
Good Fredrick let me go I would fain try  
If that thing do not counterfeit.  Fred. 
Give me your Sword then.  Jac. 
No, but take my word,  
As I am man, I will not hurt a creature  
Under this roof, before I have delivered  
myself, as I am now into your hands,  
Or have your full consent.  Fred. 
It is enough.  Ja 
gentlewoman, I pray you let me feel your face; I am an  
Infidel, if she do not weep: Stay, where's my handkerchief?  
I'll wipe the old wet off, the fresh tears come, pox on't  
I am a handsome, gracious fellow amongst women, and  
Knew't not Gentlewoman; how should I know these  
For me? Is not your Mother dead?  Fra. 
By heaven they are for you.  Iac. 
'slight I'll have my head curled, and powdered to tears are morrow  
By break of day; If you love me, I pray you kiss me,  
For If I love you, it shall be such love, as I will not be  
A shamed of, If this be a mock— kisses,  
It is the heartiest, and the sweetest mock  
That ere I tasted, mock me so again — kiss again  Fred. 
Fie jacamo? why do you let her kneel  
So long?  Iac. 
It's true I had forgot it — lift her up,  
And should have done this twelvemonth; pray you rise  
Fredrick, If I could all this while have been persuaded she could  
Have loved me, dost thou think I had not rather kiss her  
Then another should? and yet you may gull me for aught  
I know, but if you do, hell take me If I do not cut  
All your throats sleeping.  Fred. 
Oh do not think of such a thing.  Jac. 
Otherwise, If she be in earnest, the short is I am.  Fran. 
Alas, I am.  Iac. 
And I did not think it possible any woman  
Could have liked this face, it's good for nothing, is't?  Clor. 
Yes it's worth forty shillings to pawn, being lined almost quite  
Through with velvet.  Fra. 
'Tis better than your julio's.  Iac. 
Thou thinkest so,  
But otherwise, in faith it is not Frank — whilst jacamo is kissing Frank.  Enter Fabritio. Fab. 
Hist jacamo; How dost thou Boy? ha?  Iac. 
Why very well, I thank you Sir.  Fab. 
Dost thou perceive the reason of matters, and passages,  
Yet Sirrah, or no?  Jac. 
'Tis wondrous good Sir.  Fab. 
I have done simply for you, but now you are beat to some  
Understanding, I pray you dally not with the Gentlewoman  
But dispatch your Matrimony, with all convenient speed.  Fred. 
He gives good counsel.  Jac. 
And I will follow it.  Fab. 
And I you, prithee do not take it unkindly,  
For trust me I boxed thee for thy advancement,  
A foolish desire I had to joggle thee into preferment.  Iac. 
I apprehend you Sir, & if I can study out a course  
How a bastinadoing may any ways raise your fortunes  
In the State, you shall be sure on't.  Fab. 
Oh Sir keep your way, God send you much joy.  Clor. 
And me my julio.  
O God I hear his voice, now he is true,  
Have at a marriage Frank, as soon as you — Exeunt all but Fred.  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
Sir I would speak with you.  Fred. 
What is your hasty business friend?  Mess. 
The Duke commands your present attendance at Court.  Fred. 
The cause?  Mess. 
I know not in particular; but this  
Many are sent for more, about affairs  
Foreign I take it Sir.  Fred. 
I will be there  
Within this hour, return my humble service.  Mess. 
I will Sir. Exit Messenger.  Fred. 
Farewell friend, what news with you?  Enter a Servant Ser. 
My Mistress would desire you Sir to follow  
With all the haste you can, she is gone to Church,  
To marry Captain jacamo, and julio,  
To do as much for the young merry Gentlewoman,  
Fair Mistress Clora.  Fred. 
Julio, marry Clora?  
Thou art deceived I warrant thee.  Ser. 
No sure Sir,  
I saw their lips as close upon the bargain  
As Cockles.  Fred. 
Give 'em joy, I cannot now go,  
The Duke hath sent for me in haste.  Ser. 
This note Sir: when you are free, will bring you where they are. Ex.  Fred. 
reads .You shall find us all at signior Angilo's,  
Where Piso, and the worthy Lelia  
Of famous memory are to be married,  
And we not far behind.  
Would I had time  
To wonder at this last couple in hell.  Enter Messenger again. Mess. 
You are stayed for Sir.  Fred. 
I come, pray God the business  
Hold me not from this sport, I would not lose it. Exeunt.   

Scaena Quinta.  Enter Father and Servant. Ang. 
God give you joy, and make you live together  
A happy pair.  Piso. 
I do not doubt we shall.  
There was never poor Gentleman had such a sudden fortune,  
I could thrust my head betwixt 2. pales, & strip me out of  
My old skin like a Snake: will the guests come thou saidst  
Thou sentest for to solemnize the Nuptials?  Fa. 
They will, I look for 'em ere this.  Enter Julio, Jacamo, Fabritio, Frank, Clora. Iul. 
By your leave all.  Fath. 
They're here Sir.  Iul. 
Especially fair Lady  
I ask your pardon, to whose marriage bed  
I wish all good success, I have here brought you  
Such guests as can discern your happiness,  
And best do know how to rejoice at it;  
For such a fortune they themselves have run,  
The worthy jacamo, and his fair Bride,  
Noble Fabritio, whom this age of peace  
Has not yet aught to love aught but the wars,  
And his true friends, this Lady who is but  
A piece of me.  Lel. 
Sir, you are welcome all,  
Are they not Sir?  Piso. 
Bring in some wine, some of the wine Lodwick the fool. Exit Fath.  
Sent hither: whoever thou bid'st welcome shall find it  Lel. 
An unexpected honour you have done  
To our too hasty wedding.  Iac. 
Faith Madam, our weddings were as hasty as yours  
weare glad to run up & down any whether, to see where  
We can get meat to our wedding.  Piso. 
That Lodwick hath provided too, good Ass.  Ang. 
I thought you julio, would not thus have stolen a marriage  
Without acquainting your friends.  Iul. 
Why I did give thee inklings.  Ang. 
If a marriage should be thus slubbered up in a play, ere almost  
anybody had taken notice you were in love, the Spectators  
Would take it to be but ridiculous.  Iul. 
This was the first, and I will never hide  
another secret from you.  Enter Father. Father. 
Sir, yonder's your friend Lodwick, hide yourself  
And 'twill be the best sport—  Piso 
Gentlemen, I pray you take no notice, I'm here.  
The coxcomb Lodwick is coming in.  Enter Lodwick. Lodwick. 
Is that that Lady?  Fath. 
That is my Lady.  Lod. 
As I live she's a fair one; what make all these here?  Fath. 
O Lord Sir she is so pestered—  Fab. 
Now will the sport be, it runs right as julio told us  Lod. 
Fair Lady health to you; some words I have, that  
Require an utterance more private,  
Than this place can afford.  Lel. 
I'll call my husband  
All business I hear with his ears now.  Lod. 
Good Madam no, bet I perceive your jest,  
You have no husband, I am the very man  
That walked the streets so comely.  Lel 
Are you so?  Lod. 
Yes faith, when Cupid first did prick your heart  
I am not cruel, but the love began  
I'th' Street I'll satisfy i'th' chamber fully.  Lel. 
To ask a Madman whether he be mad  
Were but an idle question, if you be,  
I do not speak to you, but if you be not  
Walk in the Streets again and there perhaps  
I may dote on you, here I not endure you.  Lod. 
Good Madam stay do not you know this Ring?  Lel. 
Yes it was mine, I sent it by my Man,  
To change and so he did, it has a blemish,  
And this he brought me for it; did you change it?  
Are you a Goldsmith?  Lod. 
Sure the world is mad,  
Sirrah, did you not bring me this ring from your Lady?  Fa. 
Yes surely Sir, did I, but your worship must e'en bear with me;  
For there was a mistaking in it, and so: as I was  
Saying to your worship, my Lady is now married.  Lod. 
Married? to whom?  Fa. 
To your worship's friend Piso.  Lod. 
'Sdeath to Piso?  Piso. 
within. Ha, ha, ha.  Ang. 
Yes Sir I can assure you she's married to him, I saw't  
With these grey eyes.  Lod. 
Why what a Rogue art thou then? thou hast made  
Me send in provision too.  Fa. 
O a Gentleman should not have such foul words in's mouth  
But your worship's provision could not have come in at a fitter time;  
Will it please you to taste any of your own wine?  
It may be the Vintner has cozened you.  Lod. 
Pox I am mad.  Ang. 
You have always plots Sir, & see how they fall out.  Iac. 
You had a plot upon me, how do you like this?  Lod. 
I do not speak to you.  Fab. 
Because you dare not.  Lod. 
But I will have one of that old Rogues teeth set in this Ring  Fath. 
Dost not thou know that I can beat thee?  
Dost thou know it now? (discovers himself)  Lod. 
He beat me once indeed.  Fath. 
And if you have forgot it, I can call a witness.  
Come forth Piso— remember you it?  Piso 
Faith I do call to mind such a matter.  Fath. 
And if I cannot still do't, you are young  
And will assist your Father in law.  Piso. 
My Father in law?  Ang. 
Your Father in law, as sure as this is widow Lelia.  Piso. 
How widow Lelia?  Fath. 
i'faith 'tis she, Son.  Lod. 
Ha, ha, ha, let my provision go, I am glad I  
Have missed the woman.  Piso. 
Have you put a whore upon me?  Lel. 
By heaven you do me wrong, I have a heart  
As pure as any woman's, and I mean  
To keep it so for ever.  Fa. 
There is no starting now, Son, if you offer't  
I can compel you, her estate is great,  
But all made o'er to me, before this match,  
Yet if you use her kindly, as I swear  
I think she will deserve, you shall enjoy it  
During your life, all save some slender piece  
I will reserve for my own maintenance,  
And if God bless you with a child by her,  
It shall have all.  Piso. 
So I may have the means  
I do not much care what the woman is:  
Come my sweet heart, as long as I shall find  
Thy kisses sweet, and thy means plentiful,  
Let people talk their tongues out.  Lel. 
They may talk  
Of what is past, but all that is to come  
Shall be without occasions.  Iul. 
Shall we not make Piso, and Lodwick friends?  Iac. 
hang'em they dare not be Enemies, or if they be,  
The danger is not great, welcome Fredrick.  Enter Fredrick. Fredrick. 
First joy unto you all; and next I think  
We shall have wars.  Iac. 
Give me some wine, I'll drink to that.  Fab. 
I'll pledge.  Fran. 
But I shall lose you then.  Iac. 
Not a whit wench; I'll teach thee presently to be a Soldier  Fred. 
fabritios' command, and yours are both restored  Iac. 
Bring me four glasses then.  Fab. 
Where are they?  Ang. 
You shall not drink 'em here, 'tis supper time,  
And from my house no creature here shall stir,  
These three days, mirth shall flow as well as wine.  Fa. 
Content, within I'll tell you more at large  
How much I am bound to all, but most to you,  
Whose undeserved liberality  
Must not escape thus unrequited,  Jac. 
'Tis happiness to me, I did so well:  
Of every noble action, the intent  
Is to give worth reward, vice, punishment. Exeunt Om.     

 

   

The Prologue.  
TO please you with this Play, we fear will be  
(So does the Author too) a mystery  
Somewhat above our Art; For all men's eyes,  
Ears, faiths, and judgements, are not of one size.  
For to say truth, and not to flatter ye,  
This is nor Comedy, nor Tragedy,  
Nor History, nor any thing that may  
(Yet in a week) be made a perfect Play:  
Yet those that love to laugh, and those that think  
Twelvepence goes farther this way then in drink,  
Or Damsels, if they mark the matter through,  
May stumble on a foolish toy, or two  
Will make 'em show their teeth: pray, for my sake  
(That likely am your first man) do not take  
A distaste before you feel it: for ye may  
When this is hissed to ashes, have a Play.  
And here, to outhiss this; be patient then,  
(My honour done) you're welcome Gentlemen.   

The Epilogue.  
IF you mislike; (as you shall ever be  
Your own free Judges) this Play utterly,  
For your own Nobleness, yet do not hiss,  
But as you go by, say it was amiss;  
And we will mend: Chide us, but let it be  
Never in cold blood: O' my honesty  
(If I have any) this I'll say for all,  
Our meaning was to please you still, and shall.