THE coxcomb.  

Actus Primus,  

Scena Prima.  Enter Richardo and Viola. Rich. 
LEt us make use of this stolen privacy,  
And not loose time in protestation, mistress,  
For 'twere in me a kind of breach of faith,  
To say again I love you.  Vio. 
Sweet speak softly  
For though the venture of your love to me,  
Meets with a willing, and a full return:  
Should it arrive unto my Father's knowledge;  
These were our last discourse.  Rich. 
How shall he know it?  Viol. 
His watching cares are such, for my advancement,  
That everywhere his eye is fixed upon me:  
This night that does afford us some small freedom,  
At the request and much entreaty of,  
The mistress of the house, was hardly given me:  
For I am never suffered to stir out,  
But he hath spies upon me, yet I know not  
You have so won upon me, that could I think  
You would love faithfully (though to entertain  
Another thought of you, would be my death)  
I should adventure on his utmost anger.  Rich. 
Why, do you think I can be false?  Vio. 
No faith,  
You have an honest face, but if you should—  Rich. 
Let all the stored vengeance of heaven's justice—  Vio. 
No more, I do believe you, the dance ended,  
Which this free woman's guests have vowed to have  
Ere they depart, I will make home, and store me  
With all the jewels, Chains, and gold are trusted  
Unto my custody, and at the next corner,  
To my Father's house, before one at the farthest,  
Be ready to receive me.  Rich. 
I desire  
No bond beyond your promise, let's go in,  
To talk thus much before the door, may breed,  
Suspicion. Enter Mercury and Antonio talking.  Viol. 
Here are company too.  Rich. 
Away,  
Those powers that prosper true and honest loves  
Will bless our undertakings.  Vio. 
'Tis my wish Sir. Exit Rich and Viol  Mer. 
Nay, Sir, excuse me, I have drawn you to,  
Too much expense already in my travel:  
And you have been too forward in your love;  
To make my wants your own, allow me manners  
Which you must grant I want, should I increase,  
The bond in which your courtesies have tide me:  
Be still consuming you, give me leave  
To take mine own ways now; and I shall often  
With willingness come to visit you, and then thank you.  Ant. 
By this hand I could be angry, what do you think me?  
Must we that have so long time, been as one  
Seen Cities, Countries, Kingdoms, and their wonders  
Been bedfellows, and in our various journey  
Mixed all our observations, part (as if  
We were 2. Carriers at 2. several ways,  
And as the fore-horse guides, cry God be with you)  
Without or compliment, or ceremony?  
In travellers that know transalpine garbs,  
Though our designs are ne'er so serious, friend,  
It were a capital crime; it must not be,  
Nay what is more, you shall not, you ere long  
Shall see my house, and find what I call mine  
Is wholly at your service.  Mer, 
'Tis this tires me,  
Sir I were easily wooed if nothing else  
But my will lay in the choice, but 'tis not so  
My friends and kindred that have part of me,  
And such on whom my chiefest hopes depend,  
justly expect the tender of my love  
After my travel, than mine own honesty  
Tells me 'tis poor, having indifferent means  
To keep me in my quality and rank,  
At my return to tire another's bounty,  
And let mine own grow lusty, pardon me.  Ant. 
I will not, cannot, to conclude I dare not:  
Can any thing conferred upon my friend  
Be burdensome to me? for this excuse  
Had I no reason else you should not leave me,  
By a traveller's faith you should not, I have said,  
And than you know my humour, there's no contending.  Mer. 
Is there no way to scape this Inundation?  
I shall be drowned with folly if I go:  
And after 9. days men may take me up,  
With my gall broken.  Ant. 
Are you yet resolved?  Mer. 
Wood you would spare me.  Ant. 
By this light I cannot  
By all, that may be sworn by.  Mer. 
Patience help me,  
And heaven grant his folly be not catching:  
If it be, the towns undone, I now would give  
A reasonable sum of gold to any sheriff,  
That would but lay an execution on me,  
And free me from his company; while he was abroad,  
His want of wit and language kept him dumb:  
But Balaam's Ass will speak now without spurring.  Ant. 
Speak, have I won you?—  Enter Servant and Musician. Mer. 
You are not to be resisted.  Ser. 
Be ready I entreat you the dance done,  
Besides a liberal reward I have,  
A bottle of sherry in my power shall beget  
New crotchets in your heads.  Musit. 
Tush fear not us, we'll do our parts.  Ser. 
Go in,  Ant. 
I know this fellow.  
Belong you to the house?  Ser. 
I serve the Mistress.  Ant. 
Pretty, and short, pray you sir then inform her,  
Two Gentlemen are covetous to be honoured,  
With her fair presence.  Ser. 
She shall know so much,  
This is a merry night with us, and forbid not  
Welcome to any that looks like a man:  
I'll guide you the way.  Ant. 
Nay follow, I have a trick in't. Exit.  Enter Uberto, Silvio, Richardo, Maria, Pedro. Portia, Viola, with others. Uber. 
Come where's this mask? fairest for our cheer,  
Our thanks and service, may you long survive,  
To joy in many of these nights.  Mar. 
I thank you.  Uber. 
We must have music too, or else you give us,  
But half a welcome.  Mar. 
Pray you Sir excuse me.  Silu. 
By no means Lady.  Uber. 
we'll crown your liberal feast,  
With some delightful strain fitting your love:  
And this good company.  Mar. 
Since you enforce it,  
I will not plead the excuse of want of skill  
Or be, or nice, or curious, every year,  
I celebrate my marriage night; and will  
Till I see my absent husband.  Uber. 
'Tis fit freedom.  Silu. 
Richardo thou art dull—  Enter Servant. Rich. 
I shall be lighter,  
When I have had a heat.  Mar. 
Now Sir, the news?  Ser. 
Mistress there are 2. Gentlemen.  Mar. 
Where?  Ser. 
Complementing who should first enter.  Mar. 
What are they?  Ser. 
Heaven knows, but for their strangeness, have you never seen a Cat wash her face?  Uber. 
Yes.  Ser. 
just such a stir they keep if you make but haste,  
You may see 'em yet before they enter.  Enter Antonio and mercury. Mer. 
Let 'em be what they will, we'll give them fair  
Entertain, and gentle welcome.  Ant. 
It shall be so.  Mer. 
Then let it be your pleasure.  Ant. 
Let's stand aside and you shall see us have  
Fine sport anon.  Mer. 
A fair society, do you know these Gentle women?  Ant. 
Yes.  Mer. 
What are they?  Ant. 
The second is a neighbour's daughter, her name is Viola.  
There is my kinsman's wife, Portia her name, and a  
Friend too.  Mer. 
Let her— what's she that leads the dance?  1. Ser. 
A Gentlewoman.  Mer. 
I see that.  1. Ser. 
Indeed?  Mer. 
What?  1. Ser. 
A Gentlewoman.  Mer. 
Udsfoote, good Sir what's she that leads the dance?  2. Ser. 
My Mistress.  Mer. 
What else?  2. Ser. 
My Mistress, Sir.  Mer. 
Your Mistress? a pox on you, What a fry of fools are here? I see 'tis treason to understand in this house; if nature were not better to them, than they can be to themselves, they would scant hit their mouths; my Mistress? Is there any one with so much wit in 's head, that can tell me at the first sight, what Gentlewoman that is that leads the dance?  Ant. 
'Tis my wife.  Mer. 
Hum.  Ant. 
How dost thou like her?  Mer. 
Well, a pretty Gentlewoman.  Ant. 
Prithee be quiet.  Mer. 
I would I could  
Let never any hereafter that's a man,  
That has affections in him and free passions,  
Receive the least tie from such a fool as this is,  
That holds so sweet a wife, 'tis lamentable to consider truly  
What right he robs himself of, and what wrong  
He doth the youth of such a Gentlewoman?  
That knows her beauty is no longer hers,  
Than men will please to make it so, and use it  
Neither of which lies freely in a husband,  
O what have I done ,what have I done, Coxcomb?  
If I had never seen, or never tasted  
The goodness of this kix, I had been a made man,  
But now to make a Cuckold is a sin  
Against all forgiveness, worse than a murder;  
I have a Wolf by the ears, and am bitten both ways.  Ant. 
How now friend, what are you thinking of?  Mer. 
Nothing concerning you, I must be gone.  Ant. 
Pardon me, I'll have no going sir.  Mer. 
Then good sir give me leave to go to bed,  
I am very weary and ill tempered.  Ant. 
You shall presently, the dance is done.  1 Ser. 
Mistress, these are the gentlemen.  Mar. 
My husband will come home, dear sir.  Mer. 
She's fair still, O that I were a knave or durst be one,  
For thy sake coxcomb; he that invented honesty, undid me.  Ant. 
I had you had not known me, you're merry 'tis well thought,  
And how is't with these worthy Gent?  Vb. & Sil. 
We are glad to see you here again  Ant. 
Oh Gent, what ha'you lost? but get you into travels,  
There you may learn, I cannot say what hidden virtues.  Mer. 
Hidden from you I am sure,  
My blood boil like a furnace,  
she's a fair one.  Ant. 
Pray entertain this Gent. with all the courtesy,  
Fitting my most especial friend.  Mar. 
What this poor house may yield,  
To make you welcome dear sir command  
Without more compliment.  Mer. 
I thank you:  
she's wise and speaks well too, oh what a blessing  
Is gone by me near to be recovered?  
Well, 'twas an old shame the Devil laid up for me, and now has hit me home; if there be any ways to be dishonest and save myself yet,— No it must not be, why should I be a fool to— Yet those eyes would tempt another Adam, how they call to me, and tell me— 'sfoot they shall not tell me any thing, sir will you walk in.  Ant. 
How is't Signior?  Mer. 
Crazy a little.  Mar. 
What ail you sir?  
What's in my power pray make use of, sir.  Mer. 
'tis that must do me good, she does not mock me sure,  
An't please you nothing, my disease is only weariness.  Vb. 
Come Gent. we'll not keep you from your beds too long.  Rich. 
I ha' some business, and 'tis late, and you far from your lodging.  Sil. 
Well. Exit. Manent, Ant. Mar. and Mer.  Ant. 
Come my dear Mercury, I'll bring you to your chamber, and then I am for you, Maria, thou art a new wife to me now, and thou shalt find it, ere I sleep.  Mer. 
And I, an old ass to myself, mine own rod whips me,— good sir no more of this, 'tis tedious, you are the best guide in your own house— go sir—  Exit Ant. & Mer. 
This fool, and his fair wife have made me frantic  
From two such physics for the soul, deliver me.  Enter Richardo, Uberti, Pedro, & Silvio. Vb. 
Well, you must have this wench then.  Ric. 
I hope so, I am much o'th' bow hand else.  Ped. 
Wood I were hanged, 'tis a good loving little fool that dares venture herself upon a coast she never knew yet, but these women, when they are once thirteen, god speed the plough.  Sil. 
Faith they'll venture further, so their lading then a Merchant, and through as many storms, but they'll be fraughted, they are made like Carrecks only strength and storage.  Ric. 
Come, come, you talk, you talk.  Sil. 
We do so, but tell me Richardo, wilt thou marry her?  Ric. 
Marry her? why what should I do with her?  Ped. 
Pox, I thought we should have had all shares in her like lawful prize.  Ric. 
No by my faith sir, you shall pardon me, I launched her at my own charge without partners, and so I'll keep her.  Vb. 
what's the hour?  Rich. 
Twelve.  Vb. 
What shall we do the while? 'tis yet scarce eleven.  Sil. 
There's no standing here, is not this the place?  Ric. 
Yes.  Ped. 
And to go back unto her father's house, may breed suspicion lets slip into a Tavern, for an hour, 'tis very cold.  Vb. 
Content, there is one hard by, a quart of burnt sack will recover us, I am as cold as Christmas, this stealing flesh in the frosty weather, may be sure i'th' eating, but sure the woodmen have no great catch on't; shalls go?  Rich. 
Thou art the strangest lover of a tavern, what shall we do there now? lose the hour and ourselves too?  Vb. 
Lose a pudding; what dost thou talk of the hour; will one quart muzzle us? have we not ears to hear, and tongues to ask the drawers, but we must stand here like bawds to watch the minutes?  Sil. 
Prithee content thyself, we shall scout here, as though we went a haying, and have some mangey prentice, that cannot sleep for scratching, over ear us, come will you go sirs? when your love fury is a little frozen, you'll come to us.  Ric. 
will you drink but one quart then?  Ped. 
No more i'faith.  Sil. 
Content.  Ric. 
Why then, have with you, but let's be very watchful  Vb. 
As watchful as the bellman, come I'll lead, because I hate good manners, they are too tedious. Exeunt.  Enter Viola with a Key and a little Casket. 
The night is terrible and I enclosed  
With that my virtue and myself hate most,  
Darkness; yet must I fear that which I wish,  
Some company, and every step I take  
Sounds louder in my fearful ears tonight  
Then ever did, the shrill and sacred bell  
That rang me to my prayers; the house will rise  
When I unlock the door, were it by day  
I am bold enough, but then a thousand eyes  
Warn me from going, might not God have made  
A time for envious prying folk to sleep  
Whilst lovers met, and yet the sun have shone?  
Yet I was bold enough, to steal this key  
Out of my father's Chamber, and dare yet  
Venture upon mine enemy, this night,  
Armed only with my love, to meet my friend.  
Alas how valiant, and how 'fraid at once  
Love makes a Virgin? I will throw this key  
Back through a window, I had wealth enough  
In jewels with me, if I hold his love  
I steal 'em for; farewell my place of birth,  
I never make account to look on thee again;  
And if there be as I have heard men say,  
These household gods, I do beseech them look  
To this my charge, bless it from thieves and fire,  
And keep till happily my love I win  
Me from thy door, and hold my Father in. Exit.  Enter Richardo, Pedro, Uberti, Silvio, and Drawer with a Candle. Ric. 
No more for God sake, how is the night boy?  Draw. 
Faith sir 'tis very late.  Vb. 
Faith sir you lie, is this your jack i'th' clockhouse? will you strike sir? gi's some more sack, you varlet.  Ric. 
Nay, if you love me, good Uberti go,  
I am monstrous hot with wine.  Vb. 
Quench it again with love, Gent. I will-drinke one health more, and then if my legs say me not shamefully nay, I will go with you, give me a singular quart.  Draw. 
Of what wine sir?  Vber. 
Of Sack, you that speak confusion at the bar, of sack I say, and every one his quart, what a devil let's be merry.  Draw. 
You shall sir. Exit.  Pet. 
We will sir, and a dried tongue.  Sil. 
And an Olive, boy, and a whole bunch of fiddlers, my head swims plaguely, uds precious I shall be claud.  Enter Drawer with four quarts of wine. Ric. 
Pray go, I can drink no more, think on your promise, 'tis midnight Gentlemen.  Vb. 
O that it were dumb midnight now, not a word more, every man on's knees, and betake himself to his saint, here's to your wench, seignor, all this, & then away.  Rich. 
I cannot drink it.  Ped. 
'tis a toy, a toy, away wilt.  Vber. 
Now dare I speak any thing, to anybody living, come where's the fault? off with it.  Ric. 
I have broke my wind, call you this sack?— I wonder who made it? he was a sure workman, for 'tis plaguy strong work, is it gone round?  Vb. 
'tis at the last out of my way, good boy, is the moon up yet?  Draw. 
Yes sir.  Vb. 
Where is she boy?  Draw. 
There sir.  Vb. 
We shall have rain and thunder, boy.  Draw. 
When sir?  Vb. 
I cannot tell, but sure we shall, boy.  Draw. 
The Gent. is wine wise.  Vber. 
Drawer?  Draw. 
Here sir.  Vb. 
Can you procure?  Draw. 
What sir?  Vber. 
A whore or two or three as need shall serve, boy?  Sil. 
ay, a good whore were worth money, boy.  Draw. 
I protest sir we are all together unprovided.  Ric. 
The more's the pity, boy, can you not 'vise us where my child?  Draw. 
Neither, in troth sir.  Ped. 
Why where were you brought up boy? no juggling of a whore? no aim my boy?  Vber. 
It cannot sink in my head now, that thou shouldst marry, why shouldst thou marry, tell me?  Rich. 
I marry? I'll be hanged first: some more wine boy.  Sil. 
Is she not a whore translated? & she be, let's repair to her.  Ric. 
I cannot tell, she may be an offender; but signior Silvio I shall scratch your head, indeed I shall.  Sil. 
Judge me I do most jest with thee, what an she were inverted with her heels upward, like a traitor's Coat? what care I.  Vb. 
ay, hang her, shall we fall out for her?  Rich. 
I am a little angry, but these wenches, did you not talk of wenches?  Sil. 
Boy lend me your candle.  Draw. 
Why Sir?  Sil. 
To set fire to your rotten feeling, you'll keep no  
Whores, Rogue, no good members;  Draw. 
Whores Sir?  Silu. 
ay, whores, Sir, do you think we come to lie with your hogsheads?  Rich. 
I must beat the watch, I have longed for't any time this three weeks.  Silu. 
we'll beat the town too, and thou wilt, we are proof boy; shall we kill anybody?  Rich. 
No but we'll hurt 'em dangerously.  Uber. 
Silu. Now must I kill one, I cannot avoid it, boy easily afore there with your candle; where's your Mistress?  Draw. 
A bed, Sir.  Sil. 
With whom?  Draw. 
With my Master.  Uber. 
You lie Boy, she's better brought up then to lie with her husband, has he not cast his head yet? next year he will be a velvet-headed Cuckold.  Draw. 
You are a merry Gentleman, there Sir, take hold Exeunt.  Enter Viola. Viola. 
This is the place I have out told the Clock,  
For haste, he is not here. Richardo? no;  
Now every power that loves and is beloved:  
Keep me from shame tonight, for all you know  
Each thought of mine is innocent, and pure,  
As flesh and blood can hold: I cannot back;  
I threw the key within, and ere I raise  
My Father up, to see his daughter's shame,  
I'll set me down, and tell the Northern wind,  
That it is gentler than the curling West;  
If it will blow me dead, but he will come;  
i'faith 'tis cold; if he deceive me thus,  
A woman will not easily trust a man. Hark what's that?  Sil within. 
thouart over long at thy pot, tom, tom, thou art over long at the pot tom.  Viol. 
Bless me! whose's that?  Pedro within. 
Who!  Uber. within. 
There Boys.  Viol. 
Darkness be thou my cover, I must fly,  
To thee I haste for help—  Enter Richardo, Pedro, Uberto, Drawer with a torch. Viol. 
They have a light,  
Wind if thou lov'st a virgin blow it out,  
And I will never shut a window more,  
To keep thee from me.  Rich. 
Boy?  Draw. 
Sir.  Rich. 
Why Boy?  Draw. 
What say you Sir?  Rich. 
Why boy? art thou drunk boy?  Draw. 
What would you Sir?  Rich. 
Why very good, where are we?  Uber. 
ay, that's the point.  Draw. 
Why Sir, you will be at your lodging presently.  Rich. 
I'll go to no lodging Boy.  Draw. 
whether will you go then Sir?  Rich. 
I'll go no farther.  Draw. 
For God's sake Sir, do not stay here all night.  Rich. 
No more I will not boy, lay me down, and roll me to a whore.  Uber. 
And me.  Ped. 
There spoke an—  Silvio. 
Then set your foot to my foot, & up tails all.  Viola. 
That is Richardo, what a noise they make?  
'Tis ill don on 'em: here Sirs, Richardo?  Rich.. 
What's that Boy?  Dra. 
'Tis a wench Sir, pray Gent. come away.  Viol. 
O my dear love! how dost thou?  Rich. 
My sweet heart? even as thou seest.  Ped. 
where's thy wench?  Uber. 
where's this bed worm?  Viol. 
Speak softly for the love of heaven.  Draw. 
Mistress get you gone, and do not entice the gent. now you see they're drunk, or I'll call the watch, and lay you fast enough.  Vio. 
Alas what are you? or what do you mean?  
Sweet love where's the place?  Ric. 
Marry sweet love, e'en here, lie down I'll feeze you.  Vio. 
Good god! what mean you?  Ped. 
I'll have the wench.  Vber. 
If you can get her.  Sil. 
No I'll lie with the wench tonight, and she shall be yours tomorrow.  Ped. 
Let go the wench.  Sil. 
Let you go the wench.  Viol. 
O Gent. as you had mothers!  Vber. 
They had no mothers, they are the sons of bitches  Ric. 
Let that be maintained.  Sil. 
Marry then.  Viol. 
Oh bless me heaven!  Vber. 
How many is there on's?  Ric. 
About five.  Vber. 
Why then let's fight three to three. Draw and fall down.  Sil. 
Content.  Draw. 
The watch? the watch? the watch? where are you? Exit.  Ric. 
Where are these cowards?  Ped. 
there's the whore.  Viol. 
I never saw a drunken man before,  
But these I think are so.  Sil. 
Oh!  Ped. 
I missed you narrowly there.  Viol. 
My state is such, I know not how to think,  
A prayer fit for me, only I could move,  
That never maiden more might be in love. Exit.  Enter Drawer, Constable and Watch. Watch. 
Where are they, boy?  Draw. 
Make no such haste sir, they are no runners.  Vb. 
I am hurt, but that's all one, I shall light upon some of ye,  
Pedro thou art a tall Gent. let me kiss thee.  Watch. 
My friend.  Vber. 
Your friend? you lie.  Ric. 
Stand further off, the watch, you are full of fleas.  Const. 
Gent either be quiet, or we must make you quiet.  Rich. 
Nay good Mr. Constable, be not so Rigorous.  Vber. 
Mr. Constable lend me thy hand of justice.  Const. 
That I will sir.  Vber. 
Fie Mr. Constable what golls you have? is justice so blind she cannot see to wash your hands? I cry you mercy Sir; Your gloves are one.  Dra. 
Now you are up Sir, will you go to bed?  Ped. 
I'll truckle here Boy, give me another pillow.  Draw. 
will you stand up and let me lay it on then?  Ped. 
Yes.  Draw. 
There hold him two of ye, now they are up be going Mr. Constable  Rich. 
And this way, and that way, tom.  Uber. 
And here away and there away tom.  Silu. 
This is the right way the others the wrong.  Ped. 
Th' others the wrong.  All. 
Thou art over long at the pot tom, tom.  Rich. 
Lead valiantly sweet Constable, whoop! ha Boys!  Const. 
This wine hunts in their heads.  Rich. 
Give me the bill, for I'll be the Sergeant.  Const. 
Look to him Sirs.  Rich. 
Keep your Ranks you Rascals, keep your Ranks.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus  

Scena Prima.  Enter Mercury. Mercury. 
I Cannot sleep for thinking of this ass's wife, I'll be gone presently, there's no staying here, with this Devil about me? hoe, this is the house of sleep, hoe? again there's foot the darkness, and this love together, will make me lunatic; ho?  Enter a Servingman above unready. Ser. 
Who calls there?  Mer. 
Pray take the pains to rise and light a candle.  Ser. 
Presently,  Mer. 
Was ever man but I in such a stocks? well this shall be a warning to me, and a fair one too, how I betray myself to such a dunce, by way of benefit.  Enter Servingman. Ser. 
Did you call?  Mer. 
Yes, pray do me the kindness sir, to let me out and not to inquire why, for I must needs be gone.  Ser. 
Not tonight, I hope sir.  Mer. 
Good sir tonight, I would not have troubled you else, pray let it be so.  Ser. 
Alas sir, my Master will be offended.  Mer. 
That I have business? no I warrant ye.  Ser. 
Good sir take your rest.  Mer. 
Pray my good friend let me appoint my own rest.  Ser. 
Yes sir.  Mer. 
Then show me the way out, I'll consider you.  Ser. 
Good Lord, sir.  Mer. 
If I had not an excellent tempered patience, now should I break this fellow's head, and make him understand 'twere necessary; the only plague of this house is the unhandsome love of servants, that near do their duty in the right place, but when they muster before dinner, and sweep the table with a wooden dagger, and then they are troublesome too, to all men's shoulders, the Woodcocks fleshed again, now I shall have a new stir.  Enter Antonio. Ant. 
Why how now friend? what do you up so late? are you well? do you want any thing? pray speak.  Mer. 
Only the cause I rise for.  Ant. 
What knaves are these? what do you want? why sirrah?  Mer. 
Nothing i'the world, but the keys to let me out of doors; I must be gone, be not against it, for you cannot stay me.  Ant. 
begone at this time? that were a merry jest.  Mer. 
If there be any mirth in't, make you use on't, but I must go.  Ant. 
Why for love's sake?  Mer. 
'Twill benefit your understanding nothing to know the cause, pray go to bed, I'll trouble your man only.  Ant. 
Nay Sir you have raised more, that has reason to curse you, and you knew all, my wife's up, and coming down too.  Mer. 
Alas it will be a trouble, pray go up to her and let me disturb no more, 'tis unmannerly.  Enter Wife as out of her bed. Ant. 
she's here already; sweet heart: how say you by this Gentleman? he would away at midnight.  Wife. 
That I am sure he will not.  Mer. 
Indeed I must.  Mari. 
Good Sir let not your homely entertainment press you to leave your bed at midnight; if you want, what my house or your town may afford you, make it your own fault if you call not for it pray go to bed again; let me compel you, I am sure you have no power to deny a woman; the air is piercing, & to a body beaten with long travel, 'twill prove an ill Physician.  Mer. 
If she speak longer I shall be a knave, as rank as ever sweat for't; Sir if you will send your wife up presently, I will either stay with you, d'ye mark, me or deliver you, so just a cause, that you yourself, shall thrust me out of doors, both suddenly and willingly.  Ant. 
I would fain hear that faith, pray thee go up sweet heart, I have half persuaded him, besides, he hath some private business with me.  Mer. 
Good night Sir, and what content you would have, I wish with you. Exit.  Mer. 
Could any man that had a back ask more? o me! o me!  Ant. 
Now deal directly with me: why should you go?  Mer. 
If you be wise do not inquire the cause, 'twill trouble you:  Ant. 
Why? prithee why?  Mer. 
Faith I would not have you know it, let me go, 'twill be far better for you.  Ant. 
Who's that, that knocks there? is't not at the street door?  Ser. 
Yes sir.  Ant. 
Who's there, cannot you speak?  Within Vio. 
A poor distressed maid, for God's sake let me in.  Mer. 
Let her in and me out together, 'tis but one labour, 'tis pity she should stand i'th' street, it seems she knows you.  Ant. 
There she shall stand for me, you are ignorant; this is a common custom of the Rogues that lie about the loose parts of the City.  Mer. 
As how?  Ant. 
To knock at doors in dead time of night, and use some feigned voice to raise compassion, and when the doors are open, in they rush, and cut the throats of all and take the booty, we cannot be too careful.  Within Vi. 
As ever you had pity let me in, I am undone else.  Ant. 
Who are you?  Vio. 
My name is Viola, a Gentlewoman, that ill chance hath distressed, you know my father,  Mer. 
Alas of god we'll let her in, 'tis one of the Gentlewomen were here i'th' evening, I know her by her name, (poor soul) she's cold I warrant her, let her have my warm Bed, and I'll take her fortune; come, pray come.  Ant. 
It is not Viola that's certain, she went home to her fathers, I am sure,  Vio. 
Will not you be so good to let me in?  Ant. 
I'll be so good to have you whipped away if you stay a little longer: she's gone I warrant her, now let me know your cause for I will hear it, and not repent the knowing.  Mer. 
Since you are so importunate, I'll tell you, I love your wife extremely.  Ant. 
Very well.  Mer. 
And so well that I dare not stay.  Ant. 
Why?  Mer. 
For wronging you, I know I am flesh and blood, and you have done me friendships infinite and often, that must require me honest and a true man, and I will be so or I'll break my heart.  Ant. 
Why, you may stay for all this, methinks.  Mer. 
No, though I wood be good, I am no saint, nor is it safe to try me, I deal plainly.  Ant. 
Come I dare try you, do the best you can.  Mer. 
You shall not when I am right again, I'll come and see you, till when, I'll use all Countries and all means, but I will lose this folly, 'tis a Devil.  Ant. 
Is there no way to stay you?  Mer. 
No, unless you will have me such a villain to you as all men shall spit at me.  Ant. 
does she know you love her?  Mer. 
No I hope not, that were recompense fit for a Rogue to render her.  Ant. 
If ever any had a faithful friend I am that man, and I may glory in't, this is he, that ipse, he that passes all Christendom for goodness, he shall not over go me in his friendship 'twere recreant and base, and I'll be hanged first, I am resolved, go thy ways, a wife shall never part us, I have considered and I find her nothing to such a friend as thou art; I'll speak a bold word, take your time and woe her, you have overcome me clearly, and do what's fitting with her, you conceive me, I am glad at heart you love her: by this light, ne'er stare upon me for I will not fly from it, if you had spoken sooner, sure you had been served; Sir, you are not every man, now to your task, I give you free leave, and the sin is mine if there be any in it.  Mer. 
He will be hanged before he makes this good, he cannot be so innocent a Coxcomb, he can tell ten sure, if I had never known you as I have done, I might be one, as others perhaps sooner, but now 'tis impossible there's too much good between us.  Ant. 
Well thou art e'en the best man— I can say no more, I am, so over joyed, you must stay this night, and in the morning go as early as you please, I have a toy for you.  Mer. 
I thought this pill would make you sick.  Ant. 
But where you mean to be I must have notice,  
And it must be hard by too, do you mark me?  Mer. 
Why? what's the matter?  Ant. 
There is a thing in hand.  Mer. 
Why? what thing?  Ant. 
A sound one, if it take right, and you be not peevish We two will be— you would little think it; as famous for our friendship—  Mer. 
How?  Ant. 
If God please, as ever Damon was and Pytheas or Pylades, and Orestes, or any two that ever were: do you conceive me yet?  Mer. 
No by my troth Sir; he will not help me up sure.  Ant. 
You shall anon, and for our names, I think they shall live after us, and be remembered while there is a story; or I lose my aim.  Mer 
What a vengeance ails he? how do you?  Ant. 
Yes faith, we two willbe such friends as the world shall ring off.  Mer. 
And why is all this?  Ant. 
You shall enjoy my wife.  Mer. 
Away, away.  Ant. 
The wonder must begin, so I have cast it, 'twill be scurvy else, you shall not stir a foot i''nt, pray be quiet till I have made it perfect.  Mer. 
What shall a man do with this wretched fellow? there is no mercy to be used towards him, he is not capable of any pity, he will in spite of course be a Cuckold, And who can help it? must it begin so needs Sir?— think again.  Ant. 
Yes marry must it, and I myself will woe this woman for you, do you perceive it now? ha?  Mer. 
Yes now I have a little sight i'th' matter; o that thy head should be so monstrous, that all thy Servants hats may hang upon't! but do you mean to do this?  Ant. 
Yes certain, I will woe her, and for you, strive not against it, 'tis the overthrow of the best plot that ever was then.  Mer. 
Nay I'll assure you Sir, I'll do no harm, you have too much about you of your own.  Ant. 
Have you thought of a place yet?  Mer. 
A place?  Ant. 
I a place where you will bide, prithee no more of this modesty, 'tis foolish, and we were not determined to be absolute friends indeed, 'twere tolerable.  Mer. 
I have thought, and you shall hear from me.  Ant. 
Why? this will gain me everlasting glory; I have the better of him, that's my comfort, good night. Exit.  Mer. 
Good night, well go thy ways, thou art the tidiest wittol this day I think above ground, and yet thy end for all this must be motley. Exit.  Enter a tinker, with a cord, and Dorathy. Tinck. 
'Tis bitter cold; a plague upon these Rogues, how wary they are grown? not a door open now, but double bard, not a window, but up with a case of wood like a spice box, and their locks unpickable, the very smith's that were half venturers, drink penitent single Ale, this is the Iron age, the Ballad sings of; well I shall meet with some of our loose Linen yet, good fellows must not starve; here's he shall show you God a mighties dog bolts, if this hold.  Dorathy. 
Faith thou art but too merciful, that's thy fault thou art as sweet a thief, that sin excepted ever suffered, that's a proud word and I'll maintain it.  Tinck. 
Come prithee let's shogg off, & browse an hour or two, there's ale will make a Cat speak, at the harrow, we shall get nothing now, without we batter, 'tis grown too near morning, the Rogues sleep sober, and are watchful.  Dorit. 
we want a Boy extremely for this function kept under for a year, with milk and knot-grass; in my time I have seen a boy do wonders Robin the red tinker had a boy Rest his soul he suffered this time 4. years for two spoons, & a Pewter Candlestick, that sweet man had a Boy as I am kirsened Whore, would have run through a Cat hole, he would have bolted such a piece of linen in an evening—  Tinck. 
Well, we will have a Boy, prithee let's go, I am vengeance cold I tell thee.  Dorithy. 
I'll be hanged before I stir without some purchase by these ten bones, I'll turn she ape and untile a house, but I'll have it, it may be I have an humour to be hanged, I cannot tell  Enter Viola, Tinck. 
Peace, you flayed whore, thou hast a mouth like a Bloodhound, here comes a night shade.  Dorit. 
A Gentlewoman whore, by this darkness I'll case her to the skin.  Tinck. 
Peace I say.  Viola. 
What fear have I endured this dismal night?  
And what disgrace if I were seen and known?  
In which this darkness, only is my friend,  
That only has undone me; a thousand curses  
Light on my easy, foolish childish, love,  
That durst so lightly lay a confidence  
Upon a man, so many being false;  
my weariness, and weeping makes me sleepy, I must lie down.  Tin. 
what's this? a prayer, or a homily, or a Ballad of good council? she has a gown, I am sure.  Dor. 
Knock out her brains and then she'll ne'er bite  Tin. 
Yes I will knock her, but not yet, you? woman?  Viol. 
For God's sake what are you?  Tin. 
One of the grooms of your wardrobe, come uncase, uncase; by'r lady a good Kersey.  Vio. 
Pray do not hurt me sir.  Dor. 
Let's have no pity, for if you do, here's that shall cut your whistle.  Viol. 
Alas what would you have? I am as miserable as you can make me any way.  Dor. 
That shall be tried.  Vio. 
Here, take my gown if that will do you pleasure.  Tin. 
Yes marry will it, look in the pocket's Doll, there may be birds.  Dor. 
They are flown a pox go with them, I'll have this Hat, and this Ruff too, I like it, now will I flourish like a Lady, brave i'faith boy.  Vio. 
You're so gentle people to my seeming,  
That by my truth I could live with you.  Tin. 
Could you so? a pretty young round wench, well blooded, I am for her, thieves.  Dor 
But by this I am not, cool your Codpiece, Rogue, or I'll clap a spell upon't, shall take your edge off with a very vengeance.  Tin. 
Peace horseflesh, peace, I'll cast off my Amazon, she has walked too long, and is indeed notorious, she'll fight and scold, and drink like one of the worthies.  Dort. 
Uds precious you young contagious whore must you be 'ticing? and is your flesh so rank sir, that two may live upon't? I am glad to hear your curtal grown so lusty; he was dry foundered t'other day, we he my pampered lade of Asia.  Vio. 
Good woman do not hurt me, I am sorry that I have given any cause of anger.  Dor. 
Either bind her quickly and come away, or by this steel I'll tell though I truss for company; now could I eat her broiled, or any way, without vinegar, I must have her nose.  Vio. 
By any thing you love best, good sir, good woman.  Tin. 
Why her nose Dorithy?  Dor. 
If I have it not and presently and warm, I lose that I go withal.  Tin. 
Wood the Devil had that thou goest withal, and thee together, for sure he got thy whelps if thou hast any, she's thy dear dad, whore! put up your cutpurse; an I take my switch up, 'twill be a black time with you else sh your bung whore.  Dor. 
Will you bind her? we shall stand here prating and be hung both.  Tin. 
Come I must bind you, not a word, no crying.  Vio. 
Do what you will, indeed I will not cry.  Tin. 
Hurt her not, if thou dost by Ale and Bear I'll clout thy old bald brain pan, with a piece of brass, you bitch incarnate.  Exeunt Tinker and Dorithy. Viola. 
O God to what am I reserved, that knew not  
Through all my childish hours and actions  
More sin than poor imagination,  
And too much loving of a faithless man?  
For which I am paid, and so, that not the day  
That now is rising to protect the harmless,  
And give the innocent a sanctuary  
From thieves and spoilers, can deliver me  
From shame, at least suspicion—  Enter Valerio. Val. 
Sirrah lead down the horses easily, I'll walk afoot till I be down the hill, 'tis very early, I shall reach home betimes. How now, whose's there?  Vio. 
Night that was ever friend to lovers, yet  
Has raised some weary soul, that hates his bed  
To come and see me blush, and then laugh at me.  Val. 
he'd a rude heart that did this.  Vio. 
Gentle sir,  
If you have that which honest men call pity,  
And be as far from evil as you show;  
Help a poor maid, that this night by bad fortune  
Has been thus used by Robbers.  Val. 
A pox upon his heart that would not help thee, this thief was half a Lawyer, by his bands, how long have you been tied here?  Viol. 
Alas this hour, and with cold and fear am almost perished.  Val. 
Where were the watch the while? good sober Gent. they were like careful members of the City, drawing in diligent ale and singing catches, while Mr. Constable contrived the toasts: these fellows would be more severely punished then wandering Gipsies, that every statute whips, for if they had every one two eyes a piece more, three pots would put them out.  Viol. 
I cannot tell I found no Christian to give me succour.  Val. 
When they take a thief, I'll take Ostend again; the whoresons drink opium in their Ale, & then they sleep like tops; as for their bills, they only serve to reach down Bacon to make Rashers on; now let me know whom I have done this courtesy too, that I may thank my early rising for it?  Viol. 
Sir, All I am, you see.  Val 
You have a name I'm sure, and a kindred, a father, friend or something that must own you; she's a handsome young wench; what Rogues were these to Rob her?  Vio. 
Sir you see all I dare reveal,  
And as you are a Gent press me no further;  
For there begins a grief whose bitterness  
Will break a stronger heart than I have in me,  
And 'twill but make you heavy with the hearing,  
For your own goodness sake desire it not.  Val. 
If you would not have me inquire that, how do you live then?  Viol. 
How I have lived, is still one question,  
Which must not be resolved—  
How I desire to live, is in your liking,  
So worthy an opinion I have of you,  Val. 
Is in my liking? how I pray thee? tell me, i'faith I'll do you any good lys in my power; she has an eye would raise a bedrid man; come leave your fear and tell me, that's a good wench.  Viol. 
Sir I would serve—  Val. 
Who wouldst thou serve? do not weep and tell me.  Viol. 
Faith sir even some good woman, and such a wife if you be married, I do imagine yours.  Val. 
Alas! thou art young and tender, let me see thy hand, this was near made to wash or wind up water, beat clothes, or rub a floor, by this light, for one use that shall be nameless, 'tis the best wanton hand that ere I look on.  Vio. 
Dare you accept me sir, my heart is honest,  
Among your virtuous charitable deeds,  
This will not be the least.  Val. 
Thou canst in a Chamber.  Vio 
In a Chamber sir.  Val. 
I mean wait there upon a Gentlewoman,  
How quick she is, I like that mainly too;  
I'll have her, though I keep her with main strength  
like a besieged town, for I know I shall have the enemy afore me within a week.  Viol. 
Sir I can sow too, and make pretty laces,  
Dress a head handsome, teach young gentlewomen,  
For in all these I have a little knowledge.  Val. 
'tis well, no doubt I shall increase that knowledge; I like her better still, how she provokes me; pretty youngmaid you shall serve a good Gentlewoman, though I say't that will not be unwilling you should please me, nor I forgetful if you do.  Viol. 
I am the happier.  Val. 
My man shall make some shift to carry you behind him, can you ride well?  Viola. 
But I'll hold fast for catching of a fall.  Val. 
That's the next way to pull another on you, I'll work her as I go I know she's wax, now, now, at this time could I beget a worthy on this wench.  Viol. 
Sir for this Gentleness, may heaven requite you tenfold.  Val. 
'Tis a good wench how ever others use thee, be sure I'll be a loving master to thee, come. Exeunt.  Enter Antonio like an Irish Footman, with a letter. Ant. 
I hope I am wild enough for being known I have writ a letter here, and in it have abused myself most bitterly, yet all my fear is not enough, for that must do it, that must lay it on, I'll win her out i'th' flint, 'twillwill be more famous, now for my language.  Enter Servingman. Ser. 
Now Sir who would you speak with?  Ant. 
Where be thy master's man? I would speak with her.  
I have a letter.  Ser. 
Cannot I deliver it?  Ant. 
No by my trot and fait canst thou not man.  Ser. 
Well Sir I'll call her to you, pray shake your ears without a little. Exit. Servingman.  Ant. 
Cran a Cree do it quickly; this rebel tongue sticks in my teeth worse than a tough hen, sure it was ne'er known at Babel, for they sold no apples, and this was made for certain at the first planting of Orchards 'tis so crabbed.  Enter. Wife, and servingman. Mar. 
What's he wood speak with me?  Ser. 
A kilkenny ring, there he stands Madam.  Mar. 
What would you have with me, friend?  Ant. 
He has a letter for other women, wilt thou read it.  Mar. 
From whence?  Ant. 
De Cross creest from my Master.  Mar. 
Who is your Master?  Ant. 
I pray do you look.  Mar. 
Do you know this fellow?  Ser. 
No Madam not I; more than an Irish footman stand further friend, I do not like your roperunners, what stallion Rogues are these, to wear such dowsets, the very Cotton may commit adultery.  Mar. 
I cannot find whose hand this should be, I'll read, to the beauteous wife of Don Antonio, sure this is some blind scrib— well now what follows?  Ant. 
Pray God it take, I have given her, that will stir her conscience, how it works with her; hope if it be thy will let the flesh have it.  Mar. 
This is the most abhorred, intolerable knavery, that ever slave entertained, sure there is more than thine own head in this villainy, it goes like practised mischief, disabled in his body? o good God, as I live he lies fearfully, and basely, ha? I should know that jewel, 'tis my husband, come hither shalt, are you an Irish man?  Ant. 
Sweet woman a Cree I am an Irish man.  Mar. 
Now I know it perfectly; is this your trick Sir? I'll trick you for it; how long have you served this Gentleman?  Ant. 
Please thee a little day, o my Mac dermond put me to my mastree, 'tis done I know.  Mar. 
By my faith he speaks as well as if he had been lousy for the language a year or two; well Sir, you had been better have kept your own shape as I will use you, what have I done that should deserve this trial, I never made him cuckold to my knowledge, Sirrah come hither.  Ant. 
Now will she send some jewel, or some letter  
I know her mind as well; I shall be famous.  Mar. 
Take this Irish bawd here.  Ant. 
How?  Mar. 
And kick him till his breeches and breech be of one colour a bright blue both.  Ant. 
I may be well swinged thus, for I dare not reveal myself, I hope she does not mean it, o hone o hone, o St. Patrick, o a Cree, o sweet woman.  Mar, 
No turn him and kick him o t'other side, that's well  Ant. 
O good waiting man, I beseech thee good waiting man, a pox fire your legs.  Mar. 
You Rogue you enemy to all, but little breeches how dar'st thou come to me with such a letter?  Ant. 
Prithee pity the poor Irishman, all this makes for me, if I win her yet, I am still more glorious.  Mar. 
Now could I weep at what I have done, but I'll harden my heart again, go shut him up, till my husband comes home, yet thus much ere ye go, sirrah thatched head, wouldst not thou be whipped & think it justice? well Aquavitae barrel, I will bounce you.  Ant. 
I pray do, I beseech you be not angry.  Mar. 
O you hobby headed Rascal, I'll have you flayed, and trossers made of thy skin to tumble in, go a way with him, let him see no sun, till my husband come home, sir I shall meet with you for your knavery, I fear it not.  Ant. 
Wilt thou not let me go? I do not like this.  Mar. 
Away with him.  Servant. 
Come I'll lead you in by your jack a lent hair, go quietly or I'll make your crupper crack.  Mar. 
And do you hear me sirrah? and when you have done, make my Coach ready.  Serving. 
Yes forsooth. Exit. Servingman with Antonio.  Mar. 
Lock him up safe enough I'll to this Gentleman,  
I know the reason of all this business, for I do suspect it,  
If he have this plot, I'll ring him such a peal, shall make his ears deaf for a month at least. Exit.  Enter Richardo. Ric. 
Am I not mad? can this weak tempered head,  
That will be mad with drink, endure the wrong  
That I have done a virgin and my love?  
Be mad, for so thou ought'st, or I will beat  
The walls and trees, down with thee, and will let  
Either thy memory out or madness in,  
But sure I never loved fair Viola:  
I never loved my Father nor my Mother,  
Or any thing but drink; had I had love;  
Nay, had I known so much charity,  
As would have saved an Infant from the fire,  
I had been naked, raving in the street:  
With half a face, gashing myself with knives,  
Two hours ere this time.  Enter Pedro, Silvio, Uberto. Ped. 
Good morrow Sir.  Rich. 
Good morrow Gentlemen, shall we go drink again?  
I have my wits.  Ped. 
So have I but they are unsettled ones, would I had some porridge.  Rich. 
The tavern boy was here this morning with me  
And told me that there was a Gentlewoman,  
Which he took for a whore that hung on me:  
For whom we quarrelled, and I know not what.  Ped. 
i'faith nor I.  Ube. 
I have a glimmering of some such thing.  Rich. 
Was it you Silvio,  
That made me drink so much? 'twas you or Pedro.  Ped. 
I know not who.  Sil. 
We were all apt enough.  Rich. 
But I will lay the fault on none but me,  
That I would be so entreated, come Silvio,  
Shall we go drink again, come Gentlemen,  
Why do you stay, let's never leave off now,  
Whilst we have Wine and throats, I'll practise it,  
Till I have made it my best quality;  
For what is best for me to do but that?  
For God's sake come and drink; when I am named  
Men shall make answer, which Richado mean you?  
The excellent drinker? I will have it so,  
Will you go drink?  Silv. 
We drunk too much too lately.  Rich. 
Why there is then the less behind to drink,  
Let's end it all, dispatch that, we'll send abroad,  
And purchase all the Wine the world can yield,  
And then drink it off, then take the fruits o'the earth,  
Distil the Juice from them, and drink that off;  
we'll catch the rain before it fall to ground,  
And drink off that that never more may grow;  
we'll set our mouths to Springs, and drink them off,  
And all this while we'll never think of those  
That love us best, more than we did last night.  
We will not give unto the poor a drop  
Of all this drink, but when we see them weep,  
we'll run to them, and drink their tears off too,  
we'll never leave whilst there is heat or moisture,  
In this large globe, but suck it cold and dry,  
Till we have made it Elemental earth,  
Merely by drinking.  Ped. 
Is't flattery to tell you, you are mad?  Rich. 
If it be false,  
There's no such way to bind me to a man;  
He that will have me, lay my goods and lands,  
My life down for him, need no more, but say  
Richardo thou art mad, and then all these  
Are at his service, than he pleases me,  
And makes me think that I had virtue in me,  
That I had love, and tenderness of heart,  
That though I have committed such a fault,  
As never creature did, yet run mad,  
As honest men should do for such a crime,  
I have expressed some worth, though it be late:  
But I alas have none of these in me,  
But keep my wits still like a frozen man,  
That had no fire within him.  Sil. 
Nay good Richardo leave this wild talk, and send a letter to her, I'll deliver it.  Rich. 
'Tis to no purpose; perhaps she's lost last night,  
Or she got home again, she's now so strictly  
Looked to, the wind can scarce come to her, or admit  
She were herself; if she would hear from me,  
From me unworthy, that have used her thus,  
She were so foolish, that she were no more  
To be beloved. Enter Servant with a Nightgown.  Ser. 
Sir, we have found this nightgown she took with her.  An. 
Where?  Rich. 
Where? where? speak quickly.  Ser. 
Searching in the Suburbs, we found a Tinker and his whore, that had in it a sap-house, whom we apprehended, and they confessed they stole it from her.  Rich. 
And murdered her?  Sil. 
What ail you Man?  Rich. 
Why all this doth not make me mad.  Sil. 
It does, you would not offer this else, good Pedro look to his sword.  Ser. 
They do deny the killing of her, but swore they left her tied to a tree, in the fields, next those Suburbs that are without our lady's gate, near day, & by the road, so that some passenger must needs untie her quickly.  And. 
The will of heaven be done? Sir I will only entreat you this, that as you were the greatest occasion of her loss, that you will be pleased to urge your friends, and be yourself earnest in the search of her; if she be found, she is yours, if she please, I myself only, see these people better examined, and after follow some way in search, God keep you Gentlemen. Exit.  Sil. 
Alas good man!  Ric. 
What think you now of me, I think this lump  
Is nothing but a piece of phlegm congealed  
Without a soul, for where there's so much spirit  
As would but warm a flea, those faults of mine  
Would make it glow and flame in this dull heart,  
And run like molten gold through every sin,  
Till it could burst these walls and fly away.  
Shall I entreat you all to take your horses,  
And search this innocent?  Ped. 
With all our hearts.  Ric. 
Do not divide yourselves till you come there,  
Where they say she was tied, I'll follow too,  
But never to return till she be found.  
Give me my sword good Pedro, I will do  
No harm believe me with it, I am now  
Far better tempered, If I were not so,  
I have enough besides, God keep you all,  
And send us good success. Exeunt.    

Actus Tertius,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Mercury and Servant. Mer. 
WHo is it? can you tell?  Ser. 
By my troth Sir I know not, but 'tis a Gentlewoman  Mer. 
A Gentleman I'll lay my life you puppy, h'as sent his wife to me: if he have, fling up the bed.  Ser. 
Here she is Sir.  Enter Wife with a letter. Wife. 
I am glad I found you Sir, there take your letter and keep it till you have another friend to wrong, 'tis too malicious false to make me sin, you have provoked me to be that I love not, a talker, and you shall hear me.  
Why should you dare to imagine me  
So light a housewife, that from four hours' knowledge  
You might presume to offer to my credit  
This rude and ruffian trial, I am sure  
I never courted you, nor gave you tokens,  
That might concern assurance, you are a fool.  Mer. 
I cannot blame you now, I see this letter  
Though you be angry, yet with me you must not,  
Unless you'll make me guilty of a wrong,  
My worst affections hate—  Wife. 
Did not you send it?  Mer. 
No upon my faith, which is more, I understand it not; the hand is as far from my knowledge, as the malice.  Wife. 
This is strange.  Mer 
It is so, and had been stranger, and indeed more hateful,  
Had I, that have received such courtesies, & owe so many  
Thanks, done this base office.  Wife. 
Your name is at it.  Mer. 
Yes, but not my nature, and I shall hate my name worse than the manner, for this base broking; you are wise and virtuous, remove this fault from me; for on the love I bear to truth and goodness, this letter dare not name me for the author.  Wife. 
Now I perceive my husband's knavery, if my man can but find where he has been, I will go with this Gentleman whatsoever comes on't: and as I mean to carry it both he and all the world shall think it fit, and thank me for it.  Mer. 
I must confess I loved you, at first, however this made me leave your house unmannerly, that might provoke me to do something ill, both to your honour & my faith, and not to write this letter, which I hold so truly wicked, that I will not think on't.  Wife. 
I do believe you, and since I see you are free, my words were not meant to you, but this is not the half of my affliction.  Mer. 
'Tis pity you should know more vexation; may I inquire?  Wife. 
Faith Sir I fear I have lost my husband.  Mer. 
Your husband? it cannot be: I pity her, how she's vexed?  Enter Servant. Wife. 
How now? what news? nay speak, for we must know.  Ser. 
Faith I have found at length by chance where he has been  Wife. 
Where?  Ser. 
In a blind outhouse in the Suburbs, pray God all be well with him.  Wife. 
Why?  Ser. 
There are his clothes, but what's become of him, I cannot yet inquire.  Wife. 
I am glad of this; sure they have murdered him, what shall I do?  Mer. 
Be not so grieved before you know the truth, you have time enough to weep, this is the sudden'st mischief; did you not bring an Officer to search there, where you say you found his clothes.  Ser. 
Yes, and we searched it, and charged the fellow with him: but he like a rogue, stubborn rogue, made answer, he knew not where he was; he had been there, but where he was now, he could not tell: I tell you true I fear him.  Wife. 
Are all my hopes and longings to enjoy him,  
After this 3 years' travel, come to this?  Ser. 
It is the rankest house in all the City, the most cursed roguy bawdy-house? hell fire it.  Mer. 
This is the worst I heard yet; will you go home? I'll bear you company, and give you the best help I may: this being here will wrong you.  Wife. 
As you are a Gentleman, and as you loved your dead friend, let me not go home, that will but heap one sorrow on another.  Mer. 
Why purpose any thing and I'll perform't; I am at my wits end too.  Ser. 
So am I, O my dear Master!  Mer. 
Peace you great fool.  Wife. 
Then good Sir carry me to some retired place, far from the sight of this unhappy City, whether you will indeed, so it be far enough.  Mer. 
If I might council you, I think 'twere better to go home, and try what may be done yet, he may be at home afore you, who can tell?  Wife. 
O no, I know he's dead, I know he's murdered; tell me not of going home, you murder me too.  Mer. 
Well, since it pleases you to have it so, I will no more persuade you to go home, I'll be your guide in the Country, as your grief doth command me, I have a Mother dwelling from this place some 20. miles, the house though homely, yet able to show something like a welcome: thither I'll see you safe with all your sorrows.  Wife. 
With all the speed that may be thought upon; I have a Coach here ready, good Sir quickly; I'll fit you my fine husband.  Mer. 
It shall be so; if this fellow be dead, I see no band of any other man, to tie me from my will, and I will follow her with such careful service, that she shall either be my Love or Wife; will you walk in?  Wife. 
I thank you Sir, but one word with my man, and I am ready; keep the Irish fellow safe, as you love your life, for he I fear has a deep hand in this, then search again, & get out warrants for that naughty man, that keeps the bad house, that he may answer it, if you find the body, give it due burial; farewell. You shall hear from me, keep all safe. Exeunt.  Ser. 
O my sweet Mr!  Antonio knocking within. Ant. within. 
Man-a-cree, the Devil take thee, wilt thou kill me here, I prithee now let me go seek my Mr. I shall be very cheel else.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Do you hear man-a-cree, I'll cree your coxcomb, and you keep not still, down you rogue.  Ant. 
Good sweet fact servingman, let me out I beseech de, and by my trot I will give die Worship 2. shillings in good argot, to buy die Worship pippins.  Ser. 
This rogue thinks all the worth of man consists in pippins; by this light I'll beat rebellion out of you for ever.  Ant. 
Wilt thou not hear me man? is fet, I'll give thee all I have about me.  Ser. 
I thank you Sir, so I may have picking work,  Ant. 
Here is five shillings man,  
Here is a cudgel, a very good one.  Enter two Serving-men. 2 Ser. 
How now, what's the matter, where's the Irishman.  1 Ser. 
There, a with take him, he makes more noise alone there, than ten Lawyers can do with double & a scurvy Case.  2 Ser. 
Let him out, I must talk with him.  Enter Antonio. Ant. 
Wilt thou give me some drink, o hone? I am very dry man.  2 Ser. 
You shall have that shall quench your thirst, my friend.  Ant. 
Fate dost thou mean man.  2 Ser. 
Even a good tough halter.  Ant. 
A halter? o hone!  2 Ser. 
Sirrah you are a mischievous rogue, that's the truth.  Ant. 
No fet I am not.  1 Ser 
Shall I knock out his brains? I have killed dogs have been worth three of him for all uses.  2 Ser. 
Sirrah, the truth on't is, you must with me to a Justice. O Roger, Roger.  1 Ser. 
Why, what's the matter William?  2 Ser. 
Heavy news Roger, heavy news, God comfort us.  1 Ser. 
What is't man?  Ant. 
What's the matter now? I am e'en weary of this way, would were out on't.  1 Ser. 
My Mr. sure is murdered, Roger, and this cursed rogue fear has had a hand in't.  Ant. 
No fet not.  1 Ser. 
Stand away, I'll kick't out of him: come sirrah, mount, I'll make you dance, you Rascal, kill my Master? If thy breech were cannon proof, having this good cause on my side, I would encounter it; hold fair, Shamrocke.  Ant. 
Why how now sirs? you will not murder me indeed.  2 Ser. 
Bless us Roger!  Ant. 
Nay, I am no spirit.  2 Ser. 
How do you Sir, this is my very Master.  Ant. 
Why well enough yet, but you have a heavy foot of your own; where's my wife?  1 Ser. 
Alas poor sorrowful Gentlewoman, she thinks you are dead, and has given o'er housekeeping.  Ant. 
Whether is she gone then?  1 Ser. 
Into the Country with the Gentleman your friend Sir, to see if she can wear her sorrows out there; she weeps and takes on too too—  Ant. 
This falls out pat; I shall be everlasting for a name: do you hear? upon your lives and faiths to me, not one word I am living, but let the same report pass along, that I am murdered still; I am made for ever.  1 Ser. 
Why Sir?  Ant. 
I have a Cause Sir that's enough for you; well, if I be not famous, I am wronged much; for any thing I know I will not trouble him this week at least, Noah, let them take their way one of another.  1 Ser. 
Sir, will you be still an Irishman.?  Ant. 
Yes a while.  2 Ser. 
But your Worship will be beaten no more?  Ant. 
No I thank you William.  1 Ser. 
In truth Sir, if it must be so, I'll do it better than a stranger.  Ant. 
Go, you are Knaves both, but I forgive you, I am almost mad with the apprehension of what I shall be, not a word I charge you. Exeunt.  Enter Valerio, and Viola. Val. 
Come pretty soul, we now are near our home,  
And whilst our horses are walked down the hill,  
Let thou and I walk here over this Close:  
The footway is more pleasant, 'tis a time  
My pretty one, not to be wept away,  
For every living thing is full of love;  
Art not thou so too? hah?  Vio. 
Nay, there are living things empty of love,  
Or I had not been here, but for myself!  
Alas, I have too much.  Val. 
It cannot be, that so much beauty, so much youth and grace should have too much of love.  Vio. 
Pray what is love? for I am full of that I do not know.  Val. 
Why, love fair maid is an extreme desire,  
That's not to be examined but fulfilled,  
To ask the reason why thou art in love,  
Or what might be the noblest end in love,  
Would overthrow that kindly rising warmth,  
That many times slides gently o'er the heart,  
'Twould make thee grave, & stayed thy thoughts would be,  
Like a thrice married Widow, full of ends,  
And void of all compassion, and to fright thee  
From such enquiry, whereas thou art now  
Living in ignorance, mild, fresh, and sweet,  
And but sixteen, the knowing what love is,  
Would make thee six and forty.  Vio. 
Would it would make me nothing, I have heard  
Scholars affirm the world is upheld by love,  
But I believe women maintain all this,  
For there's no love in men.  Val. 
Yes, in some men.  Vio. 
I know them not.  Val. 
Why, there is love in me.  Vio. 
there's charity I am sure towards me.  Val. 
And love; which I will now express, my pretty maid,  
I dare not bring thee home, my Wife is foul,  
And therefore envious, she is very old,  
And therefore Jealous; thou art fair and young,  
A subject fit, for her unlucky vices.  
To work upon, she never will endure thee.  Vio. 
She may endure  
If she be aught, but Devil, all the friendship  
That I will hold with you; can she endure  
I should be thankful to you? may I pray  
For you and her, will she be brought to think  
That all the honest industry I have  
Deserves brown bread? if this may be endured,  
she'll pick a quarrel with a sleeping child,  
ere she fall out with me.  Val 
But trust me she does hate all handsomeness.  Vio. 
How fell you in love with such a creature?  Val. 
I never loved her.  Vio, 
And yet married her?  Val. 
she was a rich one.  Vio. 
And you swore I warrant you, she was a fair one then too.  Val. 
Or believe me I think I had not had her.  Vio. 
Are you men all such? wood you wood wall us in a place  
Where all we women, that are innocent,  
Might live together.  Val. 
Do not weep at this,  
Although I dare not for some weighty reason  
Displease my Wife, yet I forget not thee.  Vio. 
What will you do with me?  Val. 
Thou shalt be placed  
At my man's house, and have such food and raiment  
As can be bought with money: these white hands  
Shall never learn to work, but they shall play  
As thou sayst they were wont, teaching the strings  
To move in order, or what else thou wilt.  Vio. 
I thank you Sir, but pray you clothe me poorly,  
And let my labour get me means to live.  Val. 
But fair one, you I know do so much hate  
A foul ingratitude, you will not look  
I should do this for nothing.  Vio. 
I will work as much out as I can, and take as little  
That you shall have as duly paid to you  
As ever servant did.  Val. 
But give me now a trial on't, I may believe  
We are alone, show me how thou wilt kiss  
And hug me hard, when I have stolen away  
From my too clamorous Wife that watches me,  
To spend a blessed hour or two with thee.  Vio. 
Is this the love you mean? you would have that  
Is not in me to give, you would have lust.  Val. 
Not to dissemble, or to mince the word,  
'Tis lust I wish indeed.  Vio. 
And by my troth I have it not for heaven's sake use me kindly.  
Though I be good, and show perhaps a monster,  
As this world goes.  Val. 
I do  
But speak to thee, thy answers are thy own,  
I compel none, but if thou refuse this motion,  
Thou art not then for me, alas good soul?  
What profit can thy work bring me.  Vio. 
But I fear: I pray go, for lust they say will grow  
Outrageous being denied, I give you thanks  
For all your courtesies, and there's a Jewel  
That's worth the taking, that I did preserve  
Safe from the robbers, pray you leave me here  
Just as you found me, a poor innocent,  
And Heaven will bless you for it.  Val. 
Pretty maid I am no Robber nor no Ravisher,  
I pray thee keep thy Jewel, I have done  
No wrong to thee, though thou be'st virtuous  
And in extremity, I do not know,  
That I am bound to keep thee.  Viol. 
No sir, for God's sake if you know an honest man in all these countries, give me some directions to find him out.  Val. 
More honest than myself good sooth I do not know; I would have lain with thee with thy consent, and who would not in all these parts, is past my memory, I am sorry for thee, farewell gentle maid, god keep thee safe. Exit.  Vio. 
I thank you sir, and you;  
Woman they say, was only made of man,  
methinks 'tis strange they should be so unlike,  
It may be all the best was cut away  
To make the woman and the nought was left  
Behind with him, I'll sit me down and weep,  
All things have cast me from 'em but the earth;  
The evening comes and every little flower  
Droops now, as well as I.  Enter two milkmaids with pails. Nan. 
Good Madge let's rest a little, by my troth I am weary, this new pail is a plaguy heavy one, would Tom were hanged for choosing it, 'tis the untowardst fool in a Country.  Mag. 
With all my heart, and I thank you too, Nan.  Vio. 
What true contented happiness dwells here,  
More than in Cities? wood to God my father  
Had lived like one of these and bred me up  
To milk and do as they do: methinks  
'tis a life that I wood choose, if I were now  
To tell my time again, above a princes; maids for charity  
Give a poor wench one draught of Milk  
That weariness and hunger have nigh famished.  Nan. 
If I had but one cow's Milk in all the world, you should have some on't; there drink more, the cheese shall pay for it, alas poor heart! she's dry.  Mag. 
Do you dwell hereabouts?  Vio. 
No, would I did.  Nan. 
Madge if she do not look like my x Sue o'th' more lane as one thing can look like another—  Mag. 
Nay Sue has a hazel eye, I know Sue well, and by your leave not so trim a body neither, this is a feat bodied thing I tell you.  Nan. 
She laces close by the mass I warrant you, and so does Sue too.  Vio. 
I thank you for your gentleness fair maids.  Nan. 
Drink again pray thee.  Vio. 
I am satisfied, and heaven reward thee for't, yet thus far I will compel you to accept these trifles, toys only that express my thanks, for greater worth, I'm sure they have not in them; indeed you shall, I found 'em as I came.  Nan. 
Madge, look you here Madge.  Mag. 
Nay I have as fine a one as you, mine's all gold and painted, and precious stone in't; I warrant it cost a crown wench.  Nan. 
But mine is the most sumptuous one that ere I saw.  Viol. 
One favour you must do me more, for you are well acquainted here.  Nan. 
Indeed we'll do you any kindness sister.  Vio. 
Only to send me to some honest place, where I may find a service.  Nan. 
Uds me, our Dorithy went away but last week and I know my Mistress wants a Maid, and why may she not be placed there? this is a likely wench I tell you truly, and a good wench I warrant her.  Mag. 
And 'tis a hard case if we that have served four years a piece cannot bring in one servant, we will prefer her; hark you sister, pray what's your name?  Viol. 
Melvia.  Nan. 
A feat name i'faith, and can you milk a Cow? and make a merry-bush? that's nothing.  Vio. 
I shall learn quickly.  Nan. 
And dress a house with flowers? and serve a pig? this you must do, for we deal in the dairy, and make a bed or two?  Vio. 
I hope I shall.  Nan. 
But be sure to keep the men out, they will mar all that you make else, I know that by myself; for I have been so toused among 'em in my days, come you shall e'en home with us and be our fellow, our house is so honest, and we serve a very good woman, and a Gentlewoman, and we live as merrily, and dance a good days after evensong, our wake shall be on Sunday; do you know what a wake is? we have mighty cheer then, and such a coil, 'twould bless ye; you must not be so bashful, you'll spoil all.  Mag. 
Let's home for God's sake, my Mistress thinks by this time we are lost, come we'll have a care of you, I warrant you; but you must tell my Mistress where you were borne, and every thing that belongs to you, & the strangest things you can devise, for she loves those extremely, 'tis no matter whether they be true or no, she's not so scrupulous; you must be our sister, and love us best, and tell us every thing, and when cold weather comes we'll lie together, will you do this?  Viola. 
Yes.  Nan. 
Then home again a God's name, can you go apace.  Vio. 
I warrant you. Exeunt.    

Actus Quartus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Pedro and Uberti, severally. Pedro. 
HOw now, any good news yet?  Silvio. 
Faith not any yet.  Ped. 
This comes a tippling; would 'twere treason and pleased God to drink more than three draughts at a meal.  Sil. 
When did you see Richardo?  Ped. 
I crossed him twice today.  Sil. 
You have heard of a young wench that was seen last night?  Ped. 
Yes.  Sil. 
Has Richard hard of this?  Ped. 
Yes and I think he's ridden after, farewell I'll have another round.  Sil. 
If you hear any thing, pray spare no horseflesh  
I'll do the like.  Ped. 
Do. Exeunt  Enter Richardo, and Valerio. Rich. 
Sir, I did think 'twas you by all descriptions.  Val. 
'tis so,  
I took her up indeed, the manner how  
You have heard already, and what she had about her,  
As jewels, gold and other trifling things:  
And what my end was, which because she slighted,  
I left her there i'the fields.  Rich. 
Left i'th' fields? could any but a Rogue  
That had despised humanity and goodness,  
God, law and credit? and had set himself  
To lose his noblest part, and be a beast,  
Have left so innocent, unmatched a virtue,  
To the rude mercy of a wilderness?  Val. 
Sir If you come to rail, pray quit my house,  
I do not use to have such language given;  
Within my doors to me; for your wench,  
You may go seek her with more patience,  
she's tame enough I warrant you.  Ric. 
Pray forgive me.  
I do confess my much forgetfulness;  
And weigh my words no farther I beseech you,  
Than a mere madness; for such a grief has seized me  
So strong and deadly, as a punishment,  
And a just one too,  
That 'tis a greater wonder I am living,  
Than any thing I utter; yet let me tell you thus much,  
'Twas a fault for leaving her  
So in the fields.  Val. 
Sir I will think so now, and credit me,  
You have so wrought me with your grief, that I  
Do both forgive and pity you:  
And if you'll please to take a bed this night here;  
Too morrow I'll bring you where I left her.  Rich. 
I thank you, no, shall I be so unworthy,  
To think upon a bed, or ease or comfort,  
And have my heart stray from me God knows where,  
Cold and forsaken, destitute of friends,  
And all good comforts else, unless some tree  
Whose speechless charity must better ours,  
With which the bitter east winds made their sport  
And sung through hourly, hath invited her  
To keep off half a day? shall she be thus,  
And I draw in soft slumbers? God forbid.  
No, night and bitter coldness I provoke thee,  
And all the dews that hang upon thy locks,  
Showers, hails, snows, frosts, & two edged winds that prime  
The maiden blossoms, I provoke you all,  
And dare expose this body to your sharpness,  
Till I be made a land mark.  Val. 
Will you then stay and eat with me?  Rich. 
You're angry with me, I know you're angry,  
You would not bid me eat else; my poor Mistress,  
For aught I know thou art famished, for what else  
Can the fields yield thee, and the stubborn season,  
That yet holds in the fruit? good Gentle Sir,  
Think not ill manners in me for denying  
Your offered meat, for sure I cannot eat  
While I do think she wants; well I'm a rascal;  
A villain, slave, that only was begotten,  
To murder women and of them the best.  Val. 
This is a strange affliction.  
If you'll accept no greater courtesy, yet drink Sir.  Ric. 
Now I am sure you hate me, and you knew  
What kind of man I am, as indeed 'tis fit,  
That every man should know me to avoid me.  
If you have peace within you Sir, or goodness  
Name that abhorred word drink no more unto me,  
You had safer strike me.  
I pray you do not, if you love me do not.  Val. 
Sir, I mean no ill by it.  Rich. 
It may be so,  
Nor let me see  
None sir, if you love heaven;  
You know not what offence it is unto me,  
Nor good now, do not ask me why:  
And I warn you once again, let no man else speak of't,  
I fear your servants will be prating to me.  Val. 
Why Sir what ail you?  Rich. 
I hate drink, there's the end on't,  
And that man that drinks with meat is damned  
without an age of prayers and repentance,  
And there's a hazard too; good Sir no more,  
If you will do me a free courtesy;  
That I shall know for one, go take your horse,  
And bring me to the place where you left her:  Val. 
Since you are so importunate I will;  
But I will wish Sir you had stayed tonight  
Upon my credit, you shall see no drink.  Rich. 
Be gone the heating of it makes me giddy,  
Sir will you be entreated to forbear it,  
I shall be mad else.  Val. 
I pray no more of that, I am quiet,  
I'll but walk in and away straight.  Rich. 
Now I thank you,  
But what you do, do in a twinkling, Sir.  Val. 
As soon as may be. Exeunt.  Enter Mother, Viola, and 2. milkmaids. Moth. 
Is this the wench? you have brought me some catch I warrant;  
How injuringly she looks upon the matter?  Madge. 
Yes forsooth this is the maiden.  Moth. 
Come hither, wood you serve?  Viola 
If it shalt please you to accept my service I hope I shall do something that shall like you, though it be but truth, and often praying for you.  Moth. 
You are very curious of your hand methinks,  
You preserve it so with gloves, let me see it;  
I marry, here's a hand of marchpane wenches:  
This pretty palm never knew sorrow yet;  
How soft it is I warrant you, and supple:  
O' my word this is fitter for a pocket to filch withal  
Then to work, I fear me little one,  
You are no better than you should be; go too.  Vio. 
My Conscience yet is but one witness to me,  
And that heaven knows is or mine innocence,  
'tis true, I must confess, with shame enough,  
The time that I have led yet never taught me  
What 'twas to break a sleep, or to be weary.  Moth. 
You can say well: if you be mine, Wench, you must do well too, for words are but slow workers, yet so much hope I have of you, that I'll take you so you'll be diligent, and do your duty: how now?  Enter Alexander. Alex. 
There is a messenger come from your son  
That brings you word he is returned from travel,  
And will be here this night.  Moth. 
Now joy upon thee for it, thou art ever  
A bringer of good tidings, there, drink that:  
In troth thou hast much contented me, my son?  
Lord how thou hast pleased me, shall I see my Son  
Yet ere I die? take care my house be handsome,  
And the new stools set out, and boughs and rushes,  
And flowers for the window, and the Turkey Carpet,  
And the great parcel salt, Nan, with the Cruets,  
And prithee Alexander go to the Cook,  
And bid him spare for nothing, my son's come home,  
Who's come with him?  Alex. 
I hear of none yet, but a Gentlewoman?  Moth. 
A Gentlewoman? what Gentlewoman.  Alex. 
I know not but such a one there is, he says.  Moth. 
Pray God he have not cast away himself  
Upon some snout-fair piece, I do not like it.  Alex. 
No sure, my Master has more discretion.  Moth. 
Well, be it how it will, he shall be welcome.  
Sirs, to your tasks, and show this little novice  
How to bestir herself, I'll sort out things. Exit.  Madg. 
We will forsooth, I can tell you my mistress is a stirring woman.  Nan. 
Lord how she'll talk some times? 'tis the maddest cricket—  Vio. 
methinks she talks well, and shows a great deal of good housewifry, pray let me deck the chambers, shall I?  Nan. 
Yes you shall, but do not scorn to be advised sister, for there belongs more to that than you are aware on; why would you venture so fondly upon the strowings? there's mighty matters in them I'll assure you, and in the spreading of a bough pot, you may miss if you were ten years elder, if you take not a special care before you.  Vio. 
I will learn willingly, if that be all.  Nan. 
Sirrah where is't they say my young master hath been?  Mag. 
Faith I know not, beyond the sea, where they are borne without noses.  Nan. 
less bless us! without noses? how do they do for handkerchers?  Mag. 
So Richard says, and sirrah, their feet stands in their foreheads.  Nan. 
That's fine by my troth, these men have pestilence running heads then; do they speak as we do?  Mag. 
No, they never speak.  Nan. 
Are they kirsened?  Mag. 
No they call them Infidels, I know not what they are.  Nan. 
Sirrah we shall have fine courting now my young master is come home, were you never courted sister?  Vio. 
Alas I know it not.  Mag. 
What is that courting sirrah?  Nan. 
I can tell, for I was once courted in the matted chamber, you know the party Madge, faith he courted finely.  Mag. 
Pray thee what is't?  Nan. 
Faith nothing but he was some what figent with me, faith 'tis fine sport, this courting.  Alex. within. 
Where be the Maids there?  Mag. 
We shall be hanged anon, away good wenches, and a care you dight things handsomely, I will look over you. Exeunt.  Enter Mercury and Maria. Mer. 
If your sorrow will give you so far leave, pray think yourself most welcome to this place, for so upon my life you are, and for your own fair sake, take truce a while with these immoderate mournings.  Wife. 
I thank you sir, I shall do what I may;  
Pray lead me to a chamber.  Enter Mother and Alexander. Mer. 
Presently,  
Before your blessing mother, I entreat ye  
To know this Gentlewoman, and bid her welcome,  
The virtuous wife of him that was myself  
In all my travels.  Moth. 
Indeed she is most welcome, so are you son kneel.  
Now all my blessing on thee; thou hast made me  
Younger by 20 years, than I was yesterday,  
Will you walk in? what ails this Gentlewoman?  
Alas I fear she is not well, good Gentlewoman.  Mer. 
You fear right.  Moth. 
She has fasted over long,  
You shall have supper presently o'th' board.  Mer. 
She will not eat I can assure you mother,  
For God's sake let your maid conduct her up  
Into some fair becoming Chamber  
Fit for a woman of her being and  
As soon as may be,  
I know she's very ill, and wood have rest.  Moth. 
There is one ready for her, the blue chamber.  Mer. 
'tis well, I'll lead you to your Chamber door  
And there I'll leave you to your quiet, Mistress.  Wife. 
I thank you Sir, good rest to every one,  
You'll see me once again tonight I hope. Exit.  Mer. 
When you shall please, I'll wait upon you Lady.  Moth. 
Where are these maids attend upon the Gentlewoman, and see she want no good thing in the house? goodnight with all my heart forsooth, good Lord how you are grown? is he not Alexander?  Allex. 
Yes truly he's shot up finely god be thanked.  Mer. 
An ill weed Mother will do so.  Allex. 
You say true Sir, an ill weed grows apace.  Mer. 
Allexander the sharp, you take me very quickly.  Moth. 
Nay I can tell, Allexander will do it, do you read madcap still?  Allex. 
Some times forsooth.  Moth. 
But faith son what countries have you travelled?  Mer. 
Why many, Mother, as they lay  me, France, Spain, Italy and Germany, and other Provinces that I am, sure you are not bettered by, when you hear of them.  Moth. 
And can you these tongues perfectly?  Mer. 
Of some a little, Mother.  Moth. 
Pray spout some french son.  Mer. 
You understand it not, and to your ears 'twill go like an unshod cart upon the stones, only a rough unhandsome sound.  Moth. 
Faith I would fain hear some french.  Allex. 
Good Sir speak some french to my Mistress.  Mer. 
At your entreaty Allexander, I will, who shall speak to?  Allex. 
If your worship will do me the favour Sir, to me.  Mer. 
monsieur, poltroon, Cuckoo, Cullione, Besay, Man cur.  Allex. 
Awe monsieur.  Moth. 
Ha, ha, ha, this fine indeed, God's blessing 'on thy heart Son, by my troth thou art grown a proper Gentleman, cullen and pullen, good god what saucy words they use beyond the seas, ha, ha, ha?  Allex. 
Did not you swear right?  Mer. 
Yes good Allexander, if you had done so to  
But good Mother I am very hungry and have rid far today and am fasting.  Moth. 
You shall have your supper presently my sweet Son.  Mer. 
As soon as you please, which once ended,  
I'll go and visit you sick gentlewoman.  Mo. 
Come then. Exeun. t.  Enter Antonio, like a Post, with a letter. Ant. 
I have ridden like a fury to make up this work and I will do it bravely ere I leave it, this is the house I am sure.  Enter. Allexander. Allex. 
who'd you speak with Sir?  Ant. 
Marry Sir I would speak with a Gentlewoman, came this night late here from the City, I have some letters of Importance to her, I am a Post Sir and would be dispatched in haste.  Allex. 
Sir, cannot I deliver 'em? for the truth is she's ill and in her chamber.  Ant. 
Pray pardon me I must needs speak with her, my business is so weighty.  Allex. 
I'll tell her so, and bring you present word.  Ant. 
Pray do so, and I'll attend her, pray god the grief of my imagined death spoil not what I intend, I hope it will not.  Enter Allexander. Allex. 
Though she be very ill, and desires no trouble,  
Yet If your business be so urgent, you may come up and speak with her.  Ant. 
I thank you Sir, I follow you. Exit. Allex.  Enter Wife. Wife. 
What should this fellow be i'th' name of heaven that comes with such Post business? sure my husband hath revealed himself, and in this haste sent after me, are you the Post my friend?  Enter Antonio. Ant. 
Yes for sooth Mistress.  Wife. 
What good news hast thou brought me gentle Post?  
For I have woe and grief too much already.  Ant. 
I would you had less, Mistress, I could wish it, beshrew my heart she moves me cruelly.  Wife. 
Have I found you once more juggler? well jewel, thou hast only virtue in thee, of all I read of yet; what ears has this ass to betray him with? well, what's your business then?  Ant. 
I have brought a letter from your servant, Mistress, in haste.  Wife. 
Pray give it me, I hope the best still.  Ant. 
This is the upshot and I know I have hit it,  
Well if the spirits of the dead do walk, I shall  
Hear more of this one hundred years hence.  Wife. 
By any means you must have special care, for now the City is possessed for certain, my Master is made away, which for aught I know is a truth indeed; good Mistress leave your grief and see your danger, and let that wise and noble Gentleman with whom you are, be your right hand in all things.  Ant. 
Now do I know I have the better on't by the languishing of her eye at this near instant, 'tis still simming in her blood, in coining somewhat to turn Mercury I know it.  Wife. 
He is my husband, and 'tis reasonable he should command in all things, since he will be an ass again the hair at his one peril be it, in the morn you shall have a packet, till I must entreat you stay, you shall not lose by it.  Ant. 
I do not doubt it, Mistress; I'll leave you to your rest and wait your pleasure.  Wife. 
Do, and speak out the Gentleman of the house, bid him come to me presently.  Ant. 
Who, Mr. Mercury?  Wife. 
Do you know him, post?  Ant. 
Only by sight forsooth, now I remember your servant willed me to let you know he is the only man, you and your fortunes, are now to rest upon.  Wife. 
Prithee no more, I know all this already.  Ant. 
I'll take my leave now, I am made for ever. Exit.  Wife. 
Good night I am provided for you my fine youth  Exit. Enter Mother beating Viola, Allexander, with a broken glass. Mother. 
I'll make thee have more care.  Viola. 
Good Mistress pardon me.  Moth. 
thou'lt ne'er be good I warrant thee, can your fine fingers hold no faster?  Viola. 
Indeed it was against my will.  Moth. 
Allexander, let's see the glass, as, I am true kirsome woman, it is one of the crystal glasses my cousin sent me and the baggage hath broke it where it cannot be mended, Allexander, can Humphrey mend this think you?  Allex. 
No truly this will ne'er be mended.  Viola. 
Truly I meant but to wash it for the Gentlewoman, that is sick above, and shaking out the water, knocked it against the pail side.  Moth. 
Did you so? be sure I'll stop it, 'twill make a good gap in your quarters wages, can tell you.  Viola. 
I pray forgive me, and let me have no wages this first quarter.  Moth. 
Go whimling, and fetch two or three grating loaves out of the kitchen, to make gingerbread of, 'tis such an untoward thing. Exit. Viola.  Allex. 
she's somewhat simple indeed, she knew not what a kimnell was, she wants good nurture mightily.  Moth. 
My Son tells me, Allexander, that this young widow means to sojourn here, she offers largely for her board, I may offer her good cheer, pray thee make a step i'th' morning down to the parsonage for some Pigeons? what are you mad there; what noise is that? are you at bowls within? why do you whine?  Enter Viola, weeping. Viola. 
I have done another fault, I beseech you sweet Mistress forgive me.  Mother. 
What's the matter.  Viola. 
As I was reaching for the bread that lay upon the shelf, I have thrown down the minced meat, that should have made the pies tomorrow.  Moth. 
Get thee out of my house thou filthy destroying Harlot, thou, I'll not keep thee an hour longer.  Viola. 
Good Mistress beat me rather for my fault as much as it deserves, I do not know whether to go.  Moth. 
No I warrant thee, out of my doors.  Viola. 
Indeed I'll mend, I pray speak you for me.  Allex. 
If thou hadst hurled down any thing but the pie meat, I would have spoke for thee, but I cannot find in my heart now.  Moth. 
Art thou here yet? I think I must have an officer to thrust thee out of my doors, must I?  Viola. 
Why you may stop this in my wages too,  
For God's sake do, I'll find myself this year;  
And let me stay.  Mer. 
thou'lt spoil ten times as much, I'll cudgel thee out of my doors.  Viola. 
I am assured you are more merciful,  
Then thus to beat me and discharge me too.  Moth. 
Dost thou dispute with me, Allexander carry the prating hilding forth.  Viola. 
Good Mistress hear me I have here a Jewel,  
My Mother left me and 'tis something worth:  
Receive it and when all my faults together  
Come to the worth of that, then turn me forth,  
Till then I pray you keep me.  Moth. 
What giggombob have we here? pray god you have not pilfered this somewhere; thouart such a puling thing, wipe your eyes, and rise go your ways, Allexander, bid the Cook mince some more meat, come and get you to bed quickly that you may up betime i'th' morning a milking or you and I shall fall out worse yet.  Exit Mother and Allexander. Viola. 
She has hurt my arm; I am afraid, she is a very angry woman, but bless him heaven that did me the most wrong, I am afraid Antonious wife should see me, she will know me  Mother within. 
Melvia.  Viola. 
I am coming, she's not angry again I hope. Exit.  Enter Mercury. Mer. 
Now what am I the better for enjoying  
This woman that I loved? so all I find,  
That I before imagined to be happy:  
Now I have done, it turns to nothing else  
But a poor pitied and a base repentance,  
Udsfoote I am monstrous angry with myself:  
Why should a man that has discourse and reason,  
And knows how near he loses all in these things,  
Covet to have his wishes satisfied;  
Which when they are, are nothing but the shame  
I do begin to loathe this woman strangely,  
And I think justly too, that durst adventure,  
Flinging away her modesty to take  
A stranger to her bed, her husband's body  
Being scarce cold in the earth for her content,  
It was no more to take my senses with,  
Then if I had an idle dream had in sleep  
Yet I have made her promises: which grieves me,  
And I must keep 'em too, I think she hunts me:  
The Devil cannot keep these women off,  
When they are fletched once.  Enter Wife in night attire. Wife. 
To bed for God's sake Sir, why do you stay here?  
Some are up i'th' house, I heard the wife,  
Good dear sweet heart to bed.  Merc. 
Why I am going? why do you follow me?  
You would not have it known I hope, pray get you  
Back to your chamber, the doors hard by for me,  
Let me alone I warrant you, this it is  
To thresh well, have got a customer,  
Will you go to bed?  Wife. 
Will you?  Mer. 
Yes I am going.  Wife. 
Then remember your promise you made to marry me.  Mer. 
I will, but it was your fault, that it came  
To this pinch now, that it must need remembrance:  
For out of honesty I offered you  
To marry you first, why did you slack that offer?  Wife. 
Alas I told you the inconvenience of it,  
And what wrong it would appear to the world  
If I had married you in such post haste  
After his death: beside, the foolish people  
Would have been bold to have thought we had lain  
together in his time, and like enough imagined  
We two had murdered him.  Mer. 
I love her tongue yet,  
If I were a Saint  
A gilded Saint, and such a thing as this  
Should prate thus wittily and feelingly  
Unto my holiness, I cannot tell,  
But I fear shrewdly I should do something  
That would quite scratch me out o'the calendar,  
And if I stay longer talking with her,  
Though I am mad at what I have done already,  
Yet I shall forget myself again;  
I feel the Devil  
Ready to hold my stirrup; pray to bed, goodnight.  Wife. 
This kiss, goodnight sweet Love,  
And peace go with thee: thou hast proved thyself  
The honestest man that ever was enticed  
To that sweet sin as people please to call it,  
Of lying with another's Wife, and I,  
I think the honestest woman without blushing,  
That ever lay with another man, I sent my husband  
Into a Cellar, post, fearing, and justly,  
He should have known him, which I did not purpose  
Till I had had my end.  
Well, now this plot is perfect, let him brag on't.  Exit.   

Actus Quintus  

Scena Prima.  Enter Justice, and Curio with a paper. Just. 
by’r lady Sir you have rid hard that you have.  Cur. 
They that have business must do so I take it.  Just. 
You say true, when set you out my friend?  Cur. 
About ten o'clock and I have rid all night.  Just. 
By the mass you are tough indeed, I have seen the day, I would have rid too with the proudest of them and fling dirt in their faces, and I have done't with this foolish boy sir many a time; but what can last always? 'tis done, 'tis done now Sir, age, care, and office, brings us to our foot-cloths, the more the pity.  Curio. 
I believe that Sir, but will it please you to read the business?  Just. 
My friend I can read an I can tell you when.  Cur. 
Would I could too Sir, for my haste requires it.  Just. 
Whence comes it do you say?  Cur. 
Sir from the City.  Justice. 
O from the City 'tis a reverent place.  Curio. 
And his justice be as short as his memory,  
A Dudgeon Dagger will serve him to mow down sin withal,  
What clod pole Commissioner is this?  Just. 
And by my faith governed by worthy member,  
Discreet and upright.  Curio. 
Sir they are beholding to you, you have given some of them a commendations, they were not worthy of this twenty years.  Just. 
Go to go to, you have a merry meaning, I have found you sir i'faith, you are a wag, away, fie, now I'll read Your letter.  Curio. 
Pray do sir; what a misery 'tis,  
To have an urgent business, wait the Justice,  
Of such an old tough taffety that knows not,  
Nor can be brought to understand more sense,  
Then how to restore suppressed Alehouses,  
And have his man compound small trespasses,  
For ten groats.  Just. 
Sir it seems here your business is of deeper circumstance than I conceived it for; what do you mean Sir?  Cur. 
'Tis for mine own ease I'll assure your Worship.  Just. 
It shall not be i'faith friend, here I have it,  
That one Antonio a Gentleman, I take it so,  
Yes it is so, a Gentleman is lately thought to  
Have been made away, and by my faith upon a  
pearl's ground too, if you consider; well, there's  
Knavery in't, I see that without spectacles.  Cur. 
Sure this fellow deals in revelation he's so hidden,  
Go thy ways, thou wilt sick a bench spit as formally,  
And show thy agate, and hatched chain  
As well as the best of them.  Just. 
And now I have considered, I believe it.  Cur. 
What Sir?  Just. 
That he was murdered.  Cur. 
Did you know him?  Just. 
No.  Cur. 
Nor how it is supposed.  Just. 
No, nor I care not twopence, those are toys and yet I verily believe he was murdered, as sure as I believe thou art a man, I never failed in these things yet, wear a man that's beaten to these matters, experience is a certain concealed thing that fails not; pray let me ask you one thing, why do you come to me?  Cur. 
Because the letter is addressed to you, being the nearest Justice.  Iust. 
The nearest? is that all?  Cur. 
I think it be Sir, I would be loath you should be the wisest.  Iust. 
Well Sir, as it is, I will endeavour in it; yet if it had come to me by name, I know not, but I think it had been as soon dispatched as by another, and with as round a wisdom, ay, and as happily, but that's all one: I have borne this place this thirty years, and upwards, and with sufficient credit: and they may when they please, know me better; to the nearest? well.  Curio. 
Sir, it is not my fault, for had I known you sooner—  Iust. 
I thank you Sir, I know it.  Cur. 
I'll be sworn you should have played for any business now.  Justice 
And further, they have specified unto me, his Wife is sorely suspected in this matter, as a main cause,  Curio 
I think she be Sir, for no other cause can be yet found.  Iust. 
And one Mercury a traveller, with whom they say directly she is run away, and as they think this way.  Cur. 
I knew all this before.  justice. 
Well Sir, this Mercury I know, and his breeding, a neighbour's child hard by, you have been happy Sir in coming hither.  Cur. 
Then you know where to have him Sir?  Iust. 
I do Sir, he dwells near me.  Cur. 
I doubt your Worship dwells near a Knave then.  Iust. 
I think so; pray put on: but 'tis a wonder  
To see how graceless people are now given,  
And how base virtue is accounted with them  
That should be all in all as says a wise man.  
I tell you Sir, and it is true, that there have been such murders, and of late days, as 'twould make your very heart bleed in you, and some of them as I shall be enabled I will tell you, it fell out of late days.  Cur. 
It may be so, but will it please you to proceed in this?  Iust. 
An honest Weaver, and as good a workman as ere shot shuttle, and as close: but every man must die; this honest Weaver being a little mellow in his Ale, that was the evidence verbatim, Sir, God bless the mark, sprung his neck just in this place: well jarvis, thou hadst wrongs, & if I live some of the best shall sweat for't, than a wench—  Cur. 
But Sir you have forgot my business.  Iust. 
A sober pretty maid about 17. they say, certainly howsoever 'tis shuffled, she burst herself, and fondly, if it be so, with Furmety at a Churching, but I think the Devil had another agent in't: either of which if I can catch shall stretch for't.  Cur. 
This is a mad Justice that will hang the Devil; but I would you would be short in this, before that other notice can be given?  justice. 
Sir I will do discreetly what is fitting; what, Antonio?  Ant. 
within .Your Worship?  Iust. 
Put on your best coat, and let your fellow Mark go to the Constable & bid him aid me with all the speed he can, and all the power, and provide pen and ink to take their Confessions, and my long sword, I cannot tell what danger we may meet with; you'll go with us?  Curio. 
Yes, what else? I came to that end to accuse both parties.  Iust. 
May I crave what you are?  Cur. 
Faith Sir one that to be known would not profit you, more than a mere Kinsman of the dead Antonio's.  Iust. 
'Tis well, I am sorry for my neighbour, truly, that he had no more grace, 'twill kill his Mother; she's a good old woman, will you walk in? I'll but put my Cloak on, and my Chain off, and a clean band, and have my shoes blacked over, and shift my Jerkin, and we'll to our business, and you shall see how I can bolt these matters.  Cur. 
As soon as't please you Sir. Exit.  Enter Valerio, and Richardo. Val. 
This is the place; here did I leave the Maid  
Alone last night drying her tender eyes,  
Uncertain what to do, and yet desirous  
To have me gone.  Rich. 
How rude are all we men,  
That take the name of Civil to ourselves?  
If she had set her foot upon an earth  
Where people live that we call barbarous;  
Though they had had no house to bring her too,  
They would have spoiled the glory that the spring  
Has decked the trees in, and with willing hands  
Have torn their branches down, and every man  
Would have become a builder for her sake.  
What time left you her there?  Val. 
I left her, when the Sun had so much to set,  
As he is now got from his place of rise.  Rich. 
So near the night she could not wander far;  
Fair Viola?  Val. 
It is in vain to call, she sought a house  
Without all question.  Rich. 
Peace, fair Viola?  
Fair Viola? who should have left her here  
On such a ground? if you had meant to lose her,  
You might have found there were no Inches here  
To take her name and carry it about,  
When her true Lover came to mourn for her,  
Till all the neighbouring valleys and the hills,  
Resounded Viola,—  
And such a place,  
You should have chose—  
You pity us because  
The dew a little wets our feet,  
Unworthy far to seek her in the wet;  
And what becomes of her? where wandered she,  
With 2 showers raining on her, from her eyes  
Continually, abundantly, from which  
There's neither tree nor house to shelter her;  
Will you go with me to travel?  Val. 
Whither?  Rich. 
Over all the world.  Val. 
No by my faith, I'll make a shorter journey  
When I do travel.  Rich. 
But there's no hope  
To gain my end in any shorter way.  Val. 
Why, what's your end?  Rich. 
It is to search the earth,  
Till we have found two in the shapes of men,  
As wicked as ourselves.  Val. 
'Twere not so hard to find out those.  Rich. 
Why, if we find them out,  
It were the better; for what brave villainy,  
Might we 4. do? we wood not keep together:  
For every one has treachery enough  
For 20. countries, one should trouble Asia,  
Another should sow strife in Africa;  
But you should play the knave, at home in Europe,  
And for America let me alone.  Vale. 
Sir I am honesty,  
Than you know how to be, and can no more  
be wronged but I shall find myself a right.  Rich. 
If you had any spark of honesty,  
You would not think that honester than I,  
Were a praise high enough to serve your turn:  
If men were commonly so bad as I,  
Thieves would be put in Calendars for Saints;  
And bones of murderers would work miracles.  
I am a kind of knave, of knave so much—  
There is betwixt me and the vilest else,  
But the next place of all to mine is yours.  Enter 2. Milkemaides, and Viola, with pails. Val. 
That last is she, 'tis she.  Rich. 
Let us away, we shall infect her, let her have the wind,  
And we will kneel down here.  Viola. 
Wenches away for here are men.  Valerio. 
Fair maid I pray you stay.  Vio. 
Alas, again?  Rich. 
Why do you lay hold on her? I pray heartily let her go.  Val. 
With all my heart, I do not mean to hurt her.  Rich. 
But stand away then for the purest bodies  
Will soonest take infection, stand away,  
But for infecting her myself, by heaven,  
I would come there and beat thee further off.  Viola. 
I know that voice and face.  Val. 
You are finely mad, good-bye Sir, now you are here together, I'll leave you so, god send you good luck, both when you are soberer, you'll give me thanks. Exit.  Madge. 
Wilt thou go milk? come.  Nan. 
Why dost not come?  Madge. 
She nods, she's asleep.  Nan. 
What, wert up so early?  Madge. 
I think your man's mad to kneel there, nay come away ves body, Nan, help she looks black i'th' face, she's in a sound.  Nan. 
And you be a man come hither, & help a woman.  Rich. 
Come thither? you are a fool.  Nan. 
And you a knave and a beast that you are.  Rich. 
Come hither? 'twas being my now so near,  
That made her swoon, and you are wicked people,  
Or you wood do so too, my venom eyes  
Strike innocency dead at such a distance,  
Here I'll kneel for this is out of distance.  Nan. 
thouart a prating Ass there's no goodness in thee,  
I warrant, how dost thou?  Vio. 
Why? well.  Madge. 
Art thou able to go?  Vio. 
No, pray go you and milk, if I be able to come  
I'll follow you, if not I'll sit here,  
Till you come back.  Nan. 
I am loath to leave thee here with you wild fool.  Vio. 
I know him well, I warrant thee, he will not hurt me.  Madge. 
Come then Nan. Exeunt Maids.  Rich. 
How do you? be not fearful, for I hold my hands  
Before my mouth and speak, and so  
My breath can never blast you.  Vio. 
'Twas enough to use me ill, though you had never sought me too mock me to, why kneel you so far Off, were not that gesture better used in prayer, had dealt so with you, I should not sleep, till God and you had both forgiven me.  Rich. 
I do not mock, nor lives there such a villain  
That can do any thing contemptible,  
To you, but I do kneel because it is,  
An action very fit, and reverent,  
In presence of so pure a creature,  
And so far off, as fearful to offend,  
One too much wronged already.  Vio. 
You confess you did the fault, yet scorn to come,  
So far as hither to ask pardon for't;  
Which I could willingly afford to come,  
To you to grant, good Sir if you have  
A better love, may you be blessed together,  
She shall not wish you better than I will,  
I but offend you; there are all the jewels  
I stole, and all the love I ever had,  
I leave behind with you, I'll carry now  
To give another, may the next maid you try  
Love you no worse, nor be no worse than I.  Rich. 
Do not leave me yet for all my fault,  
Search out the next things too impossible,  
And put me on them when they are effected,  
I may with better modesty receive  
Forgiveness from you.  Vio. 
I will set no penance,  
To gain the great forgiveness you desire:  
But to come hither and take me and it,  
Or else I'll come and beg so you will grant,  
That you will be content to be forgiven.  Rich. 
Nay I will come since you will have it so,  
And since you please to pardon me I hope  
Free from infection, here I am by you;  
A careless man, a breaker of my faith,  
A loathsome drunkard and in that wild fury:  
A hunter after whores I do beseech you,  
To pardon all these faults, and take me up  
An honest sober and a faithful man.  Vio. 
For God's sake urge your faults no more, but mend,  
All the forgiveness I can make you is,  
To love you which I will do and desire,  
Nothing but love again, which if I have not,  
Yet I will love you still.  Rich. 
O women that some one of you will take,  
An everlasting pen into your hands:  
And grave in paper which the writ shall make,  
More lasting than the marble monuments,  
Your matchless virtues to posterities:  
Which the defective race of envious man,  
Strive to conceal.  Vio. 
methinks I would not now for any thing,  
But you had missed me, I have made a story,  
Will serve to waste many a winter's fire  
When we are old, I'll tell my daughters then,  
The miseries their Mother had in love:  
And say my girls be wiser, yet I would not  
Have had more wit myself, take up those jewels,  
For I think I hear my fellows coming.  Enter the Milkemaides with their pails. Madge. 
How dost thou now?  Vio. 
Why? very well I thank you, 'tis late shall I haste home?  Nan. 
I prithee we shall be shent soundly.  Madge. 
Why does that railing man go with us?  Vio. 
I preythee speak well of him, on my word,  
he's an honest man.  Nan. 
There was never any so one's complexion, a Gentleman?  
I'd be ashamed to have such a foul mouth. Exeunt.  Enter Mother, Alexander, Andrugio, and his man Rowland. Moth. 
How now Alexander, what Gentleman is this?  Alex. 
Indeed forsooth I know not, I found him at the market full of woe, crying a lost daughter, and telling all her tokens to the people; and wot you what? by all subscription in the world, it should be our new maid Melvia, one would little think it, therefore I was bold to tell him of her Mistress.  Mother. 
Melvia? it cannot be, fool, alas you know she is a poor wench, and I took her in upon mere charity.  And. 
So seemed my daughter when she went away, as she had made herself.  Moth. 
What stature was your child of, Sir?  And. 
Not high, and of a brown complexion, Her hair aborne, a round face, which some friends that flattered me, would say 'twould be a good one.  Alex. 
This is still Melvia, Mistress, that's the truth on't.  Moth. 
It may be so I'll promise you.  Alex. 
Well, go thy ways, the flower of our town, For a hand and a foot, I shall never see thy fellow.  Moth. 
But had she not such toys, as bracelets, rings, and Jewels?  And. 
she was something bold indeed, to take such things that night she left me.  Moth. 
Then belike she run away?  And. 
Though she be one I love, I dare not lie, she did indeed.  Moth. 
What think you of this Jewel?  And. 
Yes, this was one of them, and this was mine, you have made me a new man, I thank you for it.  Moth. 
Nay, and she be given to filching, there is your Jewel, I am clear on't: but by your leave Sir, you shall answer me for what is lost since she came hither, can tell you there lie things scattering in every place about the house.  Alex. 
As I am virtuous, I have the lyingst old Gentlewoman to my Mistress, and the most malicious, the Devil a good word will she give a servant, that's her old rule; and God be thanked they'll give her as few, there is perfect love on both sides, it yearns my heart to hear the wench misconstrued, a careful soul she is I'll be sworn for her, and when she's gone, let them say what they will, they may cast their Caps at such another.  And. 
What you have lost by her, with all my heart  
I'll see you double paid, for you have saved  
With your kind pity two that must not live  
Unless it be to thank you; take this Jewel,  
This strikes off none of her offences, Mistress,  
Would I might see her.  Moth. 
Alexander, run, and bid her make haste home, she's at the milking Close; but tell her not by any means who's here, I know she'll be too fearful.  Alex. 
Well, we'll have a posset yet at parting, that's my comfort, and one round, or else I'll lose my will.  Exit. And. 
You shall find Silvio, Uberto, and Pedro enquiring for the Wench at the next Town, tell them she is found, and where I am, and with the favour of this Gentlewoman, desire them to come hither,  Mo. 
I pray do, they shall be all welcome. Exit Servant.  Enter Justice, Curio, and Mark. Justice. 
By your leave forsooth you shall see me find the parties by a slight.  Moth. 
who's that? Mr. Justice? how do you Sir.  Iust. 
Why very well, and busy, where's your son.  Moth. 
he's within Sir.  Iust. 
Hum, and how does the young woman my cousin that came down with him.  Moth. 
she's above, as a woman in her case may be.  justice. 
You have confessed it? then sirrah call in the Officers; she's no Cousin of mine; a mere trick to discover all.  Moth. 
To discover? what?  Enter Mark and Officers. justice. 
You shall know that anon: I think you have over reached you; o welcome, enter the house, and by virtue of my warrant which you have there, seize upon the bodily persons of those whose names are there written, to wit, one Mercury, and the wife of one Antonio.  Moth. 
For what.  Iust. 
Away I say,  
This Gentleman shall certify you for what. Exit Officer.  Mother. 
He can accuse my Son of nothing, he came from travel but within these two days?  Iust. 
There hangs a tale.  Moth. 
I should be sorry this should fall out at any time: but especially now Sir; will you favour me so much, as to let me know of what you accuse him?  Cur. 
Upon suspicion of murder.  Moth. 
Murder? I defy thee.  Curio. 
I pray GOD he may prove himself innocent.  Iust. 
Fie, say not so, you show yourself to be no good commonwealth's man: for the more are hanged, the better 'tis for the Commonwealth.  Mother. 
By this rule you were best hang yourself.  Iust. 
I forgive your honest mirth ever: O, welcome, welcome Mark.  Enter Mark and Officers, with Mercury and the Wife. 
Your pen, ink, and paper to take their examinations.  Mer. 
Why do you pull me so? I'll go alone.  Iust. 
Let them stand, let them stand quietly, whilst they are examined?  Wife. 
What will you examine us of?  Iust. 
Of Antonio's murder.  Mer. 
Why, he was my friend.  Wife. 
He was my husband.  Iust. 
The more shame for you both; Mark, your pen and ink.  Moth. 
Pray God all be well, I never knew any of these Travellers come to good; I beseech you, Sir, be favourable to my Son.  Iust. 
Gentlewoman hold you content, I would it were come to that?  Mer. 
For God's sake mother why kneel you to such a pig bribe fellow? he has surfeited of geese, and they have put him into a fit of Justice, let him do his worst.  Iust. 
Is your paper ready?  Mark. 
I am ready Sir.  Enter Antonio. Just. 
Accuse them Sir, I command thee to lay down accusations against these persons in behalf of the State, and first look upon the parties to be accused, and deliver your name.  Cu. 
My name is Curio, my murthered Kinsman  
If he were living now, I should not know him,  
'tis so long since we saw one another.  Ant. 
My cousin Curio?  Cur 
But thus much from the mouths of his servants, & others, whose examinations I have in writing about me, I can accuse them of; this Mercury, the last night, but this last, lay in Antonio's house, and in the night he rose, raising Antonio, where privately they were in talk an hour, to what end I know not: but of likelihood, finding Antonio's house not a fit place to murder him in, he suffered him to go to bed again, but in the morning early, he trained him I think forth, after which time he never saw his home; his clothes were found near the place where Mercury was, and the people at first denied they saw him: but at last he made a frivolous tale, that there he shifted himself into a footman's habit: but in short, the next hour this woman went to Mercury, and in her Coach they posted hither; true accusations, I have no more, and I will make none.  Just. 
No more? we need no more, Sirrah, be drawing heir Mittimus before we hear their answer. What say you Sir? are you guilty of this murder?  Mer. 
No Sir.  Just. 
Whether you are or no, confess, it will be the better for you.  Mer. 
If I were guilty, your Rhetoric could not fetch it forth: but though I am innocent, I confess, that if I were a stander by, these circumstances urged, which are true, would make me doubtless believe the accused parties to be guilty.  Just. 
Write down, that he being a slander by, for so you see he is, doth doubtlessly believe the accused parties, which is himself, to be guilty.  Mer. 
I say no such thing.  Just. 
Write it down I say, we'll try that.  Mer. 
I care not what you write, pray God you did not kill him for my love, though I am free from this, we both deserve.  Wife. 
Govern your tongue I pray you, all is well, my husband lives, I know it, and I see him.  Just. 
They whisper, sever them quickly I say Officers why do you let them prompt one another, Gentlewoman, what say you to this, are not you guilty?  Wife. 
No as I hope for mercy.  Jus. 
But are not those circumstances true, that this Gentleman hath so shortly and methodically delivered?  Wife. 
They are; and what you do with me I care not,  
Since he is dead, in whom was all my care:  
You knew him not.  Jus. 
No an't been better for you too, and you had never knewed him.  Wife. 
Why then you did not know the world's chief joy  
His face so manly, as it had been made,  
To fright the world, yet he so sweetly tempered;  
That he would make himself a natural fool,  
To do a noble kindness for a friend,  
He was a man whose name I'll not out live,  
Longer than heaven whose will must be obeyed;  
Will have me do.  Ant. 
And I will quit thy kindness.  Just. 
Before me she has made the tears stand in mine eyes, but I must be austere Gentlewoman, you must confess this murder.  Wife. 
I cannot Sir, I did it not, but I de sire to see those examinations which this Gentleman acknowledges to have about him, for but late last night I received letters from the City, yet I heard of no confession, then.  Just. 
You shall see them time enough I warrant you, but letters you say you had, where are those letters?  Wife. 
Sir they are gone.  Just. 
Gone? whether are they gone?  
How have you disposed of 'em?  Wife. 
Why Sir they are for women's matters, and so I use 'em.  Just. 
Who writ 'em?  Wife. 
A man of mine.  Just. 
Who brought 'em?  Wife. 
A Post.  Just. 
A Post? there was some great haste sure, a ha where is that Post?  Wife. 
Sir there he stands.  Just. 
does he so? bring hither that Post, I am afraid that Post will prove a knave; come hither Post, what? what can you say concerning the murder of Antonio?  Ant. 
what's that to you?  Just. 
O Post, you have no answer ready have you? I'll have one from you.  Ant. 
You shall have no more from me than you have, you examine an honest Gentleman and Gentlewoman here, 'tis pity such fools as you should be i'the commission.  Just. 
Say you so Post, take away that Post, whip him and bring him again quickly, I'll hamper you Post.  Mer. 
'Tis Antonio, I know him now as well, what an irregular fool is this?  Ant. 
Whip me? hold off.  Wife. 
O good Sir whip him, by his murmuring he should know some thing of my husband's death; that may quit me, for God's sake fetch't out.  Just. 
Whip him I say.  Ant. 
who 'is't dares whip me now?  Wife. 
O my loved husband.  Mer. 
My most worthy friend? where have you been so long?  Ant. 
I cannot speak for joy.  Just. 
Why, what's the matter now, and shall not law then have her course?  Andra. 
It shall have no other course than it has I think  Just. 
It shall have other course before I go, or I'll beat my brains, and I say it was not honestly done of him to discover himself before the parties accused were executed that law might have had her course, for then the kingdom flourishes.  Ant. 
But such a wife as thou, had never any man, and such a friend as he, believe me wife, shall never be a good wife, love my friend, friend love my wife, hark friend.  Iust. 
Mark. if we can have nothing to do, you shall swear the peace of somebody.  Mark. 
Yes Sir.  Ant. 
By my troth I am sorry my wife is so obstinate, sooth if I could yet do thee any good, I wood, faith I wood.  Mer. 
I thank you Sir, I have lost that passion.  Ant. 
Cousin Curio, you and I must be better acquainted.  Cur. 
It is my wish Sir.  Ant. 
I should not have known you neither, 'tis so long since we saw, we were but children then: but you have showed yourself an honest man to me.  Cur. 
I would be ever so.  Enter Richardo and Viola. Moth. 
Look you, who's there.  And. 
Say nothing to me, for thy peace is made.  Kic. 
Sir, I can nothing say,  
But that you are her Father, you can both  
Not only pardon, when you have a wrong,  
But love where you have most injury.  Iust. 
I think I shall hear of no hanging this year, there A Tinker and a Whore yet, the Crier said that robbed her, and are in prison, I hope they shall be hanged.  And. 
No truly sir, they have broke prison.  Inst. 
'Tis no matter, than the Jailor shall be hanged.  And. 
You are deceived in that to sir, 'twas known to be against his will, and he hath got his pardon, I think for nothing, but if it doth cost him any thing, 'I'll pay it.  Just. 
Mark up with your papers, away.  Mer. 
O you shall stay dinner, I have a couple of brawling neighbours, that I'll assure you will not agree, and you shall have the hearing of their matter.  Just. 
With all my heart.  Mer. 
Go, Gentlemen, go in.  Rich. 
O Viola, that no succeeding age,  
Might lose the memory of what thou wert,  
But such an overswayed sex is yours,  
That all the virtuous actions you can do,  
Are but as men will call them, and I swear,  
'Tis my belief that women want but ways;  
To praise their deeds, but men want deeds to praise.  Exeunt omnes.    

The Prologue.  
THis Comedy long forgot, by some thought dead,  
By us preserved, once more doth raise her head.  
And to your noble censures does present,  
Her outward form, and inward ornament.  
Nor let this smell of arrogance, since 'tis known,  
The makers that confessed it for their own  
Were this way skilful, and without the crime  
Of flatteries I may say did please the time;  
The work itself too, when it first came forth,  
In the opinion of men of worth,  
Was well received, and favoured, though some rude  
And harsh among the ignorant multitude,  
(That relish gross food better than a dish,  
That's cooked with care, and served into the wish,  
Of curious palates) wanting wit and strength,  
Truly to judge, condemned it for the length,  
That fault's reformed, and now 'tis to be tried,  
Before such Judges 'twill not be denied  
A free and noble hearing, nor fear I,  
But 'twill deserve to have free liberty,  
And give you cause (and with content) to say,  
Their care was good that did revive this Play.   

The Epilogue.  
'TIs ended; but my hopes, and fears begin,  
Nor can it be imputed as a sin  
In me to wish it favour, if this night,  
To the Judicious it hath given delight,  
I have my ends, and may such for their grace,  
Vouchsafed to this, find theirs in every place.