THE NICE VALOUR, OR, The Passionate Madman.  

Actus primus.  

Scaena prima.  Duke, Shamount, and 4 Gentlemen. Duke. 
SHamount, welcome; we have missed thee long,  
Though absent but two days: I hope your sports  
Answer your time and wishes.  Sham. 
Very nobly sir:  
We found game worthy your delight my Lord,  
It was so royal.  Du. 
I've enough to hear on't,  
Prithee bestow't upon me in discourse.  1 Gen. 
What is this Gentleman Coz? you are a Courtier,  
Therefore know all their insides.  2 Gent. 
No farther than the Taffeta goes good Coz,  
For the most part, which is indeed the best part  
Of the most general inside: marry thus far  
I can with boldness speak this one's man's Character,  
And upon honour pass it for a true one;  
He has that strength of many merit in him,  
That it exceeds his sovereign's power of gracing;  
He's faithfully true to valour, that he hates  
The man from Caesar's time, or farther off,  
That ever took disgrace unrevenged:  
And if he chance to read his abject story,  
He tears his memory out, and holds it virtuous,  
Not to let shame have so much life amongst us;  
There is not such a curious piece of courage  
Amongst man's fellowship, or one so jealous  
Of honour's loss, or reputation's glory:  
There's so much perfect, of his growing story.  1 Gen. 
'Twould make one dote on virtue as you tell it.  2 Gen. 
I ha' told it too much loss, believe it Coz.  3 Gent. 
How the Duke graces him? what is he brother?  4 Gen. 
Do you not yet know him? a vainglorious coxcomb,  
As proud as he that fell for't:  
Set but aside his valour, no virtue,  
Which is indeed, not fit for any Courtier;  
And we his fellows are as good as he,  
Perhaps as capable of favour too,  
For one thing or another, if 'twere looked into:  
Give me a man, were I a Sovereign now,  
Has a good stroke at Tennis, and a stiff one,  
Can play at Equinoctium with the Line,  
As even as the thirteenth of September,  
When day and night lie in a scale together:  
Or may I thrive as I deserve at Billiards;  
No otherwise at Chess, or at Primero:  
These are the parts required, why not advanced?  Du. 
Trust me, it was no less than excellent pleasure,  
And I'm right glad 'twas thine. How fares our kinsman?  
Who can resolve us best?  1 Gent. 
I can my Lord.  Du. 
There if I had a pity without bounds,  
It might be all bestowed— A man so lost  
In the wild ways of passion, that he's sensible  
Of nought but what torments him?  1 Gent. 
True my Lord,  
He runs through all the Passions of mankind,  
And shifts 'em strangely too: one while in love,  
And that so violent, that for want of business,  
he'll court the very Prentice of a Laundress,  
Though she have kibed heels: and in's melancholy again,  
He will not brook an Empress, though thrice fairer  
Than ever Maud was; or higher spirited  
Than Cleopatra, or your English Countess:  
Then on a sudden he's so merry again,  
outlaughs a waiting woman, before her first Child:  
And turning of a hand, so angry—  
'Has almost beat the Northern fellow blind;  
That is for that use only; if that mood hold my Lord,  
' Had need of a fresh man; I'll undertake,  
He shall bruise three a month.  Du. 
I pity him dearly:  
And let it be your charge, with his kind brother,  
To see his moods observed; let every passion  
Be fed e'en to a surfeit, which in time  
May breed a loathing: let him have enough  
Of every object, that his sense is rapt with;  
And being once glutted, than the taste of folly  
Will come into his relish. Exit.  1 Gent. 
I shall see  
Your charge my Lord most faithfully effected:  
And how does noble Shamount?  Sha. 
Never ill man  
Until I hear of baseness, than I sicken,  
I am the healthful'st man i'th' Kingdom else.  1 Gent. 
Be armed then for a fit, Enter Lapet.  
Here comes a fellow  
Will make you sick at heart, if baseness do't.  Sha. 
Let me be gone: what is he?  1 Gent. 
Let me tell you first,  
It can be but a qualm, pray stay it out sir,  
Come, you've borne more than this.  Sha. 
Born? never any thing  
That was injurious.  Gen. 
Ha, I am far from that.  Sha. 
He looks as like a man as I have seen one:  
What would you speak of him? speak well I prithee,  
Even for humanity's cause.  1 Gent. 
You'd have it truth though?  Sha. 
What else sir? I have no reason to wrong heaven  
To favour nature; let her bear her own shame  
If she be faulty.  1 Gent. 
Monstrous faulty there sir.  Sha. 
I'm ill at ease already.  1 Gent. 
Pray bear up sir.  Sha. 
I Prithee let me take him down with speed then.  
Like a wild object that I would not look upon.  1 Gent. 
Then thus: he's one that will endure as much  
As can be laid upon him.  Sha. 
That may be noble:  
I'm kept too long from his acquaintance.  1 Gent. 
O sir,  
Take heed of rash repentance, you're too forward  
To find out virtue where it never settled:  
Take the particulars first of what he endures;  
Videlicet, Bastinadoes by the great.  Sha. 
How!  1 Gent. 
Thumps by the dozen, and your kicks by whole sale.  Sha. 
No more of him.  1 Gent. 
The twinges by the nostril he snuffs up,  
And holds it the best remedy for sneezing.  Sha. 
Away.  1 Gent. 
Has been thrice switz't from seven o'clock till nine,  
Yet with a carthorse stomach fell to breakfast,  
Forgetful of his smart.  Sha. 
Nay, the disgrace on't;  
There is no smart but that: base things are felt  
More by their shames then hurts Sir, I know you not,  
But that you live an injury to nature:  
I'm heartily angry with you.  Lap. 
Pray give your blow or kick, and begone then:  
For I ne'er saw you before, and indeed,  
Have nothing to say to you, for I know you not.  Sha. 
Why wouldst thou take a blow?  Lap. 
I would not sir,  
Unless 'twere offered me; and if from an enemy—  
I'd be loath to deny it from a stranger.  Sha. 
What, a blow?  
Endure a blow? and shall he live that gives it?  Lap. 
Many a fair year— why not sir?  Sha. 
Let me wonder!  
As full a man to see too, and as perfect—  
I prithee live not long—  Lap. 
How?  Sha. 
Let me entreat it:  
Thou dost not know what wrong thou dost mankind,  
To walk so long here; not to die betimes.  
Let me advise thee, while thou hast to live here,  
e'en for man's honour's sake, take not a blow more.  Lap. 
You should advise them not to strike me then sir,  
For I'll take none I assure you, less than are given.  Sha. 
How fain would I preserve man's form from shame,  
And cannot get it done? however sir,  
I charge thee live not long.  Lap. 
This is worse than beating.  Sha. 
Of what profession art thou, tell me sir,  
Besides a tailor? for I'll know the truth.  Lap. 
A tailor? I'm as a good a Gentleman—  
Can show my arms and all.  Sha. 
How black and blue they are?  
Is that your manifestation? upon pain  
Of pounding thee to dust, assume not wrong fully,  
The name of Gentleman, because I am one,  
That must not let thee live.  Lap. 
I have done, I have done sir,  
If there be any harm, beshrew the Herald,  
I'm sure I ha' not been so long a gentleman,  
To make this anger: I have nothing nowhere,  
But what I dearly pay for. Exit.  Sh. 
Groom begone;  
I never was so heartsick yet of man.  
Enter Lady, the Duke's sister, lapet's wife.  1. Gen. 
Here comes a cordial Sir from t'other sex,  
Able to make a dying face look cheerful.  Sh. 
The blessedness of Ladies—  Lady. 
You're well met sir.  Sh. 
The sight of you has put an evil from me,  
Whose breath was able to make virtue sicken.  Lady. 
I'm glad I came so fortunately. What was't fit?  Sh. 
A thing that takes a blow, lives and eats after it,  
In very good health; you ha' not seen the like Madam,  
A monster worth your sixpence, lovely worth,  
Speak low Sir; by all likelihoods 'tis her husband,  
That now bestowed a visitation on me. Farewell sir. Ex.  Sh. 
Husband? is't possible that he has a wife?  
Would any creature have him? 'twas some forced match,  
If he were not kicked toth' Church o'th' wedding day,  
I'll never come at Court. Can be no otherwise:  
Perhaps he was rich, speak Mistress Lapet, was it not so?  Wife. 
Nay, that's without all question.  Sh. 
O ho, he would not want kickers enough then;  
If you are wise, I much suspect your honesty;  
For wisdom never fastens constantly,  
But upon merit: If you incline to fool,  
You are alike unfit for his society;  
Nay if it were not boldness in the man  
That honours you, to advise you, troth his company  
Should not be frequent with you.  Wise. 
'Tis good counsel sir.  Sh. 
Oh I am so careful where I reverence,  
So just to goodness, and her precious purity,  
I am as equally jealous, and as fearful,  
That any undeserved stain might fall  
Upon her sanctified whiteness, as of the sin  
That comes by wilfulness.  Wife. 
Sir, I love your thoughts,  
And honour you for your counsel and your care.  Sh. 
We are your servants.  Wife. 
he's but a gentleman o'th' chamber, he might have kissed me:  
Faith, where shall one find less courtesy, then at Court?  
Say I have an undeserver to my husband:  
That's ne'er the worse for him: well strange lipped men,  
'Tis but a kiss lost, there'll more come again. Exit.  Enter the Passionate Lord, the Duke's Kinsman, makes a congee or two to nothing. 1. Gen. 
Look who comes here sir, his love fit's upon him;  
I know it, by that set smile, and those congees.  
How courteous he's to nothing? which indeed,  
Is the next kin to woman; only shadow  
The elder Sister of the twain, because 'tis seen too.  
See how it kisses the forefinger still;  
Which is the last edition, and being come  
So near the thumb every Cobbler has got it?  Sham. 
What a ridiculous piece, humanity  
Here makes itself?  1 Gent. 
Nay, good give leave a little sir,  
You're so precise a manhood—  Sha. 
It afflicts me  
When I behold unseemliness in an Image  
So near the Godhead, 'tis an injury  
To glorious Eternity.  1 Gent. 
Pray use patience sir.  Pas. 
I do confess it freely precious Lady,  
And loves suit is so, the longer it hangs  
The worse it is; better cut off sweet Madam;  
O that same drawing in your nether lip there,  
Foreshows no goodness Lady: make you question on't?  
Shame on me but I love you.  1 Gent. 
Who is't sir,  
You are at all this pains for? may I know her?  Pas. 
For thee thou fairest, yet the falsest woman,  
That ever broke man's heartstrings.  1 Gent. 
How? how's this sir?  Pas. 
What, the old trick of Ladies? man's apparel,  
wilt ne'er be left amongst you? steal from Court in't?  1 Gent. 
I see the fit grows stronger.  Pas. 
Pray let's talk a little.  Sha. 
I can endure no more.  1 Gen. 
Good, let us alone a little:  
You are so exact a work: love light things somewhat sir.  Sha. 
theyare all but shames.  1 Gen. 
What is't you'd say to me sir?  Pas. 
Can you be so forgetful to inquire it Lady?  1 Gent. 
Yes truly sir.  Pas. 
The more I admire your stintiness:  
What cause have I given you, illustrious Madam,  
To play this strange part with me?  1 Gent. 
Cause enough,  
Do but look back sir into your memory,  
Your love to other women o lewd man,  
'thas almost killed my heart, you see I'm changed with it,  
I ha' lost the fashion of my Sex with grief on't,  
When I have seen you courting of a Dowdy;  
Compared with me, and kissing your forefinger  
To one o'th' black-guards Mistresses: would not this  
Crack a poor lady's heart, that believed love,  
And waited for the comfort? but 'twas said sir,  
A Lady of my hair cannot want pitying:  
The Countries coming up, farewell to you sir.  Pas. 
Whither intend you sir?  1 Gent. 
A long journey sir:  
The truth is, I'm with child, and go to travel.  Pas. 
With child? I never got it.  1 Gent. 
I heard you were busy  
At the same time sir, and was loath to trouble you.  Pas. 
Why, are not you a whore then, excellent Madam?  1 Gent. 
O by no means, 'twas done sir in the state  
Of my belief in you, and that quits me,  
It lies upon your falsehood.  Pas. 
Does it so?  
You shall not carry her though sir, she's my contract.  2 Gent. 
I prithee thou four Elements ill brewed,  
Torment none but thyself; away I say  
Thou beast of passion, as the drunkard is  
The beast of wine; dishonour to thy making,  
Thou man in fragments.  Pas. 
Hear me precious Madam.  Sham. 
Kneel for thy wits to heaven.  Pas. 
Lady, I'll father it,  
Who ere begot it: 'tis the course of greatness.  Sha. 
How virtue groans at this?  Pas. 
I'll raise the Court, but I'll stay your slight.  Sha. 
How wretched is that piece? Ex. Pas. Lord.  1 Gen. 
He's the Duke's kinsman sir.  Sha. 
That cannot take a passion away sir,  
Nor cut a fit, but one poor hour shorter,  
He must endure as much as the poorest beggar,  
That cannot change his money; there's the equality  
In our impartial essence:  
What's the news now? Ent. a Servant.  Ser. 
Your worthy brother sir, has left his charge,  
And come to see you. Ent. shamount's brother a Soldier.  Sha. 
O the noblest welcome  
That ever came from man, meet thy deservings:  
Methinks I've all joys treasure in mine arms now,  Soul. 
You are so fortunate in prevention brother,  
You always leave the answerer barren sir,  
You comprehend in few words so much worth—  Sha. 
'Tis all too little for thee: come thouart welcome,  
So I include all: take especial knowledge pray,  
Of this dear Gentleman, my absolute friend,  
That loves a Soldier far above a Mistress,  
Thou excellently faithful to 'em both.  
But love to manhood, owns the purer troth. Exeunt.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scaena prima.  Enter shamont's brother a Soldier, and a Lady the Duke's sister. Lady 
THere should be in this gallery— on theyare here,  
Pray sit down; believe me sir I'm weary.  Soul. 
It well becomes a Lady to complain a little  
Of what she never feels: your walk was short Madam,  
You can be but afraid of weariness;  
Which well employs the softness of your Sex,  
As for the thing itself, you never came to't.  La. 
You're wondrously well read in Lady's sir.  Soul. 
Shall I think such a creature as you Madam,  
Was ever borne to feel pain, but in travel?  
There's your full portion,  
Besides a little toothache in the breeding,  
Which a kind husband too, takes from you Madam.  La. 
But where do Ladies sir, find such kind husbands?  
Perhaps you have heard  
The Rheumatic story of some loving Chandler now,  
Or some such melting fellow, that you talk  
So prodigal of men's kindness: I confess sir,  
Many of those wives are happy, their ambition  
Does reach no higher, than to love and ignorance,  
Which makes an excellent husband, and a fond one:  
Now sir, your great ones aim at height, and cunning,  
And so are oft deceived, yet they must venture it;  
For 'tis a Lady's contumely sir,  
To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the world's voice  
Will deem her for a wanton ere she taste on't:  
But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection,  
The world resigns itself with all his envy;  
'Tis less dishonour to us then to fall,  
Because his believed wisdom keeps out all.  Sould. 
Would I were the man Lady, that should venture  
His wisdom to your goodness.  Lad. 
You might fail  
In the return, as many men have done sir:  
I dare not justify what is to come of me,  
Because I know it not, though I hope virtuously;  
Marry what's past or present, I durst put  
Into a good man's hand, Which if he take  
Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen him.  Sol. 
No, nor her after?  Lad. 
It may hap so too sir:  
A woman's goodness, when she is a wise,  
Lies much upon a man's desert, believe it sir,  
If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't,  
'Tis first in him, if she were ever good,  
That makes one; knowing not a husband yet,  
Or what he may be, I promise no more virtues,  
Than I may well perform, for that were cozenage.  Sol. 
Happy were he that had you with all fears,  
That's my opinion, Lady.  Enter Shamont & a servant listening. Ser. 
What say you now sir?  
Dare you give confidence to your own eyes?  Sha. 
Not yet I dare not.  Ser. 
No?  Sha. 
Scarce yet, or yet:  
Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing,  
That's but myself divided be so false?  Ser. 
Nay do but mark how the chair plays his part too:  
How amorously 'tis bent.  Sha. 
Hell take thy bad thoughts,  
For they are strange ones. Never take delight  
To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven,  
For that's a brother: send me a fair enemy,  
And take him; for a fouler fiend there breathes not:  
I will not sin, to think there's ill in her,  
But what's of his producing.  
Yet goodness, whose enclosure is but flesh,  
Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black sir,  
As ever kindred was: I hate mine own blood,  
Because it is so near thine. Live without honesty,  
And mayst thou die with an unmoistened eye,  
And no tear follow thee. Ex. Shamont, Servant.  Lad. 
You're wondrous merry sir; I would your Brother heard you.  Sold. 
O my sister  
I would not out o'th' way, let fall my words Lady,  
Por the precisest humour.  Enter Passionate Lord. Pas. 
Yea, so close.  Sol. 
theyare merry, that's the worst you can report on 'em;  
theyare neither dangerous, nor immodest.  Pas. 
So sir,  
Shall I believe you, think you?  Sold. 
Who's this Lady?  Lad. 
O the Duke's x; he came late from travel sir.  Sold. 
Respect belongs to him.  Pas. 
For as I said Lady,  
theyare merry that's the worst you can report of 'em:  
theyare neither dangerous, nor immodest.  Sold. 
How's this?  Pas. 
And there I think I left.  Sold. 
Abuses me.  Pas. 
Now to proceed, Lady; perhaps I swore I loved you,  
If you believe me not, you're much the wiser.  Sol. 
He speaks still in my person, and derides me.  Pas. 
For I can cog with you.  Lad. 
You can all do so.  
We make no question of men's promptness that way.  Pas. 
And smile, & wave a chair with comely grace too,  
Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things,  
That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.  Sol. 
I never used to let man live so long  
That wronged me.  Pa. 
Talk of Battalions, woo you in a skirmish;  
Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set,  
Can court you at half pike: or name your weapon,  
We cannot fail you Lady. Enter 1 Gen.  Sol. 
Now he dies:  
Were all succeeding hopes stored up within him.  1 Ge. 
O fie, i'th' Court sir?  Sol. 
I most dearly thank you sir.  1 Ge. 
'tis rage ill spent upon a passionate madman.  Sol. 
That shall not privilege him for ever sir:  
A madman call you him? I have found too much reason  
Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.  1 Ge. 
If ever truth from man's lips may be held  
In reputation with you, give this confidence;  
And this his love-fit, which we observe still,  
By's flattering and his fineness: at some other time,  
he'll go as slovenly as heart can wish.  
The love and pity that his Highness shows to him,  
Makes every man the more respectful of him:  
Has never a passion, but is well provided for,  
As this of Love, he is full fed in all;  
His swinge as I may term it: have but patience,  
And ye shall witness somewhat.  Sol. 
Still he mocks me:  
Look you, in action, in behaviour sir;  
Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to you,  
Or I'll set so much strength upon your heart sir—  Pa. 
I feel some power has restrained me Lady:  
If it be sent from love, say, I obey it,  
And ever keep a voice to welcome it.  
Song.  
THou Deity, swift winged love,  
Sometimes below, sometimes above,  
Little in shape, but great in power,  
Thou that makest a heart thy Tower,  
And thy loopholes, lady's eyes,  
From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise.  
Did all the shafts in thy fair quiver  
Stick fast in my ambitious liver;  
Yet thy power would I adore,  
And call upon thee to shoot more.  
shoot more, shoot more.  Enter one like a Cupid offering to shoot at him. Pas. 
I prithee hold though, sweet Celestial boy;  
I'm not requited yet with love enough,  
For the first arrow that I have within me:  
And if thou be an equal archer Cupid,  
Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.  Lad. 
Me sir?  1 Gen. 
'tis nothing but device, fear it not Lady;  
You may be as good a maid after that shaft Madam,  
As ere your mother was at twelve and half:  
'tis like the boy that draws it, 'thas no sting yet.  Cup. 
'tis like the miserable maid that draws it— aside.  
That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate.  Pas. 
Strike me the Duchess of Valois in love with me,  
With all the speed thou canst, and two of her women.  Cu. 
You shall have more. Exit.  Pas. 
Tell 'em I tarry for 'em.  1 Gen. 
Who would be angry with that walking trouble now  
That hurts none but itself?  Soul. 
I am better quieted.  Pas. 
I'll have all womenkind struck in time for me  
After thirteen once:  
I see this Cupid will not let me want,  
And let him spend his forty shafts an hour,  
They shall be all found from the Duke's Exchequer;  
He's come already.  Enter again the same Cupid, two brothers, 6 women Maskers, Cupid's bow bent all the way towards them, the first woman singing and playing, A Priest. 
The Song.  
O turn thy bow,  
Thy power we feel and know,  
Fair Cupid turn away thy bow:  
They be those golden Arrows,  
Bring Ladies all their sorrows,  
And till there be more truth in men,  
Never shoot at maid again.  Pas. 
What a felicity of whores are here?  
And all my concubines, struck bleeding new:  
A man can in his life time make but one woman,  
But he may make his fifty Queans a month.  Cu. 
Have you remembered a Priest honest brothers?  1 Bro. 
Yes sister, and this is the young gentleman,  
Make you no question of our faithfulness.  2 Bro. 
His growing shame sister provokes our care.  Priest. 
He must be taken in this fit of love Gentlemen.  1 Bro. 
What else sir? he shall do't.  2 Bro. 
Enough.  1 Bro. 
Be cheerful wench. A dance, Cupid leading.  Pas. 
Now by the stroke of pleasure, a deep oath,  
Nimbly hopped Ladies all; what height they bear too?  
A story higher than your common statures;  
A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em:  
What a great space there is  
Betwixt love's dining Chamber, and his Garret?  
I'll try the utmost height— the Garret stoops methinks;  
The rooms are made all bending, I see that,  
And not so high as a man takes 'em for.  Cu. 
Now if you'll follow me sir, I've that power,  
To make them follow you.  Pas. 
Are they all shot?  Cu. 
All, all sir, every mother's daughter of 'em.  Pas. 
Then there's no fear of following; if they be once shot,  
They'll follow a man to th' devil— As for you sir— Ex. with the lady, & the Maskers.  Soul. 
Me sir?  1 Gent. 
Nay sweet sir.  Soul. 
A noise, a threatning; did you not hear it sir?  1 Gent. 
Without regard sir, so would I hear you.  Soul. 
This must come to something, never talk of that Sir,  
You never saw it otherwise.  1 Gen. 
Nay dear merit—  Soul. 
Me above all men?  1 Gen. 
Troth you wrong your anger.  Soul. 
I will be armed my honourable Lecher.  1 Gent. 
O fie sweet sir.  Soul. 
That devours women's honesties by lumps,  
And never chawst thy pleasure.  1 Gent. 
What do you mean sir?  Soul. 
What does he mean t'engross all to himself?  
There's others love a whore, as well as he sir.  1 Gen. 
Oh an' that be part o'th' fury, we have a City  
Is very well provided for that case;  
Let him alone with her, sir we have women  
Are very charitable to proper men,  
And to a Soldier that has all his limbs;  
Marry the sick and lame gets not a penny:  
Right women's charity, and the husbands follow't too:  
Here comes his highness sir.  Enter Duke, and Lords. Soul. 
I'll walk to cool myself. Exit.  Du. 
Who's that?  1 Gen. 
The brother of Shamont.  Du. 
hehas Brother then  
To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly,  
And place their friendliness upon desert:  
As for the rest, that with a double face  
Look upon merit, much like fortune's visage,  
That looks two ways, both to lives calms and storms,  
I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him,  
He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies.  
And here comes my Shamont. Enter Shamont.  Sha. 
That Ladies virtues are my only joys,  
And he to offer to lay siege to them?  Du. 
Shamont.  Sha. 
Her goodness is my pride; in all discourses,  
As often as I hear rash tongued gallants,  
Speak rudely of a woman, presently  
I give in but her name, and theyare all silent:  
O who would lose this benefit?  Du. 
Come hither sir.  Sha. 
'Tis like the gift of healing, but diviner;  
For that but cures diseases in the body,  
This works a cure on fame, on reputation:  
The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.  Du. 
Shamont; he minds me not.  Sha. 
A Brother do't?  Du. 
Shamont I say. Gives him a touch with his switch.  Sha. 
Ha?  
If he be mortal, by this hand he perishes; Draws.  
Unless it be a stroke from heaven, he dies for't.  Du. 
Why, how now sir? 'twas I.  Sha. 
The more's my misery.  Du. 
Why, what's the matter prithee?  Sha. 
Can you ask it sir?  
No man else should; stood forty lives before him  
By this I would have opened my way to him;  
It could not be you sir, excuse him not,  
whate'er he be, as you're dear to honour,  
That I may find my peace again.  Du. 
Forbear I say.  
Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.  Sha. 
Still miserable?  Du. 
Come, come, what ails you sir?  Sha. 
Never sat shame cooling so long upon me,  
Without a satisfaction in revenge,  
And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.  Du. 
Hark you sir?  Sha. 
O you've undone me.  Du. 
How?  Sha. 
Cruelly undone me;  
I have lost my peace, and reputation by you:  
Sir pardon me, I can never love you more. Exit.  Du. 
What language call you this sirs?  1 Gen. 
Truth my Lord, I've seldom heard a stranger.—  2 Gent, 
He is a man of a most curious valour,  
Wondrous precise, and punctual in that virtue.  Du. 
But why to me so punctual? my last thought  
Was most entirely fixed on his advancement:  
Why, I came now to put him in possession  
Of his fair fortunes: what a misconceiver 'tis?  
And from a Gentleman of our Chamber merely,  
Made him vice-admiral; I was settled in't,  
I love him next to health: call him Gentlemen;  
Why would not you, or you ha' taken as much,  
And never murmured? Exit. 1 Gent.  2 Gent. 
troth, I think we should my Lord,  
And there's a fellow walks about the Court,  
Would take a hundred of 'em.  Du. 
I hate you all for't,  
And rather praise his high pitched fortitude,  
Though in extremes for niceness: now I think on't,  
I would I had never done't.— Now sir, where is he?  Enter 1 Gentleman. 1 Gent. 
His suit is only sit to be excused.  Du. 
He shall not be excused, I love him dearelier:  
Say we entreat him; go, he must not leave us. Ex. 2 Gen.  
So virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paralleled;  
Why, he's more precious to me now, then ever.  Enter 2 Gent. and Shamont. 2 Gent. 
With much fair language, we've brought him?  Du. 
Thanks— Where is he?  2 Gent. 
Yonder sir.  Du. 
Come forward man.  Sha. 
Pray pardon me, I'm ashamed to be seen sir.  Du. 
Was ever such a touchy man heard of?  
Prithee come nearer.  Sha. 
More into the light?  
Put not such cruelty into your requests my Lord,  
First to disgrace me publicly, and then draw me  
Into men's eyesight, with the shame yet hot  
Upon my reputation.  Du. 
What disgrace sir?  Sha. 
What?  
Such as there can be no forgiveness for,  
That I can find in honour.  Du. 
That's most strange sir.  Sha. 
Yet I have searched my bosom to find one,  
And wrestled with my inclination,  
But 't will not be: would you had killed me sir,  
With what an ease had I forgiven you then?  
But to endure a stroke from any hand  
Under a punishing Angels, which is justice,  
Honour disclaim that man, for my part chiefly:  
Had it been yet the malice of your sword.  
Though it had cleft me, 'thad been noble to me;  
You should have found my thanks paid in a smile  
If I had fell unworded; but to shame me,  
With the correction that your horse should have,  
Were you ten thousand times my royal Lord,  
I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more.  
If your drum call me. I am vowed to valour,  
But peace shall never know me yours again,  
Because I've lost mine own, I speak to die sir;  
Would you were gracious that way to take off shame,  
With the same swiftness as you pour it on:  
And since it is not in the power of Monarchs  
To make a Gentleman, which is a substance  
Only begot of merit, they should be careful  
Not to destroy the worth of one so rare,  
Which neither they can make; nor lost, repair. Exit.  Du. 
Y'ave set a fair light sir before my judgement,  
Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acknowledge it,  
And your worth with it: but then sir, my love,  
My love— what gone again?  1 Gen. 
And full of scorn my Lord.  Du. 
That language will undo the man that keeps it,  
Who knows no difference twixt contempt and manhood.  
Upon your love to goodness, gentlemen, Enter a Huntsman  
Let me not lose him long: how now?  Hunts. 
The game's at height my Lord.  Du. 
Confound both, thee and it: hence break it off;  
He hates me brings me news of any pleasure:  
I felt not such a conflict since I could;  
Distinguish betwixt worthiness and blood Ex.    

Actus Tertius.  

Scaena prima.  Enter the two brothers, 1 Gentleman, with those that were the Maskers, and the Cupid. 1 Gen. 
I I heartily commend your project Gentlemen,  
'Twas wise and virtuous.  1 Bro. 
'Twas for the safety  
Of precious honour sir, which near blood binds us to:  
He promised the poor easy fool there marriage,  
There was a good maidenhead lost i'th' belief on't,  
Beshrew her hasty confidence.  1 Gen. 
O no more sir,  
You make her weep again; alas poor Cupid:  
Shall she not shift herself?  1 Bro. 
O by no means sir:  
We dare not have her seen yet, all the while  
She keeps this shape, 'tis but thought device,  
And she may follow him so without suspicion,  
To see if she can draw all his wild passions,  
To one point only, and that's love, the main point:  
So far his highness grants, and gave at first,  
Large approbation to the quick conceit,  
Which then was quick indeed.  1 Gent. 
You make her blush insooth.  1 Bro. 
I fear 'tis more the flag of shame, than grace sir.  1 Gen. 
They both give but one kind of colour sir:  
If it be bashfulness in that kind taken,  
It is the same with grace; and there she weeps again.  
In truth you're too hard, much, much too bitter sir,  
Unless you mean to have her weep her eyes out,  
To play a Cupid truly.  1 Bro. 
Come, ha' done then:  
We should all fear to sin first; for 'tis certain,  
When 'tis once lodged, though entertained in mirth,  
It must be wept out, if it ere come forth.  1 Gent. 
Now 'tis so well, I'll leave you.  1 Bro. 
Faithfully welcome sir,  
Go Cupid to your charge; he's your own now;  
If he want love, none will be blamed but you.  Cu. 
The strangest marriage, and unfortunat'st Bride  
That ever humane memory contained;  
I cannot be myself for't. Exit.  Clo. 
Oh Gentlemen? Enter the Clown.  1 Bro. 
How now sir, what's the matter?  Clo. 
His melancholy passion is half spent already,  
Then comes his angry fit at the very tail on't,  
Then comes in my pain gentlemen; 'has beat me e'en to a Cullis.  
I am nothing, right worshipful, but very pap,  
And jelly: I have no bones, my body's all one business,  
They talk of ribs, & chines most freely abroad i'th' world,  
Why, I have no such thing; whoever lives to see me dead  
Gentlemen, shall find me all mummy good to fill gallipots  
And long dildo glasses: I shall not have a bone to throw  
At a dog.  Omnes. 
Alas poor vassal, how he goes?  Clo. 
O Gentlemen,  
I am unjointed, do but think o' that:  
My breast is beat into my maw, that what I eat,  
I am fain to take't in all at mouth with spoons;  
A lamentable hearing; and 'tis well known, my belly  
Is driven into my back.  
I earned four Crowns a month, most dearly Gentlemen,  
And one he must have when the fit's upon him,  
The privy purse allows it, and 'tis thriftiness,  
He would break else some forty pounds in casements,  
And in five hundred years undo the Kingdom:  
I have cast it up to a quarrel.  1 Bro. 
There's a fellow kicked about court, I would  
He had his place brother, but for one fit of his indignation.  2 Bro. 
And suddenly I have thought upon a means for't.  1 Bro. 
I Prithee how?  2 Bro. 
'Tis but preferring Brother  
This stockfish to his service, with a letter  
Of commendations, the same way he wishes it,  
And than you win his heart: for o' my knowledge  
He has laid wait this half year for a fellow  
That will be beaten; and with a safe conscience  
We may commend the carriage of this man in't;  
Now servants he has kept, lusty tall feeders,  
But they have beat him, and turned themselves away:  
Now one that would endure, is like to stay,  
And get good wages of him; and the service too  
Is ten times milder Brother, I would not wish it else.  
I see the fellow has a sore crushed body,  
And the more need he has to be kicked at ease.  Clo. 
I sweet Gentlemen, a kick of ease, send me to such a Master.  2 Bro. 
No more I say, we have one for thee, a soft footed Master,  
One that wears wool in's toes.  Ch. 
O Gentlemen, soft garments may you wear,  
Soft skins may you wed,  
But as plump as pillows, both for white and red.  
And now will I reveal a secret to you,  
Since you provide for my poor flesh so tenderly,  
'Has hired mere Rogues, out of his Chamber window,  
To beat the Soldier, monsieur Shamont's Brother.  1 Bro. 
That nothing concerns us sir.  Clo. 
For no cause Gentlemen,  
Unless it be for wearing shoulder points,  
With longer tags than his.  2 Bro. 
Is not that somewhat?  
Billakin sir, the difference of long tags,  
Has cost many a man's life, and advanced other some,  
Come follow me.  Clo. 
See what a gull am I:  
Oh every man in his profession;  
I know a thump now, as judiciously,  
As the proudest he that walks, I'll except none;  
Come to a tag, how short I fall? I'm gone. Exeunt  Enter Lapet. Lap. 
I have been ruminating with myself,  
What honour a man loses by a kick:  
Why, what's a kick? the fury of a foot,  
Whose indignation commonly is stamped  
Upon the hinder quarter of a man;  
Which is a place very unfit for honour,  
The world will confess so much:  
Then what disgrace I pray, does that part suffer  
Where honour never comes, I'd fain know that?  
This being well forced, and urged, may have the power  
To move most Gallants to take kicks in time,  
And spurn out the duelloes out o'th' kingdom,  
For they that stand upon their honour most,  
When they conceive there is no honour lost,  
As by a table that I have invented  
For that purpose alone, shall appear plainly,  
Which shows the vanity of all blows at large,  
And with what ease they may be took of all sides,  
Numbering but twice one the letter's Patience  
From C.P. to E. I doubt not but in small time  
To see a dissolution of all bloodshed,  
If the Reformed Kick do but once get up:  
For what a lamentable folly 'tis,  
If we observ't, for every little justle,  
Which is but the ninth part of a sound thump,  
In our meek computation, we must fight forsooth, yes,  
If kill, I'm hang'; if I be killed myself,  
I die for't also: is not this trim wisdom?  
Now for the Con, a man may be well beaten,  
Yet pass away his fourscore years smooth after:  
I had a father did it, and to my power  
I will not be behind him. Enter Shamont.  Sha. 
O well met.  Lap. 
Now a fine punch or two, I look for't duly.  Sha. 
I've been to seek you.  Lap. 
Let me know your lodging sir,  
I'll come to you once a day, and use your pleasure sir.  Sha. 
I'm made the fittest man for thy Society:  
I'll live and die with thee: come show me a Chamber;  
There is no house but thine, but only thine,  
That's fit to cover me: I've took a blow sirrah.  Lap. 
I would you had indeed: why, you may see sir;  
You'll all come to't in time, when my book's out.  Sha. 
Since I did see thee last, I've took a blow.  Lap. 
Pha sir that's nothing; I ha' took forty since.  Sha. 
What? and I charged thee thou shouldst not?  Lap. 
ay sir, you might charge your pleasure,  
But they would give't me, whether I would or no.  Sha. 
Oh I walk without my peace, I've no companion now;  
Prithee resolve me, for I cannot ask  
A man more beaten to experience,  
Than thou art in this kind, what manner of blow  
Is held the most disgraceful, or distasteful?  
For thou dost only censure 'em by the hurt,  
Not by the shame they do thee: yet having felt  
Abuses of all kinds, thou mayst deliver,  
Though't be by chance, the most injurious one.  Lap. 
You put me to't sir; but to tell you truth,  
theyare all as one with me, little exception.  Sha. 
That little may do much, let's have it from you.  Lap. 
With all the speed I may: first then, and foremost,  
I hold so reverently of the Bastinado sir,  
That if it were the dearest friend i'th' world,  
I'd put it into his hand.  Sha. 
Go too, I'll pass that then.  Lap. 
You're the more happy sir,  
Would I were past it too:  
But being accustomed to't, It is the better carried.  Sha. 
Will you forward?  Lap. 
Then there's your souse, your wherret, and your doused,  
tugs on the hair, your bob o'th' lips, a whelp on't,  
I ne'er could find much difference: Now your thump,  
A thing derived first from your Hemp-beaters,  
Takes a man's wind away, most spitefully:  
There's nothing that destroys a Colic like it,  
For't leaves no wind i'th' body.  Sha. 
On sir, on.  Lap. 
Pray give me leave, I'm out of breath with thinking on't.  Sha. 
This is far off yet.  Lap. 
For the twinge byth' nose,  
'Tis certainly unsightly, so my tables says,  
But helps against the headache, wondrous strangely.  Sha. 
Is't possible?  Lap. 
O your crushed nostrils slakes your oppilation  
And makes your pent powers flush to wholesome sneezes.  Sha. 
I never thought there had been half that virtue  
In a wrung nose before.  Lap. 
O plenitude sir:  
Now come we lower, to our modern kick,  
Which has been mightily in use of late,  
Since our young men drank Coltsfoot: and I grant you,  
'Tis a most scornful wrong, cause the foot plays it;  
But mark again, how we that take't, requite it  
With the like scorn, for we receive it backward;  
And can there be a worse disgrace retorted?  Sha. 
And is this all?  Lap. 
All but a lug byth' ear,  
Or such a trifle.  Sha. 
Happy sufferer,  
All this is nothing to the wrong I bear:  
I see the worst disgrace, thou never feltst yet;  
It is so far from thee, thou canst not think on't;  
Nor dare I let thee know, it is so abject.  Lap. 
I would you would though, that I might prepare for't,  
For I shall ha''t at one time or another:  
If't be a thwack, I make account of that;  
There's no new fashioned swap that ere came up yet,  
But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't.  Enter the Lady, and Servants. Lad. 
Hast thou enquired?  1 Ser. 
But Can hear nothing Madam.  Sha. 
If there be but so much substance in thee  
To make a shelter for a man disgraced,  
Hide my departure from that glorious woman  
That comes with all perfection about her:  
So noble, that I dare not be seen of her,  
Since shame took hold of me: upon thy life  
No mention of me.  Lap. 
I'll cut out my tongue first,  
Before I'll lose my life, there's more belongs to't.  Lad. 
See there's a Gentleman, inquire of him.  2 Ser. 
For monsieur Shamont Madam?  Lad. 
For whom else sir?  1 Ser. 
Why, this fellow dares not see him.  Lad. 
How?  1 Ser. 
Shamont Madam?  
His very name's worse than a  to him,  
And when he cries, there's nothing stills him sooner;  
Madam, your Page of thirteen is too hard for him,  
'Twas tried i'th' woodyard.  Lad. 
Alas poor grieved Merit!  
What is become of him? if he one fail,  
Virtue shall find small friendship: farewell then  
To ladies' worths, for any hope in men,  
He loved for goodness, not for Wealth, or lust,  
After the world's foul dotage, he ne'er courted  
The body but the beauty of the mind,  
A thing which common courtship never thinks on:  
All his affections were so sweet and fair,  
There is no hope for fame if he despair. Ex. Lad. and Ser.  Enter the Clown. He kicks Lapet. Lap. 
Good morrow to you again most heartily sir,  
Cry you mercy I heard you not, I was somewhat busy.  Clo. 
He takes it as familiarly, as an Ave,  
Or precious salutation: I was sick till I had one,  
Because I am so used to't.  Lap. 
however you deserve, your friends & mine, here  
Give you large commendations i' this Letter,  
They say you will endure well.  Clo. 
I'd be loath  
To prove 'em liars: I've endured as much  
As mortal pen and Ink can set me down for.  Lap. 
Say you me so?  Clo. 
I know and feel it so sir,  
I have it under black and white already;  
I need no pen to paint me out.  Lap. 
He fits me,  
And hits my wishes pat, pat: I was ne'er  
In possibility to be better maned,  
For he's half lamed already, I see't plain,  
But take no notice on't, for fear I make  
The Rascal proud, and dear, to advance his wages;  
First let me grow into particulars with you;  
What have you endured of worth? let me hear.  Clo. 
Marry sir, I'm almost beaten blind.  Lap. 
That's pretty well for a beginning,  
But many a mill-horse has endured as much.  Clo. 
Shame o' the miller's heart for his unkindness then.  Lap. 
Well sir, what then?  Clo. 
I've been twice thrown down stairs, just before supper.  Lap. 
Puh, so have I, that's nothing.  Clo. 
ay but sir,  
Was yours pray before supper?  Lap. 
There thou posest me.  Clo. 
I marry, that's it, t'had'ad been less grief to me,  
Had I but filled my belly, and then tumbled,  
But to be flung down fasting, there's the dolour.  Lap. 
It would have grieved me, that indeed: proceed sir.  Clo. 
I have been plucked & tugged byth' hair o'th' head  
About a gallery, half an Acre long.  Lap. 
Yes, that's a good one, I must needs confess,  
A principal good one that, an absolute good one,  
I have been trod upon, and spurned about,  
But never tugged byth' hair, I thank my fates.  Clo. 
O 'tis a spiteful pain.  Lap. 
Peace, never speak on't,  
For putting men in mind on't.  Clo. 
To conclude,  
I'm bursten sir: my belly will hold no meat.  Lap. 
No? that makes amends for all.  Clo. 
unless't be puddings,  
Or such fast food, any loose thing beguiles me, I'm ne'er the better for't.  Lap. 
Shepherds will stay with thee?  Clo. 
Yes sir, or cauldrons.  Lap. 
Very well sir:  
Any your bursten fellows must take heed of surfeits:  
Strange things it seems, you have endured;  Clo. 
Too true sir.  Lap. 
But now the question is, what you will endure  
Hereafter in my service?  Clo. 
Any thing  
That shall be reason sir, for I'm but froth;  
Much like a thing new calved, or come more nearer sir,  
Y'ave seen a Cluster of Frog-spawns in April,  
e'en such a starch am I, as weak and tender  
As a green woman yet.  Lap. 
Now I know this,  
I will be very gently angry with thee,  
And kick thee carefully.  Clow. 
O I sweet sir.  Lap. 
Peace, when thou art offered well, lest I begin now.  
Your friends and mine have writ here for your truth,  
They'll pass their words themselves, and I must meet 'em.  Clow. 
Then have you all: Exit.  
As for my honesty there is no fear of that,  
For I have ne'er a whole bone about me, Exit.  Music, Enter the passionate x, rudely, and carelessly Apparelled, unbraced, and untrust: The Cupid following. Cup. 
Think upon love, which makes all creatures handsome,  
Seemly for eyesight; go not so disfusedly,  
There are great Ladies purpose sir to visit you.  Pas. 
Grand plagues, shut in my casements, that the breaths  
Of their Coach-mares reek not into my Nostrils;  
Those beasts are but a kind of Bawdy forerunners.  Cup. 
It is not well with you,  
When you speak ill of fair Ladies.  Pas. 
Fair mischiefs, give me a nest of Owls, and take 'em;  
Happy is he say I, whose window opens  
To a brown baker's chimney, he shall be sure there  
To hear the Bird sometimes after twilight:  
What a fine thing 'tis methinks to have our garments  
Sit loose upon us thus, thus carelessly,  
It is more manly, and more mortifying;  
For we're so much the readier for our shrouds:  
For how ridiculous were't, to have death come,  
And take a fellow pinned up like a Mistress?  
About his neck a Ruff, like a pinched lantern,  
Which Schoolboys make in winter; and his doublet  
So close and pent, as if he feared one prison  
Would not be strong enough, to keep his soul in;  
But's Tailor makes another:  
And trust me, for I know't when I loved Cupid,  
He does endure much pain, for the poor praise  
Of a neat fitting suit.  Cup. 
One may be handsome sir,  
And yet not pained, nor proud.  Pas. 
There you lie Cupid,  
As bad as mercury: there is no handsomeness,  
But has a wash of Pride and Luxury,  
And you go there too Cupid. Away dissembler,  
Thou tak'st the deed's part which befools us all;  
Thy Arrow heads shoot out sinners: hence away,  
And after thee I'll send a powerful charm,  
Shall banish thee for ever.  Cup. 
Never, never,  
I am too sure thine own. Exit.  Pas. Sings. 
HEnce all you vain Delights,  
As short as are the nights,  
Wherein you spend your folly,  
there's nought in this life sweet,  
If man were wise to see't,  
But only Melancholy,  
O sweetest melancholy.  
Welcome folded Arms, and fixed eyes,  
A sigh that piercing mortifies,  
A look that's fastened to the ground,  
A tongue chained up without a sound.  
Fountain heads, and pathless Groves,  
Places which pale passion loves:  
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls  
Are warmly housed, save Bats and Owls;  
A midnight Bell, a parting groan,  
These are the sounds we feed upon;  
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley,  
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.  Exit. Enter at another door Lapet, The Cupids Brothers watching his coming. 1 Br. 
So, so, the woodcock's ginned;  
Keep this door fast brother.  2 Bro. 
I'll warrant this.  1 Bro. 
I'll go incense him instantly;  
I know the way to't.  2 Bro. 
will't not be too soon think you,  
And make two fits break into one?  1 Bro. 
Pah, no, no; The tail of his melancholy  
Is always the head of his anger, and follows as close,  
As the Report follows the powder.  Lap. 
This is the appointed place, and the hour struck,  
If I can get security for's truth,  
I'll never mind his honesty: poor worm,  
I durst lay him by my wife, which is a benefit  
Which many masters ha' not: I shall ha' no maid  
Now got with child, but what I get myself,  
And that's no small felicity: In most places  
theyare got by th' men, and put upon the Masters:  
Nor shall I be resisted when I strike,  
For he can hardly stand; these are great blessings.  Pas. 
I want my food, deliver me a varlet. within.  Lap. 
How now: from whence comes that?  Pas. 
I am allowed a Carcase to insult on;  
Where's the villain?  Lap. 
He means not me I hope.  Pas. 
My maintenance rascals; my Bulk, my exhibition.  Lap. 
Bless us all,  
What names 'are these? would I were gone again.  The passionate man enters in fury, with a Truncheon, He Sings: 
A Curse upon thee for a slave,  
Art thou here, and heard'st me rave?  
Fly not sparkles from mine eye,  
To show my indignation nigh?  
Am I not all foam, and fire?  
With voice as hoarse, as a Town-crier?  
How my back opes and shuts together,  
With fury, as old men's with weather?  
Couldst thou not hear my teeth gnash hither?  Lap. 
No truly sir, I thought t'had been a Squirrel,  
Shaving a Hazelnut.  Pas. 
Death, hell, fiends, and darkness,  
I will thrash thy mangy carcase.  Lap. 
O sweet sir.  Pas. 
There cannot be too many Tortures,  
Spent upon those lousy Quarters.  Lap. 
Hold, oh. Falls down for dead.  Pas. 
Thy bones shall rue, thy bones shall rue,  
Thou nafly, scurvy, mongrill Toad, Sings again.  
Mischief on thee;  
Light upon thee,  
All the plagues  
That can confound thee  
Or did ever reign abroad:  
Better a thousand lives it cost,  
Then have brave Anger spilled or lost. Exit.  Lap. 
May I open mine eyes yet, and safely peep?  
I'll try a groan first— oh— Nay then he's gone.  
There was no other policy but to die,  
He would ha' made me else. Ribs are you sore?  
I was ne'er beaten to a tune before.  Enter the two Brothers. 1 Bro. 
Lapet.  Lap. 
Again? Falls again.  1 Bro. 
Look, look, he's flat again,  
And stretched out like a corpse a handful longer  
Than he walks trust me brother. Why Lapet.  
I hold my life we shall not get him speak now.  
Monsieur Lapet; it must be a privy token,  
If any thing fetch him, he's so far gone.  
We come to pass our words for your man's truth.  Lap. 
O gentlemen you're welcome: I have been thrashed i'faith.  2 Bro. 
How? thrashed sir?  Lap 
Never was Shrove-tuesday Bird  
So cudgeled gentlemen.  1 Bro. 
Pray how? by whom sir?  Lap. 
Nay that I know not.  1 Bro. 
Not who did this wrong?  Lap. 
Only a thing came like a walking song.  1 Bro. 
What beaten with a Song?  Lap. 
Never more tightly, gentlemen:  
Such crotchets happen now and then, methinks,  
He that endures well, of all waters drinks. Exeunt.    

Actus Quartus.  

Scaena prima.  Enter shamont's Brother, the Soldier, and 1. Gent. Sold. 
YEs, yes, this was a Madman, sir, with you,  
A passionate Madman.  1. Gent. 
Who would ha' looked for this sir?  Sold. 
And must be privileged? a pox privilege him:  
I was never so dry beaten since I was borne,  
And by a litter of rogues, mere rogues, the whole twenty  
Had not above nine elbows amongst 'em all too:  
And the most part of those left-handed rascals,  
The very vomit, Sir, of hospitals,  
Bridewells, and Spittle-houses; such nasty smellers,  
That if they'd been unfurnished of Club-Trunchions,  
They might have cudgeled me with their very stinks,  
It was so strong, and sturdy: and shall this,  
This filthy injury, be set off with madness?  1 Gen. 
Nay take your own blood's council sir, hereafter,  
I'll deal no further in't: if you remember,  
It was not come to blows, when I advised you.  Sold. 
No, but I ever said, 'twould come to something,  
And 'tis upon me, thank him: were he kin  
To all the mighty Emperors upon earth,  
He has not now in life three hours to reckon;  
I watch but a free time.  Enter Shamont. 1 Gen. 
Your noble brother, sir, I'll leave you now. Ex.  Sha. 
Soldier I would I could persuade my thoughts  
From thinking thee a brother, as I can  
My tongue from naming on't: thou hast no friend here,  
But fortune and thy own strength, trust to them.  Sold. 
How? what's the incitement, sir?  Sha. 
Treachery to virtue;  
Thy treachery, thy faithless circumvention:  
Has Honour so few daughters, never fewer,  
And must thou aim thy treachery at the best?  
The very front of virtue? that blessed Lady? the Duke's sister?  
Created more for admirations cause,  
Then for loves ends; whose excellency sparkles  
More in divinity, then mortal beauty;  
And as much difference twixt her mind and body,  
As twixt this earth's poor centre and the Sun:  
And couldst thou be so injurious to fair goodness,  
Once to attempt to court her down to frailty?  
Or put her but in mind that there is weakness,  
Sin, and desire, which she should never hear of?  
Wretch, thou'st committed worse than Sacrilege,  
In the attempting on't, and oughtst to die for't.  Sold. 
I rather ought to do my best, to live, sir;  
Provoke me not; for I've a wrong sits on me,  
That makes me apt for mischief; I shall lose  
All respects suddenly of friendship, Brotherhood,  
Or any sound that way.  Sham. 
But 'ware me most;  
For I come with a two-edged injury;  
Both my disgrace, and thy apparent falsehood,  
Which must be dangerous.  Sold. 
I courted her, sir:  
Love starve me with delays when I confess it not.  Sham. 
There's nothing then but death  
Can be a penance fit for that confession.  Sold. 
But far from any vicious taint.  Sham. 
O sir,  
Vice is a mighty stranger grown to courtship.  Sold. 
Nay then the fury of my wrong light on thee.  Enter 1. Gentleman, and others. 1 Gen. 
Forbear, the Duke's at hand.  
Here, hard at hand, upon my reputation.  Sold. 
I must do something now. Ex. Sold.  Sham. 
I'll follow you close sir.  1 Gen. 
We must entreat you must not; for the Duke  
Desires some conference with you.  Sh. 
Let me go,  
As you're gentlemen.  2 Gent. 
Faith we dare not sir.  Sham. 
Dare ye be false to honour, and yet dare not  
Do a man justice? give me leave—  1 Gent. 
Good sweet sir.  
H'as sent twice for you.  Sham. 
Is this brave, or manly?  1 Gent. 
I prithee be conformed.  Sham. 
'Death— Enter Duke.  2 Gent. 
Peace, he's come introth.  Sham. 
Oh have you betrayed me to my shame afresh?  
How am I bound to loathe you?  Duk. 
Shamont, welcome,  
I sent twice.  2 Gent. 
But my Lord, he never heard on't.  Sham. 
Pray pardon him, for his falseness, I did Sir,  
Both times; I'd rather be found rude then faithless.  Duke 
I love that bluntness dearly: has no vice,  
But is more manly than some others virtue,  
That lets it out only for show or profit.  Sham. 
will't please you quit me sir, I've urgent business?  Du. 
Come, you're so hasty now: I sent for you  
To a better end.  Sham. 
And if it be an end,  
Better or worse, I thank your goodness for't.  Du. 
I've ever kept that bounty in condition,  
And thankfulness in blood, which well becomes  
Both Prince and Subject, that where any wrong  
Bears my impression, or the hasty figure  
Of my repent anger, I'm a Law  
e'en to myself, and doom myself most strictly  
To Justice, and a noble satisfaction:  
So that, what you in tenderness of honour,  
Conceive to be loss to you, which is nothing  
But curious opinion, I'll restore again,  
Although I give you the best part of Genoa,  
And take to boot but thanks for your amends.  Sham. 
O miserable satisfaction,  
Ten times more wretched than the wrong itself;  
Never was ill better made good with worse:  
Shall it be said that my posterity  
Shall live the sole heirs of their father's shame?  
And raise their wealth and glory from my stripes?  
You have provided nobly bounteous sir,  
For my disgrace, to make it live for ever,  
outlasting Brass or Marble:  
This is my fear's construction, and a deep one,  
Which neither argument nor time can alter:  
Yet I durst swear, I wrong your goodness in't sir,  
And the most fair intent on't, which I reverence  
With admiration, that in you a Prince,  
Should be so sweet and temperate a condition,  
To offer to restore where you may ruin,  
And do't with justice, and in me a servant,  
So harsh a disposition, that I cannot  
Forgive where I should honour, and am bound to't.  
But I have ever had that curiosity  
In blood, and tenderness of reputation,  
Such an antipathy against a blow,  
I cannot speak the rest: Good sir discharge me,  
It is not fit that I should serve you more,  
Nor come so near you; I'm made now for privacy,  
And a retired condition, that's my suit,  
To part from Court for ever, my last suit.  
And as you profess bounty, grant me that, Sir.  Du. 
I would deny thee nothing.  Sham. 
Health reward you; sir. Exit.  Du. 
He's gone again already, and takes hold  
Of any opportunity, not riches  
Can purchase him, nor honours, peaceably,  
And force were brutish: what a great worth's gone with him,  
And but a gentleman? well, for his sake,  
I'll ne'er offend more those I cannot make:  
They were his words, and shall be dear to memory.  
Say I desire to see him once again;  
Yet stay, he's so well forward of his peace,  
'Twere pity to disturb him: he would groan  
Like a soul fetched again; and that were injury,  
And I've wronged his degree too much already.  
Call forth the gentlemen of our chamber instantly.  1 Serv. 
I shall my Lord. Within.  Du. 
I may forget again,  
And therefore will prevent: The strain of this  
Troubles me so, one would not hazard more:  Enter 1. Gent. and divers others. Gent. 
Your will my Lord?  Du. 
Yes; I discharge you all.  2 Gent. 
My Lord—  Du. 
Your places shall be otherwise disposed of.  4 Gent. 
Why sir?  Du. 
Reply not, I dismiss you all:  
You're gentlemen, your worths will find you fortunes;  
Nor shall your farewell tax me of ingratitude,  
I'll give you all noble remembrances,  
As testimonies 'gainst reproach and malice,  
That you departed loved.  3 Gen. 
This is most strange, sir.  1 Gen. 
But how is your grace furnished, these dismissed?  Du. 
Seek me out Grooms.  
Men more insensible of reputation,  
Less curious and precise in terms of honour,  
That if my anger chance let fall a stroke,  
As we are all subject to impetuous passions,  
Yet it may pass unmurmured, undisputed,  
And not with braver fury prosecuted. Exit.  1 Gen. 
It shall be done, my Lord.  3 Gen. 
Know you the cause sir?  1 Gen. 
Not I kind gentlemen, but by conjectures,  
And so much shall be yours, when you please.  4 
Thanks sir.  3 Gen. 
We shall i'th' mean time think ourselves guilty  
Of some foul fault, through ignorance committed.  1 Gen. 
No, 'tis not that, nor that way.  4 Gen. 
For my part.  
I shall be disinherited, I knew so much.  1 Gen. 
Why sir, for what?  4 Gen. 
My sire's of a strange humour,  
he'll form faults for me, and then swear 'em mine,  
And commonly the first begins with lechery.  
He knows his own youth's trespass.  1 Gen. 
Before you go,  
I'll come and take my leave, and tell you all sirs.  3 Gen. 
Thou were't ever just and kind. Exit.  1 Gen. 
That's my poor virtue sir,  
And parcel valiant; but it's hard to be perfect:  
The chusing of these fellows now will puzzle me,  
Horribly puzzle me; and there's no judgement,  
Goes true upon man's outside, there's the mischief:  
He must be touched, and tried, for gold or dross;  
There is no other way for't, and that's dangerous too;  
But since I'm put in trust, I will attempt it:  
The Duke shall keep one daring man about him: Enter a Gallant  
Soft, who comes here? a pretty bravery this:  
Every one goes so like a gentleman,  
'Tis hard to find a difference, but byth' touch.  
I'll try your mettle sure.  Gal. 
Why what do you mean sir?  1 Gen. 
Nay, and you understand it not, I do not.  Gal. 
Yes, would you should well know,  
I understand it for a box o'th' ear Sir.  1 Gent. 
And o' my troth, that's all I gave it for.  Gal. 
'Twere best it be so.  1 Gen. 
This is a brave Coward,  
A jolly threatning Coward; he shall be Captain:  
Sir, let me meet you an hour hence i'th' Lobby.  Gal. 
Meet you? the world might laugh at me then i'faith.  1 Ge. 
Lay by your scorn & pride, they're scurvy qualities,  
And meet me, or I'll hox you while I have you,  
And carry you gambreled thither like a Mutton.  Gal. 
Nay, and you be in earnest, here's my hand  
I will not fail you.  1 Gen. 
'Tis for your own good.  Gal. 
Away.  1 Gent. 
Too much for your own good, sir, a pox on you.  Gal. 
I prithee curse me all day long so.  1 Gen. 
Hang you.  Gal: 
I'll make him mad; he's loath to curse too much to me;  
Indeed I never yet took box o'th' ear,  
But it redounded, I must needs say so—  1 Gent. 
Will you be gone?  Gal. 
Curse, curse, and then I go.  
Look how he grins, I've angered him toth' kidneys. Ex.  1 Gen. 
Was ever such a prigging coxcomb seen?  
One might have beat him dumb now in this humour,  
And he'd ha' grinned it out still: Enter a plain fellow.  
O here's one made to my hand,  
Methinks looks like a Craven;  
Less pains will serve his trial: some slight justle.  Pl. f. 
How? take you that sir:  
And if that content you not—  1 Gen. 
Yes very well sir, I desire no more.  Pl. f. 
I think you need not;  
For you have not lost by't. Exit.  1 Gen. 
Who would ha' thought this would have proved a gentleman?  
I'll never trust long chins and little legs again,  
I'll know 'em sure for gentlemen hereafter:  
A gristle but in show, but gave his cuff  
With such a fetch, and reach of gentry,  
As if h'had had his arms before the flood;  
I have took a villainous hard task upon me;  
Now I begin to have a feeling on't.  Enter Lapet, and Clown his servant, and so habited. 
O here comes a tried piece, now, the reformed kick.  
The millions of punches, spurns, and nips  
That he has endured? his Buttock's all black Lead,  
He 's half a Negro backward; he was past a Spaniard  
In eighty eight, and more Egyptian-like;  
His Table and his Book come both out shortly,  
And all the Cowards in the Town expect it;  
So, if I fail of my full number now,  
I shall be sure to find 'em at Church corners,  
Where Dives, and the suffering Ballads hang.  Lap. 
Well, since thou art of so mild a temper,  
Of so meek a spirit, thou mayst live with me,  
Till better times do smile on thy deserts.  
I am glad I am got home again.  Clow. 
I am happy in your service, sir,  
You'll keep me from the Hospital.  Lap. 
So, bring me the last proof, this is corrected.  Clow. 
ay, you're too full of your correction, sir.  Lap 
Look I have perfect Books within this half hour.  Clow. 
Yes sir.  Lap. 
Bid him put all the Thumps in Pica Roman,  
And with great Tees, (you vermin) as Thumps should be.  Clow. 
Then in what Letter will you have your Kicks?  Lap. 
All in Italica, your Backward blows  
All in Italica, you hermaphrodite:  
When shall I teach you wit?  Clow. 
O let it alone,  
Till you have some yourself sir.  Lap. 
You mumble?  Clow. 
The Victuals are locked up;  
I'm kept from mumbling. Exit.  Lap. 
He prints my Blows upon pot-paper too, the rogue,  
Which had been proper for some drunken Pamphlet.  1 Gen. 
Monsieur Lapet? how the world rings of your sir?  
Your name sounds far and near.  Lap. 
A good report it bears, for an enduring name—  1 Gen. 
What luck have you sir?  Lap. 
Why, what's the matter?  1 Gent. 
I'm but thinking on't.  
I've heard you wish this five year for a place.  
Now there's one fallen, and freely without money too;  
And empty yet, and yet you cannot have't.  Lap. 
No? what's the reason? I'll give money for't,  
Rather than go without sir.  1 Gen. 
That's not it, sir;  
The troth is, there's no gentleman must have it  
Either for love or money: 'tis decreed so;  
I was heartily sorry when I thought upon you,  
Had you not been a gentleman I had fitted you.  Lap. 
Who I a gentleman? a pox I'm none, sir.  1 Gen. 
How?  Lap. 
How? why did you ever think I was?  1 Gen. 
What? not a gentleman?  Lap. 
I would thou'dst put it upon me i'faith.  
Did not my Grandfather cry Coney-skins?  
My father Aquavitae? a hot gentleman:  
All this I speak on i' your time and memory too;  
Only a rich Uncle died and left me chattels,  
You know all this so well too—  1 Gen. 
Pray excuse me, sir, ha' not you Arms?  Lap. 
Yes, a poor couple here.  
That serve to thrust in wildfowl.  1 Gen. 
Herald's Arms,  
Symbols of gentry, sir: you know my meaning;  
They've been shown and seen.  Lap. 
They have.  1 Gen. 
I fex have they.  Lap. 
Why I confess, at my wife's instigation once,  
(As women love these Herald's kickshaws naturally)  
I bought 'em: but what are they think you? puffs.  1 Gen. 
Why, that's proper to your name being Lapet.  
Which is La fart, after the english letter.  Lap. 
The Herald, sir, had much ado to find it.  1 Gen. 
And can you blame him?  
Why 'tis the only thing that puzzles the devil.  Lap. 
At last he looked upon my name again,  
And having well compared it, this he gave me,  
The two colics playing upon a wind instrument.  1 Gen. 
An excellent proper one: but I pray tell me,  
How does he express the colics?  
They are hard things.  Lap. 
The colics? with hot trenchers at their bellies,  
There's nothing better, Sir, to blaze a colic.  1 Gen. 
And are not you a gentleman by this sir?  Lap. 
No, I disclaim't: no belly-ache upon earth  
Shall make me one: he shall not think  
To put his gripes upon me,  
And wring out gentry so, and ten pound first.  
If the wind instrument will make my wife one,  
Let her enjoy't, for she was a Harper's Grandchild:  
But sir, for my particular, I renounce it.  1 Gen. 
Or to be called so?  Lap. 
ay sir, or imagined.  1 Gen. 
None fitter for the place: give me thy hand.  Lap. 
A hundred thousand thanks, beside a Bribe sir.  Gen. 
You must take heed  
Of thinking toward a gentleman, now.  Lap. 
Pish, I am not mad, I warrant you: nay more sir,  
If one should twit me i'th' teeth that I'm a gentleman,  
Twit me their worst, I am but one since Lammas,  
That I can prove, if they would see my heart out.  1 Gen. 
Marry in any case keep me that evidence.  Enter Clown. Lap. 
Here comes my servant, Sir, Galoshio,  
Has not his name for nought, he will be trod upon:  
What says my Printer now?  Clow. 
Here's your last proof Sir.  
You shall have perfect Books now in a twinkling.  Lap. 
These marks are ugly.  Clow. 
He says, sir, they're proper:  
Blows should have marks, or else they are nothing worth.  La. 
But why a Peel-crow here?  Clow. 
I told 'em so sir:  
A Scarecrow had been better.  Lap. 
How Slave? look you Sir,  
Did not I say, this wherret, and this Bob,  
Should be both Pica Roman.  Clow. 
So said I Sir, both Picked Romans,  
And he has made 'em Welch Bills,  
Indeed I know not what to make on 'em.  Lap. 
Hay-day; a sauce, Italica?  Clow. 
Yes, that may hold Sir,  
sauce is a bonaroba, so is Flops too.  Lap. 
But why stands Bastinado so far off here?  Clo. 
Alas you must allow him room to lay about him, sir.  La. 
Why lies this  lower than that Spurn, sir?  Clow. 
Marry this signifies one kicked down stairs, sir,  
The other in a Gallery: I asked him all these questions.  1 Gen. 
Your Books name?  
Prithee Lapet mind me, you never told me yet.  La. 
Marry but shall sir: 'tis called The uprising of the kick,  
And the downfall of the Duello.  1 Gen. 
Bring that to pass you'll prove a happy member,  
And do your Country service: your young bloods  
Will thank you then, when they see fourscore.  Lap. 
I hope  
To save my hundred Gentlemen a month by't,  
Which will be very good for the private house.  Clow. 
Look you, your Table's finished sir already.  Lap. 
Why then behold my Masterpiece: see, see, sir,  
Here's all your Blows, and Blow-men whatsoever,  
Set in their lively colours, givers, and takers.  1 Gen. 
Troth wondrous fine, sir.  Lap. 
Nay, but mark the postures,  
The standing of the takers I admire more than the givers,  
They stand scornfully, most contumeliously, I like not them,  
Oh here's one cast into a comely figure.  Clow. 
My Master means him there that's cast down headlong.  Lap. 
How sweetly does this fellow take his Dowst?  
Stoops like a Camel, that Heroic beast,  
At a great load of Nutmegs; and how meekly  
This other fellow here receives his wherret?  Clow. 
Oh Master here's a fellow stands most gallantly,  
Taking his kick in private behind the hangings,  
And raising up his hips to't. But oh, sir,  
How daintily this man lies trampled on?  
Would I were in thy place, whate'er thou art:  
How lovely he endures it?  1 Gen. 
But will not these things, sir, be hard to practise, think you?  Lap. 
Oh, easy, sir: I'll teach 'em in a Dance.  1 Gent. 
How? in a dance?  Lap. 
I'll lose my new place else,  
whate'er it be; I know not what 'tis yet.  1 Gen. 
And now you put me in mind, I could employ it well,  
For your grace, specially: For the Duke's cozen  
Is by this time in's violent fit of mirth,  
And a device must be sought out for suddenly,  
To overcloy the passion.  Lap. 
Say no more, sir,  
I'll fit you with my Scholars, new practitioners,  
Endurers of the time.  Clow. 
Whereof I am one sir.  1 Gen. 
You carry it away smooth; give me thy hand, sir.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scaena prima.  Enter the 2. Brothers. Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha. Within.  2 Bro. 
Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha.  1. Bro. 
Now let our sister lose no time, but ply it  
With all the power she has.  2 Bro. 
Her shame grows big, brother;  
The Cupids shape will hardly hold it longer,  
'Twould take up half an Ell of China Damask more,  
And all too little: it struts per'lously:  
There is no tampering with these Cupids longer,  
The mere conceit with womankind works strong.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha.  2 Bro. 
The laugh comes nearer now,  
'Twere good we were not seen yet. Ex. Broth.  Enter Passion. and Base his Jester. Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha.  
And was he bastinadoed to the life? ha, ha, ha.  
I prithee say, Lord General, how did the Rascals  
Entrench themselves?  Base 
Most deeply, politicly, all in ditches.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
'Tis thought he'll ne'er bear arms i'th' field again,  
Has much ado, to lift 'em to his head, sir.  Pas. 
I would he had.  Base 
On either side round Truncheons played so thick,  
That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid toth' quick.  Pas. 
Well said Lord General: ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
But pray how grew the difference first betwixt you?  Pas. 
There was never any sir; there lies the jest man;  
Only because he was taller than his brother;  
There's all my quarrel to him; and methought  
He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave me, sir,  
I could not sleep for't; Ha, ha, ha, ha.  
Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now;  
Let me not laugh in vain: ply me, O ply me,  
As you will answer't to my cousin Duke.  Bas. 
Alas, who has a good jest?  Pas. 
I fall, I dwindle in't.  Bas. 
Ten Crowns for a good jest: ha' you a good jest, sir?  Enter Servant. Serv. 
A pretty moral one.  Bas. 
Let's ha''t, whate'er it be.  Ser. 
There comes a Cupid  
Drawn by six fools.  Bas. 
That's nothing.  Pas. 
Help it, help it then.  Bas. 
I ha' known six hundred fools drawn by a Cupid.  Pas. 
I that, that, that's the smarter Moral: ha, ha, ha.  
Now I begin to be Song-ripe methinks.  Bas. 
I'll sing you a pleasant air, sir, before you ebb.  
Song.  Pas. 
Oh how my Lungs do tickle? ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
Oh how my Lungs do tickle? oh, oh, ho, ho.  Pas. Sings. 
Set a sharp Jest  
Against my breast,  
Then how my Lungs do tickle?  
As Nightingales,  
And things in cambric rails,  
Sing best against a prickle.  
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha.  Pas. 
Laugh.  Bas. 
Laugh.  Pas. 
Laugh.  Bas. 
Laugh.  Pas. 
Wide.  Bas. 
Loud.  Pas. 
And vary.  Bas. 
A smile is for a simpering Novice.  Pas. 
One that ne'er tasted caviar,  Bas. 
Nor knows the smack of dear Anchovis.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.  Pas. 
A giggling waiting wench for me,  
That shows her teeth how white they be.  Bas. 
A thing not fit for gravity,  
For theirs are foul and hardly three.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
Ho, ho, ho.  Pas. 
Democritus, thou ancient Fleerer,  
Now I miss thy laugh, and ha' since.  Bas. 
There you named the famous Jeerer,  
That ever jeered in Rome, or Athens.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Bas. 
Ho, ho, ho.  Pas. 
How brave lives he that keeps a fool,  
Although the rate be deeper?  Pas. 
But he that is his own fool sir,  
Does live a great deal cheaper.  Pas. 
Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break thou art so witty.  Bas. 
'Tis rare to break at Court for that belongs toth' City.  Pas. 
Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worn to the last laughter.  Bas. 
O keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter.  Enter Lapet and Clown, and four other like fools, dancing, the Cupid leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it up to Lapet at every strain, and acting the postures. Lap. 
Twinge all now, twinge, I say.  2 Strain. souse upon sauce. 3 Strain. Douses single. 4 Strain. Justle sides. 5 Strain. Knee Belly. 6 Strain. Kicksee Buttock. 7 Strain. La. 
Down derry.  Enter Soldier, shamont's Brother, his sword drawn. Sol. 
Not angry Law, nor doors of Brass shall keep me  
From my wrongs expiation, to thy Bowels,  
I return my disgrace; and after turn  
My face to any death that can be sentenced.  Base 
Murder, O murder, stop the murderer there—  Lap. 
I am glad he's gone; h'as almost trod my guts out;  
Follow him who list for me, I'll ha' no hand in't.  Clo. 
Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelched Mr.  
Has stamped my very Puddings into Pancakes.  Cup. 
O Brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortal: help, O help,  
I'm made the wretched'st woman, by this accident,  
That ever love beguiled. Enter 2. Brothers.  2 Bro. 
We are undone Brother,  
Our shames are too apparent: Away receptacle  
Of Luxury, and dishonour, most unfortunate,  
To make thyself but lucky to thy spoil,  
After thy sex's manner: lift him up Brother;  
He breathes not to our comfort, he's too wasted  
Ever to cheer us more: A Chirurgeon speedily;  
Hence; the unhappiest that ere stepped aside,  
she'll be a Mother before she's known a Bride.  Cup. 
Thou hadst a most unfortunate conception,  
whate'er thou provest to be; in midst of mirth  
Comes ruin, for a welcome, to thy birth. Exeunt.   

Scene 2.  Enter Shamont. Sham. 
This is a beautiful life now; privacy  
The sweetness and the benefit of essence:  
I see there is no man, but may make his paradise;  
And it is nothing, but his love, and dotage  
Upon the world's foul joys, that keeps him out on't:  
For he that lives retired in mind, and spirit,  
Is still in paradise, and has his innocence,  
Partly allowed for his companion too,  
As much as stands with justice: here no eyes  
Shoot their sharp pointed scorns upon my shame;  
They know no terms of reputation here,  
No punctual limits, or precise dimensions;  
Plain downright honesty is all the beauty  
And elegancy of life found amongst shepherds;  
For knowing nothing nicely, or desiring it,  
Quits many a vexation from the mind,  
With which our quainter knowledge does abuse us;  
The name of envy is a stranger here,  
That dries men's bloods abroad, robs health and rest,  
Why here's no such fury thought on: no, nor falsehood,  
That brotherly disease, fellowlike devil,  
That plays within our bosom, and betrays us.  Enter 1 Gent. 1 Gen. 
Oh are you here?  Sham. 
La Nove, 'tis strange to see thee.  1 Gen. 
I ha' rid one horse to death,  
To find you out, sir.  Sham. 
I am not to be found of any man  
That saw my shame, nor seen long.  1 Gen. 
Good, your attention:  
You ought to be seen now, and found out sir,  
If ever you desire before your ending  
To perform one good office, nay a dear one,  
Man's time can hardly match it.  Sham. 
Be't as precious  
As reputation; if it come from Court  
I will not hear on't.  1 Gen. 
You must hear of this, Sir.  Sham. 
Must?  1 Gen. 
You shall hear it.  Sham. 
I love thee, that thou'lt die.  1 Gen. 
'Twere nobler in me,  
Then in you living: you will live a murderer,  
If you deny this office.  Sha. 
e'en to death sir.  1 Gen. 
Why then you'll kill your brother.  Sham, 
How?  1 Gent. 
Your Brother sir:  
Bear witness heaven, this man destroys his brother  
When he may save him, his least breath may save him:  
Can there be wilfuller destruction?  
He was forced to take a most unmanly wrong,  
Above the suffring virtue of a Soldier,  
Has killed his Injurer, a work of honour;  
For which, unless you save him, he dies speedily  
My conscience is discharged, I'm but a friend,  
A Brother should go forward where I end. Exit.  Sham. 
Dies?  
Say he be nought, that's nothing to my goodness,  
Which ought to shine through use, or else it loses  
The glorious name 'tis known by: he's my brother;  
Yet peace is above blood: Let him go; ay,  
But where's the nobleness of affection then?  
That must be cared for too, or I'm imperfect,  
The same blood that stood up in wrath against him,  
Now in his misery runs all to pity;  
I'd rather die than speak one syllable  
To save myself: but living as I am,  
There's no avoiding on't, the world's humanity  
Expects it hourly from me: curse of fortune,  
I took my leave so well too: Let him die,  
'Tis but a brother lost; so pleasingly,  
And swiftly I came off, 'twere more than irksomeness,  
To tread that path again; and I shall never  
Depart so handsomely: But then where's posterity?  
The consummation of our house and name?  
I'm torn in pieces betwixt love and shame. Exit.   

Scene 3.  Enter Lapet, Clown, Poultrot, Moulbazon, and others, the new Court Officers. Lap. 
Good morrow fellow Poltrot, and Moulbazon,  
Good morrow fellows all.  Pol. 
monsieur Lapet?  Lap. 
Look, I've remembered you, here's books a piece for you.  Moul. 
O sir, we dearly thank you.  Lap. 
So you may;  
There's two impressions gone already sirs.  Pol. 
What no? in so short a time?  Lap. 
'Tis as I tell you sir,  
My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars.  Clo. 
So does your Table; you may thank the Moon too.  Lap. 
'Tis the Book sells the Table.  Clow. 
But 'tis the Bookseller  
That has the money for 'em, I'm sure o''at.  Lap. 
'Twill much enrich the Company of Stationers,  
'Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit,  
Like the Wise Masters, and the Almanacs,  
The hundred Novels, and the Book of Cookery,  
For they begin already to engross it,  
And make it a stock-book, thinking indeed  
'Twill prove too great a benefit, and help,  
For one that's new set up: they know their way,  
And make him Warden, ere his beard be grey.  Moul. 
Is't possible such virtue should lie hid,  
And in so little paper?  Lap. 
How? Why there was the Carpenter,  
An unknown thing, an odoriferous Pamphlet,  
Yet no more Paper, by all computation,  
Than Ajax Telamon would use at once,  
Your Herring proved the like, able to buy  
Another fisher's Folly, and your Pasquill  
Went not below the madcaps of that time,  
And shall my elaborate Kick come behind think you?  Clow. 
Yes, it must come behind, 'tis in Italica too,  
According to your humour.  Lap. 
Not in sale, varlet.  Clow. 
In sale, sir? it shall sail beyond 'em all I trow.  Lap. 
What have you there now? oh, Page, 21.  Clow. 
That Page is come to his years, he should be a servingman.  La. 
Mark how I snap up the Duello there:  
One would not use a dog so,  
I must needs say; but's for the common good.  Clow. 
Nay sir, your Commons seldom fight at sharp,  
But buffet in a warehouse.  Lap. 
This will save  
Many a gentleman of good blood from bleeding sirs,  
I have a curse from many a Barber Surgeon;  
They'd give but too much money to call't in;  
Turn to Page 45. see what you find there.  Clow. 
O out upon him,  
Page 45. that's an old thief indeed.  Enter Duke, the Lady his sister, 1 Gent. Lap. 
The Duke, clap down your Books; away Galoshio.  Clow. 
Indeed I am too foul to be i'th' presence,  
They use to shake me off at the chamber door still. Ex.  Lady. 
Good my Lord, grant my suit; let me not rise  
Without the comfort on't: I have not often  
Been tedious in this kind.  Du. 
Sister, you wrong yourself,  
And those great virtues that your fame is made of,  
To waste so much breath for a murderer's life.  Lad. 
You cannot hate th' offence more than I do, sir,  
Nor the offender, the respect I owe  
Unto his absent brother, makes me a suitor,  
A most importunate sister; make me worthy  
But of this one request.  Duk. 
I am deaf  
To any importunacy, and sorry  
For your forgetfulness; you never injured  
Your worth so much, you ought to be rebuked for't:  
Pursue good ways, end as you did begin,  
'Tis half the guilt to speak for such a sin.  Lad. 
This is love's beggary right, that now is ours,  
When Ladies love, and cannot show their powers. Ex.  Du. 
La Nove?  1 Gen. 
My Lord.  Du. 
Are these our new attendants?  Lap. 
We are my Lord, and will endure as much  
As better men, my Lord, and more I trust.  Du. 
What's he?  1 Gen. 
My Lord, a decayed Gentleman,  
That will do any service.  Du. 
A decayed one?  1 Gent. 
A renounced one indeed; for this place only.  Du. 
We renounce him then, go, discharge him instantly.  
He that disclaims his gentry for mere gains,  
That man's too base to make a vassal on.  Lap. 
What says the Duke?  1 Gen. 
Faith little to your comfort sir,  
You must be a gentleman again.  Lap. 
How?  1 Gent. 
There's no remedy.  Lap. 
Marry, the fates forfend: ne'er while I breathe sir.  1 Gen. 
The Duke will have it so, there's no resisting.  
He spied it i' your forehead.  Lap. 
My wife's doing.  
She thought she should be put below her betters now,  
And sued to ha' me a gentleman again.  1 Gent. 
And very like sir:  
Marry I'll give you this comfort when all's done,  
You'll never pass but for a scurvy one,  
That's all the help you have: come show your pace.  Lap. 
The heaviest gentleman that e'er lost place;  
Bear witness I am forced to't. Exit.  Duke. 
Though you have a courser title yet upon you,  
Than those that left your places, without blame,  
'tis in your power to make yourselves the same:  
I cannot make you gentlemen, that's a work  
Raised from your own deservings; merit, manners,  
And inborn virtue does it. Let your own goodness  
Make you so great, my power shall make you greater;  
And more t'encourage you, this I add again,  
There's many Grooms now exact Gentlemen.  Enter Shamont. Sham. 
methinks 'tis strange to me to enter here:  
Is there in nature such an awful power,  
To force me to this place? and make me do this?  
Is man's affections stronger than his will?  
His resolution? was I now resolved  
Never to see this place more? Do I bear  
Within my breast one blood that confounds th'other?  
The blood of love, and will, and the last weakest?  
Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now,  
I were but passed it, or 'twould never come;  
For I shall never do't, or not do't well,  
But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions.  
Yonder's the Duke himself, I will not do't now,  
Had twenty lives their several sufferings in him. Exit.  Duke 
Who's that went out now?  Pol. 
I saw none, my Lord.  Du. 
Nor you?  Moul. 
I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.  Du. 
whate'er it was, methought it pleased me strangely,  
And suddenly my joy was ready for't.  
Did you not mark it better?  Pol. & Moul. 
Troth my Lord,  
We gave no great heed to't.  Enter Shamont. Sham. 
'Twill not be answered,  
It brings me hither still; by main force hither:  
Either I must give over to profess humanity,  
Or I must speak for him.  Duke 
'Tis here again:  
No marvel 'twas so pleasing, 'tis delight  
And worth itself, now it appears unclouded.  Sham. 
My Lord—  
He turns away from me: by this hand  
I am ill-used of all sides: 'tis a fault  
That fortune ever had, t' abuse a goodness.  Duke 
Methought you were saying somewhat.  Sham. 
Mark the Language,  
As coy as face; I see 'twill ne'er be granted.  Du. 
We little looked in troth to see you here yet.  Sham. 
Not till the day after my brother's death, I think.  Du. 
Sure some great business drew you.  Sha. 
No insooth, sir,  
Only to come to see a brother die sir,  
That I may learn to go too; and if he deceive me not,  
I think he will do well in't of a soldier,  
Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then,  
I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't,  
Because he's leaving of that part that has it.  Duk. 
Has slain a noble gentleman, think on't, sir.  Sham. 
I would I could not sir.  Duk. 
Our Kinsman too.  Sham. 
All this is but worse sir.  Du. 
When 'tis at worst,  
Yet seeing thee, he lives.  Sham. 
My Lord—  Du. 
He lives,  
Believe it as thy bliss, he dies not for't:  
Will this make satisfaction for things past?  Sham. 
Oh my Lord—  Du. 
Will it? speak.  Sh. 
With greater shame to my unworthiness.  Du. 
Rise then, we're even: I never found it harder  
To keep just with a man: my great work's ended.  
I knew your brother's pardon was your suit, sir,  
however your nice modesty held it back.  Sham. 
I take a joy now, to confess it, sir.  Enter 1. Gent. 1 Gent. 
My Lord—  Du. 
Hear me first, sir, whate'er your news be:  
Set free the Soldier instantly.  1 Gen. 
'tis done, my Lord.  Du. 
How?  1 Gen. 
In effect: 'twas part of my news too,  
There's fair hope of your noble kinsman's life sir.  Du. 
What sayst thou?  1 Gen. 
And the most admired change  
That living flesh e'er had; he's not the man my Lord;  
Death cannot be more free from passions, sir,  
Than he is at this instant: he's so meek now,  
He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of:  
And for he fears his moods have oft disturbed you sir,  
he's only hasty now for his forgiveness,  
And here behold him sir.  Enter Passion. the Cupid, and two brothers. Du. 
Let me give thanks first: our worthy x—  Pas. 
Your unworthy trouble sir;  
For which, with all acknowledged reverence,  
I ask your pardon; and for injury  
More known and wilful, I have chose a wise,  
Without your counsel, or consent, my Lord.  Duke 
A wife? where is she sir?  Pas. 
This noble Gentlewoman.  Duk. 
How?  Pas. 
Whose honour my forgetful times much wronged.  Du. 
he's madder than he was.  1 Gen. 
I would ha' sworn for him.  Du. 
The Cupid, x?  Pas. 
Yes, this worthy Lady, sir.  Du. 
Still worse and worse.  1 Bro. 
Our sister under pardon, my Lord.  Du. 
What?  2 Bro. 
Which shape Love taught her to assume.  Du. 
Is't truth then?  1 Ge. 
It appears plainly now below the waste my Lord.  Du. 
Shamont, didst ever read of a she-Cupid?  Sham. 
Never in fiction yet: but it might hold sir;  
For Desire is of both Genders.  Enter the Duke's sister. Du. 
Make that good here: He joins shamont's hand and his Sisters.  
I take thee at thy word, sir.  Sham. 
O my Lord,  
Love would appear too bold, and rude from me,  
Honour and admiration are her rights,  
Her goodness is my Saint, my Lord.  Duke 
I see,  
You're both too modest to bestow yourselves:  
I'll save that virtue still; 'tis but my pains: come,  
It shall be so.  Sham. 
This gift does but set forth my poverty.  Lady 
Sir, that which you complain of is my riches.  Enter shamont's brother the Soldier. Du. 
Soldier, now every noise sounds peace, thouart welcome.  Sol. 
Sir my repentance sues for your blessed favour,  
Which once obtained, no injury shall lose it;  
I'll suffer mightier wrongs.  Duk. 
Rise, loved and pardoned;  
For where hope failed, nay Art itself resigned,  
Thou'st wrought that cure, which skill could never find;  
Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend;  
Never could wrongs boast of a nobler end.  Exeunt.    

The Prologue at the reviving of this Play.  
IT's grown in fashion of late in these days,  
To come and beg a sufferance to our Plays;  
Faith Gentlemen our Poet ever writ  
Language so good, mixed with such sprightly wit,  
He made the Theatre so sovereign  
With his rare Scenes, he scorned this crowching vein:  
We stabbed him with keen daggers when we prayed  
Him write a Preface to a Play well made.  
He could not write these toys; 'twas easier far,  
To bring a Felon to appear at th' Bar,  
So much he hated baseness; which this day,  
His Scenes will best convince you of in's Play,   

The Epilogue.  
OUr Poet bid us say for his own part,  
He cannot lay too much forth of his Art:  
But fears our overacting passions may,  
As not adorn, deface his laboured Play:  
Yet still he is resolute for what is writ  
Of Nicer valour, and assumes the wit:  
But for the love-scenes which he ever meant,  
Cupid in's Petticoat should represent,  
he'll stand no shock of censure; the play's good,  
He says he knows it, (if well understood.)  
But we (blind god) beg, if thou art divine,  
Thou'lt shoot thy Arrows round, this Play was thine.   

M. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Johnson, written before he and Master Fletcher came to London, with two of the precedent Comedies than not finished, which deferred their merry meetings at the Mermaid.  
THE Sun which doth the greatest comfort bring  
To absent friends, because the selfsame thing  
They know they see, however absent is,  
(Here our best Haymaker forgive me this,  
It is our country's style) In this warm shine,  
I lie and dream of your full Mermaid wine.  
O we have water mixed with Claret Lees,  
Drink apt to bring in drier heresies,  
Then beer, good only for the Sonnets strain,  
With fustian metaphors to stuff the brain,  
So mixed, that given to the thirstiest one,  
'Twill not prove alms, unless he have the stone:  
I think with one draught man's invention fades,  
Two Cups had quite spoiled Homer's Iliads;  
'Tis liquour that will find out Sutcliff's wit,  
Lie where he will, and make him write worse yet;  
filled with such moisture in most grievous qualms,  
Did Robert Wisdom write his singing Psalms;  
And so must I do this, and yet I think  
It is a potion sent us down to drink,  
By special Providence, keeps us from fights,  
Makes us not laugh, when we make legs to Knights.  
'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our States,  
A Medicine to obey our Magistrates:  
For we do live more free than you, no hate,  
No envy at one another's happy state  
Moves us, we are all equal every whit:  
Of Land that God gives men here is their wit:  
If we consider fully, for our best,  
And gravest men will with his main house jest,  
Scarce please you; we want subtlety to do  
The City tricks, lie, hate, and flatter too:  
Here are none that can bear a painted show,  
Strike when you winch, and then lament the blow:  
Who like Mills set the right way for to grind,  
Can make their gains alike with every wind:  
Only some fellows with the subtlest pate  
Amongst us, may perchance aequivocate  
At selling of a horse, and that's the most.  
Methinks the little wit I had is lost  
Since I saw you, for wit is like a rest  
Held up at Tennis, which men do the best,  
With the best gamesters: What things have we seen  
Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been  
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,  
As if that every one from whence they came,  
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,  
And had resolved to live a fool the rest  
Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown  
Wit able enough to justify the Town  
For three days past, wit that might warrant be  
For the whole City to talk foolishly  
Till that were canceled, and when that was gone,  
We left an air behind us, which alone,  
Was able to make the two next companies  
Right witty; though but downright fools, more wise.  
When I remember this, and see that now  
The Country gentlemen begin to allow  
My wit for dry bobbs, than I needs must cry,  
I see my days of ballading grow nigh;  
I can already riddle, and can sing  
Catches, sell bargains, and I fear shall bring  
myself to speak the hardest words I find,  
Over as oft as any, with one wind,  
That takes no medicines: But one thought of thee  
Makes me remember all these things to be  
The wit of our young men, fellows that show  
No part of good, yet utter all they know:  
Who like trees of the Guard, have growing souls.  
Only strong destiny, which all controls,  
I hope hath left a better fate in store,  
For me thy friend, than to live every poor,  
Banished unto this home; fate once again  
Bring me to thee, who canst make smooth & plain  
The way of Knowledge for me, and then I,  
Who have no good but in thy company,  
Protest it will my greatest comfort be  
To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee.  
Ben, when these Scenes are perfect we'll taste wine;  
I'll drink thy muse's health, thou shalt quaff mine.  
FINIS.