The Honest man's Fortune.  

Actus primus  

Scena prima:  Enter the Duke of Orleans, and the Earl of Amiens at several doors. Ame. 
MOrrow my Lord of Orleans.  Orl. 
You salute me like a stranger; brother Orleans were to me a Title more belonging, whom you call the husband of your sister.  Ami. 
Would the circumstances of your brotherhood had never offered cause to make our conversation less familiar: I meet you like a hindrance in your way: your great law suit is now upon the tongue, and ready for a judgement.  Orl. 
Came you from the Hall now?  Ami. 
Without stay; the Court is full, and such a press of people does attend the issue, as if some great man were brought to his arraignment.  Orl. 
Every mother's son of all that multitude of hearers went to be a witness of the misery your sister's fortunes must have come to, if my adversary who did love her first, had been her husband.  Ami. 
The success may draw a testimony from them to confirm the same opinion, but they went prepared with no such hope or purpose.  Orl. 
And did you entreat, the number of them that are come with no such hope or purpose.  Ami. 
Tush, your own experience of my heart can answer ye.  Orl. 
This doubtful, makes me clearly understand your disposition.  Ami. 
If your cause be just,  
I wish you a conclusion like your cause.  Orl. 
I can have any common charity to such a prayer  
From a friend I would expect a love to prosper in;  
Without exceptions such a love as might  
Make all my under takings thankful to't;  
Precisely just is seldom faithful in our wishes  
To another man's desires: Farewell. Exit Orl.  Enter Montague having a Purse, Duboys, Longueville, and Voramer the Page with two Gaskets. Dub. 
Here comes your adversaries brother in law.  Long. 
The Lord of Amiens.  Dub. 
From the Hall I think.  Ami. 
I did so: save your Lordship.  Mont. 
That's a wish my Lord, as courteous to my present state,  
As ever honest mind was thankful for;  
For now my safety must expose itself  
To question: yet to look for any free  
Or hearty salutation (sir from you)  
Would be unreasonable in me.  Ami. 
Why?  Mont. 
Your sister is my adversaries wife;  
That nearness needs must consequently draw  
Your inclination to him.  Ami. 
I will grant  
Him all the nearness his alliance claims,  
And yet be nothing less impartial  
My Lord of Montague.  Mont. 
Lord of Montague yet:  
But (sir) how long the dignity or state  
Belonging to it will continue, stands  
Upon the dangerous passage of this hour,  
Either for ever more to be confirmed,  
Or like the time wherein 'twas pleaded, gone:  
Gone with it, never to be called again.  Ami. 
Justice direct your process to the end;  
To both your persons my respect shall still  
Be equal; but the righteous cause is that  
Which bears my wishes to the side it holds,  
Wherever may it prosper. Exit Amiens.  Mont. 
Then my thanks  
Are proper to you, if a man may raise  
A confidence upon a lawful ground  
I have no reason to be once perplexed  
With any doubtful motion, Longueville,  
That Lord of Amiens, (didst observe him?) has  
A worthy nature in him.  Long. 
Either 'tis his nature or his cunning.  Mont. 
That's the vizard of most men's actions,  
Whose dissembled lives  
Do carry only the similitude  
Of goodness on 'em, but for him  
Honest behaviour makes a true report,  
What disposition does inhabit him,  
Essential virtue.  Long. 
Then 'tis pity that  
Injurious Orleans is his brother.  Dub. 
He is but his brother in law.  Long. 
la? that's as bad.  Dub. 
How is your Law as bad? I rather wish  
The hangman thy executor then that  
Equivocation should be ominous.  Enter two Lawyers, and two Creditors. Long. 
Some of your Lawyers.—  1 Law. 
What is ominous?  2 Law. 
Let no distrust trouble your Lordship's thought.  1 Law. 
The evidences of your questioned land  
Ha' not much as any literal  
Advantage in 'em to be made against  
Your title.  2 Law. 
And your Council understands  
The business fully.  1 Law. 
theyare industrious, just.  2 Law. 
And very confident.  1 Law. 
Your state endures  
A voluntary trial; like a man  
Whose honours are maliciously accused.  2 Law. 
The Accusation serves to clear his cause.  1 Law. 
And to approve his truth more.  2 Law. 
So shall all  
Your adversaries pleadings strengthen your  
Possession.  1 Law. 
And be set upon record  
To witness the hereditary right  
Of you and yours.  2 Law. 
Courage, you have the law.  Long. 
And you the profits.  Mont. 
If discouragement  
Could work upon me, your assurances  
Would put me strongly into heart again;  
But I was never fearful: and let fate  
Deceive my expectation, yet I am  
Prepared against dejection.  1 Cred. 
So are we.  2 Cred. 
We have received a comfortable hope  
That all will speed well.  Long. 
What is he Duboys?  Dub. 
A Creditor.  Long. 
I thought so, for he speaks  
As if he were a partner in his state.  Mont. 
Sir, I am largely indebted to your loves.  Long. 
More to their purses.  Mont. 
Which you shall not lose.  1 Cred. 
Your Lordship.  Dub. 
That's another creditor.  1 Cred. 
Has interest in me.  Long. 
You have more of him.  1 Cred. 
And I have had so many promises  
From these and all your learned Councillors,  
How certainly your cause will prosper: that—  Long. 
You brought no Sergeants with you?  Dub. 
To attend his ill success.  Mont. 
Good sir, I will not be  
Unthankful either to their industries  
Or your affections.  1 Law. 
All your land (my Lord)  
Is at the bar now, give me but ten Crowns  
I'll save you harmless.  Long. 
Take him at his word;  
If he does lose, you're saved by miracle,  
For I never knew a lawyer yet undone.  1 Law. 
Then now you shall sir, if this prospers not.  Long. 
Sir, I beseech you do not force your voice  
To such a loudness, but be thrifty now;  
Preserve it till you come to plead at bar  
It will be much more profitable in  
The satisfaction then the promise.  1 Law. 
Is not this a satisfaction to engage  
myself for this assurance, if he—  Mont. 
No sir, my ruin never shall import  
Another's loss, if not by accident,  
And that my purpose is not guilty of:  
You are engaged in nothing but your care. Exit Law.  
Attend the Procurator to the Court,  
Observe how things incline, and bring me word.  Long. 
I dare not sir; if I be taken there,  
Mine ears will be in danger.  Mont. 
Why? hast thou  
Committed something that deserves thine ears?  Long. 
No, but I fear the noise; my hearing will be  
Perished by the noise; 'tis as good 't want  
A member, as to lose the use—  Mont. 
The ornament is excepted.  Long. 
Well my Lord  
I'll put 'em to the hazard. Exit Long.  1 Cred. 
Your desires be prosperous to you.  2 Cred. 
Our best prayers wait  
Upon your fortune. Exeunt Cred.  Dub. 
For yourselves, not him.  Mont. 
Thou canst not blame 'em: I am in their debts.  Ver. 
But had your large expense (a part whereof  
You owe 'em) for unprofitable Silks  
And Laces, been bestowed among the poor,  
That would have prayed the right way for you:  
Not upon you.  Mont. 
For unprofitable Silks  
And Laces? now believe me honest boy  
thoust hit upon a reprehension that belongs  
Unto me.  Ver. 
By— my Lord,  
I had not so unmannerly a thought,  
To reprehend you.  Mont. 
Why I love thee for't.  
Mine own acknowledgement confirms thy words:  
For once I do remember, coming from  
The Mercers, where my Purse had spent itself  
On those unprofitable toys thou speakst of,  
A man half naked with his poverty  
Did meet me, and requested my relief:  
I wanted whence to give it, yet his eyes  
Spoke for him, those I could have satisfied  
With some unfruitful sorrow, (if my tears  
Would not have added rather to his grief,  
Then eased it) but the true compassion that  
I should have given I had not: this began  
To make me think how many such men's wants  
The vain superfluous cost I wore upon  
My outside would have clothed, and left myself  
A habit as becoming: to increase  
This new consideration there came one  
Clad in a garment plain and thrifty, yet  
As decent as these fair dear follies; made  
As if it were of purpose to despise  
The vanity of show: his purse had still  
The power to do a charitable deed,  
And did it.  Dub. 
Yet your inclination, sir,  
Deserved no less to be commended, than his action.  Mont. 
Prithee do not flatter me;  
He that intends well, yet deprives himself  
Of means to put his good thoughts into deed,  
Deceives his purpose of the due reward  
That goodness merits: O antiquity  
Thy great examples of Nobility  
Are out of imitation, or at least  
So lamely followed, that thou art as much  
Before this age in virtue, as in time.  Dub. 
Sir, it must needs be lamely followed, when  
The chiefest men love to follow it  
Are for the most part cripples.  Mont. 
Who are they?  Dub. 
soldiers, my Lord, soldiers.  Mont. 
'tis true Duboys: but if the Law disables me no more  
For Noble actions, then good purposes,  
I'll practise how to exercise the worth  
Commended to us by our ancestors;  
The poor neglected soldier shall command  
Me from a Lady's Courtship, and the form  
I'll study shall no more be taught me by  
The tailor, but the Scholar; that expense  
Which hitherto has been to entertain  
Th' intemperate pride and pleasure of the taste  
Shall fill my Table more to satisfy,  
And less to surfeit.  
What an honest work it would be; when we find  
A Virgin in her poverty, and youth  
Inclining to be tempted, to employ  
As much persuasion, and as much expense  
To keep her upright as men use to do upon her falling.  Dub. 
'tis charity that many maids will be unthankful for,  
And some will rather take it for a wrong,  
To buy 'em out of their inheritance,  
The thing that they were born to.  Enter Longueville. Mont. 
Longueville thou bringst a cheerful promise in thy face.  
There stands no pale report upon thy cheek,  
To give me fear or knowledge of my loss, 'tis red and lively.  
How proceeds my suit?  Long. 
That's with labour sir, a labour that to those of Hercules  
May add another; or (at least) be called  
A imitation of this burning shirt:  
For 'twas a pain of that unmerciful  
Perplexity, to shoulder through the throng  
Of people that attended your success:  
My sweaty linen fixed upon my skin,  
Still as they pulled me, took that with it; 'twas  
A fear I should have left my flesh among 'em:  
Yet I was patient, for( methought) the toil  
Might be an emblem of the difficult  
And weary passage to get out of Law.  
And to make up the dear similitude,  
When I was forth seeking my handkercher  
To wipe my sweat off, I did find a cause  
To make me sweat more, for my Purse was lost  
Among their finger.  Dub. 
There 'twas rather found.  Long. 
By them.  Dub. 
I mean so.  Mont. 
Well, I will restore  
Thy damage to thee: how proceeds my suit?  Lang. 
Like one at Brokers; I think forfeited.  
Your promising council at the first  
Put strongly forward with a laboured speed,  
And such a violence of pleading, that  
His fee in sugar-candy scarce will make  
His throat a satisfaction for the hurt  
He did it, and he carried the whole cause  
Before him with so clear a passage, that  
The people in the favour of your side  
Cried Montague, Montague: in the spite of him  
That cried out silence, and began to laugh  
Your adversaries Advocate to scorn:  
Who like a cunning footman? set me forth  
With such a temperate easy kind of course  
To put him into exercise of strength,  
And followed his advantages so close,  
That when your hot mouthed pleader thought 'had won,  
Before he reached it, he was out of breath,  
And then the other stripped him.  Mont. 
So all is lost.  Long. 
But how I know not; for( methought) I stood  
Confounded with the clamour of the Court,  
Like one embarked upon a storm at Sea,  
Where the tempestuous noise of Thunder mixed  
With roaring of the billows, and the thick  
Imperfect language of the Seamen, takes  
His understanding and his safety both  
Together from him.  Mont. 
Thou dost bring ill news  Long. 
Of what I was unwilling to have been  
The first reporter.  Mont. 
Didst observe no more?  Long. 
At least no better.  Mont. 
Then th' art not informed  
So well as I am; I can tell thee that  
Will please thee, for when all else left my cause,  
My very adversaries took my part.  Long. 
— whosoever told you that abused you.  Mont. 
Credit me, he took my part  
When all forsook me.  Long. 
Took it from you.  Mont. 
Yes I mean so, and I think he had just cause  
To take it when the verdict gave it him.  Dub. 
His Spirit would ha' sunk him, ere he could  
Have carried an ill fortune of this weight so lightly.  Mont. 
Nothing is a misery unless our weakness apprehend it so;  
We cannot be more faithful to ourselves  
In any thing that's manly, than to make  
Ill fortune as contemptible to us  
As it makes us to others.  Enter Lawyers. Long. 
Here come they  
Whose very countenances will tell you how  
Contemptible it is to others.  Mont. 
Sir?  Long. 
The sir of Knighthood may be given him, ere  
They hear you now.  Mont. 
Good sir but a word.  Dub. 
How soon the loss of wealth makes any man  
Grow out of knowledge.  Long. 
Let me see I pray sir,  
Never stood you upon the pillory?  1 Law. 
The Pillory?  Long. 
O now I know you did not.  
Y'ave ears, I thought ye had lost 'em; pray observe,  
Here's one that once was gracious in our eyes.  1 Law. 
O my Lord, have an eye upon him.  Long. 
But ha' you ne'er a Counsel to redeem  
His Land yet from the judgement?  2 Law. 
None but this, a writ of error to remove the cause.  Long. 
No more of error, we have been in that too much already.  2 Law. 
If you will reverse the judgement, you must trust to that delay.  Long. 
Delay? Indeed he's like to trust to that,  
With you has any dealing.  2 Law. 
Ere the Law proceeds to an habere facias possessionem.  Dub. 
That's a language sir, I understand not.  Long. 
thouart a very strange unthankful fellow to have taken Fees of such a liberal measure, and then give a man hard words for's money.  1 Law. 
If men will hazard their salvations,  
What should I say? I've other business.  Mont. 
You're i'th' right;  
That's it you should say now prosperity has left me.  Enter two Creditors. 1 Cred. 
Have an eye upon him; if  
We lose him now, he's gone for ever; stay  
And dog him: I'll go fetch the officers.  Long. 
Dog him you bloodhound: by this point thou shalt more safely dog an angry Lion then attempt him.  Mont. 
What's the matter?  Long. 
Do but steer to fetch a Sergeant; and (besides your loss  
Of labour) I'll have you beaten, till  
Those casements in your faces be false lights.  Dub. 
Falser than those you sell by.  Mont. 
Who gave you Commission to abuse my friends thus?  Lon. 
Sir, are those your friends that would betray you?  Mont. 
'tis to save themselves rather then betray me.  1 Cred. 
Your Lordship makes a just construction of it.  2 Cred. 
All our desire is but to get our own.  Long. 
Your wife's desires and yours do differ then.  Mont. 
So far as my ability will go  
You shall have satisfaction Longeville,  Long. 
And leave yourself neglected; every man  
Is first a debtor to his own demands, being honest.  Mont. 
As I take it sir, I did  
Not entertain you for my counsellor.  Ilong. 
counsels the office of a servant,  
When the master falls upon a danger: as  
Defence is never threaten with your eyes,  
They are no cockatrices; do you hear?  
Talk with a Girdler, or a Milner,  
He can inform you of a kind of men  
That first undid the profit of those trades  
By bringing up the form of carrying  
There morglachs in their hands: with some of those  
A man may make himself a privilege  
To ask a question at the prison gates,  
Without your good permission.  2 Cred. 
By your leave.  Mont. 
Stay sir, what one example since the time  
That first you put your hat off to me, have  
You noted in me to encourage you  
To this presumption? by the justice now  
Of thine own rule, I should begin with thee,  
I should turn thee away ungratified  
For all thy former kindness, forget  
Thou ever didst me any service: 'tis not fear  
Of being arrested makes me thus incline  
To satisfy you; for you see by him,  
I lost not all defences with my state;  
The curses of a man to whom I am  
Beholding terrify me more, than all  
The violence he can pursue me with.  
Duboys, I did prepare me for the worst;  
These two small Cabinets do comprehend  
The sum of all the wealth that it hath pleased  
Adversity to leave me, one as rich  
As th' other, both in Jewels; take thou this,  
And as the Order put within it shall  
Direct thee, distribute it half between  
Those Creditors, and th' other half among  
My servants: for (sir) they are my creditors  
As well as you are, they have trusted me  
With their advancement: if the value fail,  
To please you all, my first increase of means  
Shall offer you a fuller payment; be content  
To leave me something, and imagine that  
You put a new beginner into credit.  Cred. 
So prosper our own blessings, as we wish you to your merit.  Mont. 
Are your silences of discontent, or of sorrow?  Dub. 
Sir, we would not leave you.  Long. 
Do but suffer us to follow you, and what our present means, or industries hereafter can provide, shall serve you.  Mont. 
O desire me not to live  
To such a baseness, as to be maintained  
By those that serve me; pray be gone, I will  
Defend your honesties to any man  
That shall report you have forsaken me;  
I pray be gone. Exeunt Servants and Crediers.  
Why dost thou weep my boy,  
Because I do not bid thee go too?  Ver. 
No, I weep (my Lord) because I would not go;  
I fear you will command me.  Mont. 
No my child,  
I will not; that would discommend th'intent  
Of all my other actions: thou art yet  
Unable to advise thyself a course,  
Should I put thee to seek it; after that  
I must excuse or at the least forgive  
Any uncharitable deed that can be done against myself.  Ver. 
Every day (my Lord) I tarry with you, I'll account  
A day of blessing to me; for I shall  
Have so much less time left me of my life  
When I am from you: and if misery  
Befall you (which I hope so good a man  
Was never born to) I will take my part,  
And make my willingness increase my strength  
To bear it. In the Winter I will spare  
Mine own clothes from myself to cover you;  
And in the Summer, carry some of yours  
To ease you: I'll do any thing I can.  Mont. 
Why, thou art able to make misery  
Ashamed of hurting, when thy weakness can  
Both bear it, and despise it: Come my boy  
I will provide some better way for thee  
Then this thou speakst of; 'tis the comfort that  
Ill fortune has undone me into the fashion:  
For now in this age most men do begin,  
To keep but one boy, that kept many men. Exeunt.  Enter Orleans, a Servant, his Lady following. Orl. 
Where is she? call her.  Lady. 
I attend you sir.  Orl. 
Your friend sweet Madam.  Lady. 
What friend, good my Lord?  Orl. 
Your Montague, Madam, he will shortly want  
Those Courtly graces that you love him for;  
The means wherewith he purchased this, and this,  
And all his own provisions to the least  
Proportion of his feeding or his clothes,  
Came out of that inheritance of land  
Which he unjustly lived on: but the law  
Has given me right in't, and possession; now  
Thou shalt perceive his bravery vanish, as  
This Jewel does from thee now, and these Pearls  
To him that owes 'em.  Lady. 
Ye are the owner sir of every thing that does belong to me.  Orl. 
No, not of him, sweet Lady.  Lady. 
O good God!  Orl. 
But in a while your mind will change, and be  
As ready to disclaim him; when his wants  
And miseries have perished his good face,  
And taken off the sweetness that has made  
Him pleasing in a woman's understanding.  La. 
O Heaven, how gracious had Creation been  
To women, who are borne without defence,  
If to our hearts there had been doors through which  
Or husbands might have looked into our thoughts,  
And made themselves undoubtful.  Orl. 
Made 'em mad.  La. 
With honest women.  Orl. 
Thou dost still pretend  
A title to that virtue: prithee let  
Thy honesty speak freely to me now.  
Thou knowest that Montaigue of whose Land  
I am the master, did affect three first,  
And should have had thee, if the strength of friends  
Had not prevailed above thine own consent.  
I have undone him; tell me how thou dost  
Consider his ill fortune and my good.  La. 
I'll tell you justly his undoing is  
An argument for pity? and for tears  
In all their dispositions that have known  
The honour and the goodness of his life:  
Yet that addition of prosperity,  
Which you have got by't, no indifferent man  
Will malice or repine at, if the Law  
Be not abused in 't; howsoever since  
You have the upper fortune of him, 'twill  
Be some dishonour to you to bear yourself  
With any pride or glory over him.  Orl. 
This may be truly spoken, but in thee  
It is not honest.  La. 
Yes, so honest, that I care not if the chaste Penelope  
Were now alive to hear me.  Enter Amiens. Orl. 
Who comes there?  La. 
My brother.  Am. 
Save ye.  Orl. 
Now sir, you have heard of prosperous Montague.  Am. 
No sir, I have heard of Montague,  
But of your prosperity.  Orl. 
Is he distracted.  Am. 
He does bear his loss with such a noble strength  
Of patience that,  
Had fortune eyes to see him, she would weep  
For having hurt him, and pretending that  
She did it but for trial of his worth:  
Hereafter ever love him.  Orl. 
I perceive you love him, and because (I must confess)  
He does deserve that though for some respects,  
I have not given him that acknowledgement,  
Yet in mine honour I did still conclude to use him nobly.  Am. 
Sir, that will become your reputation and make me grow proud of your alliance.  Orl. 
I did reserve the doing of this friendship till I had  
His fortunes at my mercy, that the world  
May tell him 'tis a willing courtesy.  La. 
This change will make me happy.  Orl. 
'tis a change; thou shalt behold it, then observe me when  
That Montague had possession of my Land,  
I was his rival, and at last obtained  
This Lady who by promise of her own  
Affection to him, should ha' been his wife;  
I had her, and withheld her like a pawn,  
Till now my Land is rendered to me again,  
And since it is so, you shall see I have  
The conscience not to keep her— give him her— draws  
For by the faithful temper of my sword, she shall not tarry with me.  Am. 
Give me way— draws.  
Thou most unworthy man— give me way  
Or by the wrong he does the Innocent,  
I'll end thy misery and his wickedness, together.  Lady 
Stay and let me justify  
My husband in that, I have wronged his bed  Enter Amiens in amazement, the servants following him. 
Never— all shames that can afflict me fall  
Upon me if I ever wronged you;  Orl. 
Didst thou not confess it?  La. 
'twas to save your blood from shedding, that has  
Turned my brother's edge;  
He that beholds our thoughts as plainly as  
Our faces, knows it, I did never hurt  
My honesty but by accusing it.  Orl. 
Women's consents are sooner credited  
Then their denials: and I'll never trust  
Her body that prefers any defence  
Before the safety of her honour— here— Enter servant  
Show forth that stranger— give me not a word  
Thou seest a danger ready to be tempted.  La. 
Cast that upon me rather than my shame,  
And as I am now dying I will now—  
That I am honest.  Orl. 
Put her out of doors; but that I fear my land  
May go again to Montague, I would kill thee, I am loath,  
To make a beggar of him that way; or else—  
Go now you have the liberty of flesh,  
And you may put it to a double use,  
One for your pleasure, th'other to maintain  
Your well-beloved, he will want. Exit Lady  
In such a charitable exercise  
The virtue will excuse you for the vice. Exit Orleans.  Enter Amiens drawn, Montague, Vercamor meeting. Mont. 
What means your Lordship?  Ver. 
For the love of God—  Am. 
Thou hast advantage of me, cast away this buckler.  Mont. 
So he is Sir, for he lives  
With one that is undone— a void us boy.  Ver. 
I'll first avoid my safety,  
Your Rapier shall be buttoned, with my head before it touch my Master.  Am. 
Montague?  Mont. 
Sir.  Am. 
You know my sister?  Mont. 
Yes sir.  Am. 
For a whore?  Mont. 
You lie, and shall lie lower if you dare abuse her honour.  Enter Lady. La. 
I am honest.  Am. 
Honest!  La. 
Upon my faith I am.  Am. 
What did then persuade thee to condemn thyself?  La. 
Your safety.  Am. 
I had rather be exposed  
To danger, than dishonour; thoust betrayed  
The reputation of my family  
More basely by the falseness of that word,  
Then that thou hast delivered me asleep  
Into the hands of base enemy.  
Relief will never make thee sensible  
Of thy disgraces; let thy wants compel thee to it. Exit  La. 
O I am a miserable woman.  Mont. 
Why Madam? are you utterly without means to relieve you?  La. 
I have nothing sir, unless by changing of these clothes for worse, and then at last the worst for nakedness.  Mont. 
Stand off boy, nakedness would be a change  
To please us Madam, to delight us both.  La. 
What nakedness sir?  Mont. 
Why the nakedness of body Madam, we were Lovers once.  La. 
Never dishonest Lovers.  Mont. 
Honesty has no allowance now to give ourselves.  La. 
Nor you allowance against honesty.  Mont. 
I'll send my Boy hence, opportunity  
Shall be our servant, come and meet me first  
With kisses like a stranger at the door,  
And then invite me nearer to receive  
A more familiar inward welcome— where,  
Instead of tapers made of virgin's wax  
Th'increasing flames of our desires shall light  
Us to a banquet: and before the taste  
Be dull with satisfaction, I'll prepare  
A nourishment composed of every thing  
That bears a natural friendship to the blood,  
And that shall set another edge upon't,  
Or else between the courses of the feast  
we'll dally out an exercise of time,  
That ever as one appetite expires another may succeed it.  La. 
O my Lord, how has your nature lost her worthiness?  
When our affections had their liberty,  
Or kisses met as temperately as  
The hands of sisters, or of brothers, that  
Our bloods were then as moving; than you were  
So noble, that I durst have trusted your  
Embraces in an opportunity  
Silent enough to serve a ravisher,  
And yet come from you— undishonoured— how  
You think me altered, that you promise your  
Attempt success I know not; but were all  
The sweet temptations that deceive us set  
On this side, and one that side all the waiters,  
These neither should persuade me nor the force.  Mont. 
Then misery may waste your body.  Lady. 
Yes, but lust shall never.  Mont. 
I have found you still as uncorrupted as I left you first  
Continue so; and I will serve you with  
As much devotion as my word, my hand  
Or purse can show you; and to justify  
That promise, here is half the wealth I have,  
Take it, you owe me nothing, till you fall  
From virtue, which the better to protect  
I have bethought me of a present means  
Give me the Letter; this commends my Boy  
Into the service of a Lady, whose  
Free goodness you have been acquainted with Lamira.  Lady. 
Sir I know her.  Mont. 
Then believe her entertainment will be noble to you;  
My boy shall bring you thither: and relate  
Your manner of misfortune if your own  
Report needs any witness: so I kiss your hand good Lady.  Lady. 
Sir, I know not how to promise, but I cannot be unthankful.  Mont. 
All that you can implore in thankfulness  
Be yours, to make you the more prosperous.  
Farewell my boy,— I am not yet oppressed. Exit Lady Vera.  
Having the power to help one that's distressed.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundi  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Longaville and Dubois Long. 
What shall we do now: swords are out of use,  
And words are out of credit.  Dub. 
We must serve.  Long. 
The means to get a service will first spend  
Our purses; and except we can allow  
ourselves an entertainment, service will  
Neglect us; now 'tis grown into a doubt  
Whether the Mr. or the servant gives the countenance.  Dub. 
Then fall in with Mistresses.  Long. 
They keep more servants now (indeed) than men,  
But yet the age is grown so populous  
Of those attendants, that the women are  
Grown full to.  Dub. 
What shall we propound ourselves?  Long. 
I'll think on't.  Dub. 
Do; Old occupations have too many setters up to prosper, some uncommon trade would thrive now.  Long. 
we'll e'en make up some half a dozen proper men,  
And should not we get more  
Than all your female sinners?  Dub. 
If the house be seated as it should be privately.  Long. 
ay but that would make a multitude of witches.  Dub. 
Witches? how prithee?  Long. 
Thus the bands would all turn witches to revenge  
Themselves upon; us and the women that  
Come to us, for disguises must wear beards,  
And that's they say, a token of a witch.  Dub. 
What shall we then do.  Long. 
We must study on't,  
With more consideration; stay Duboyes  
Are not the Lord of Orleans and the Lord  
Of Amiens enemies?  Dub. 
Yes, what of that.  Long. 
Methinks the factions of two such great men.  
Should give a promise of advancement now  
To us that want it.  Dub. 
Let the plot be thine, and in the enterprise I'll second thee.  Long. 
I have it, we will first set down ourselves  
The Method of a quarrel; and make choice  
Of some frequented Tavern; or such a place  
Of common notice to perform it in  
By way of undertaking to maintain  
The several honours of those enemies.  
Thou for the Lord of Orleanes; I for Amiens.  Dub. 
I like the project, and I think 'twill take  
The better, since their difference first did rise  
From his occasion whom we followed once.  Long. 
We cannot hope less after the report,  
Than entertainment or gratuity,  
Yet those are ends, I do not aim at most;  
Greater spirits that are needy, and will thrive,  
Must labour whiles such troubles are alive. Exeunt  Enter Laverdine, and La-poope. La p. 
Slander is sharper than the sword. I have fed this three days upon leaf Tobacco, for want of other Victuals.  Lav. 
You have lived the honester Captain; but be not so dejected, but hold up thy head, and meat will sooner fall i'thy mouth.  La-p. 
I care not so much for meat, so I had but good liquour, for which my guts croak like so many Frogs for rain.  Lav. 
It seems, you are troubled with the wind-colic Captain, swallow a bullet: 'tis present remedy I'll assure you.  La-p. 
A bullet; if you be Captain, my paunch is nothing but a pile of bullets; when I was in any service I stood between my General and the shot, like a mudwall; I am all lead, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, not a sound bone about me.  Lav. 
It seems you have been in terrible hot service Captain.  La-p. 
It has ever been the fate of the low Country wars to spoil many a man, I ha' not been the first nor shall not be the last: but I'll tell you sir, (hunger has brought it in to mind) I served once at the Siege of Brest 'tis memorable to this day, where we were in great distress for victuals, whole troops fainted more for want of food then for blood, and died, yet we were resolved to stand it out; I myself was but then Gentleman of a Company, and had as much need as any man, and indeed I had perished had not a miraculous providence preserved me.  Lav. 
As how good Captain?  La-p. 
Marry sir e'en as I was fainting and falling down for want of sustenance, the enemy made a shot at me, and struck me full i'th' paunch with a penny loaf.  Lav. 
Instead of a bullet!  La-p. 
In stead of a bullet.  Lav. 
That was miraculous in deed; and that loaf sustained you.  Lap-p. 
Nourished me or I had famished with the rest.  Lav. 
You have done worthy acts being a soldier, and now you shall give me leave to requite your tale, and to acquaint you with the most notorious deeds that I have done being a Courtier. I protest Captain I will lie no more than you have done.  La-p. 
I can endure no lies.  Lav. 
I know you cannot Captain, therefore I'll only tell you of strange things, I did once a deed of charity for itself; I assisted a poor widow in a suit, and obtained it, yet I protest I took not a penny for my labour.  La-p. 
'tis no such strange thing.  Lav. 
By Mars Captain, but it is, and a very strange thing too in a Courtier, it may take the upper hand of your penny loaf for a miracle. I could ha' told you how many Ladies have languished for my love, and how I was once solicited by the mother, the daughter, and grandmother out of the least of which I might have digged myself a fortune; they were all great Ladies, for two of them were so big I could hardly embrace them: but I was sluggish in my rising courses, and therefore let them pass; what means I had is spent upon such as had the wit to cheat me; That wealth being gone, I have only bought experience with it, with a strong hope to cheat others; but see here comes the much declined Montague, who had all the Man or houses, which were the body of his estate overthrown by a great wind.  Enter Montague, Mallicorne. La-p. 
How by a great wind? was he not over thrown by law?  Lav. 
Yes, marry was he: but there was terrible puffing and blowing before he was overthrown, if you observed, and believe it Captain, there's no wind so dangerous to a building as a lawyer's breath.  La-p. 
What's he with him?  Lav. 
An eminent Citizen. monsieur Mallicorne, let's stand aside and listen their design.  Mal. 
Sir, profit is the Crown of labour, it is the life, the soul of the industrious Merchant, in it he makes his paradise, and for it neglects Wife, Children, Friends, Parents, nay all the world, and delivers up himself to the violence of storms, and to be tossed into unknown airs; as there is no faculty so perilous, so there's none so worthy profitable.  Mont. 
Sir, I am very well possessed of it, and what of my poor fortunes remains, I would gladly hazard upon the Sea; it cannot deal worse with me then the Land, though it sink or throw it in the hands of Pirates. I have yet five hundred pounds left, and your honest and worthy acquaintance may make me a young Merchant; th'one moiety of what I have I would gladly adventure.  Mal. 
How adventure? you shall hazard nothing: you shall only join with me in certain commodities that are safe arrived unto the Key; you shall neither be in doubt of danger nor damage; But so much money disbursed, so much receive; sir I would have you conceive I pursue it not for any good your money will do me, but merely out of mine own freeness and courtesy to pleasure you.  Mont. 
I can believe no less, and you express a noble nature, seeking to build up a man so ruined as myself.  Lav. 
Captain here is subject for us to work upon if we have wit; you hear that there is money yet left, and it is going to be laid out in Rattles, Bells, Hobby-Horses, brown paper, or some such like sale commodities; now it would do better in our purses, upon our backs in good Goldlace, and Scarlet, and then we might pursue our projects, and our devices towards my Lady Annabella; go to, there's a conceit newly landed; hark I stand in good reputation with him, and therefore may the better cheat him: Captain, take a few instructions from me.  Mont. 
What moneys I have is at your disposing, and upon twelve I will meet you at the Palace with it.  Mal. 
I will there expect you, and so I take my leave. Exit  Lav. 
You apprehend me?  La-p. 
Why do ye think I am a dunce?  Lav. 
Not a dunce Captain, but you might give me leave to misdoubt that pregnancy in a Soldier, which is proper and hereditary to a Courtier; but prosecute it, I will both second, and give credit to it. Good monsieur Montague, I would your whole revenues lay within the circuit of mine arms, that I might as easily bestow, or restore it unto you as my courtesy.  La-p. 
My zealous wishes sir, do accompany his for your good fortunes.  Lav. 
Believe it sir, our affection towards you is a strong band of friendship.  Mont. 
To which I shall most willingly seal. But believe me Gentlemen in a broken estate, the bond of friendship oft is forfeited, but that it is your free and ingenuous nature to renew it.  Lav. 
Sir, I will amply extend myself to your use, and am very zealously afflicted as not one of your least friends for your crooked fate; But let it seize you with any dejection, you have as I hear a sufficient competency left, which well disposed may erect you as high in the world's account as ever.  Mont. 
I cannot live to hope it, much less enjoy it, nor is it any part of my endeavour; my study is to render every man his own, and to contain myself within the limits of a Gentleman.  Lav. 
I have the grant of an Office given me by some noble favourites of mine in Court, there stands but a small matter between me and it, if your ability be such to lay down the present sum, out of the love I bear you, before any other man, it shall be confirmed yours.  Mont. 
I have heard you often speak of such a thing; if it be assured to you I will gladly deal in it that portion I have, I would not hazard upon one course, for I see the most certainest is incertain.  La-p. 
Having money sir, you could not light upon men that could give better direction; there is at this time a friend of mine upon the Seas; to be plain with you, he is a pirate, that hath wrote to me to work his freedom, and by this Gentleman's means, whose acquaintance is not small at Court; we have the word of a worthy man for it, only there is some money to be suddenly disbursed, and if your happiness be such to make it up you shall receive treble gain by it, and good assurance for it.  Mont. 
Gentlemen out of the weakness of my estate you seem (to have some knowledge of my breast) that wood if it were possible advance my declined fortunes, to satisfy all men of whom I have had credit, and I know no way better than these which you propose; I have some money ready under my command, some part of it is already promised, but the remainder is yours to such uses as are propounded.  Lav. 
Appoint some certain place of meeting, for these affairs requires expedition.  Mont. 
I will make it my present business: at twelve, I am to meet Mallicorne the Merchant at the Palace, you know him sir, about some negotiation of the same nature, there I will be ready to tender you that money, upon such conditions as we shall conclude off.  Lav. 
The care of it be yours, so much as they affair concerns you.  Mont. 
Your caution is effectual, and till then I take my leave.  Lav. 
Good Mr Montague. Exit  Within a elamor, down with their weapons. Enter Longavile and Dubois, their swords drawn, servants and others between them. Ser. 
Nay Gentlemen what mean you pray be quiet, have some respect unto the house.  Long. 
A treacherous slave.  Du. 
Thou dost revile thyself base Longavile.  Long. 
I say thou art a villain and a corrupt one, that hast some seven years fed on thy master's trencher, yet never bredst good blood towards him: for if, thou hadst have a sounder heart.  Du. 
So sir, you can use your tongue something nimbler than your sword.  Long. 
Wood you could use your tongue well of your Master, friend you might have better employment for your sword.  Du. 
I say again and I will speak it loud and often, that Orleans is a noble Gentleman with whom Amiens is to light to poise the scale.  Long. 
He is the weaker for taking of a praise out of thy mouth.  Du. 
This hand shall seal his merit at thy heart.  Lav. 
Part them my masters part them.  Ser. 
Part them sir, why do you not part them, you stand by with your sword in your hand, and cry part 'em.  Lav. 
Why you must know my friend my clothes are better than yours, and in a good suit, I do never use to part anybody.  La-p. 
And it is discretion.  Lav. 
I marry is it Captain.  Long. 
Duboies though this place privilege thee, know where next we meet, the blood which at thy heart flows drops at thy feet.  Enter Amience in haste, his sword drawn. Du. 
I would not spend it better than in this quarrel, and on such a hazard.  Ami. 
What uproars this, must my name here be questioned in Tavern brawls, and by affected Ruffians?  Lav. 
Not we indeed sir.  Du. 
Fear cannot make me shrink out of your fury, though you were greater than your name doth make you, I am one, and the opposer; if your swollen rage have aught in malice to enforce express it.  Ami. 
I seek thee not nor shalt thou ever gain  
That credit, which a blow from me wood give thee,  
By my— I more detest that fellow  
Which took my part then thee, that he durst offer  
To take my honour in his feeble arms,  
And spend it in a drinking room; which way went he?  Lav. 
That way sir, I wood you wood after for I do fear we shall have some more scuffling.  Ami. 
I'll follow him, and if my speed o'er take him,  
I shall ill thank him for his forwardness. Exit.  Lav. 
I am glad he's gone, for I do not love to see a sword drawn in the hand of a man that looks so furious, there's no jesting with edge tools, how say you Captain?  Cap. 
I Say 'tis better jesting then to be in earnest with them. Enter Orleance.  Orl. 
How now? what's the difference? they say there have been swords drawn, and in my quarrel, let me know that man, whose love is so sincere to spend his blood for my sake, I will bounteously requite him.  Lav. 
We were all of your side, but there he stands begun it.  Orl. 
What's thy name?  Dub. 
Duboyes?  Orl. 
Give me thy hand, thou hast received no hurt?  Dub. 
Not any, nor wear this body stuck full of wounds, I should not count them hurts, being taken in so honourable a cause as the defence of my most worthy Lord.  Orl. 
The dedication of thy love to me requires my ample bounty, thou art mine, for I do find thee made unto my purposes. monsieur Laverdine, pardon my neglect I not observed you, and how runs rumour.  Lav. 
Why, it runs my Lord like a foot man without a cloak, to show that what's once rumoured it cannot be hid.  Orl. 
And what say the rabble, am not I the subject of their talk?  Lav. 
Troth my Lord the common mouth speaks foul words.  Orl. 
Of me, for turning away thy wife do they not?  Lav. 
Faith the men do a little murmur at it and say, 'tis an ill precedent in so great a man, marry the women they rail, out right.  Orl. 
Out upon them rampallions I'll keep myself safe enough out of their fingers, but what say my pretty Jelly composed gallant that censure every thing more desperate than it is dangerous; what say they?  Lav. 
Marry they are laying wagers, what death you shall die; one offers to lay five hundred pounds; And yet he had but a groat about him, & that was in two twopence too to any man that would make it up a shilling; that you were killed with a Pistol charged with white Powder; another offered to pawn his soul for five shillings, and yet nobody would take him, that you were stabbed to death and should die with more wounds than Cesar.  Orl. 
And who should be the Butchers that should do it? Montague and his associates?  Lav. 
So 'tis conjectured.  La-p. 
And believe it, sweet Prince, it is to be feared, and therefore prevented.  Orl. 
By turning his purpose on himself, were not that the way?  Lav. 
The most direct path for your safety. For where doth danger sit more furious than in a desperate man?  La-p. 
And being you have declined his means, you have increased his malice.  Lav. 
Besides the general report that steams in every man's breath, and stains you all over with infamy, that Time the devourer of all things cannot eat out.  La-p. 
ay, for that former familiarity, which he had with your Lady.  Lav. 
Men speak it as boldly as words of compliment; good morrow, good even, or God save you sir, are not more usual; if the word cuckold had been written upon your forehead in great Capital Letters, it could not have been dilated with more confidence.  Orl. 
He shall not sleep another night, I will have his blood, though it be required at my hands again.  Lav. 
Your Lordship may, and without hazarding your own person; he's a Gentleman in whose looks I see a resolution to perform it.  Dub. 
Let his Lordship give me but his honourable word for my life, I'll kill him as he walks.  Lav. 
Or pistol him as he sits at meat.  La-p. 
Or at game.  Lav. 
Or as he is drinking.  Dub. 
Any way.  Orl. 
Wot thou? call what is mine thine own, thy reputation shall not be brought in question for it, much less thy life; it shall be named a deed of valour in thee, not murder: Farewell. Exit.  Dub. 
I need no more encouragement, it is a work I will persuade myself that I was borne to.  Laver. 
And you may persuade yourself to that you shall be saved by it, being that it is for his honourable Lordship.  Dub. 
But you must yield me means, how, when and where.  Lav. 
That shall be burr tasks;  
Nay more, we will be agents with thee:  
This hour we are to meet him, on the receipt of certain moneys,  
Which indeed we purpose honestly to cheat him of,  
And that's the many causes I would have him slain,  
Who works with safety makes a double gain. Exeunt.  Enter Longaville, Amiens following him. Ami. 
Stay sir, I have took some pains to overtake you.  
— You name is Longaville?  Long. 
I have the word of many honest men for't, I crave your Lordship's pardon, your sudden apprehension on my steps made me to frame an answer unwitting and unworthy your respect.  Ami. 
Do you know me?  Long. 
Yes, my Lord.  Ami. 
I know not you; nor am I well pleased to make this time, as the affair now stands, the induction of your acquaintance; you are a fighting fellow?  Long. 
How my Lord?  Ami. 
I think I too much grace you; rather you are a fellow dares not fight, but spit and puff and make a noise whilst your trembling hand draws out your Sword, to lay it upon Andirons, stools or tables, rather than on a man.  Long. 
Your honour may best speak this; yet— with little safety, if I thought it serious.  Ami. 
Come, you are a merry braggart, and you have given me cause to tell you so: what weakness have you ever seen in me to prompt yourself, that I could need your help, or what other reasons could induce you to it? you never yet had a meal's meat from my Table, nor as I remember from my Wardrobe any cast Suit.  Lon. 
'tis true, I never durst yet have such a service spirit, to be the minion of a full swollen Lord; but always did detest such slavery: a meal's meat, or a cast suit? I would first eat the stones, and from such rags the dunghills does afford pick me a garment.  Ami. 
I have mistook the man, his resolute spirit  
Proclaims him generous, he has a noble heart  
As free to utter good deeds as to act them;  
For had he not been right, and of one piece,  
He would have crumpled, curled, and struck himself  
Out of the shape of man into a shadow.  
But prithee tell me, if no such fawning hope  
Did lead thee on to hazard life for my sake;  
What was it that incited thee?  
Tell me; speak it without the imputation of a sycophant.  Long. 
Your own desert, and with it was joined the unfeigned friendship that I judged you ever held unto my former Lord.  Ami. 
The noble Montague?  Long. 
Yes, the noble and much injured Montague.  Ami. 
To such a man as thou art, my heart shall be  
A Casket: I will lock thee up there,  
And esteem thee as a faithful friend,  
The richest Jewel that a man enjoys;  
And being thou didst follow once my friend,  
And in thy heart still dost, not with his fortunes casting him off,  
Thou shalt go hand in hand with me, and share  
As well in my ability as love; 'tis not my end  
To gain men for my use, but a true friend. Exeunt.  Enter Duboys. Dub. 
There's no such thriving way to live in grace,  
As to have no sense of it; his back nor belly  
Shall not want warming that can practise me mischief;  
I walk now with a full purse, grow high and wanton,  
Prune and brisk myself in the bright shine  
Of his good Lordship's favours; and for what virtue?  
For fashioning myself a murderer.  
O noble Montague, to whom I owe my heart,  
With all my best thoughts, though my tongue have promised  
To exceed the malice of thy destiny,  
Never in time of all my service knew I  
Such a sin tempt thy bounty; those that did feed  
Upon thy charge had merit or else need.  Enter Laverdine and Lapoope, with disguises. Lav. 
Duboys, most prosperously met.  Dub. 
How now? will he come this way.  Lav. 
This way, immediately; therefore thy assistance, dear Duboys.  Dub. 
What have you cheated him of the money you spoke of?  Lav. 
Fough, as easily as a  Country wench of her maidenhead; we had it in a twinkling.  Dub. 
'tis well Captain, let me help you, you must be our leader in this action.  La-p. 
Tut, fear not, I'll warrant you if my Sword hold, we'll make no sweating sickness of it.  Dub. 
Why that's well said, but let's retire a little, that we may come on the more bravely; this way, this way.  Exeunt. Enter Montague in the hands of three Officers, and three Creditors. 1 Cre. 
Officers look to him, and be sure you take good security before he part from you.  Mont. 
Why but my friends, you take a strange course with me; the sums I owe you are rather forgetfulness they are so slight, then want of will or honesty to pay you.  1 Cred. 
ay sir, it may be so; but we must be paid, and we will be paid before you scape: we have wife and children, and a charge, and you are going down the wind, as a man may say; and therefore it behooves us to look to't in time.  2 Cred. 
Your cloak here would satisfy me, mine's not above a three pound matter, besides the arrest.  3 Cred. 
Faith and mine is much about that matter too; your Girdle and Hangers, and your Beaver, shall be sufficient bail for't.  1 Cred. 
If you have ever a plain black suit at home, this Silken one, with your Silk-stockings, Garters, and Roses shall pacify me too; for I take no delight, if I have a sufficient pawn, to cast any Gentleman in prison; therefore 'tis but an untrussing matter, and you are free, we are no unreasonable creatures you see; for mine own part, I protest I am loath to put you to any trouble for security.  Mont. 
Is there no more of you? he would next demand my skin.  1 Cred. 
No sir, here's no more of us, nor do any of us demand your skin, we know not what to do with it: but it may be if you owed your Glover any money, he knew what use to make of it.  Mont. 
Ye dregs of baseness, vultures amongst men,  
That tire upon the hearts of generous spirits.  1 Cred. 
You do us wrong sir, we tire no generous spirits, we tire nothing but our hackneys.  Enter Mallicorne. Mont. 
But here comes one made of another piece;  
A man well meriting that free born name  
Of Citizen; welcome my deliverer, I am fall'n  
Into the hands of bloodhounds, that for a sum  
Lesser than their honesties, which is nothing,  
would tear me out of my skin.  Mal. 
Why sir, what's the matter?  1 Cre. 
Why sir, the matter is, that we must have our money, which if we cannot have, we'll satisfy ourselves with his carcase, and be paid that ways: you had as good sir not have been so peremptory. Officer, hold fast.  1 Offi. 
The strenuous fist of vengeance now is clutched; therefore fear nothing.  Mal. 
What may be the debt in gross?  Mont. 
Some forty Crowns, nay rather not so much, 'tis quickly cast.  Mal. 
'tis strange to me, that your estate should have so low an ebb, to stick at such sleight sums: why my friends, you are too strict in your accounts, and call too sudden on this Gentleman, he has hopes left yet to pay you all.  1 Cred. 
Hopes? I marry bid him pay his friends with hopes, and pay us with currant Coin: I knew a gallant once that fed his creditors still with hopes, and bid 'em they should fear nothing, for he had 'em tied in a string; and trust me so he had indeed, for at last he and all his hopes hopped in a halter.  Mont. 
Good sir, with what speed you may free out the company of these slaves, that have nothing but their names to show 'em men.  Mal. 
What would you wish me do sir? I protest I ha' not the present sum (small as it is) to lay down for you; and for giving my word, my friends no latter than yesternight made me take bread and eat it, that I should not do it for any man breathing i'th' world; therefore I pray bold me excused.  Mont. 
You do not speak this seriously?  Mal. 
As ever I said my prayers, I protest to you.  Mont. 
What may I think of this?  Mal. 
Troth sir thought is free for any man; we abuse our betters in it, I have done it myself.  Mont. 
Trust me, this speech of yours doth much amaze me, pray leave this language, and out of that same sum you lately did receive of me, lay down as much as may discharge me.  Mal. 
You are a merry man sir, and I am glad you take your crosses so temperately; fare you well sir, and yet I have something more to say to ye, a word in your ear I pray; to be plain with you I did lay this plot to arrest you to enjoy this money I have of yours, with the more safety. I am a fool to tell you this now; but in good faith I could not keep it in. And the money would ha' done me little good else. An honest Citizen cannot wholly enjoy his own wife for you, they grow old before they have true use of them, which is a lamentable thing, and truly much hardens the hearts of us Citizens against you: I can say no more, but am heartily sorry for your heaviness, and so I take my leave.  Exit Mallycorne. 1 Cred. 
Officers take hold on him again, for monsieur  
Mallicorne will do nothing for him I perceive.  Enter Duboys, Lapoope, and Laverdine. Dub. 
Nay come my masters, leave dancing of the old measures, and let's assault him bravely.  Lav. 
By no means; for it goes against my stomach to kill a man in an unjust quarrel.  La-p. 
It must needs be a clog to a man's conscience all his life time.  Lav. 
It must indeed Captain: besides do ye not see he has gotten a guard of friends about him, as if he had some knowledge of our purpose?  Dub. 
Had he a guard of Devils as I think them little better, my Sword should do the message that it came for.  Lav. 
If you will be so desperate, the blood lie upon your own neck, for we'll not meddle in't.  Duboys runs upon Montague, and struggling yields him his Sword; the Officers draw, Laverdine and La-poope in the scuffling retire, Montague chaseth them off the Stage, himself wounded. Dub. 
I am your friend and servant,  
Struggle with me and take my Sword;  
Noble sir make your way, you have slain an Officer.  Mont. 
Some one of them has certainly  
Requited me; for I do lose much blood.  1 Offic. 
Udsprecious, we have lost a brother, pursue the Gentleman.  2 Offic. 
I'll not meddle with him: you see what comes on't; besides I know he will be hanged ere he be taken.  1 Offic. 
I tell thee yeoman he must be taken ere he be hanged; he is hurt in the guts, run afore therefore and know how his wife will rate his Sausages a pound.  3 Offic. 
Stay brother, I may live, for surely I find i'm but hurt in the leg a dangerous kick on the shinbone.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scaena prima.  Enter Madam Lamira, Madam le Orleans, Veramour. Lam. 
You see Lady  
What harmless sports our Country life affords;  
And though you meet not here with City dainties,  
Or Courtly entertainment, what you have  
Is free and hearty.  L. Orl. 
Madam, I find here  
What is a stranger to the Court, content,  
And receive courtesies done for themselves,  
Without an expectation of return,  
Which binds me to your service.  Lam. 
Oh your love;  
My homely house built more for use then show  
Observes the Golden mean equally distant  
From glittering pomp, and sordid avarice;  
For Masks we will observe the works of nature  
And in the place of visitation read.  
Our Physic shall be wholesome walks, our viands,  
Nourishing not provoking: for I find  
Pleasures are tortures, that leave stings behind.  L. Orl. 
You have a great estate.  Lam. 
A competency  
Sufficient to maintain me and my rank,  
Nor am I, I thank Heaven, so Courtly bred  
As to employ the utmost of my Rents  
In paying Tailors for fantastic Robes;  
Or rather than be second in the fashion,  
Eat out my Officers and my Revenues  
With grating usury; my back shall not  
Be the base on which your soothing Citizen  
Erects his Summer-houses; nor on the other side  
Will I be so penuriously wise,  
As to make money (that's my slave) my Idol,  
Which yet to wrong, merits as much reproof,  
As to abuse our servant.  L. Orl. 
Yet with your pardon  
I think you want the Crown of all contentment.  Lam. 
In what good Madam?  L. Orl. 
In a worthy husband.  Lam. 
— It is strange the galleyslave should praise  
His Oar, or strokes; or you, that have made shipwreck  
Of all delight upon this Rock called marriage,  
Should sing Encomions o't.  L. Orl. 
Madam, though one fall  
From his horse and break his neck, will you  
Conclude from that it is unfit to ride?  
Or must it follow, because Orleans  
My Lord's pleased to make his passionate trial  
Of my suspected patience, that my brother,  
(Were he not so, I might say, worthy Amiens)  
Will imitate his ills, that cannot fancy  
What's truly Noble in him?  Lam. 
I must grant  
There's as much worth in him as can be looked for  
From a young Lord, but not enough to make  
Me change my golden liberty and consent  
To be a servant to it, as wives are  
To the Imperious humours of their Lords:  
methinks I'm well, I rise and go to bed  
When I think fit, eat what my appetite  
Desires without control, my servant's study  
Is my contentment, and to make me merry  
Their farthest aims; my sleeps are inquired after,  
My rising up saluted with respect:  
Command and liberty now wait upon  
My Virgin state; what would I more? change all,  
And for a husband? no; these freedoms die,  
In which they live with my Virginity;  
'tis in their choice that's rich to be a wife,  
But not being yoked to choose the single life.  Ver. 
Madam.  Lam. 
How like you the Country?  Ver. 
I like the air of it well Madam, and the rather because as on Irish Timber your Spiders will not make his web, so for aught I see yet your Cheater, Pander, and Informer being in their dispositions too foggy for this piercing climate, shun it, and choose rather to walk in mists in the City.  Lam. 
Who did you serve first boy?  Ver. 
A rich Merchant's widow, and was by her preferred to a young Court-lady.  L. Orl. 
And what difference found you in their service?  Ver. 
Very much: for look how much my old City Madam gave to her-young visitants, so much my Lady received for her hoary Court-servants.  Lam. 
And what made you to leave her?  Ver. 
My father (Madam) had a desire to have me a tale-man, took me from thence.  Lam. 
Well, I perceive you inherit the wag, from your father.  Ver. 
Doves beget Doves; and Eagles, Eagles, Madam: A Citizen here, though left never so rich, seldom at the best proves a Gentleman: the son of an Advocate, though dubbed like his father, will show a relish of his descent, and the father's thriving practice, as I have heard: she that of a Chambermaid is metamorphosed into a Madam, will yet remember how oft her daughter by her mother ventured to lie upon the rushes before she could get in that which makes many Ladies.  L. Orl. 
But what think you of your late Master?  Ver. 
Oh Madam— Sigh.  Lam. 
Why do you sigh? you are sorry that you left him,  
He made a wanton of you.  Ver. 
Not for that:  
Or if he did, for that my youth must love him.  
Oh pardon me, if I say liberty  
Is bondage, if compared with his kind service;  
And but to have power now to speak his worth  
To its desert; I should be well content  
To be an old man when his praise were ended:  
And yet, if at this instant you were pleased,  
I should begin, the livery of age  
Would take his lodging upon this head  
Ere I should bring it to a period.  
In brief he is a man (for God forbid  
That I should ever live to say he was  
Of such a shape as would make one beloved,  
That never had good thought;) and to his body  
He hath a mind of such a constant temper  
In which virtues throng to have a room:  
Yet 'gainst this noble Gentleman, this Montague,  
For in that name I comprehend all goodness,  
Wrong, and the wrested law, false witnesses,  
And envy sent from hell, have rose in Arms,  
And though not pierced, battered his honoured shield.  
What shall I say? I hope you will forgive me,  
That if you were but pleased to love,  
I know no Juno worthy such a Jove.  Enter Charlot with a letter. Lam. 
'tis well yet that I have the second place  
In your affection: From whence?  Charl. 
From the Lord Amiens, Madam.  Lam. 
'tis welcome, though it bear his usual language:  
I thought so much, his love-suit speak his health.  
What's he that brought it?  Charl. 
A Gentleman of good rank, it seems.  Lam. 
Where is he?  Charl. 
Receiving entertainment in your house  
Sorting with his degree.  Lam. 
'tis well.  Charl. 
He waits your ladyship's pleasure.  Lam. 
He shall not wait long:  
I'll leave you for a while; nay stay you boy,  
Attend the Lady. Exeunt Lam. Charl.  Vir. 
Would I might live once  
To wait on my poor Master.  L. Orl. 
That's a good boy:  
This thankfulness looks lovely on thy forehead,  
And in it, as a book, methinks I read  
Instructions for myself, that am his debtor,  
And would do much that I might be so happy  
To repair that which to our grief is ruined.  Vir. 
It were a work a King might glory in,  
If he saw with my eyes: If you please Madam,  
For sure to me you seem to me unapt to walk,  
To sit, although the churlish Birds deny  
To give us music in this grove, where they  
Are prodigal to others: I'll strain my voice  
For a sad Song, the place is safe and private.  L. Orl. 
'twas my desire; begin good Viramour.  Music a Song, at the end of it enter Montague fainting, his Sword drawn. L. Orl. 
What's he Viramour?  Vir. 
A goodly personage.  Mont. 
Am I yet safe? or is my flight a dream?  
My wounds and hunger tell me that I wake:  
Whither have my fears borne me? no matter where,  
Who hath no place to go to, cannot err:  
What shall I do? cunning calamity  
That others gross wits uses to refine,  
When I most need it dulls the edge of mine.  L Orl. 
Is not this Montagues voice?  Vir 
My Masters? fie.  Mont. 
What sound was that, pish,  
Fear makes the wretch think every leaf o'th' Jury:  
What course to live, beg? better men have done it,  
But in another kind: steal? Alexander  
Though styled a Conqueror, was a proud thief  
Though he robbed with an Army; fie how idle  
These meditations are: though thou art worse  
Than sorrows tongue can speak thee, thou art still  
Or shouldst be, honest Montague.  L. Orl. 
'tis too true.  Vir. 
'tis he: what villains hands did this? oh that my flesh  
Were Balm; in faith sir, I would pluck it off  
As readily as this; pray you accept  
My will to do you service: I have heard  
The Mouse once saved the Lion in his need,  
As the poor Scarab spilt the eagle's seed.  L. Orl. 
How do you?  Mont. 
As a forsaken man.  L. Orl. 
Do not say so, take comfort,  
For your misfortunes have been kind in this,  
To cast you on a hospitable shore,  
Where dwells a Lady—  Vir. 
She to whom, good Master,  
You preferred me.  L. Orl. 
In whose house, whatsoever  
Your dangers are, I'll undertake your safety.  Mont. 
I fear that I am pursued, and doubt that I  
In my defence have killed an Officer.  Vir. 
Is that all? there's no law under the Sun  
But will I hope confess, one drop of blood  
Shed from this arm is recompense enough  
Though you had cut the throats of all the Catchpoles  
In France, nay in the world.  Mont. 
I would be loath  
To be a burden, or feed like a drone  
On the industrious labour of a Bee,  
And baser far I hold it to owe for  
The bread I eat, what's not in me to pay;  
Then since my full fortunes are declined,  
To their low ebb I'll fashion my high mind.  
It was no shame to Hecuba to serve  
When Troy was fired: if't be in your power  
To be a means to make her entertainment,  
And far from that I was; but to supply  
My want with habit fit for him that serves,  
I shall owe much to you.  L. Orl. 
Leave that care to me.  Vir. 
Good sir, leave on my shoulder; help good Madam. oh that I were a horse for half an hour, that I might carry you home on my back: I hope you will love me still?  Mont. 
Thou dost deserve it boy, that I should live  
To be thus troublesome.  L. Orl. 
Good sir, 'tis none.  Vir. 
Trouble most willingly; I would be changed  
Like Apuleius, wear his ass's ears,  
Provided I might still this burden bear.  L. Orl. 
'tis a kind boy.  Mont. 
I find true proof of it. Exeunt:  Enter Amiens and Longeville with a Paper. Ami. 
You'll carry it.  Long. 
As I live although my packet were like Bellerophon's, what have you seen in me or my behaviour since your favours so plentifully showed upon my wants, that may beget distrust of my performance?  Ami. 
Nay, be not angry, if I entertained  
But the least scruple of your love, or courage,  
I would make of one which my state  
Should do me right in this, nor can you blame me  
If in a matter of such consequence  
I am so importunate.  Long. 
Good my Lord tell me, prevent your further conjurations  
To raise my spirit, I know this is a challenge  
To be delivered unto Orleans hand,  
And that my undertaking ends not there,  
But I must be your second, and in that  
Not alone search your enemy, measure weapons,  
But stand in all your hazards, as our bloods  
Ran in the self same veins, in which if I  
Better not your opinion, as a limb  
That's putrified and useless, cut me off,  
And underneath the Gallons bury it.  Ami. 
At full you understand me, and in this  
Bind me and what's mine to you and yours,  
I will not so much wrong you as to add  
One syllable more, let it suffice I leave  
My honour to your guard: and in that prove  
You hold the first place in my heart and love. Exit Ami.  Long. 
The first place in a lord's affection? very good; and how long doth that last? perhaps the changing of some three shirts in the Tennis Court; well it were very necessary that an order were taken (if it were possible,) that younger brother, might have more wit, or more money: for now however the fool hath long been put upon him that inherits his revenue hath brought him a sponge, and wiped off the imputation, and for the understanding of the younger, let him get as much rhetoric as he can to grace his language.  Enter Dubois. 
They will see he shall have gloss little enough to set out his bark; stand Dubois look about all safe.  Dub. 
Approach not near me but with reverence  
Laurel and adorations, I have done more than deserve a 100 thanks.  Long. 
How now what's the matter?  Dub. 
With this hand only aided by this brain,  
Without an Orpheus' Harp redeemed from hell's  
Three headed Porter, our Eurydice.  Long. 
Nay prithee speak sense, this is like the stale braggart in a Play.  Dub. 
Then in plain Prose thus, and with as little action as thou canst desire, the three headed Porter, were three unexorable Catchpoles out of whose jaws without the help of Orpheus' Harp, bait or bribe, for those too strings, makes the Music that mollifies those flinty furies, I rescued our Eurydice, I mean my old Master Montague.  Long. 
And is this all, a poor rescue, I thought thou hadst reversed the judgement for his overthrow, in his suit, or wrought upon his adversary Orleans, taken the shape of a Ghost, frighted his mind into distraction, and for the appeasing of his conscience forced him to make restitution of Montagues Lands, or such like rescued; slight I would have hired Crohieture for two Cardecues to have done so much with his whip.  Dub. 
You wood sir, and yet 'tis more than three on their foot-cloths durst do for a sworn Brother, in a Coach.  Long. 
Besides what proofs of it, for aught I know this may be a trick, I had rather have him a Prisoner, where I might visit him, and do him service, than not at all, or I know not where.  Dub. 
Well sir, the end will show it, what's that a challenge?  Long. 
Yes, where's Orleans? though we fight in jest he must meet with Amiens in earnest,— fall off, we are discovered; my horse garcon ha'.  Dub. 
Were it not in a house and in his presence,  
To whom I owe all duty—  Long. 
What would it do? prate as it does? but be as far from striking as he that owes it Orleans.  Dub. 
How?  Long. 
I think thou art his Porter,  
Set here to answer creditors, that his Lordship  
Is not within or takes the diet. I am sent,  
And will grow here until I have an answer,  
Not to demand a debt of money, but  
To call him to a strict account for wrong  
Done to the honours of a Gentleman,  
Which nothing but his heartblood shall wash off.  Dub. 
Shall I hear this?  Long. 
And more, that if I may not  
Have access to him, I will six this here  
To his disgrace and thine.  Dub. 
And thy life with it.  Long. 
Then have the copies of it pasted on posts,  
Like Pamphlet titles that sue to be sold;  
Have his disgrace talk for Tobacco shops,  
His picture baffled.  Dub. 
All respect away, were't in a Church— draw both  Long. 
This is the book I pray with.  Orl. 
Forbear upon your lives.  Long. 
What are you roused? I hope your Lordship can read (though he stain not his birth with scholarship) doth it not please you now? if you are a right monsieur, muster up the rest of your attendance, which is a page, a cook, a pander, coachman, and a foot man, in these days a great Lords train, pretending I am unworthy to bring you a challenge, in stead of answering it, have me kicked.  Dub. 
If he does thou deserv'st it.  Long. 
I dare you all to touch me, I'll not stand still,  
What answer you?  Orl. 
That thou hast done to Amience  
The office of a faithful friend which I  
Would cherish in thee were he not my foe,  
however since on honourable terms  
He calls me forth, say I will meet with him,  
And by Dubois ere Sunset make him know  
The time and place, my sword's length, and whatever  
Scruple of circumstance he can expect.  Long. 
This answer comes unlooked for, far you well,  
Finding your temper thus, wood I had said less. Exit.  Orl. 
Now Comes thy love to the test.  Dub. 
My Lord 'twill hold,  
And in all dangers prove itself true gold. Exeunt  Enter Laverdine La-poop Malicorne, servant. Ser. 
I will acquaint my Lady with your coming.  
Please you repose yourselves here.  Mal. 
there's a tester, nay now I am a wooer I must be bountiful.  Ser. 
If you would have two three-pences for it sir, To give some of your kindred as you ride, I'll see if I can get them; we use not (though Servants) to take Bribes. Exit.  Lav. 
Then thou art unfit, to be in office either in Court or City.  La-p. 
Indeed corruption is a Tree whose branches are of an unmeasurable length they spread everywhere, and the dew that drops from thence have infected some chairs and stools of authority.  Mal. 
Ah Captain, lay not all the fault upon Officers you know you can shark though you be out of action, witness Montague.  Lav. 
Hang him, he's safe enough; you had a hand in it to and have gained by him; but I wonder you Citizens that keep so many books, and take such strict accounts for every farthing due to you from others, reserve not so much as a memorandum for the courtesies you receive.  Mal. 
Would you have a Citizen book those? thankfulness is a thing we are not sworn to in our indentures: you may as well urge conscience.  Lav. 
Talk no more of such vanities. Montague is irrecoverably sunk, I would we had twenty more to send after him; the Snake that would be a Dragon and have wings must eat; and what employs that but this, that in this cannibal age he that would have the suit of wealth must not care— whom he feeds on? and as I have heard no flesh battens better, than that of a professed friend; and he that would mount to honour must not make dainty to use the head of his mother, back of his father, or neck of his brother, for ladders to his preferment; for but observe, and you shall find for the most part cunning villainy sit at a feast as principal guest, and Innocent honesty wait as a contemned servant with a trencher.  La-p. 
The Ladies.  Enter Mountague bareheaded, Lamira, Lady Orleance, Charlo, Veramour, salute. Mont. 
Do ye smell nothing?  Cha. 
Not I sir.  Mont. 
The carrion of knaves is very strong in my nostrils.  Lav. 
We came to admire, and find fame was a niggard  
Which we thought prodigal in our report  
Before we saw you.  Lam. 
Tush sir, this Courtship's old.  La-p. 
I'll fight for thee sweet wench,  
This is my tongue and woes for me?  Lam. 
Good man of War,  
Hands of; if you take me it must be by siege,  
Not by an onset; and for your valour, I  
Think that I have deserved few enemies,  
And therefore need it not.  Mal. 
Thou needst nothing sweet Lady, but an obsequious husband, and where wilt thou find him, if not in the City: we are true Moscovites to our Wives, and are never better pleased, then when they use us as slaves, bridle and saddle us; have me, thou shalt command all my wealth as thine own, thou shalt sit like a Queen in my ware house; And my factors at the return with my ships shall pay thee tribute of all the rarities of the earth; thou shalt wear gold, feed on delicates, the first peascod-strawberries, grapes, cherries shall—  Lam. 
Be mine; I apprehend what you would say,  
Those dainties which the City pays so dear for,  
The Country yields for nothing, and as early;  
And credit me your far fet viands please not  
My appetite better than those that are near hand.  
Then for your promised service and subjection  
To all my humours, when I am your wife,  
Which as it seems is frequent in the City,  
I cannot find what pleasure they receive  
In using there fond husbands like their Maids;  
But of this more hereafter; I accept  
Your proffer kindly, and yours; my house stands open  
To entertain you; take your pleasure in it,  
And ease after your journey.  La. Orl. 
Do you note the boldness of the fellows?  Lam. 
Alas Madam, a virgin must in this be like a lawyer,  
And as he takes all fees, she must hear all suitors; the  
One for gain, the other for her mirth; stay with the  
Gentlemen, we'll to the Orchards. Exeunt Lamira, La. Orle. Veram. Charl.  La-p. 
— what art thou?  Mont. 
An honest man, though poor;  
And look they like to monsters, are they so rare?  Lav. 
Rose from the dead.  Mal. 
Do you hear monsieur Serviture, didst thou never hear of one Montague a prodigal gull, that lives about Paris?  Mont. 
So sir.  Lav. 
One that after the loss of his main estate in a  
Law suit, bought an Office in the Court.  La-p. 
And should have letters of Mart, to have the Spanish treasure as it came from the Indies; were not thou and he twins? put of thy hat, let me see thy forehead.  Mont. 
Though you take privilege to use your tongues,  
I pray you hold your fingers,  
'Twas your base cozenage made me as I am,  
And were you somewhere else I would take off  
This proud film from your eyes, that will not tell you,  
Know I am Montague.  Enter Lamira behind the Arras. Lam. 
I will observe this better.  Lav. 
And art thou he? I will do thee grace; give me thy hand; I am glad thou hast taken so good a course; serve God and please thy Mistress; if I prove to be thy Master as I am very likely, I will do for thee.  Mal. 
Faith the fellow's well made for a servingman, and will no doubt carry a chine of Beef with good grace.  La-p. 
Prithee be careful of me in my chamber, I will remember thee at my departure.  Mont. 
All this I can endure under this roof,  
And so much owe I her, whose now I am,  
That no wrong shall incense me to molest  
Her quiet house; while you continue here,  
I will not be ashamed to do you service  
More than to her, because such is her pleasure.  
But you that have broke thrice, and fourteen times  
Compounded for two shillings in the pound,  
Know I dare kick you in your shop; do ye hear?  
If ever I see Paris, though an army  
Of musty morions, rusty brown bills and clubs,  
Stand for your guard— I have heard of your tricks,  
And you that smell of Amber at my charge,  
And triumph in your cheat; well I may live  
To meet thee, be it among a troop of such  
That are upon the fair face of the Court  
Like running ulcers, and before thy whore  
Trample upon thee.  La-p. 
This a language for a livery? take heed, I am a Captain.  Mont. 
A Coxcomb are you not? that thou and I  
To give proof, which of us dares most, were now  
In midst of a rough Sea, upon a piece  
Of a split ship, where only one might ride, Exit Lamira from the Arras.  
I would— but foolish anger makes me talk  
Like a Player.  Lam. 
Indeed you act a part  
Doth ill become you my servant; is this your duty?  Mont. 
I crave your pardon, and will hereafter be more circumspect.  Lav. 
Oh the power of a Woman's tongue! it had done more than we three with our swords durst undertake: put a mad man to silence.  Lam. 
Why Sirrah these are none of your comrades  
To drink with in the cellar; one of them  
For aught you know may live to be your Master.  La-p. 
there's some comfort yet.  Lam. 
Here's choice of three, a wealthy Merchant.  Mal. 
Hem, she's taken, she hath spied my good Calf,  
And many Ladies choose their husbands by that.  Lam. 
A Courtier that's in grace, a valiant Captain,  
And are these mates for you? away be gone.  Mont. 
I humbly pray you will be pleased to pardon,  
And to give satisfaction to you Madam.  
(Although I break my heart) I will confess  
That I have wronged them too, and make submission.  Lam. 
No I'll spare that; go bid the Cook haste Supper. Exit Mont.  La-p. 
Oh brave Lady thou art worthy to have servants, to be commandress of a Family, that know'st how to use and govern it.  Lav. 
You shall have many Mistresses that will so mistake as to take their horse keepers, and footmen instead of their Husbands, thou art none of those.  Mal. 
But she that can make distinction of men, and knows when she hath gallants, and fellows of rank and quality in her house—  Lam. 
Gallants indeed, if it be the Gallants fashion  
To triumph in the miseries of a man,  
Of which they are the cause: one that transcends  
(In spite of all that fortune hath, or can be done)  
A million of such things as you, my doors  
Stand open to receive all such as wear  
The shape of Gentlemen, and my gentlier nature  
(I might say weaker) weighs not the expense  
Of entertainment; think you I'll forget yet  
What's due unto myself? do not I know,  
That you have dealt with poor Montague, but like  
Needy Commanders, cheating Citizens,  
And perjured Courtiers? I am much moved, else use not  
To say so much, if you will bear yourselves  
As fits such you would make me think you are,  
You may stay; if not the way lies before you. Exit.  Mal. 
What think you of this Captain?  La-p. 
That this is a bawdy house, with Pinnacles and Turrets, in which this disguised Montague goes to rut great is, and that this is a landed panderess, and makes her house a brothel for charity.  Mal. 
Come, that's no miracle; but from whence derive you the supposition?  Lav. 
Observe but the circumstance; you all know that in the height of Montagues prosperity, he did affect and had his love returned by this Lady Orleans; since her divorcement, and his decay of estate, it is known, they have met not so much as his boy is wanting; and that this can be any thing else then a mere plot for their night work, is above my imagination to conceive.  Mal. 
Nay it carries probability, let us observe it better, but yet with such caution as our prying be not discovered: here's all things to be had without cost, and therefore good staying here.  La-p. 
Nay that's true, I would we might woe her twenty years like Penelope's suitors; come Laverdine.  Exeunt Malli. La-Poop. Lav. 
I follow instantly, yonder he is.  Enter Viramor. 
The thought of this Boy hath much cold my affection to his Lady, and by all conjectures, this is a disguised whore; I will try if I can search this Mine. Page—  Ver. 
Your pleasure sir?  Lav. 
Thou art a pretty Boy.  Ver. 
And you a brave man: now I am out of your debt.  Lav. 
Nay prithee stay.  Ver. 
I am in haste sir.  Lav. 
By the faith of a courtier.  Ver. 
Take heed what you say, you have taken a strange Oath.  Lav. 
I have not seen a youth that hath pleased me better, I would thou couldst like me, so far as to leave thy Lady and wait on me, I would maintain thee in the bravest Clothes.  Ver. 
Though you took them up on trust, or bought 'em at the brokers.  Lav. 
Or any way: then thy employments should be so neat and cleanly, thou shouldst not touch a pair of Pantables in a Month, and thy lodging—  Ver. 
Should be in a brothel.  Lav. 
No, but in mine arms.  Ver. 
That my be the circle of a bawdy house, or worse.  Lav. 
I mean thou shouldest lie with me.  Ver. 
Lie with you? I had rather lie with my Lady's Monkey; 'twas never a good World since our French Lords learned of the Neopolitans; to make their Pages their Bedfellows, doth more hurt to the Suburb Ladies then twenty dead Vacations; 'tis Supper time sir. Exit Veram.  Lav. 
I thought so, I know by that 'tis a Woman, for because peradventure she hath made trial of the Monkey, she prefers him before me, as one unknown; well these are standing Creatures, and have strange desires; And men must use strange means to quench strange fires.  Exit.   

Actas Quartus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Montague, alone, in mean habit. Mont. 
Now Montague, who discerns thy spirit now?  
Thy breeding or thy blood? here's a poor cloud  
Eclipseth all thy splendour; who can read  
In thy pale face, dead eye, or lenten shoot,  
The liberty thy ever giving hand  
Hath bought for others, manacling itself  
In gives of parchment indissoluble?  
The greatest hearted man supplied with means,  
Nobility of birth and gentlest parts,  
I though the right hand of his Sovereign,  
If virtue quit her seat in his high soul,  
Glitters but like a Palace set on fire,  
Whose glory whilst it shines, but ruins him,  
And his bright show each hour to ashes tending  
Shall at the last be raked up like a sparkle,  
Unless men's lives and fortunes feed the flame.  
Not for my own wants though blame I my Stars,  
But suffering others to cast love on me,  
When I can neither take nor thankful be.  
My Lady's woman, fair and virtuous  
Young as the present month, solicits me  
For love and marriage now being nothing worth—  Enter Veramour with Counters. Ver. 
Oh Master, I have sought you a long hour,  
Good faith, I never joyed out of your sight;  
For God's sake sir be merry, or else bear  
The Buffets of your fortunes with more scorn;  
Do but begin to rail, teach me the way,  
And I'll sit down and help your anger forth:  
I have known you wear a suit full worth a Lordship,  
Give to a man whose need ne'er frighted you  
From calling of him friend, five hundred Crowns  
Ere sleep had left your senses to consider  
Your own important present uses; yet  
Since I have seen you with a trencher wait,  
Void of all scorn, therefore I'll wait on you.  Mont. 
Would God thou wert less honest.  Ver. 
Would to God you were less worthy: I am even w'ee sir.  Mont. 
Is not thy Master strangely fallen, when thou  
Servest for no wages, but for charity?  
Thou dost surcharge me with thy plenteous love:  
The goodness of thy virtue shown to me,  
More opens still my disability  
To quit thy pains: Credit me loving boy,  
A free and honest nature may be oppressed,  
tired with courtesies from a liberal spirit,  
When they exceed his means of gratitude.  Ver. 
But 'tis a due in him that to that end  
Extends his love or duty.  Mont. 
Little world  
Of virtue, why dost love and follow me?  Ver. 
I will follow you through all Countries,  
I'll run (fast as I can) by your horse side,  
I'll hold your stirrup when you do alight,  
And without grudging wait till you return:  
I'll quit offered means, and expose myself  
To cold and hunger still to be with you;  
Fearless I'll travel through a wilderness,  
And when you are weary, I will lay me down  
That in my bosom you may rest your head,  
Where whilst you sleep, I'll watch that no wild beast  
Shall hurt or trouble you: and thus we'll breed a story  
To make every hearer weep,  
When they discourse our fortunes and our loves.  Mont. 
Oh what a scoff might men of Worms make,  
If they did know this boy? but my desire  
Is that thou wouldest not (as thou usest still  
When like a servant I 'mong servants sit)  
Wait on my Trencher, fill my cups with wine:  
Why shouldst thou do this boy? prithee consider,  
I am not what I was.  Ver. 
Cursed be the day when I forget that Montague was my Lord, or not remember him my Master still.  Mont. 
Rather curse me, with whom thy youth hath spent  
So many hours, and yet untaught to live  
By any worldly quality.  Ver. 
Indeed you never taught me how to handle Cards  
To cheat and coz in men with oaths and lies;  
Those are the worldly qualities to live:  
Some of our Scarlet Gallants teach their boys  
These worldly qualities.  
Since stumbling fortune then leaves virtue thus  
Let me leave fortune, ere be vicious.  Mont. 
Oh lad, thy love will kill me.  Ver. 
In truth, I think in conscience I shall die for you:  
Good Master weep not, do you want aught sir?  
Will you have any money? here's some Silver;  
And here's a little Gold, 'twill serve to play,  
And put more troublesome thoughts out of your mind:  
I pray sir take it, I'll get more with singing.  
And then I'll bring it you; my Lady ga't me,  
And— it was not covetousness,  
But I forgot to tell you sooner on't.  Mont. 
Alas boy, thou art not bound to tell it me,  
And less to give it, buy thee Scarves and Garters,  
And when I have money, I will give thee a Sword:  
Nature made thee a beauteous Cabinet  
To lock up all the goodness of the Earth.  Enter Charlote. Ver. 
I have lost my voice with the very sight of this Gentlewoman: good sir steal away, you were wont to be a curious avoider of women's company.  Mont. 
Why boy, thou dar'st trust me anywhere, dar'st thou not?  Ver. 
I had rather trust you by a roaring Lion, than a ravening woman.  Mont. 
Why boy.  Ver. 
Why truly she devours more man's flesh—  Mont. 
ay, But she roars not boy.  Ver. 
No sir, why she is never silent but when her mouth is full.  Charl. 
monsieur Montague.  Mont. 
My sweet fellow, since you please to call me so.  Ver. 
Ah my conscience she would be pleased well enough to call you bedfellow: oh Master, do not hold her by the hand so: a woman is a limebush, that catcheth all she toucheth.  Charl. 
I do most dangerously suspect this boy to be a wench; art thou not one? come hither, let me feel thee.  Ver. 
With all my heart.  Charl. 
Why dost thou pull off thy glove?  Ver. 
Why, to feel whether you be a boy, or no.  Charl. 
Fie boy, go too, I'll not look your head, nor comb your locks any more, if you talk thus.  Ver. 
Why, I'll sing to you no more then.  Charl. 
Fie upon't, how sad you are? a young Gentleman that was the very Sun of France.  Mont. 
But I am in the eclipse now.  Charl. 
Suffer himself to be overrun with a Lethargy of melancholy and discontent! rouse up thy spirit, man, and shake it off:  
A Noble soul is like a ship at Sea,  
That sleeps at Anchor when the Ocean's calm;  
But when she rages, and the wind blows high,  
He cuts his way with skill and Majesty.  
I would turn a fool, or Poet, or any thing, or marry, to make you merry; prithee let's walk: good Veramour leave thy Master and me, I have earnest business with him.  Ver. 
Pray do you leave my Master, and me; we were very merry before you came, he does not covet women's company.  
What have you to do with him? come sir will you go?  
And I'll sing to you again:  
I'faith his mind is stronger than to credit women's vows, and too pure to be capable of their loves.  Charl. 
The boy is jealous; sweet lad leave us; my Lady called for you I swear: that's a good child, there's a piece of Gold for thee, go buy a Feather.  Ver. 
There's two pieces for you, do you go and buy one, or what you will, or nothing so you go. Nay then I see you would have me go sir; why, 'faith I will; now I perceive you love her better than you do me; but God bless you whatever you do, or intend; I know you are a very honest man. Exit.  Charl. 
Still shall I woe thee, whilst thy ears reply  
I cannot, or I will not marry thee?  
Why hast thou drawn the blood out of my cheeks,  
And given a quicker motion to my heart?  
Oh thou hast bred a fever in my veins  
Called love, which no Physician can cure;  
Have mercy on a maid whose simple youth—  Mont. 
How your example fairest teacheth me  
A ceremonious Idolatry! kneels.  
By all the joy of love I love thee better  
Than I or any man can tell another;  
And will express the mercy which thou cravest,  
I will forbear to marry thee: consider  
Thou art nature's heir in feature, and thy parents  
In fair inheritances; rise with these thoughts,  
And look on me; but with a woman's eye,  
A decayed fellow, void of means and spirit.  Charl. 
Of spirit?  Mont. 
Yes, could I tamely live,  
Forget my father's blood, wait and make legs,  
Stain my best breeches, with the servile drops  
That fall from others' draughts:  Charl. 
This vizard wherewith thou wouldst hide thy spirit  
Is perspective, to show it plainlier.  
This undervalue of thy life is but  
Because I should not buy thee; what more speaks  
Greatness of man, then valiant patience,  
That shrinks not under his fate's strongest strokes?  
These Roman deaths, as falling on a Sword,  
Opening of veins, with poison quenching thirst,  
(Which we erroneously do style the deeds  
Of the heroic and magnanimous man)  
Was dead-eyed cowardice, and white cheek fear,  
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under  
Fortune's false Lottery, desperately run  
To death for dread of death; that souls most stout,  
That bearing all mischance, dares last it out;  
Will you perform your word, and marry me,  
When I shall call you to't?  Enter Longueville with a riding-rod. Mont. 
I'faith I will.  Charl. 
Who's this alights here?  Long, 
With leave fair creature, are you the Lady Mistress of the house?  Charl. 
Her servant sir.  Long. 
I pray then favour me, to inform your Lady, and  
Duke Orleans wife,  
A business of import awaits 'em here,  
And craves for speedy answer.  Charl. 
Are you in post sir?  Long. 
No, I am in Satin Lady; I would you would be in post.  Charl. 
I will return. Sweet. Exit.  Long. 
Honest friend, do you belong to the house?  
I pray be covered.  Mont. 
Yes Sir, I do.  Long. 
Ha, dreamest thou Longaville? sure 'tis not he: sir  
I should know you.  Mont. 
So should I you, but that I am ashamed.  
But though thou know'st me, prithee Longaville,  
Mock not my poverty, pray remember yourself;  
Shows it not strangely for thy clothes to stand  
Without a hat to mine? mock me no more.  Long. 
She— embroider me all over sir,  
If ever I began to mock you yet.  
The— on me, why should I wear Velvet  
And Silver Lace,— I will tear it off.  Mont. 
Why madman?  Long. 
Put on my Hat? yes, when I am hanged I will:  
— I could break my head  
For holding eyes that knew not you at first:  
But time and fortune run your courses with him,  
He'll laugh and storm you, when you show most hate.  Enter Lamira, Orleans Lady, Laverdine, La Poope, Malycorne, Veramour, Charlot: Lam. 
You're a fair monsieur.  Long. 
Do you mock me Lady?  Lam. 
Your business sir, I mean.  Lady. 
Regard yourself good monsieur Longueville.  Lam. 
You are too negligent of yourself and place,  
Cover your head sweet monsieur.  Long. 
Mistake me not fair Ladies,  
'tis not to you, nor you, that I stand bare.  Lav. 
Nay sweet dear monsieur, let it not be to us then.  La-p. 
— a compliment.  Mal. 
And— of manners.  
Pray hide your head, your gallants use to do't.  Long. 
And you your foreheads, why you needful accessary rascals,  
That cannot live without your mutual knaveries,  
More than a Bawd, a Pander, or a Whore  
From one another; how dare you suspect  
That I stand bare to you? what make you here?  
Shift your house Lady of 'em, for I know 'em,  
They come to steal Napkins, and your Spoons;  
Look to your Silver-bodkin, (Gentlewoman)  
'tis a dead utensil, and Page 'ware your pockets;  
My reverence is unto this man, my master,  
Whom you with protestations, and oaths  
As high as Heaven, as deep as hell, which would  
Deceive the wisest man of honest nature,  
Have cozened and abused; but I may meet you,  
And beat you one with tother.  Mont. 
Peace, no more.  Long. 
Not a word sir.  Lav. 
I am something thick of hearing; what said he?  La-p. 
I hear him, but regard him not.  Mal. 
Nor I, I am never angry fasting.  Long. 
My love keeps back my duty, noblest Lady;  
If husband or brother merit love from you,  
Prevent their dangers, this hour brings to trial  
Their hereto sleeping hates; by this time each  
Within a yard is of the others heart,  
And met to prove their causes and their spirits  
With their impartial Swords points; haste and save,  
Or never meet them more but at the grave.  Lady. 
Oh my distracted heart, that my wracked honour Should for a brother's, or a husband's life, through thy undoing die.  Lam. 
Amiens engaged; if he miscarry all my hopes and joys,  
I now confess it loudly, are undone:  
caroche, and haste, one minute may betray  
A life more worth than all time can repay.  Exeunt Ladies, & Mont. Mal. 
Hump: monsieur Laverdine pursues this boy extremely. Captain what will you do?  La-p. 
Any thing but follow to this Sea-service; I am a Sea-captain you know, and to offer to part 'em, without we could do't like watermen with long staves, a quarter of a mile off, might be dangerous.  Mal. 
Why then let's retire and pray for 'em, I am resolved to stop your intent; abused more than we have been we cannot be, without they fall to flat beating o'us.  Exeunt Maly. La-poop. Lav. 
And that were unkindly done i'faith.  Ver. 
— but you are the troublesomest Ass that ere I met with; retire, you smell like a woman's chamber, that's newly up, before she have pinched her vapours in with her clothes.  Lav. 
I will haunt thee like thy Grandames ghost, thou shalt never rest for me.  Ver. 
Well, I perceive 'tis vain to conceal a secret from you: believe it sir, indeed I am a woman.  Lav. 
Why la; I knew't, this Prophetical tongue of mine never failed me; my mother was half a witch, never any thing that she forespoke, but came to pass: a woman? how happy am I? now we may lawfully come together without fear of hanging; Sweet wench, be gracious, in honourable sort I woe, no otherwise.  Ver. 
Faith the truth is I have loved you long.  Lav. 
See, see.  Ver. 
But durst not open it.  Lav. 
— I think so.  Ver. 
But briefly, when you bring it to the test, if there be not one Gentleman in this house, will challenge more interest in me, than you can, I am at your disposure.  Exit. Lav. 
Oh Fortunatus, I envy thee not  
For cap, or pouch, this day I'll prove my Fortune,  
In which your Lady doth elect her husband,  
Who will be Amiens, 'twill save my wedding dinner,  
Povera, La-poop and Malicorne: if all fail,  
I will turn Citizen, a beauteous wife  
Is the hornbook to the richest Tradesman's life.  Exeunt. Enter Duboys, Orleans, Longueville, Amiens, two Lacques, a Page wish two Pistols. Dub. 
Here's a good even piece of ground my Lords:  
Will you fix here?  Orl. 
Yes anywhere; Lackey, take off my spurs;  
Upon a bridge, a rail but my sword's breadth, upon a battlement,  
I'll fight this quarrel.  Dub. 
O' the ropes, my Lord.  Orl. 
Upon a line.  Dub. 
So all our Country Duels are carried, like a firework on a thread.  Orl. 
Go now stay with the horses, and do you hear  
Upon your lives, till some of us come to you,  
Dare not to look this way.  Dub. 
Except you see strangers or others that by chance or purpose are like to interrupt us.  Orl. 
Then give warning.  Long. 
Who takes a Sword? the advantage is so small,  
As he that doubts hath the free leave to choose.  Orl. 
Come give me any, and search me; 'tis not  
The ground, weapon, or seconds that can make  
Odds in those fatal trials: but the cause.  Ami. 
Most true, and but it is no time to wish  
When men are come to do, I would desire  
The cause twixt us were other than it is;  
But where the right is, there prevail our Swords.  
And if my sister have outlived her honour,  
I do not pray I may outlive her shame.  Orl. 
Your sister Amiens, is a whore, at once.  Ami. 
You oft have spoke that sense to me before,  
But never in this language Orleans;  
And when you spoke it fair, and first, I told you  
That it was possible you might be abused:  
But now, since you forget your manners, you shall find,  
If I transgress my custom, you do lie,  
And are a villain, which I had rather yet  
My Sword had proved, than I been forced to speak:  
Nay give us leave, and since you stand so haughtily  
And highly on your cause, let you and I,  
Without engaging these two Gentlemen, singly determine it.  Long. 
My Lord, you'll pardon us.  Dub. 
I trust your Lordships may not do us that affront.  Ami. 
As how?  Dub. 
We kiss your Lordship's hand, and come to serve you here with Swords.  Long. 
My Lord, we understand ourselves.  Dub. 
We have had the honour to be called unto the business, and we must not now quit it on terms.  Ami. 
Not terms of reason?  Long. 
No, no reason for the quitting of our calling.  Dub. 
True if I be called to't I must ask no reason.  Long. 
Nor hear none neither, which is less:  
It is a favour if my throat be cut,  
Your Lordship does me; which I never can,  A noise within, crying down with their Swords. 
Nor must have hope how to requite: what noise,  
What cry is that my Lord upon your guard?  
Some treachery is afoot.  Enter Lady Orleans, Lamira, Montague. Lady. 
O here they are:  
My Lord (dear Lady help me) help me all;  
I have so woeful interest in both,  
I know not which to fear for most: and yet  
I must prefer my Lord. Dear brother,  
You are too understanding, and too Noble  
To be offended, when I know my duty,  
Though scarce my tears will let me so to do it.  Orl. 
Out loathed strumpet.  Lady. 
O my dearest Lord,  
If words could on me cast the name of whore,  
I then were worthy to be loathed; but know,  
Your unkindness cannot make me wicked;  
And therefore should less use that power upon me.  Orl. 
Was this your art to have these actors come,  
To make this interlude? withdraw, cold man,  
And if thy spirit be not frozen up,  
Give me one stroke yet at thee for my vengeance.  Ami. 
Thou shalt have strokes, and strokes, thou glorious man,  
Till thou breathest thinner air than that thou talkest.  Lam. 
My Lord Count Amiens.  Lady. 
Princely husband.  Orl. 
Whore.  Lam. 
You wrong her impudent Lord; O that I had the bulk  
Of those dull men; look how they stand, and no man  
Will revenge an innocent Lady.  Ami. 
You hinder it Madam.  Lam. 
I would hinder you; is there none else to kill him?  Lady. 
Kill him Madam? have you learned that bad Language? O repent,  
And be the motive, rather both kill me.  Orl. 
Then die my infamy.  Mont. 
Hold bloody man.  Orl. 
Art thou their Basilisk?  Mont: 
To strike thee dead, but that thy fate deserves some weightier hand.  Dub. 
Sweet my Lord.  Orl. 
O here's a plot; you bring your champions with you; the adultress with the adulterer: Out howling—  Dub. 
Good my Lord.  Orl. 
Are you her grace's countenance Lady, the receiver to the poor vicious couple.  Dub. 
Sweet my Lord.  Orl. 
Sweet rascal, didst not thou tell me, false fellow,  
This Montague, here was murdered?  Dub. 
I did so; but he was falser, and a worthless Lord,  
Like thy foul self, that would have had it so.  Long. 
Orleans 'tis true, and shall be proved upon thee.  Mont. 
Thy malice Duke, and this thy wicked nature, are all as visible as thou; but I borne to contemn thy injuries, do know, that though thy greatness may corrupt a Jury, and make a Judge afraid, and carry out a world of devils with thy title: yet thou art not quiet at home, thou bearest about thee that, that doth charge thee, and condemn thee too. The thing that grieves me more, and doth indeed displease me, is, to think that so much baseness stands here to have encountered so much honour: Pardon me my Lord what late my passion spoke, when you provoked my innocence.  Orl. 
Yes do, O flattery becomes him better than the suit he wears; give him a new one Amiens.  Ami. 
Orleans, 'tis here no time nor place, to jest or rail  
Poorly with you, but I will find a time to  
Whisper you forth to this or some fit place,  
As shall not hold a second interruption.  Mont. 
I hope your Lordship's honour, and your life  
Are destined unto higher hazards; this is of  
A meaner arm.  Dub. 
Yes faith, or none.  Long. 
He is not fit to fall by an honest Sword,  
A Prince and lie!  Dub. 
And slander, and hire men  
To publish the false rumours he hath made.  Long. 
And stick 'em on his friends, and innocents.  Dub. 
And practice against their lives after their fames.  Long. 
In men that are the matter of all lewdness,  
Bands, thieves, and cheaters, it were monstrous.  Dub. 
But in a man of blood, how more conspicuous?  Ami. 
Can this be?  Lady. 
They do slander him.  Orl. 
Hang them, a pair of railing hangbies.  Long. 
How? stand Orleans; stay, give me my Pistols boy,  
Hinder me not, by—  
I will kill him.  Lady. 
O stay his fury,  Ami. 
Longueville, my friend.  Long. 
Not for myself, my Lord, but for mankind,  
And all that have an interest to virtue,  
Or title unto innocence.  Ami. 
Why hear me.  Long. 
For justice' sake.  Ami. 
That cannot be.  Long. 
To punish his wives, your honour, and my Lords wrongs here, whom I must ever call so; for your loves I'll swear, I'll sacrifice—  Ami. 
Longaville, I did not think you a murderer before.  Long. 
I care not what you thought me.  Ami. 
By— If thou attempt  
His life, thy own is forfeit.  Mont. 
Foolish frantic man, the murder will be of us, not him.  Lady. 
O God.  Mont. 
We could have killed him, but we would not take  
The justice out of fates.—  
Sing but a hair of him, thou diest.  Long. 
No matter, shoot.  Ami. 
Villain.  Dub. 
My Lord, your sister is slain.  Ami. 
Biancha?  Mont. 
O hapless and most wretched chance.  Lam. 
Standst thou looking upon the mischief thou hast made  
Thou Godless man, feeding thy bloodshot eyes  
With the red spectacle, and art not turned to stone  
With horror? hence and take the wings of thy black  
Infamy, to carry thee beyond the shoot of looks,  
Or sound of curses, which will pursue thee still:  
Thou hast out-fled all but thy guilt.  Orl. 
O wish it off again, for I am cracked  
Under the burden, and my heart will break.  
How heavy guilt is, when men come to feel  
If you could know the mountain I sustain  
With horror, you would each take off your part,  
And more, to ease me: I cannot stand,  
Forgive where I have wronged I pray.  Ami. 
Look to him Montague.  Long. 
My Lords and Gentlemen, the Lady is well, but for fear,  
Unless that have shot her;  
I have the worst on't, that needs would venture  
Upon a trick had like to ha' cost my guts:  
Look to her, she'll be well, it was but Powder  
I charged with, thinking that a guilty man  
Would have been frighted sooner; but I am glad  
He's come at last.  Lam. 
How is Byancha? well?  Ami. 
Lives she? see sister, doth she breathe?  Lady. 
O Gentlemen, think you I can breathe,  
That am restored to the hateful sense  
Of feeling in me my dear husband's death?  
O no, I live not; life was that I left;  
And what you have called me to, is death indeed;  
I cannot weep so fast as he doth bleed.  Dub. 
Pardon me Madam, he is well.  Lady. 
Ha my husband.  Orl. 
I cannot speak whether my joy or shame  
Be greater, but I thank the Heavens for both.  
O look not black upon me, all my friends,  
To whom I will be reconciled, or grow unto  
This earth, till I have wept a trench  
That shall be great enough to be my grave,  
And I will think them too most manly tears,  
If they do move your pities: it is true,  
Man should do nothing that he should repent;  
But if he have, and say that he is sorry,  
It is a worse fault if he be not truly.  Lam. 
My Lord, such sorrow cannot be suspected:  
Here take your honoured wife, and join your hands.  
— she hath married you again:  
And Gentlemen, I do invite you all,  
This night to take my house, where on the morrow,  
To heighten more the reconciling feast,  
I'll make myself a husband and a guest. Exeunt.    

Actus Quintus.  

Scaena prima.  Enter Montague and Charlote. Char. 
Well now I am sure you are mine.  Mont. 
I am sure I am glad  
I have one to own then; you'll find me honest  
As these days go, enough; poor without question,  
Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat, and I  
Shall do my work, else knock my shoes off,  
And turn me out again.  Char. 
You are a merry fellow.  Mont. 
I have no great cause.  Char. 
Yes thy love to me.  Mont. 
That's as we make our game.  Char. 
Why you repent then.  Mon. 
Faith no worse than I am I cannot be;  
Much better I expect not: I shall love you,  
And when you bid me go to bed, obey,  
Lie still or move, as you shall minister,  
Keep a four-nobles Nag, and a black  
Merling, learn to love Ale, and play at two-hand Irish,  
And there's then all I aim at.  Char. 
Nay sweet fellow, I'll make it something better.  Mont. 
If you do, you'll make me worse:  
Now I am poor, and willing to do well,  
Hold me in that course, of all the Kings creatures,  
I hate his coin, keep me from that, and save me;  
For if you chance out of your housewifery  
To leave a hundred pound or two, bestow it  
In plumbroth ere I know it, else I take it;  
Seek out a hundred men that want this money,  
Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble Montague,  
And so I stand again at livery.  Char. 
You have pretty fancies sir, but married once,  
This charity will fall home to yourself.  Mont. 
I would it would, I am afraid my looseness  
Is yet scarce stopped, though it have nought to work on  
But the mere air of what I have had.  Char. 
Pretty.  Mont. 
I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me,  
I can see nothing in myself deserves it,  
Unless the handsome wearing of a band,  
For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters,  
Necessity will not let me lose.  Char. 
I see sir a great deal more, a handsome man, a husband  
To make a right good woman truly happy.  Mont. 
Lord, where are my eyes? either you are foolish  
As wenches once a year are, or far worse,  
Extremely virtuous, can you love a poor man  
That relies on cold meat and cast stockings,  
One only suit to his back, which now is mewing?  
But what will be the next coat will pose Tristram.  
If I should levy from my friends a fortune:  
I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.  Char. 
I'll do that duty; 'tis not means nor money  
Makes me pursue your love; were your mind bankrupt,  
I would never love you.  Enter Lamica. Mont. 
Peace wench, here's my Lady.  Lam. 
Nay never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence;  
D''ee find her willing Montague?  Mont. 
Willing Madam?  Lam. 
How dainty you make of it, do not I know  
You two love one another?  Mont. 
Certain Madam, I think ye'ave revelations of these matters:  
Your Ladyship cannot tell me when I kissed her.  Lam. 
But she can, sir.  Mont. 
But she will not Madam;  
For when they talk once, 'tis like fairy-money,  
They get no more close kisses.  Lam. 
Thou art wanton.  Mont. 
God knows I need not, yet I would be lusty:  
But— my provender scarce pricks me.  Lam. 
It shall be mended Montague, I am glad you are grown so merry.  Mont. 
So am I too Madam.  Lam. 
You two will make a pretty handsome consort.  Mont. 
Yes Madam, if my fiddle fail me not.  Lam. 
Your Fiddle? why your Fiddle? I warrant thou meanest madly:  Mont. 
Can you blame me? alas I am in love.  Char. 
'tis very well sir.  Lam. 
How long have you been thus?  Mont. 
How thus in love?  Lam. 
You are very quick sir: no, I mean thus pleasant.  Mont. 
— Ever since I was poor.  Lam. 
A little wealth would change you then.  Mont. 
Yes Lady into another suit, but never more  
Into another man: I'll bar that mainly,  
The wealth I get henceforward shall be charmed  
For ever hurting me, I'll spend it fasting:  
As I live noble Lady there is nothing  
I have found directly cures the melancholy,  
But want and wedlock; when I had store of money  
I simpered sometime, and spoke wondrous wise,  
But never laughed outright; now I am empty  
My heart sounds like a bell, and strikes at both sides.  Lam. 
You are finely tempered Montague.  Mont. 
Pardon Lady, if any way my free mirth have offended,  
'twas meant to please you: if it prove too saucy,  
Give it a frown, and I am ever silenced.  Lam. 
I like it passing well; pray follow it:  
This is my day of choice, and shall be yours too,  
'twere pity to delay ye: call to the Steward,  
And tell him 'tis my pleasure he should give you  
500 Crowns: make yourself handsome Montague,  
Let none wear better clothes, 'tis for my credit;  
But pray be merry still.  Mont. 
If I be not, and make a fool of twice as many hundreds,  
Clap me in Canvas Lady. Exeunt.  Enter La-poope, Laverdine, and Malycorne. Lav. 
I am strangely glad, I have found the mystery  
Of this disguised boy out: I ever trusted  
It was a woman, and how happily  
I have found it so; and for myself, I am sure  
One that would offer me a thousand pound now  
(And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger)  
In ready gold for this concealment, could not  
Buy my hope of her, she's a dainty wench,  
And such a one I find, I want extremely  
To bring me into credit: beauty does it.  Mal. 
Say we should all meach here, and stay the feast, now what can the worst be? we have played the knaves, that's without question.  La-p. 
True, and as I take it this is the first truth  
We told these ten years, and for any thing  
I know may be the last: but grant we are knaves,  
Both base and beastly knaves—  Mal. 
Say so then.  Lav. 
Well.  La-p. 
And likewise let it be considered, we have wronged  
And most maliciously, this Gentlewoman,  
We cast to stay with, what must we expect now?  Mal. 
I there's the point, we would expect good eating.  La-p. 
I know we would, but we may find good beating.  Lav. 
You say true Gentlemen, and by—  
Though I love meat as well as any man,  
I care not what he be, if 'a eat a God's name;  
Such crab-sauce to my meat will turn my palate.  Mal. 
There's all the hazard, for the frozen Montague  
Has now got spring again, and warmth in him,  
And without doubt dares beat us terribly.  
For not to mint the matter, we are cowards,  
And have and shall be beaten when men please  
To call us into cudgeling.  La-p. 
I feel we are very prone that way.  Lav. 
The sons of Adam.  La-p. 
Now here then rests the state o'th' question?  
Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner  
To a sound dog-whip, for I promise ye  
If men be given to correction,  
We can expect no less, or quietly  
Take a hard Egg or two, and ten mile hence  
Bait in a ditch, this we may do securely;  
For to stay here about will be all one,  
If once our moral mischiefs come in memory.  Mal. 
But pray ye hear me, is not this the day  
The Virgin Lady doth elect her husband?  Lav. 
The dinner is to that end.  Mal. 
Very well then, say we all stay, and say we all scape this whipping, and be well entertained, and one of us carry the Lady.  La-p. 
'Tis a seemly saying, I must confess, but if we stay, how fitly  
We may apply it to ourselves (i'th' end)  
Will ask a Christian fear; I cannot see  
If I say true, what special ornaments  
Of art or nature, lay aside our lying  
Whoring and drinking, which are no great virtues,  
We are endued withal to win this Lady.  Mal. 
Yet women go not by the best parts ever; that I have found directly.  Lav. 
Why should we fear then? they choose men  
As they feed; some times they settle  
Upon a white brothed face, a sweet smooth gallant,  
And him they make an end of in a night;  
Sometimes a Goose, sometimes, a grosser meat,  
A rump of beef will serve 'em at some season,  
And fill their bellies too: though without doubt  
They are great devourers: stock fish is a dish,  
If it be well dressed, for the tufnesse sake  
Will make the proudest of 'em long and leap for't.  
They'll run mad for a pudding ere they'll starve,  La-p. 
For my own part I care not, come what can come,  
If I be whipped, why so be it; if cudgeled,  
I hope I shall out live it, I am sure  
'Tis not the hundredth time I have been served so,  
And yet I thank God I am here.  Mal. 
Here's resolution.  La-p. 
A little patience, and a rotten Apple  
Cures twenty worse diseases; what say you sir?  Lav. 
Marry I say sir, if I had been acquainted  
With lambing in my youth, as you have been  
With whipping, and such benefits of nature,  
I should do better: as I am, I'll venture,  
And if it be my luck to have the Lady,  
I'll use my fortune modestly; if beaten  
You shall not hear a word, one I am sure of,  
And if the worst fall she shall be my physic.  
Let's go then, and a merry wind be with us.  Mal. 
Captain your shoes are old, pray put 'em off,  
And let one fling 'em after us; be bold sirs,  
And howosever our fortune falls, let's bear  
An equal burden; if there be an odd lash,  
we'll part it afterwards.  La-p. 
I am armed at all points. Exeunt  Enter four serving in a Banquet. 1. 
Then my Lady will have a bedfellow tonight.  2. 
So she says, heaven what a dainty armful shall he enjoy that has the launching of her, what a fight she'll make.  3. 
I marry boys, there will be sport indeed, there will be grappling, she has a murderer lies in her prow, I am afraid will fright his main mast Robin.  4. 
Who dost thou think shall have her of thy conscience, thou art a wise man.  3. 
If she go the old way, the way of lot, the longest cut sweeps all without question?  1. 
She has lost a friend of me else; what think ye of the Courtier.  2. 
Hang him hedgehog, h'as nothing in him but a piece of Euphues, and twenty dozen of twelve penny ribbon all about him, he is but one pedlar's shop of gloves and garters, pickteeth and pomander.  3. 
The Courtier! marry God bless her Steven, she is not mad yet, she knows that trindle tail too well, he's crest fall'n, and pinbuttocked with leaping Laundresses.  4. 
The Merchant sure she will not be so base to have him.  1. 
I hope so Rohin, he'll sell us all to the Moors to make mummy; nor the Captain.  4. 
Who Potgun, that's a sweet youth indeed, will he stay think ye?  3. 
Yes, without question, and have half dined too ere the grace be done; he's good for nothing in the world but eating, lying and sleeping; what other men devour in drink, he takes in Pottage, they say has been at Sea, a Herring fishing, for without doubt he dares not hail an Eel-boat, i'th' way of War.  2. 
I think so, they would beat him off with Butter.  3. 
When he brings in a prize, unless it be Cockles, or Callis sand to scour with, I'll renounce my five mark a year, and all the hidden art I have in carving, to teach young Birds to whistle Walsingham; leave him to the lime boats; now, what think you of the brave Amiens?  1. 
That's a thought indeed.  2. 
I marry there's a person fit to feed upon a dish so dainty, and he'll do't I warrant him i'th' nick boys, has a body world without end.  4. 
And such a one my Lady will make no little off; but is not Montague married today?  3. 
Yes faith, honest Montague must have his bout too.  2. 
he's as good a lad as ever turned a trencher; must we leave him?  3. 
he's too good for us Steven, I'll give him health to his good luck tonight i'th' old Beaker, and it shall be sack too.  4. 
I must have a Garter; and boys I have bespoke, a a Posset, somebody shall give me thanks for't, 'thas a few toys in't will raze commotions in a bed lad.  1. 
Away; my Lady. Exeunt  Enter Orleance, and his Lady arm in arm, Amiens, Lamira, Charlote, like a Bride, Montague brave, Laverdine, Longavile Dubois, Mallycorn, La-Poope. Lam. 
Stur yourselves noble Lords and Gentlemen,  
You know your places; many royal welcomes  
I give your grace; how lovely shows this change?  
My house is honoured in this reconcilement.  Orl. 
Thus Madam must you do, my Lady now shall see  
You made a Woman;  
And give you some short lessons for your voyage.  
Take her instructions Lady, she knows much.  Lam. 
This becomes you sir.  La. 
My Lord must have his will.  Orl. 
'tis all I can do now sweet heart, fair Lady;  
This to your happy choice brother Amiens,  
You are the man I mean it to.  Ami. 
I'll pledge you.  Orl. 
And with my heart.  Ami. 
With all my love I take it.  Lam. 
Noble Lords I am proud ye have done this day,  
so much content, and me such estimation that this hour  
(In this poor house) shall be a league for ever,  
For so I know ye mean it.  Ami. 
I do Lady.  Orl. 
And I my Lord.  Omnes. 
Y'ave done a work of honour.  Ami. 
Give me the Cup, where this health stops, let  
That man be either very sick, or very simple;  
Or I am very angry; sir, to you;  
Madam methinks this Gentleman might sit to;  
He would become the best on's.  Orl. 
Pray sit down sir, I know the Lady of the feast expects not this day so much old custom.  Lam. 
Sit down Montague; nay never blush for the matter.  Mon. 
Noble Madam, I have too reasons against it, and I dare not; duty to you first, as you are my Lady, and I your poorest servant; next the custom of this day's ceremony.  Lam. 
As you are my servant, I may command you then.  Mon. 
To my life Lady.  Lam. 
Sit down, and here, I'll have it so.  Ami. 
Sit down man, never refuse so fair a lady's offer.  Mont. 
It is your pleasure Madam, not my pride,  
And I obey; I'll pledge ye now my Lord, monsieur Longavile.  Lon. 
I thank you sir.  Mon. 
This to my Lady, and her fair choice today, and happiness.  Lon. 
'tis a fair health, I'll pledge you though I sink for't.  Lam. 
Montague you are too modest; come I'll add a little more wine t'ee, 'twill make you merry, this to the good I wish.—  Mont. 
Honoured Lady, I shall forget myself with this great bounty.  Lami. 
You shall not sir; give him some Vine.  Ami. 
By heaven you are a worthy woman, and that  
Man is blessed can come near such a Lady.  Lami. 
Such a blessing wet weather washes.  Mont. 
At all, I will not go a lip less my Lord.  Orl. 
'tis well cast sir.  Mal. 
If Montague get more Wine, we are like to hear on't.  Lav. 
I do not like that sitting there.  Mal. 
Nor I, methinks he looks like a Judge.  La-p. 
Now have I a kind a grudging of a beating on me, I fear my hot fit.  Mal. 
Drink apace, there's nothing allays a cudgel like it.  Lami. 
Montague, now I'll put my choice to you; who do you hold in all this honoured company a husband fit to enjoy thy Lady? speak directly.  Mont. 
Shall I speak Madam?  Lami. 
Montague, you shall.  Mont. 
Then as I have a soul I'll speak my conscience,  
Give me more wine, in vino veritas,  
Here's to myself, and Montague have a care.  Lami. 
Speak to th'cause.  Mont. 
Yes, Madam; first I'll begin to thee.  Lav. 
Have at us.  La-p. 
Now for a Psalm of mercy.  Mont. 
You good monsieur, you that bely the noble Name of Courtier, and think your claim good here, hold up your hand; your Worship is indicted here, for a vain glorious fool.  Lav. 
Good, oh sir.  Mont. 
For one whose wit  
Lies in a ten pound waistcoat, yet not warm;  
Ye have travelled like a Fiddler to make faces,  
And brought home nothing but a case of toothpicks.  
You would be married, and no less than Ladies,  
And of the best sort can serve you; thou silk worm  
What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman?  
Name but the poorest piece of man, good manners,  
there's nothing sound about thee, faith thou'st none,  
It lies pawned at thy silk man's, for so much lace;  
Thy credit which is worse cannot redeem it,  
Thy clothes are all the soul thou hast, for so  
Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting  
Let who will take the tother, thou wert never christened  
Upon my conscience (but in barber's water)  
Thou art never out o'th' basin, thou art rotten,  
And if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt confess it;  
— thy skin  
Looks of a Chestnut colour, greased with Amber  
All women that on earth do dwell thou lov'st,  
Yet none that understand love thee again,  
But those that love the Spittle, get thee home  
Poor painted butter fly, thy summers passed;  
Go sweat and eat dry Mutton, thou mayst live  
To do so well yet; a bruised Chamber Maid  
May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies.  
You have your sentence; now it follows Captain,  
I treat of you.  La-p. 
Pray God I may deserve it.  Orl. 
Beshrew my heart he speaks, plain.  Ami. 
That's plain dealing.  Mont. 
You are a rascal Captain.  La-p. 
A fine calling.  Mont. 
A water coward.  Ami. 
He would make a pretty stuff.  Mont. 
Nay I speak freely Madam.  Lami. 
Her's none ties you.  Mont. 
Why shouldst thou dare come hither with a thought  
To find a wife here fit for thee? are all  
Thy single money whores that fed on Carrots,  
And filled the high grass with familiars  
fall'n of to footmen? prithee tell me truly,  
For now I know thou dar'st not lie, couldst thou not  
Wish thyself beaten well with all thy heart now,  
And out of pain? say that I broke a rib,  
Or cut thy nose off, wert not merciful for this ambition?  La-p. 
Do your pleasure sir, beggars must not be choosers.  Orl. 
He longs for beating.  Mon. 
But that I have nobler thoughts possess my soul,  
Than such brown biscuit, such a piece of dogfish,  
Such a most mangy mackerel eater as thou art  
That dares do nothing that belongs toth' Sea,  
But spue, and catch rats, and fear men of war,  
Though thou hast nothing in the world to lose  
Aboard thee, but one piece of beef, one Musket  
Without a cock for peace' sake, and a pitch barrel,  
I'll tell thee if my time were not more precious  
Than thus to lose it, I would rattle thee,  
It may be beat thee, and thy pure fellow,  
The Merchant there of Catskins, till my words,  
Or blows, or both, made ye two branded wretches  
To all the world hereafter; you would feign to  
Venture your bills of lading for this Lady;  
What would you give now for her? some five frail  
Of rotten Figs good, Godson, would you not sir?  
Or a parrot that speaks high Dutch? can all thou ever sawst  
Of thine own fraughts from Sea, or cozenage  
(At which thou art as expert as the devil)  
Nay sell thy soul for wealth to, as thou wilt do,  
Forfeit thy friends, and raise a mint of Money,  
Make thee dream all these double could procure  
A kiss from this good Lady? canst thou hope  
She would lie with such a nook of hell as thou art,  
And hatch young Merchant-furies? oh ye dogbolts  
That fear no God but Dunkirks, I shall see you  
Serve in a lousy Lime boat, ere I die,  
For mouldy cheese and butter Billingsgate  
Would not endure, or bring in rotten Pippins  
To cure blue eyes, and swear they came from China.  Lami. 
Vex 'em no more, alas they shake:  Mont. 
Down quickly on your marrow bones▪ and thank this Lady.  
I would not leave you thus else, there are blankets,  
And such delights for such knaves; but fear still;  
'Twill be revenge enough, to keep you waking.  
Ye have no mind of Marriage, ha' ye?  La-p. 
Surely no great mind now.  Mont. 
Nor you.  Mal. 
Nor I, I take it.  Mont. 
Two eager suitors.  Lav. 
Troth 'tis wondrous hot, God bless us from him  Lami. 
You have told me Montague  
Who are not fit to have me, let me know  
The man you would point out for me.  Mont. 
There he sits; my Lord of Amiens, Madam, is my choice, he's noble every way, and worthy a wife with all the dowries of—  Ami. 
Do you speak sir out of your friendship to me?  Mont. 
Yes, my Lord, and out of truth, for I could never flatter.  Ami 
I would not say how much I owe you for it,  
For that were but a promise, but I'll thank ye,  
As now I find you, in despite of fortune,  
A fair and noble Gentleman.  Lami. 
My Lords I must confess the choice this man hath made  
Is every way a great one, if not too great,  
And no way to be slighted: yet because  
We love to have our own eyes, sometimes now  
Give me a little liberty to see,  
How I could fit myself, if I were put to't.  Ami. 
Madam we must.  Lami. 
Are ye all agreed?  Omnes. 
We be?  Lami. 
Then as I am a maid, I shall choose here.  
Montague, I must have thee.  Mont. 
Why Madam I have learned to suffer more than you can (out of pity) mock me with this way especially.  Lami. 
Thou think'st I jest now;  
But by the love I bear thee, I will have thee.  Mont. 
If you could be so weak, to love a fall'n man,  
He must deserve more than I ever can,  
Or ever shall (dear Lady;) look but this way  
Upon that Lord and you will tell me then  
Your eyes are no true choosers of good men.  Ami. 
Do you love him truly?  Lam. 
Yes my Lord, I will obey him truly, for I'll marry him, and justly think he that has so well served me with his obedience being borne to greatness, must use me nobly of necessity when I shall serve him.  Ami. 
'Twere a deep sin to cross ye, noble Montague,  
I wish ye all content, and am as happy  
In my friends good as it were merely mine.  Mont. 
Your Lordship does ill to give up your right;  
I am not capable of this great goodness,  
There sits my wife that holds my troth.  Cha. 
I'll end all, I wooed you for my Lady, and now give up my title, alas poor wench, my aims are lower far.  Mont. 
How's this sweet heart?  Lami. 
Sweet heart 'tis so, the drift was mine to hide  
My purpose till it struck home.  Omnes. 
God give you joy.  Lami. 
Prithee leave wondering, by this kiss I'll have thee.  Mont. 
Then by this kiss, and this I'll ever serve ye.  Long. 
This Gentleman and I sir must needs hop once more to follow ye.  Mont. 
As friends and fellows, never as servants more.  Long. Dub. 
You make us happy.  Orl. 
Friend Montague, ye have taught me so much honour, I have found a fault in myself, but thus I'll purge my conscience of it, the late land I took by false play, from you with as much Contrition, and entireness of affection to this most happy day again, I render; be Master of your own, forget my malice, and make me worthy of your love, L. Montague.  Mont. 
You have won me and honour to your name.  Mal. 
Since your Lordship has begun good deeds, we'll follow; good sir forgive us, we are now those men fear you for goodness' sake; those sums of money unjustly we detain from you, on your pardon shall be restored again, and we your servants.  La-p. 
You are very forward sir, it seems you have money, I pray you lay out, I'll pay you or pray for you, as the Sea works.  Lav. 
Their penance sir I'll undertake, so please ye  
To grant me on concealment.  Long. 
Right courtier, still a-begging.  Mont. 
What is it sir?  Lav. 
A Gentlewoman.  Mont. 
In my gift?  Lav. 
Yes sir, in yours.  Mont. 
Why bring her forth and take her.  Lami. 
What wench would he have?  Mont. 
Any wench I think.  Enter Laverdine and Veramour, like a Woman. Lav. 
This is the Gentlewoman.  Mont. 
'Tis my Page sir.  Ver. 
No sir, I am a poor disguised Lady?  
That like a Page have followed you full long for love god-wot.  Omnes. 
A Lady— Laverdine— yes, yes, 'tis a Lady.  Mont. 
It may be so, and yet we have lain together,  
But by my troth I never found her, Lady.  L Orl. 
Why wore you boys clothes?  Vir. 
I'll tell you Madam,  
I took example by 2 or 3. plays, that methought  
Concerned me.  Mont. 
Why made you not me acquainted with it.  Ver. 
Indeed sir I knew it not myself,  
Until this Gentleman opened my dull eyes,  
And by persuasion made me see it.  Ami. 
Could his power in words make such a change?  Ver. 
Yes, as truly woman as yourself my Lord.  Lav. 
Why but hark you, are not you a woman?  Ver. 
If hands and face make it not evident, you shall see more.  Mal. 
Breeches, breeches, Laverdine.  La-p. 
'tis not enough, women may wear those cases.  
Search further Courtier.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha.  La-p. 
Oh thou freshwater Gudgeon, wouldst thou come  
To point of Marriage with an Ignoramus?  
Thou shouldst have had her urine to the doctors,  
The foolishest Physician could have made plain  
The liquid epicoene; a blind man by the hand  
Could have discovered the ring from the stone.  
Boy, come, to Sea with me, I'll teach thee to climb,  
And come down by the rope, nay to eat Rats.  Ver. 
I shall devour my Master before the prison then,  
Sir, I have begun my Trade.  Mal. 
Trade? to the City, child, a flatcap will become thee.  Mont. 
Gentlemen I beseech you molest yourselves no further,  
For his preferment it is determined.  Lav. 
I am much ashamed, and if my cheek  
Gives not satisfaction, break my head.  Mont. 
Your shame's enough sir.  Ami. 
Montague, much joy attend thy marriage Bed;  
By thy example of true goodness, envy is exiled,  
And to all honest men that truth intend,  
I wish good luck, fair fate be still thy friend.  Exeunt.   
FJNIS.   

Upon an Honest Man's Fortune.  By Mr. John Fletcher. 
YOu that can look through Heaven, and tell the Stars,  
Observe their kind conjunctions, and their wars;  
Find out new lights, and give them where you please,  
To those men honours, pleasures, to those ease;  
You that are Gods surveyors, and can show  
How far, and when, and why the wind doth blow;  
Know all the charges of the dreadful thunder,  
And when it will shoot over, or fall under:  
Tell me, by all your art I conjure ye,  
Yes, and by truth, what shall become of me?  
Find out my star, if each one, as you say,  
Have his peculiar Angel, and his way;  
Observe my fate, next fall into your dreams,  
Sweep clean your houses, and new line your seams,  
Then say your worst: or have I none at all?  
Or is it burnt out lately? or did fall?  
Or am I poor, not able, no full flame?  
My star, like me, unworthy of a name?  
Is it, your art can only work on those  
That deal with dangers, dignities, and clothes?  
With love, or new opinions? you all lie,  
A fishwife hath a fate, and so have I,  
But far above your finding; he that gives,  
Out of his providence, to all that lives,  
And no man knows his treasure, no not you:  
He that made Egypt blind, from whence you grew  
scabby and lousy, that the world might see  
Your calculations are as blind as ye,  
He that made all the stars, you daily read,  
And from thence filch a knowledge how to feed;  
Hath hid this from you, your conjectures all  
Are drunken things, not how, but when they fall;  
Man is his own star, and the soul that can  
Render an honest, and a perfect man  
Command all light, all influence, all fate,  
Nothing to him falls early or too late.  
Our acts our Angels arc, or good or ill,  
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still,  
And when the stars are labouring, we believe  
it is not that they govern, but they grieve  
For stubborn ignorance; all things that are  
Made for our general uses are at war,  
Even we among ourselves, and from the strife  
Your first unlike opinions got a life.  
O man, thou image of thy makers good,  
What canst thou fear, when breathed into thy blood  
His spirit is, that built thee? what dull sense  
Makes thee suspect, in need, that providence?  
Who made the morning, and who placed the light  
Guide to thy labours? who called up the night,  
And bid her fall upon thee, like sweet showers  
In hollow murmurs, to lock up thy powers?  
Who gave thee knowledge, who so trusted thee,  
To let thee grow so near himself, the Tree?  
Must he then be distrusted? shall his frame  
Discourse with him, why thus, and thus I am?  
He made the Angels thine, thy fellows all,  
Nay even thy servants, when devotions call.  
Oh canst thou be so stupid then, so dim,  
To seek a saving influence, and lose him?  
Can Stars protect thee? or can poverty,  
Which is the light to Heaven, put out his eye?  
He is my star, in him all truth I find,  
All influence, all fate, and when my mind  
Is furnished with his fullness, my poor story  
Shall outlive all their Age, and all their glory.  
The hand of danger cannot fall amiss,  
When I know what, and in whose power it is.  
Nor Want, the cause of man, shall make me groan,  
A holy hermit is a mind alone.  
Doth not experience teach us all we can  
To work ourselves into a glorious man?  
Love's but an exhalation to best eyes  
The matter spent, and then the fool's fire dies?  
Were I in love, and could that bright star bring  
Increase to wealth, honour, and every thing:  
Were she as perfect good as we can aim,  
The first was so, and yet she lost the Game.  
My mistress then be knowledge and fair truth;  
So I enjoy all beauty and all youth,  
And though to time her lights and laws she lends,  
She knows no Age that to corruption bends.  
friend's promises may lead me to believe,  
But he that is his own friend knows to live.  
Affliction when I know it is but this,  
A deep allay whereby man tougher is  
To bear the hammer, and the deeper still,  
We still arise more image of his will.  
Sickness an humorous cloud twixt us and light,  
And Death, at longest but another night.  
Man is his own Star, and that soul that can  
Be honest is the only perfect man.  
FINIS.