A Wife for a Month.  

Actus primus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter King Frederick, Sorano, Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Attendants. Sor. 
WIll your Grace speak?  Fre. 
Let me alone Sorano,  
Although my thoughts seem sad, they are welcome to me.  Sor. 
You know I am private as your secret wishes,  
Ready to fling my soul upon your service,  
Ere your command be on't.  Fre. 
Bid those depart.  Sor. 
You must retire my Lords.  Cam. 
What new design in hammering in his head now?  Cle. 
Let's pray heartily  
None of our heads meet with it, my wife's old,  
That's all my comfort.  Men. 
Mine's ugly, that I am sure on,  
And I think honest too, 'twould make me start else.  Cam. 
Mine's troubled in the Country with a fever,  
And some few infirmities else; he looks again,  
Come let's retire, certain 'tis some she business,  
This new Lord is employed.  Val. 
I'll not be far off, because I doubt the cause. Ex. Lords.  Fre. 
Are they all gone?  Sor. 
All but your faithful servant.  Fred. 
I would tell thee,  
But 'tis a thing thou canst not like.  Sor. 
Pray ye speak it, is it my head? I have it ready for ye, Sir:  
Is't any action in my power? my wit?  
I care not of what nature, nor what follows.  Fre. 
I am in love.  Sor. 
That's the least thing of a thousand,  
The easiest to achieve.  Fre. 
But with whom Sorano?  Sor. 
With whom you please, you must not be denied, Sir.  Fred. 
Say it be with one of thy Kinswomen.  Sor. 
Say withal,  
I shall more love your Grace, I shall more honour ye,  
And would I had enough to serve your pleasure.  Fred. 
Why 'tis thy Sister then, the fair Evanthe,  
I'll be plain with thee.  Sor. 
I'll be as plain with you Sir,  
She brought not her perfections to the world,  
To lock them in a case, or hang 'em by her,  
The use is all she breeds 'em for, she is yours, Sir.  Fred. 
Dost thou mean seriously?  Sor. 
I mean my Sister,  
And if I had a dozen more, they were all yours:  
Some Ants I have, they have been handsome women,  
My mother's dead indeed, and some few cousins  
That are now shooting up, we shall see shortly.  Fred. 
No, 'tis Evanthe.  Sor. 
I have sent my man unto her,  
Upon some business to come presently  
Hither, she shall come; Your Grace dare speak unto her?  
Large golden promises, and sweet language, Sir,  
You know what they work, she is a complete Courtier,  
Besides I'll set in.  Fred. 
She weights upon my Queen,  
What jealousy and anger may arise,  
Incensing her?  Sora. 
You have a good sweet Lady,  
A woman of so even and still a temper,  
She knows not anger; say she were a fury,  
I had thought you had been absolute the great King,  
The fountain of all honours, plays and pleasures,  
Your will and your commands unbounded also;  
Go get a pair of beads and learn to pray, Sir.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
My Lord, your servant stays.  Sor. 
Bid him come hither, and bring the Lady with him.  Fred. 
I will woo her,  
And either lose myself, or win her favour.  Sor. 
She is coming in.  Fre. 
Thy eyes shoot through the door,  
They are so piercing, that the beams they dart  
Give new light to the room.  Enter Podramo and Evanthe. Eva. 
Whether dost thou go?  
This is the king's side, and his private lodgings,  
What business have I here?  Pod. 
My Lord sent for ye.  Eva. 
His lodgings are below, you are mistaken,  
We left them at the stair-foot.  Pod. 
Good sweet Madam,  Evan. 
I am no Counsellor, nor important Suitor.  
Nor have no private business through these Chambers,  
To seek him this way, o' my life thou art drunk,  
Or worse than drunk, hired to convey me hither  
To some base end; now I look on thee better,  
Thou hast a bawdy face, and I abhor thee,  
A beastly bawdy face, I'll go no further.  Sor. 
Nay shrink not back, indeed you shall good Sister,  
Why do you blush? the good King will not hurt ye,  
He honours ye, and loves ye.  Eva. 
Is this the business?  Sor. 
Yes, and the best you ever will arrive at, if you be wise.  Eva. 
My Father was no bawd Sir,  
Nor of that worshipful stock as I remember.  Sor. 
You are a fool.  Eva. 
You are that I shame to tell ye.  Fred. 
Gentle Evanthe.  Eva. 
The gracious Queen Sir  
Is well and merry, heaven be thanked for it,  
And as I think she waits you in the Garden.  Fred. 
Let her wait there, I talk not of her Garden,  
I talk of thee sweet flower.  Eva. 
Your Grace is pleasant,  
To mistake a nettle for a rose.  Fred. 
No Rose, nor Lily, nor no glorious Hyacinth  
Are of that sweetness, whiteness, tenderness,  
Softness, and satisfying blessedness  
As my Evanthe.  Eva. 
Your Grace speaks very feelingly,  
I would not be a handsome wench in your way Sir,  
For a new gown.  Fred. 
Thou art all handsomeness,  
Nature will be ashamed to frame another  
Now thou art made, thou hast robbed her of her cunning,  
Each several part about thee is a beauty.  Sor. 
Do you hear this Sister?  Eva. 
Yes unworthy Brother, but all this will not do.  Fred. 
But love Evanthe,  
Thou shalt have more than words, wealth, ease, and honours  
My tender wench.  Eva. 
Be tender of my credit,  
And I shall love you Sir, and I shall honour ye.  Fred. 
I love thee to enjoy thee my Evanthe,  
To give thee the content of love.  Eva. 
Hold, hold Sir, ye are to fleet,  
I have some business this way, your Grace can ne'er content.  Sor. 
You stubborn toy.  Eva. 
Good my Lord Bawd I thank ye.  Fred. 
Thou shalt not go, believe me sweet Evanthe,  
So high I will advance thee for this favour,  
So rich and potent I will raise thy fortune,  
And thy friends mighty.  Eva. 
Good your Grace be patient,  
I shall make the worst honourable wench that ever was,  
Shame your discretion, and your choice.  Fred. 
Thou shalt not.  Eva. 
Shall I be rich do you say, and glorious,  
And shine above the rest, and scorn all beauties,  
And mighty in command?  Fred. 
Thou shalt be any thing.  Eva. 
Let me be honest too, and then I'll thank ye.  
Have you not such a title to bestow too?  
If I prove otherwise, I would know but this Sir;  
Can all the power you have or all the riches,  
But tie men's tongues up from discoursing of me,  
Their eyes from gazing at my glorious folly,  
Time that shall come from wondering at my impudence,  
And they that read my wanton life from curses?  
Can you do this? have ye this magic in ye?  
This is not in your power, though you be a Prince Sir,  
No more than evil is in holy Angels,  
Nor I, I hope; get wantonness confirmed  
By Act of Parliament an honesty,  
And so received by all, I'll harken to ye.  
Heaven guide your Grace.  Fred. 
Evanthe, stay a little,  
I'll no more wantonness, I'll marry thee.  Eva. 
What shall the Queen do?  Fred. 
I'll be divorced from her.  Eva. 
Can you tell why? what has she done against ye?  
Has she contrived a treason 'gainst your Person?  
Abused your bed? does disobedience urge ye?  Fre. 
That's all one, 'tis my will.  Eva. 
'Tis a most wicked one,  
A most absurd one, and will show a Monster;  
I had rather be a Whore, and with less sin,  
To your present lust, than Queen to your unjustice.  
Yours is no love, Faith and Religion fly it,  
Nor has no taste of fair affection in it,  
Some hellish flame abuses your fair body,  
And hellish furies blow it; look behind ye,  
Divorce ye from a woman of her beauty,  
Of her integrity, her piety?  
Her love to you, to all that honours ye,  
Her chaste and virtuous love, are these fit causes?  
What will you do to me, when I have cloyed ye?  
You may find time out in eternity,  
Deceit and violence in heavenly Justice,  
Life in the grave, and death among the blessed,  
Ere stain or brack in her sweet reputation.  Sor. 
You have fooled enough, be wise now, and a woman,  
You have showed a modesty sufficient,  
If not too much for Court.  Eva. 
You have showed an impudence,  
A more experienced bawd would blush and shake at;  
You will make my kindred mighty.  Fred. 
Prithee hear me.  Evan. 
I do Sir, and I count it a great offer.  Fre. 
Any of thine.  Eva. 
'Tis like enough you may clap honour on them,  
But how 'twill sit, and how men will adore it,  
Is still the question. I'll tell you what they'll say Sir,  
What the report will be, and 'twill be true too,  
And it must needs be comfort to your Master,  
These are the issues of her impudence:  
I'll tell your Grace, so dear I hold the Queen,  
So dear that honour that she nursed me up in,  
I would first take to me, for my lust, a moor,  
One of your galley-slaves, that cold and hunger,  
Decrepit misery, had made a mock-man,  
Then be your Queen.  Fred. 
You are bravely resolute.  Evan. 
I had rather be a Leper, and be shunned,  
And die by pieces, rot into my grave,  
Leaving no memory behind to know me,  
Then be a high Whore to eternity.  Fred. 
You have another Gamester I perceive by ye,  
You durst not slight me else.  Sor. 
I'll find him out,  
Though he lie next thy heart hid, I'll discover him,  
And ye proud peat, I'll make you curse your insolence.  Val. 
Tongue of an Angel, and the truth of Heaven,  
How am I blessed? Exit Val.  Sor. 
Podramo go in haste  
To my sister's Gentlewoman, you know her well,  
And bid her send her Mistress presently  
The lesser Cabinet she keeps her Letters in,  
And such like toys, and bring it to me Instantly. Away.  Pod. 
I am gone. Exit.  Enter the Queen with two Ladies. Sora. 
The Queen.  Fre. 
Let's quit the place, she may grow jealous. Exit Fred. Soran.  Mar. 
So suddenly departed, what's the reason?  
does my approach displease his Grace? are my eyes  
So hateful to him? or my conversation  
Infected, that he flies me? fair Evanthe,  
Are you there? than I see his shame.  Eva. 
'Tis true Madam,  
'thas pleased his Goodness to be pleasant with me,  Mar. 
'Tis strange to find thy modesty in this place,  
does the King offer fair? does thy face take him?  
Near blush Evanthe, 'tis a very sweet one,  
does he rain gold, and precious promises  
Into thy lap? will he advance thy fortunes?  
Shalt thou be mighty wench?  Evan. 
Never mock Madam;  
'Tis rather on your part to be lamented,  
At least revenged, I can be mighty Lady,  
And glorious too, glorious and great, as you are.  Mar. 
He will marry thee.  Evan. 
Who would not be a Queen, Madam?  Mar. 
'Tis true Evanthe, 'tis a brave ambition,  
A golden dream, that may delude a good mind,  
What shall become of me?  Evan. 
You must learn to pray,  
Your age and honour will become a Nunnery.  Mar. 
Wilt thou remember me? Weeps.  Evan. 
She weeps. Sweet Lady  
Upon my knees I ask your sacred pardon,  
For my rude boldness; and know, my sweet Mistress,  
If e'er there were ambition in Evanthe,  
It was and is to do you faithful duties;  
'Tis true I have been tempted by the King,  
And with no few and potent charms, to wrong ye,  
To violate the chaste joys of your bed;  
And those not taking hold, to usurp your state,  
But she that has been bred up under ye,  
And daily fed upon your virtuous precepts,  
Still growing strong by example of your goodness,  
Having no errant motion from obedience,  
Flies from these vanities, as mere illusions;  
And armed with honesty, defies all promises.  
In token of this truth, I lay my life down  
Under your sacred foot, to do you service.  Mar. 
Rise my true friend, thou virtuous, bud of beauty,  
Thou virgin's honour, sweetly blow and flourish,  
And that rude nipping wind, that seeks to blast thee,  
Or taint thy root, be cursed to all posterity;  
To my protection from this hour I take ye,  
Yes, and the King shall know—  Evan. 
Give his heat way, Madam,  
And 'twill go out again, he may forget all. Exeunt.  Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo. Cam. 
What have we to do with the times? we cannot cure 'em;  
Let 'em go on, when they are swollen with surfeits  
They'll burst and stink, than all the world shall smell 'em  Cle. 
A man may live a bawd, and be an honest man.  Men. 
Yes, and a wise man too, 'tis a virtuous calling.  Cam. 
To his own wife especially, or to his sister,  
The nearer to his own blood, still the honester;  
There want such honest men, would we had more of 'em.  Men. 
To be a villain is no such rude matter.  Cam. 
No, if he be a neat one, and a perfect,  
Art makes all excellent, what is it Gentl  
In a good cause to kill a dozen coxcombs?  
That blunt rude fellows call good Patriots?  
Nothing, nor ne'er looked after.  Men. 
'Tis e'en as much, as easy too, as honest, & as clear,  
To ravish Matrons, and deflower coy wenches,  
But here they are so willing, 'tis a compliment.  Cle. 
To pull down Churches with pretention,  
To build 'em fairer, may be done with honour,  
And all this time believe no God.  Cam. 
I think so, 'tis faith enough if they name him in their angers,  
Or on their rotten Tombs engrave an Angel;  
Well, brave Alphonso, how happy had we been,  
If thou hadst reigned?  Men. 
Would I had his disease,  
Tied like a Leprosy to my posterity,  
So he were right again.  Clean. 
What is his Melady?  Cam. 
Nothing but sad and silent melancholy,  
Laden with griefs and thoughts, no man knows why neither;  
The good Brandino Father to the Princess,  
Used all the art and industry that might be,  
To free Alphonso from this dull calamity,  
And seat him in his rule, he was his eldest  
And noblest too, had not fair nature stopped in him,  
For which cause this was chosen to inherit,  
Frederick the younger.  Clean. 
does he use his brother  
With that respect and honour that befits him?  Cam. 
He is kept privately, as they pretend,  
To give more ease and comfort to his sickness;  
But he has honest servants, the grave Rugio,  
And friar Marco, that weight upon his Person,  
And in a Monastery he lives.  Men. 
'Tis full of sadness,  
To see him when he comes to his father's Tomb,  
As once a day that is his Pilgrimage,  
Whilst in devotion the Choir sings an Anthem:  
How piously he kneels, and like a Virgin  
That some cross fate had cozened of her Love,  
Weeps till the stubborn Marble sweats with pity,  
And to his groans the whole Choir bears a Chorus.  Enter Frederick, Sorano with the Cabinet. Pod. 
So do I too. The King with his contrivers,  
This is no place for us. Exeunt Lords.  Fred. 
This is a Jewel,  
Lay it aside, what Paper's that?  Pod. 
A Letter,  
But 'tis a woman's, Sir, I know by the hand,  
And the false orthography, they write old Saxon.  Fred. 
May be her ghostly mothers, that instructs her.  Sor. 
No, 'tis a cousin's, and came up with a great Cake.  Fred. 
What's that?  Sora. 
A pair of Gloves the Duchess gave her,  
For so the outside says:  Fred. 
That other Paper?  Sor. 
A charm for the toothache, here's nothing but Saints and Crosses.  Fre. 
Look in that box, methinks that should hold secrets,  Pod. 
'Tis paint and curls of hair, she begins to exercise.  
A glass of water too, I would fain taste it,  
But I am wickedly afraid 'twill silence me,  
Never a Conduit Pipe to convey this water.  Sor. 
These are all Rings, death's heads, and such mementoes  
Her Grandmother, and worm-eaten Ants left to her,  
To tell her what her beauty must arrive at.  Fred. 
That, that.  Pod. 
They are written Songs Sir, to provoke young Ladies;  
Lords, here's a prayer book, how these agree?  
Here's a strange Union.  Sor. 
Ever by a safest you have a julip set to cool the Patient.  Fred 
Those, those.  Sor. 
They are Verses to the blessed Evanthe.  Fred. 
Those may discover,  
Read them out Sorant.  
To the blessed Evanthe,  
LEt those complain, that feels Loves cruelty,  
And in sad Legends write their woes,  
With Roses gently 'has corrected me;  
My war is without rage or blows;  
My Mistress eyes shine fair on my desires,  
And hope springs up inflamed with her new fires.  
No more an Exile will I dwell,  
With folded arms, and sighs all day,  
Reckoning the torments of my hell,  
And flinging my sweet joys away;  
I am called home again to quiet peace,  
My Mistress smiles, and all my sorrows cease.  
Yet what is living in her eyes?  
Or being blessed with her sweet tongue,  
If these no other joys imply?  
A golden Give, a pleasing wrong:  
To be your own but one poor Month, I'd give  
My youth, my fortune, and then leave to live.  Fred. 
This is my rival, that I knew the hand now.  Sor. 
I know it, I have seen it, 'tis Valerio's,  
That hopeful Gentleman's that was brought up with ye,  
And by your charge nourished and fed  
At the same Table, with the same allowance.  Fred. 
And all this courtesy to ruin me?  
Cross my desires? had better have fed humblier,  
And stood at greater distance from my fury:  
Go for him quickly, find him instantly,  
Whilst my impatient heart swells high with choler;  
Better have loved despair, and safer kissed her. Exit Lords.  Enter Evanthe and Cassandra. Eva. 
Thou old weak fool, dost thou know to what end,  
To what betraying end he got this Casket?  
Durst thou deliver him without my Ring?  
Or a command from mine own mouth? that Cabinet  
That holds my heart, you unconsiderate ass,  
Thou brainless Idiot.  Cas. 
I saw you go with him,  
At their first word commit your person to him,  
And made no scruple; he is your brother's Gentleman,  
And for any thing I know, an honest man;  
And might not I upon the same security deliver him a box?  Evan. 
A Bottlehead.  Fred. 
You shall have cause to chafe, as I will handle it.  Eva. 
I had rather thou hadst delivered me to Pirates,  
Betrayed me to uncurable diseases,  
Hung up my Picture in a Market place,  
And sold me to wild bawds.  Cassan. 
As I take it Madam,  
Your Maidenhead lies not in that Cabinet,  
You have a Closer, and you keep the key too,  
Why are you vexed thus?  Eva. 
I could curse thee wickedly,  
And wish thee more deformed than age can make thee,  
Perpetual hunger, and no teeth to satisfy it,  
Weight on thee still, nor sleep be found to ease it:  
Those hands that gave the Casket, may the palsy  
For ever make unuseful, even to feed thee;  
Long winters, that thy bones may turn to icicles  
No Hell can thaw again, inhabit by thee.  
Is thy care like thy body, all on crookedness?  
How scurvily thou criest now? like a drunkard,  
I'll have as pure tears from a dirty spout:  
Do, swear thou didst this ignorantly, swear it,  
Swear and be damned, thou half witch.  Cassan. 
These are fine words, well Madam, Madam.  Evan. 
'Tis not well thou mummy,  
'Tis impudently, basely done, thou dirty—  Fred. 
Has your young sanctity done railing, Madam,  
Against your innocent Squire? do you see this Sonnet?  
This loving Script? do you know from whence it came too?  Eva. 
I do, and dare avouch it pure and honest.  Fred. 
You have private Visitants, my noble Lady,  
That in sweet numbers court your goodly virtues,  
And to the height of adoration.  Evan, 
Well Sir,  
There's neither Heresy nor Treason in it.  Fred. 
A Prince may beg at the door; whilst these feast with ye;  
A favour or a grace, from such as I am.  Enter Valerio, and Podrano. 
Course, common things. You are welcome; pray come near, Sir,  
Do you know this paper?  Val. 
I am betrayed; I do Sir,  
'Tis mine, my hand and heart, if I die for her,  
I am thy Martyr, Love, and time shall honour me.  Cass. 
You saucy Sir, that came in my Lady's name,  
For her guilt Cabinet, you cheating Sir too,  
You scurvy Usher, with as scurvy legs,  
And a worse face, thou poor base hanging holder,  
How durst thou come to me with a lie in thy mouth?  
An impudent lie?  Pod. 
Hollow, good Jill, you hobble.  Cass. 
A stinking lie, more stinking than the teller,  
To play the pilfering knave, there have been rascals  
Brought up to fetch and carry like your Worship,  
That have been hanged for less, whipped there are daily  
And if the Law will do me right—  Pod. 
What then old Maggot?  Cass. 
Thy mother was carted younger; I'll have thy hide,  
Thy mangy hide, embroidered with a dog-whip,  
As it is now with potent Pox, and thicker.  Fred. 
Peace, good antiquity, I'll have your bones else  
Ground into Gunpowder to shoot at Cats with;  
One word more, and I'll blanch thee like an Almond,  
There's no such cure for the she-falling-sicknesse,  
As the powder of a dried bawd's skin, be silent,  
You are very prodigal of your service here, Sir,  
Of your life more it seems.  Val. 
I repent neither,  
Because Your Grace shall understand it comes  
From the best part of love, my pure affection,  
And kindled with chaste flame, I will not fly from it,  
If it be error to desire to marry,  
And marry her that sanctity would dote on,  
I have done amiss; if it be a Treason  
To graft my soul to virtue, and to grow there,  
To love the tree that bears such happiness;  
Conceive me, Sir, this fruit was ne'er forbidden;  
Nay, to desire to taste too, I am Traitor;  
Had you but plants enough of this blessed Tree, Sir,  
Set round about your Court to beautify it,  
Deaths twice so many, to dismay the approachers,  
The ground would scarce yield graves to noble Lovers,  Fred. 
'Tis well maintained, you wish and pray to fortune,  
Here in your Sonnet, and she has heard your prayers,  
So much you dote upon your own undoing,  
But one Month to enjoy her as your wife,  
Though at the expiring of that time you die for't.  Val. 
I could wish many, many age's Sir,  
To grow as old as time in her embraces,  
If heaven would grant it, and you smile upon it;  
But if my choice were two hours, and then perish,  
I would not pull my heart back.  Fred. 
You have your wish,  
tomorrow I will see you nobly married,  
Your Month take out in all content and pleasure;  
The first day of the following Month you die for't;  
Kneel, not, not all your prayers can divert me;  
Now mark your sentence, mark it scornful Lady,  
If when Valerio's dead, within twelve hours,  
For there's your latest time, you find not out  
Another husband on the same condition  
To marry you again, you die yourself too.  Evan. 
Now you are merciful, I thank your Grace.  Fre. 
If when you are married, you but seek to scape  
Out of the Kingdom, you, or she, or both,  
Or to infect men's minds with hot commotions,  
You die both instantly; will you love me now Lady?  
My tale will now be heard, but now I scorn ye. Exe.  Manent, Valerio, and Evanthe. Eva. 
Is our fair love, our honest, our entire,  
Come to this hazard?  Val. 
'Tis a noble one, and I am much in love with malice for it,  
Envy could not have studied me a way,  
Nor fortune pointed out a path to honour,  
Straighter and nobler, if she had her eyes:  
When I have once enjoyed my sweet Evanthe,  
And blessed my youth with her most dear Embraces,  
I have done my journey here, my day is out,  
All that the world has else is foolery,  
Labour, and loss of time, what should I live for?  
Think but man's life a month, and we are happy.  
I would not have my joys grow old for any thing;  
A paradise, as thou art my Evanthe,  
Is only made to wonder at a little,  
Enough for humane eyes, and then to wander from.  
Come do not weep, sweet, you dishonour me,  
Your tears and griefs but question my ability,  
Whether I dare die: Do you love entirely?  Eva. 
You know I do.  Val. 
Then grudge not my felicity.  Eva. 
I'll to the Queen.  Val. 
Do any thing that's honest,  
But if you sue to him in death, I hate you.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo Cam. 
WAs there ever heard of such a marriage?  Men. 
Marriage and hanging go by destiny,  
'Tis the old proverb, now they come together.  Cle. 
But a month married, than to lose his life for't?  
I would have a long month sure that pays the Soldiers,  Ent Tony with urinal. Cam. 
Or get all the Almanacs burnt, that were a rare trick,  
And have no month remembered. How now Tony?  
Whose water are you casting?  Tony. 
A sick gentleman's,  
Is very sick, much troubled with the stone,  
He should not live above a month by his Urine,  
About Saint David's day it will go hard with him,  
He will then be troubled with a pain in his neck too.  Men. 
A pestilent fool; when wilt thou marry Tony?  Ton. 
When I mean to be hanged, & 'tis the surer contract.  Cle. 
What think you of this marriage of Valerio's?  Tony. 
They have given him a hot custard, and mean to burn his mouth with it; had I known he had been given to die honourably, I would have helped him to a wench, a rare one, should have killed him in three weeks, and saved the sentence.  Cam. 
There be them would have spared ten days of that too.  Ton. 
It may be so, you have women of all virtues;  
There be some Guns that I could bring him too,  
Some Mortar-pieces that are placed i'th' Suburbs,  
Would tear him into quarters in two hours;  
There be also of the race of the old Cockatrices,  
That would dispatch him with once looking on him.  Men. 
What Month wouldst thou choose Tony, if thou hadst the like fortune?  Ton. 
I would choose a mulled Sack month, to comfort my belly, for sure my back would ache for't, and at the month's end I would be most dismally drunk, & scorn the gallows.  Me. 
I would choose March, for I would come in like a Lion.  To. 
But you'd go out like a Lamb, when you went to hanging.  Ca. 
I would take April, take the sweet o'th' year,  
And kiss my wench upon the tender flowerets,  
Tumble on every Green, and as the birds sung,  
Embrace and melt away my soul in pleasure.  Ton. 
You would go a-Maying gaily to the gallows.  Clean. 
Prithee tell us some news.  Tony. 
I'll tell ye all I know,  
You may be honest and poor fools, as I am,  
And blow your fingers ends.  Cam. 
That's no news fool.  Ton. 
You may be knaves then, when you please, stark knaves,  
And build fair houses, but your heirs shall have none of 'em.  Men. 
These are undoubted.  Ton. 
Truth is not worth the hearing,  
I'll tell you news then, There was a drunken Sailor,  
That got a Marmaid with child as she went a milking,  
And now she sues him in the bawdy Court for it,  
The infant Monster is brought up in fish-street.  Cam. 
ay, this is something.  Ton. 
I'll tell you more, There was a fish taken,  
A monstrous fish, with a sword by his side, a long sword,  
A pike in's neck, and a gun in's nose, a huge gun,  
And letters of Mart in's mouth, from the Duke of Florence.  Cle. 
This is a monstrous lie.  Ton. 
I do confess it;  
Do you think I would tell you truths, that dare not hear 'em?  
You are honest things, we Courtiers scorn to converse with Exit.  Cam. 
A plaguy fool, but let's consider Gentl  
Why the Queen strives not to oppose this sentence,  
The kingdom's honour suffers in this cruelty.  Men. 
No doubt the Queen, though she be virtuous,  
Winks at the marriage, for by that only means  
The king's flame lessens to the youthful Lady,  
If not goes out, within this month, I doubt not,  
She hopes to rock asleep his anger also;  
Shall we go see the preparation?  
'Tis time, for strangers come to view the wonder.  Cam. 
Come, let's away, send my friends happier weddings. Exe.  Enter Queen and Evanthe. Que. 
You shall be merry, come, I'll have it so,  
Can there be any nature so unnoble?  
Or anger so unhuman to pursue this?  Eva. 
I fear there is.  Que. 
Your fears are poor and foolish,  
Though he be hasty, and his anger death,  
His will like torrents, not to be resisted,  
Yet Law and Justice go along to guide him;  
And what Law or what Justice can he find  
To justify his will? what Act or Statute,  
By Humane or Divine establishment,  
Left to direct us, that makes marriage death?  
Honest fair wedlock? 'twas given for increase,  
For preservation of mankind I take it;  
He must be more than man then, that dare break it;  
Come dress ye handsomely, you shall have my Jewels,  
And put a face on that contemns base fortune,  
'Twill make him more insult to see you fearful,  
Outlook his anger.  Eva. 
O my Valerio!  
Be witness my pure mind, 'tis thee I grieve for.  Que. 
But show it not, I would so crucify him  
With an innocent neglect of what he can do,  
A brave strong pious scorn, that I would shake him;  
Put all the wanton Cupids in thine eyes,  
And all the graces on that nature gave thee,  
Make up thy beauty to that height of excellence,  
I'll help thee, and forgive thee, as if Venus  
Were now again to catch the God of War,  
In his most rugged anger, when thou hast him  
(As 'tis impossible he should resist thee)  
And kneeling at thy conquering feet for mercy,  
Then show thy virtue, then again despise him  
And all his power, then with a look of honour,  
Mingled with noble chastity, strike him dead.  Eva. 
Good Madam dress me,  
You arm me bravely.  Que. 
Make him know his cruelty  
Begins with him first, he must suffer for it,  
And that thy sentence is so welcome to thee,  
And to thy noble Lord, You long to meet it.  
Stamp such a deep impression of thy beauty  
Into his soul, and of thy worthiness,  
That when Valerio and Evanthe sleep  
In one rich earth, hung round about with blessings,  
He may run mad, and curse his act; be lusty,  
I'll teach thee how to die too, if thou fear'st it.  Evan. 
I thank your Grace, you have prepared me strongly,  
And my weak mind.  Que. 
Death is unwelcome never,  
Unless it be to tortured minds and sick souls,  
That make their own Hells; 'tis such a benefit  
When it comes crowned with honour, shows so sweet too,  
Though they paint it ugly, that's but to restrain us,  
For every living thing would love it else,  
Fly boldly to their peace, ere nature called 'em;  
The rest we have from labour, and from trouble,  
Is some incitement, every thing alike,  
The poor slave that lies private has his liberty,  
As amply as his Master, in that Tomb,  
The earth as light upon him, and the flowers  
That grow about him, smell as sweet, and flourish,  
But when we love with honour to our ends,  
When memory and virtues are our mourners,  
What pleasure's there? they are infinite Evanthe;  
Only, my virtuous wench, we want our senses,  
That benefit we are barred, 'twould make us proud else,  
And lazy to look up to happier life,  
The blessings of the people would so swell us.  Evan. 
Good Madam dress me, you have dressed my soul,  
The merriest Bride I'll be for all this misery,  
The proudest to some eyes too.  Que. 
'Twill do better, come shrink no more.  Evan. 
I am too confident. Exeunt.  Enter Frederick and Sorano. Sora. 
You are too remiss and wanton in your angers,  
You mould things handsomely, and then neglect 'em;  
A powerful Prince should be constant to his power still,  
And hold up what he builds, than people fear him;  
When he lets loose his hand, it shows a weakness,  
And men examine or contemn his greatness;  
A scorn of this high kind should have called up  
A revenge equal, not a pity in you.  Fred. 
She is thy sister.  Sor. 
And she were my mother,  
Whilst I conceive she has you wronged, I hate her,  
And shake her nearness off; I study, Sir,  
To satisfy your angers that are just,  
Before your pleasures.  Fred. 
I have done that already,  
I fear has pulled to many curses on me.  Sora. 
Curses or envies, on Valerio's head,  
Would you take my counsel, Sir, they should all light,  
And with the weight, not only crack his scull,  
But his fair credit; the exquisite vexation  
I have devised, so please you give way in't,  
And let it work, shall more afflict his soul,  
And trench upon that honour that he brags of,  
Then fear or death in all the frights he carries;  
If you sit down here they will both abuse ye,  
Laugh at your poor relenting power, and scorn ye;  
What satisfaction can their deaths bring to you,  
That are prepared and proud to die, and willingly,  
And at their ends will thank you for that honour?  
How are you nearer the desire you aim at?  
Or if it be revenge your anger covets,  
How can their single deaths give you content, Sir?  
Petty revenges end in blood, sleight angers,  
A PRINCE's rage should find out new diseases,  
Death were a pleasure too, to pay proud fools with.  Fred. 
What should I do?  Sor. 
Add but your power unto me,  
Make me but strong by your protection,  
And you shall see what joy, and what delight,  
What infinite pleasure this poor mouth shall yield him,  
I'll make him wish he were dead on's marriage day,  
Or bedrid with old age, I'll make him curse,  
And cry and curse, give me but power.  Fred. 
You have it,  
Here take my Ring, I am content he pay for't.  Sor. 
It shall be now revenge, as I will handle it,  
He shall live after this to beg his life too,  
Twenty to one by this thread, as I'll weave it,  
Evanthe shall be yours.  Fred. 
Take all authority, and be most happy.  Sor. 
Good Sir, no more pity. Exeunt.  Enter Tony, three Citizens, and three Wives. 1. Wife. 
Good Master Tony, put me in.  Ton. 
Where do you dwell?  1. Wife. 
Forsooth, at the sign of the great shoulder of Mutton,  To. 
A hungry man would hunt your house out instantly, Keep the dogs from your door; Is this Lettice Ruff your husband? a fine sharp salad to your sign.  2. Wife. 
Will you put me in too?  3. Wife. 
And me, good Master Tony.  Tony. 
Put ye all in? you had best come twenty more; you  
Think 'tis easy, a trick of legerdemain, to put ye all in,  
'Twould pose a fellow that had twice my body,  
Though it were all made into chines and fillets.  2. W. 
Puts intoth' wedding, Sir, we would fain see that.  1. W. 
And the brave Masque too.  To. 
You two are pretty women, are you their husbands?  2. Citiz. 
Yes, for want of better.  Ton. 
I think so too, you would not be so mad else  
To turn 'em lose to a company of young Courtiers,  
That swarm like Bees in May, when they see young wenches;  
You must not squeak.  3. W. 
No Sir, we are better tutored.  Ton. 
Nor if a young Lord offer you the courtesy—  2. W. 
We know what 'tis, Sir.  Ton. 
Nor you must not grumble,  
If you be thrust up hard, we thrust most furiously.  1. W. 
We know the worst.  Ton. 
Get you two in then quietly,  
And shift for yourselves; we must have no old women,  
They are out of use, unless they have petitions,  
Besides they cough so loud they drown the Music,  
You would go in too, but there is no place for ye,  
I am sorry for't, go and forget your wives,  
Or pray they may be able to suffer patiently.  
You may have Heirs may prove wise Aldermen,  
Go, or I'll call the Guard.  3 Citi. 
We will get in, we'll venture broken pates else.  Exit Citiz. and Women. Ton. 
'Tis impossible,  
You are too securely armed; how they flock hither,  
And with what joy the women run by heaps  
To see this Marriage? they tickle to think of it,  
They hope for every month a husband too;  
Still how they run, and how the wittols follow 'em,  
The weak things that are worn between the legs,  
That brushing, dressing, nor new naps can mend,  
How they post to see their own confusion?  
This is a merry world.  Enter Frederick. Fred. 
Look to the door sirrah,  
Thou art a fool, and may'st do mischief lawfully.  Ton. 
Give me your hand, you are my brother Fool,  
You may both make the Law, and mar it presently.  
Do you love a wench?  Fred. 
Who does not fool?  Ton. 
Not I, unless you will give me a longer lease to marry her.  Fred. 
What are all these that come, what business have they?  Ton. 
Some come to gape, those are my fellow fools;  
Some to get home their wives, those be their own fools;  
Some to rejoice with thee, those be the times fools;  
And some I fear to curse thee, those are poor fools.  Enter Cassandra, an old Lady passing over. 
A set people calls them honest. Look, look King, look,  
A weather-beaten Lady new careened.  Fred. 
An old one.  Ton. 
The glasses of her eyes are new rubbed over,  
And the worm-eaten records in her face are daubed up neatly;  
She lays her breasts out too, like to poached eggs  
That had the yelks sucked out; they get new heads also,  
New teeth, new tongues, for the old are all worn-out,  
And as 'tis hoped, new tails.  Fred. 
For what?  Ton. 
For old Courtiers,  
The young ones are too stirring for their travels.  Fred. 
God leave your knavery, and help to keep the door well,  
I will have no such press.  Ton. 
Lay thy hand a thy heart King.  Fred. 
I'll have ye whipped.  Ton. 
The Fool and thou are parted. Exit.  Fred. 
Sorano work, and free me from this spell,  
'Twixt love and scorn there's nothing felt but hell. Exit.  Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Servants. Val. 
Tie on my Scarf, you are so long about me,  
Good my Lords help, give me my other Cloak,  
That Hat and Feather, Lord what a tailor's this,  
To make me up thus straight, one sigh would burst me,  
I have not room to breathe, come button, button,  
Button, apace.  Cam. 
I am glad to see you merry Sir.  Val. 
'Twould make you merry had you such a wife,  
And such an age to enjoy her in.  Men. 
An age Sir?  Val. 
A month's an age to him that is contented,  
What should I seek for more? give me my sword.  
Ha my good Lords, that every one of you now  
Had but a Lady of that youth and beauty  
To bless yourselves this night with, would ye not?  
Pray ye speak uprightly.  Cle. 
We confess ye happy,  
And we could well wish such another Banquet,  
But on that price my Lord—  Val. 
'Twere nothing else,  
No man can ever come to aim at Heaven,  
But by the knowledge of a Hell. These shoes are heavy,  
And if I should be called to dance they'll clog me,  
Get me some pumps; I'll tell ye brave Camillo,  
And you dear friends, the King has honoured me,  
Out of his gracious favour has much honoured me,  
To limit me my time, for who would live long?  
Who would be old? 'tis such a weariness,  
Such a disease, that hangs like lead upon us  
As it increases, so vexations,  
Griefs of the mind, pains of the feeble body,  
Rheums, coughs, catarrhs, we are but our living coffins;  
Beside, the fair souls old too, it grows covetous,  
Which shows all honour is departed from us,  
And we are earth again.  Cle. 
You make fair use Sir.  Val. 
I would not live to learn to lie Cleanthes  
For all the world, old men are prone to that too;  
Thou that hast been a Soldier, Menallo  
A noble Soldier, and defied all danger,  
Adopted thy brave arm the heir to victory,  
Wouldst thou live so long till thy strength forsook thee?  
Till thou grew'st only a long tedious story  
Of what thou hadst been? till thy sword hang by,  
And lazy Spiders filled the hilt with cobwebs?  Men: 
No sure, I would not.  Val. 
'Tis not fit ye should,  
To die a young man is to be an Angel,  
Our great good parts, put wings to our souls:  
we'll have a rouse before we go to bed friends,  
Pray ye tell me, is't a handsome Mask we have?  Cam. 
We understand so.  Val. 
And the young gent. dance?  Cle. 
They do Sir, and some dance well.  Val. 
They must before the Ladies,  
we'll have a rouse before we go to bed friends,  
A lusty one, 'twill make my blood dance too. Music  Cam. 
Ten if you please.  Val. 
And we'll be wondrous merry,  
They stay sure, come, I hear the Music forward,  
You shall have all Gloves presently. Exit.  Men. 
We attend Sir, but first we must look toth'  
Doors. Knocking within.  
The King has charged us. Exeunt.  Enter two Servants. 1 Serv. 
What a noise do you keep there, call my fellows  
o' the Guard; you must cease now until the King be  
Entered, he is gone toth' Temple now.  2 Serv. 
Look to that back door, and keep it fast,  
They swarm like Bees about it,  Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, Tony following, and Fool following. Cam. 
Keep back those Citizens, and let their wives in,  
Their handsome wives.  Ton. 
They have crowded me to Vergis,  
I sweat like a Butterbox.  1 Serv. 
Stand further off there.  Men. 
Take the women aside, and talk with 'em in private,  
Give 'em that they came for.  Ton. 
The whole Court cannot do it;  
Besides, the next Mask if we use 'em so,  
They'll come by millions to expect our largesse;  
We have broke a hundred heads.  Cle. 
Are they so tender?  Ton. 
But 'twas behind, before they have all murrions.  Cam. 
Let in those Ladies, make 'em room for shame there.  Ton. 
They are no Ladies, there's one bald before 'em,  
A gent. bald, they are kirtled queans in hired clothes,  
They come out of Spain I think, they are very sultry.  Men. 
Keep 'em in breath for an Ambassador.  Knocks within. 
methinks my nose shakes at their memories,  
What bounce's that?  Within. 
I am one of the Music Sir.  Within. 
I have sweetmeats for the banquet.  Cam. 
Let 'em in.  Ton. 
They lie my Lord, they come to seek their wives,  
Two broken Citizens.  Cam. 
Break 'em more, they are but bruised yet.  
Bold Rascals, offer to disturb your wives.  Clea. 
Lock the doors fast; the Music, hark, the King comes.  A Curtain drawn. The King, Queen, Valerio, Evanthe, Ladies, Attendants, Camillo, Cleanthes, Sorano, Menallo. A Mask. Cupid descends, the Graces sitting by him, Cupid being bound the Graces unbind him, he speaks. Cup. 
Unbind me, my delight, this night is mine,  
Now let me look upon what Stars here shine,  
Let me behold the beauties, then clap high  
My coloured wings, proud of my Deity;  
I am satisfied, bind me again, and fast,  
My angry Bow will make too great a waste  
Of beauty else, now call my Maskers in,  
Call with a Song, and let the sports begin;  
Call all my servants the effects of love,  
And to a measure let them nobly move.  
Come you servants of proud love,  
Come away:  
Fairly, nobly, gently move,  
Too long, too long you make us stay;  
Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear,  
Distrust and Jealousy, be you too here;  
Consuming Care, and raging Ire,  
And Poverty in poor attire,  
March fairly in, and last Despair;  
Now full Music strike the Air.  Enter the Maskers, Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear, Distrust, Jealousy, Care, Ire, Despair, they dance, after which Cupid speaks. Cup. 
Away, I have done, the day begins to light,  
Lovers, you know your fate, good night, good night.  Cupid and the Graces ascend in the Chariot. King. 
Come to the Banquet, when that's ended Sir,  
I'll see you a-bed, and so good night; be merry,  
You have a sweet bedfellow.  Val. 
I thank your Grace,  
And ever shall be bound unto your nobleness.  King. 
I pray I may deserve your thanks, set forward.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter divers Monks, Alphonso going to the Tomb, Rugio and friar Marco discover the Tomb and a Chair. Mar. 
THe night grows on, lead softly to the Tomb,  
And sing not till I bid ye; let the Music  
Play gently as he passes.  Rug. 
O fair picture,  
That wert the living hope of all our honours;  
How are we banished from the joy we dreamed of?  
Will he ne'er speak more?  Mar. 
'Tis full three months' Lord Rugio,  
Since any articulate sound came from his tongue,  
Set him down gently. Sits in Chair.  Rug. 
What should the reason be Sir?  Mar. 
As 'tis in nature with those loving Husbands,  
That sympathize their wives pains, and their throws  
When they are breeding, and 'tis usual too,  
We have it by experience so in him Sir,  
In this most noble spirit that now suffers;  
For when his honoured Father good Brandino  
Fell sick, he felt the griefs, and laboured with them,  
His fits and his disease he still inherited,  
Grew the same thing, and had not nature checked him,  
Strength, and ability, he had died that hour too.  Rug. 
Emblem of noble love!  Mar. 
That very minute  
His father's breath forsook him, that same instant,  
A rare example of his piety,  
And love paternal, the Organ of his tongue  
Was never heard to sound again; so near death  
He seeks to wait upon his worthy Father,  
But that we force his meat, he were one body.  Rug. 
He points toth' Tomb.  Mar. 
That is the place he honours,  
A house I fear he will not be long out of.  
He will toth' Tomb, good my Lord lend your hand;  
Now sing the Funeral Song, and let him kneel,  
For then he is pleased. A Song.  Rug. 
Heaven lend thy powerful hand,  
And ease this Prince.  Mar. 
He will pass back again. Exeunt.  Enter Valerio. Val. 
They drink abundantly, I am hot with wine too,  
Lustily warm, I'll steal now to my happiness,  
'Tis midnight, and the silent hour invites me,  
But she is up still, and attends the Queen;  
Thou dew of wine and sleep hang on their eyelids,  
Steep their dull senses in the healths they drink,  
That I may quickly find my loved Evanthe.  
The King is merry too, and drank unto me,  
Sign affair peace, O this night's blessedness!  
If I had forty heads I would give all for it.  
Is not the end of our ambitions,  
Of all our humane studies, and our travels,  
Of our desires, the obtaining of our wishes?  
Certain it is, and there man makes his Centre.  
I have obtained Enanthe, I have married her,  
Can any fortune keep me from enjoying her?  Enter Sorano. 
I have my wish, what's left me to accuse now?  
I am friends with all the world, but thy base malice;  
Go glory in thy mischiefs thou proud man,  
And cry it to the world thou hast ruined virtue;  
How I contemn thee and thy petty malice,  
And with what scorn I look down on thy practice.  Sor. 
You'll sing me a new Song anon Valerio,  
And wish these hot words—  Val. 
I despise thee fellow,  
Thy threats, or flatteries, all I fling behind me;  
I have my end, I have thy noble Sister,  
A name too worthy of thy blood; I have married her,  
And will enjoy her too.  Sor. 
'Tis very likely.  Val. 
And that short month I have to bless me with her  
I'll make an age, I'll reckon each embrace  
A year of pleasure, and each night a Jubilee,  
Every quick kiss a Spring; and when I mean  
To lose myself in all the delightfulness,  
Twenty sweet Summers I will tie together  
In spite of thee, and thy malignant Master:  
I will die old in love, though young in pleasure.  Sor. 
But that I hate thee deadly, I could pity thee,  
Thou art the poorest miserable thing  
This day on earth; I'll tell thee why Valerio,  
All thou esteemest, and buildest upon for happiness,  
For joy, for pleasure, for delight is past thee,  
And like a wanton dream already vanished.  Val. 
Is my love false?  Sor. 
No, she is constant to thee,  
Constant to all thy misery she shall be,  
And curse thee too.  Val. 
Is my strong body weakened,  
Charmed, or abused with subtle drink? speak villain.  Sor. 
Neither, I dare speak, thou art still as lusty  
As when thou lov'dst her first, as strong and hopeful,  
The month thou hast given thee is a month of misery,  
And where thou think'st each hour shall yield a pleasure  
Look for a killing pain, for thou shalt find it  
Before thou diest, each minute shall prepare it,  
And ring so many knells to sad afflictions;  
The King has given thee a long month to die in,  
And miserably die.  Val. 
Undo thy Riddle,  
I am prepared whatever fate shall follow.  Sor. 
Dost thou see this Ring?  Val. 
I know it too.  Sor. 
Then mark me,  
By virtue of this Ring this I pronounce to thee,  
'Tis the king's will.  Val. 
Let me know it suddenly.  Sor. 
If thou dost offer to touch Evanthe's body  
Beyond a kiss, though thou art married to her,  
And lawfully as thou think'st may'st enjoy her,  
That minute she shall die.  Val. 
O Devil—  Sor. 
If thou discover this command unto her,  
Or to a friend that shall importune thee,  
And why thou abstainest, and from whose will, ye all perish,  
Upon the selfsame forfeit are ye fitted Sir,  
Now if ye love her, ye may preserve her life still,  
If not, you know the worst, how falls your month out?  Val. 
This tyranny could never be invented  
But in the school of Hell, earth is too innocent;  
Not to enjoy her when she is my wife?  
When she is willing too?  Sor. 
She is most willing,  
And will run mad to miss; but if you hit her,  
Be sure you bit her home, and kill her with it;  
There are such women that will die with pleasure:  
The Axe will follow else, that will not fail  
To fetch her Maidenhead, and dispatch her quickly;  
Then shall the world know you are the cause of Murder,  
And as 'tis requisite your life shall pay for't.  Val. 
Thou dost but jest, thou canst not be so monstrous  
As thou proclaim'st thyself; thou art her Brother,  
and there must be a feeling heart within thee  
Of her afflictions; wert thou a stranger to us,  
And bred amongst wild rocks, thy nature wild too,  
Affection in thee as thy breeding, cold,  
And unrelenting as the rocks that nourished thee,  
Yet thou must shake to tell me this; they tremble  
When the rude sea threatens divorce amongst 'em,  
They that are senseless things shake at a tempest;  
Thou art a man—  Sor. 
Be thou too then, 'twill try thee,  
And patience now will best become thy nobleness.  Val. 
Invent some other torment to afflict me,  
All, if thou please, put all afflictions on me,  
Study thy brains out for 'em, so this be none  
I care not of what nature, nor what cruelty,  
Nor of what length.  Sor. 
This is enough to vex ye.  Val. 
The tale of Tantalus is now proved true,  
And from me shall be registered Authentic;  
To have my joys within my arms, and lawful,  
Mine own delights, yet dare not touch.  
Even as thou hatest me Brother, let no young man know this,  
As thou shalt hope for peace when thou most needest it,  
Peace in thy soul, desire the King to kill me,  
Make me a traitor, any thing, I'll yield to it,  
And give thee cause so I may die immediately;  
Lock me in Prison where no Sun may see me,  
In walls so thick no hope may ere come at me;  
Keep me from meat, and drink, and sleep, I'll bless thee;  
Give me some damned potion to deliver me,  
That I may never know myself again, forget  
My Country kindred, name and fortune; last,  
That my chaste love may never appear before me,  
This were some comfort.  Sor. 
All I have I have brought ye,  
And much may it do ye with it my dear Brother,  
See ye observe it well; you will find about ye  
Many eyes set, that shall o'erlook your actions,  
If you transgress ye know, and so I leave ye,  Val. 
Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet,  
And when you please, and how allay my miseries.  Enter Frederick. 
To whom I kneel be merciful unto me,  
Look on my harmless youth Angels of pity,  
And from my bleeding heart wipe off my sorrows,  
The power, the pride, the malice and injustice  
Of cruel men are bent against mine innocence.  
You that control the mighty wills of Princes,  
And bow their stubborn arms, look on my weakness,  
And when you please, and how, allay my miseries. Exit.  Fred. 
Hast thou been with him?  Sor. 
Yes, and given him that Sir  
Will make him curse his Birth; I told ye which way,  
Did you but see him Sir, but look upon him,  
With what a troubled and dejected nature  
He walks now in a mist, with what a silence,  
As if he were the  he wrapped himself in,  
And no more of Valerio but his shadow,  
He seeks obscurity to hide his thoughts in,  
You would wonder and admire for all you know it,  
His jollity is down, vailed to the ground Sir,  
And his high hopes of full delights and pleasures  
Are turned tormenters to him, strong diseases.  Fred. 
But is there hope of her?  Sor. 
It must fall necessary  
She must dislike him, quarrel with his person,  
For women once deluded are next Devils,  
And in the height of that opinion Sir,  
You shall put on again, and she must meet ye,  Fred. 
I am glad of this.  Sor. 
I'll tell ye all the circumstance  
Within this hour, but sure I heard your Grace  
Today as I attended, make some stops,  
Some broken speeches, and some sighs between,  
And then your Brother's name I heard distinctly,  
And some sad wishes after.  Fred. 
Ye are i'th' right Sir,  
I would he were as sad as I could wish him,  
Sad as the earth.  Sor. 
Would ye have it so?  Fred. 
Thou hearest me,  
Though he be sick with small hope of recovery,  
That hope still lives, and men's eyes live upon it,  
And in their eyes their wishes; my Soram,  
Were he but cold once in the tomb he dotes on,  
As 'tis the fittest place for melancholy,  
My Court should be another Paradise,  
And flow with all delights.  Sor. 
Go to your pleasures, let me alone with this,  
Hope shall not trouble ye, nor he three days.  Fred. 
I shall be bound unto thee.  Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthas, Menallo. Sor. 
I'll do it neatly too, no doubt shall catch me.  Fred. 
Be gone, they are going to bed, I'll bid good night to 'em.  Sor. 
And mark the man, you'll scarce know 'tis Valerio.  Exit. Cam. 
Cheer up my noble Lord, the minutes Come,  
You shall enjoy the abstract of all sweetness,  
We did you wrong you need no wine to warm ye,  
Desire shoots through your eyes like sudden wild-fires.  Val. 
Beshrew me Lords, the wine has made me dull,  
I am I know not what.  Fred. 
Good pleasure to ye,  
Good night and long too, as you find your appetite  
Yond may fall too.  Val. 
I do beseech your Grace,  
For which of all my loves and services  
Have I deserved this:  Fred. 
I am not bound to answer ye.  Val. 
Nor I bound to obey in unjust actions.  Fred. 
Do as you please, you know the penalty,  
And as I have a soul it shall be executed;  
Nay look not pale, I am not used to fear Sir,  
If you respect your Lady, good night to ye. Exit.  Val. 
But for respect to her and to my duty,  
That reverent duty that I owe my Sovereign,  
Which anger has no power to snatch me from,  
The good night should be thine; good night for ever,  
The King is wanton Lords, he would needs know of me  
How many nick chases I would make tonight.  Men. 
My Lord, no doubt you'll prove a perfect gamester.  Val. 
Faith no, I am unacquainted with the pleasure,  
Bungle a set I may, how my heart trembles,  
And beats my breast as it would break his way out  
Good night my noble friends.  Cle. 
Nay we must see you toward your bed my Lord:  Val. 
Good faith it needs not,  
'Tis late, and I shall trouble you.  Cam. 
No, no, till the Bride come Sir.  Val. 
I beseech you leave me,  
You will make me bashful else, I am so foolish,  
Besides, I have some few devotions Lords,  
And he that can pray with such a book in's arms—  Cam. 
we'll leave ye then, and a sweet night wait upon ye.  Men. 
And a sweet issue of this sweet night crown ye.  Cle. 
All nights and days be such till you grow old Sir.  Exeunt Lords. Val. 
I thank ye, 'tis a curse sufficient for me,  
A laboured one too, though you mean a blessing.  
What shall I do, I am like a wretched Debtor,  
That has a sum to tender on the forfeit  
Of all he is worth, yet dare not offer it.  
Other men see the Sun, yet I must wink at it;  
And though I know 'tis perfect day, deny it:  
My veins are all on fire, and burn like Aetna,  
Youth and desire beat larums to my blood,  
And add fresh fuel to my warm affections.  
I must enjoy her, yet when I consider,  
When I collect myself, and weigh her danger,  
The tyrant's will, and his power taught to murder,  
My tender care controls my blood within me,  
And like a cold fit of a peevish Ague  
Creeps to my soul, and flings an Ice upon me.  Enter Queen, Evanthe, Ladies, and Foole. 
That locks all powers of youth up but prevention;  
O what a blessedness 'twere to be old now,  
To be unable, bedrid with diseases,  
Or halt on Crutches to meet holy Hymen;  
What a rare benefit, but I'm cursed  
That that speaks other men most freely happy,  
And makes all eyes hang on their expectations,  
Must prove the bane of me youth, and ability.  
She comes to bed, how shall I entertain her?  Ton. 
Nay I come after too, take the fool with ye,  
For lightly he is ever one at Weddings.  Quee. 
Evanthe, make ye unready, our Lord stays for ye,  
And prithee be merry.  Ton. 
Be very merry, Chicken,  
Thy Lord will pipe to thee anon, and make thee dance too.  Lady. 
Will he so, goodman ass.  Ton. 
Yes goody filly,  
And you had such a Pipe, that piped so sweetly,  
You would dance to death, you have learned your sinque a pace.  Evan. 
Your Grace desires that that is too free in me,  
I am merry at the heart.  Ton. 
Thou wilt be anon, the young smug Boy will give thee a sweet cordial.  Evan. 
I am so taken up in all my thoughts,  
So possessed Madam with the lawful sweets  
I shall this night partake of with my Lord,  
So far transported (pardon my immodesty)  Val. 
Alas poor wench, how shall I recompense thee?  Evan. 
That though they must be short, and snatched away too,  
ere they grow ripe, yet I shall far prefer 'em  
Before a tedious pleasure with repentance.  Val. 
O how my heart aches.  Evan. 
Take off my Jewels Ladies,  
And let my Ruff loose, I shall bid good night to ye,  
My Lord stays here.  Quee. 
My wench, I thank thee heartily,  
For learning how to use thy few hours handsomely,  
They will be years I hope; off with your Gown now,  
Lay down the bed there?  Ton. 
Shall I get into it and warm it for thee, a fool's fire is a fine thing,  
And I'll so buss thee.  Quee. 
I'll have ye whipped ye rascal.  Ton. 
That will provoke me more, I'll talk with thy husband,  
He's a wise man I hope.  Evan. 
Good night dear Madam,  
Ladies, no further service, I am well,  
I do beseech your Grace to give us this leave,  
My Lord and I to one another freely,  
And privately, may do all other Ceremonies,  
Women and Page we'll be to one another,  
And trouble you no farther.  Ton. 
Art thou a wise man?  Val. 
I cannot tell thee Tony, ask my neighbours.  Ton. 
If thou be'st so, go lie with me tonight,  
The old fool will lie quieter than the young one,  
And give thee more sleep, thou wilt look tomorrow else  
Worse than the prodigal fool the Ballad speaks of,  
That was squeezed through a horn.  Val. 
I shall take thy counsel.  Quee. 
Why then good night, good night my best Evanthe,  
My worthy maid, and as that name shall vanish,  
A worthy wife, a long and happy; follow sirrah.  Evan. 
That shall be my care,  
Goodness rest with your Grace.  Quee. 
Be lusty Lord, and take your Lady to ye,  
And that power that shall part ye be unhappy.  Val. 
Sweet rest unto ye, to ye all sweet Ladies;  
Tony good night.  Ton. 
Shall not the Fool stay with thee?  Quee. 
Come away Sirrah. Exeunt Queen, Ladies.  Ton. 
How the Fool is sought for, sweet Malt is made of easy fire,  
A hasty horse will quickly tire, a sudden leper sticks i'th' mire,  
Phlebotomy and the word lie nigher, take heed of friend I thee require;  
This from an Almanac I stole, and learned this Lesson from a fool.  
Good night my Bird. Exit Tony  Evan. 
Good night wise Master Tony;  
Will ye to bed my Lord? Come, let me help ye.  Val. 
To bed Evanthe, art thou sleepy?  Evan. 
No, I shall be worse if you look sad upon me,  
Pray ye let's to bed.  Val. 
I am not well my love.  Evan. 
I'll make ye well, there's no such Physic for ye  
As your warm Mistress arms.  Val. 
Art thou so cunning?  Evan. 
I speak not by experience, pray ye mistake not;  
But if you love me—  Val. 
I do love so dearly,  
So much above the base bent of desire  
I know not how to answer thee.  Evan. 
To bed then,  
There I shall better credit yea; fie my Lord,  
Will ye put a maid too't, to teach ye what to do?  
An innocent maid? Are ye so cold a Lover?  
Intruth you make me blush, 'tis midnight too,  
And 'tis no stolen love, but authorised openly,  
No sin we covet, pray let me undress ye,  
You shall help me; prithee sweet Valerio;  
Be not so sad, the King will be more merciful.  Val. 
May not I love thy mind?  Evan. 
And I yours too,  
'Tis a most noble one, adorned with virtue;  
But if we love not one another really,  
And put our bodies and our minds together,  
And so make up the concord of affection,  
Our love will prove but a blind superstition:  
This is no school to argue in my Lord,  
Nor have we time to talk away allowed us,  
Pray let's dispatch, if any one should come  
And find us at this distance, what would they think?  
Come, kiss me and to bed.  Val. 
That I dare do, and kiss again.  Evan. 
Spare not, they are your own Sir.  Val. 
But to enjoy thee is to be luxurious,  
Too sensual in my love, and too ambitious;  
O how I burn! to pluck thee from the stalk,  
Where now thou growest a sweet bud and a beauteous,  
And bear'st the prime and honour of the Garden,  
Is but to violate thy spring, and spoil thee.  Evan. 
To let me blow, and fall alone would anger ye.  Val. 
Let's sit together thus, and as we sit  
Feed on the sweets of one another's souls,  
The happiness of love is contemplation,  
The blessedness of love is pure affection,  
Where no allay of actual dull desire,  
Of pleasure that partakes with wantonness,  
Of humane fire that burns out as it kindles,  
And leaves the body but a poor repentance,  
Can ever mix, let's six on that Evanthe,  
That's everlasting, the t'other casual;  
Eternity breeds one, the other Fortune,  
Blind as herself, and full of all afflictions.  
Shall we love virtuously?  Evan. 
I ever loved so.  Val 
And only think our love; the rarest pleasure,  
And that we most desire, let it be humane,  
If once enjoyed grows stale, and cloys our appetites;  
I would not lessen in my love for any thing,  
Nor find thee but the same in my short journey,  
For my love's safety.  Evan. 
Now I see I am old Sir,  
Old and ill-favoured too, poor and despised,  
And am not worth your noble Fellowship,  
Your fellowship in Love, you would not else  
Thus cunningly seek to betray a maid,  
A maid that honours you thus piously;  
Strive to abuse the pious love she brings ye.  
Farewell my Lord, since ye have a better Mistress,  
For it must seem so, or ye are no man,  
A younger, happier, I shall give her room,  
So much I love ye still.  Val. 
Stay my Evanthe;  
Heaven bear me witness, thou art all I love,  
All I desire, and now have pity on me,  
I never lied before; forgive me Justice,  
Youth and affection stop your ears unto me.  Evan. 
Why do you weep? if I have spoke too harshly,  
And unbeseeming my beloved Lord,  
My care and duty, pardon me.  Val. 
O hear me,  
Hear me Evanthe; I am all on torture  
And this lie tears my conscience as I vent it;  
I am no man.  Evan. 
How Sir?  Val. 
No man for pleasure, no woman's man,  Evan. 
Goodness forbid my Lord, sure you abuse yourself:  Val. 
'Tis true Evanthe;  
I shame to say you will find it. Weeps.  Evan. 
He weeps bitterly,  
'Tis my hard fortune, bless all young maids from it;  
Is there no help my Lord in Art will comfort ye?  Val. 
I hope there is.  Evan. 
How long have you been destitute?  Val. 
Since I was young.  Evan. 
'Tis hard to die for nothing,  
Now you shall know 'tis not the pleasure Sir,  
(For I am compelled to love you spiritually)  
That women aim at I affect ye for,  
'Tis for your worth; and kiss me, be at peace,  
Because I ever loved ye I still honoured ye,  
And with all duty to my Husband follow ye;  
Will ye to bed now? ye are ashamed it seems;  
Pygmalion prayed and his cold stone took life,  
You do not know with what zeal I shall ask Sir,  
And what rare miracle that may work upon ye;  
Still blush? prescribe your Law.  Val. 
I prithee pardon me,  
To bed, and I'll sit by thee, and mourn with thee,  
Mourn both our fortunes, our unhappy ones:  
Do not despise me, make me not more wretched,  
I pray to heaven when I am gone Evanthe,  
As my poor date is but a span of time now,  
To recompense thy noble patience,  
Thy love and virtue with a fruitful husband,  
Honest and honourable.  Evan. 
Come, you have made me weep now,  
All fond desire die here, and welcome chastity,  
Honour and chastity, do what you please Sir. Exeunt.    

Actus Quartus.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter at one door Rugio, and friar Marco, at the other door Sorano, with a little glass viol. Rug. 
WHat ails this piece of mischief to look sad?  
He seems to weep too.  Mar. 
Something is a hatching,  
And of some bloody nature too Lord Rugio,  
This Crocodile mourns thus cunningly.  Sor. 
Haile holy Father,  
And good day to the good Lord Rugio,  
How fares the sad Prince I beseech ye Sir?  Rug. 
'Tis like you know, you need not ask that question,  
You have your eyes and watches on his miseries  
As near as ours, I would they were as tender.  Mar. 
Can you do him good? as the King and you appointed him,  
So he is still, as you desired I think too,  
For every day he is worse (Heaven pardon all)  
Put off your sorrow, you may laugh now Lord,  
He cannot last long to disturb your Master,  
You have done worthy service to his Brother,  
And he most memorable love.  Sor. 
You do not know Sir  
With what remorse I ask, nor with what weariness  
I groan and bow under this load of honour,  
And how my soul sighs for the beastly services,  
I have done his pleasures, these be witness with me,  
And from your piety believe me Father,  
I would as willingly unclothe myself  
Of title, that becomes me not I know;  
Good men, and great names best agree together;  
Cast off the glorious favours, and the trappings  
Of sound and honour, wealth and promises,  
His wanton pleasures have flung on my weakness,  
And choose to serve my country's cause and virtues,  
Poorly and honestly, and redeem my rulnes,  
As I would hope remission of my mischiefs.  Rug. 
Old and experienced men my Lord Sorano,  
Are not so quickly caught with gilt hypocrisy,  
You pull your claws in now and fawn upon us,  
As lions do to entice poor foolish beasts;  
And beasts we should be too if we believed ye,  
Go exercise your Art.  Sor. 
For heaven sake scorn me not,  
Nor add more hell to my afflicted soul  
Then I feel here; as you are honourable,  
As you are charitable look gently on me,  
I will no more to Court, be no more Devil.  
I know I must be hated even of him  
That was my Love now, and the more he loves me  
For his foul ends, when they shall once appear to him,  
Muster before his conscience and accuse him,  
The fouler and the more falls his displeasure,  
Princes are fading things, so are their favours.  Mar. 
He weeps again, his heart is touched sure with remorse.  Sor. 
See this, and give me fair attention good my Lord,  
And worthy Father see, within this viol  
The remedy and cure of all my honour,  
And of the sad Prince lies.  Rug. 
What new trick's this?  Sor. 
'Tis true, I have done Offices abundantly  
Ill, and prodigious to the Prince Alphonso,  
And whilst I was a knave I sought his death too.  Rug. 
You are too late convicted to be good yet.  Sor. 
But Father, when I felt this part afflict me,  
This inward, and called me to an audit  
Of my misdeeds and mischiefs—  Mar. 
Well, go on Sir.  Sor. 
O then, then, then, what was my glory then Father?  
The favour of the King, what did that ease me?  
What was it to be bowed to by all creatures?  
Worshipped, and courted, what did this avail me?  
I was a wretch, a poor lost wretch.  Mar. 
Still better.  Sor. 
Till in the midst of all my grief I found  
Repentance, and a learned man to give the means to it,  
A Jew, an honest and a rare Physician,  
Of him I had this Jewel; 'tis a Jewel,  
And at the price of all my wealth I bought it:  
If the King knew it I must lose my head,  
And willingly, most willingly I would suffer,  
A child may take it, 'tis so sweet in working.  Mar. 
To whom would you apply it too?  Sor. 
To the sick Prince,  
It will in half a day dissolve his melancholy.  Rug. 
I do believe, and give him sleep for ever.  
What impudence is this, and what base malice,  
To make us instruments of thy abuses?  
Are we set here to poison him?  Sor. 
Mistake not, yet I must needs say, 'tis a noble care,  
And worthy virtuous servants; if you will see  
A flourishing estate again in Naples,  
And great Alphonso reign that's truly good,  
And like himself able to make all excellent;  
Give him this drink, & this good health unto him. Drinks  
I am not so desperate yet to kill myself,  
Never look on me as a guilty man,  
Nor on the water as a speedy poison:  
I am not mad, nor laid out all my treasure,  
My conscience and my credit to abuse ye;  
How nimbly and how cheerfully it works now  
Upon my heart and head, sure I am a new man  
There is no sadness that I feel within me,  
But as it meets it like a lazy vapour  
How it flies off. Here, give it him with speed,  
You are more guilty than I ever was,  
And worthier of the name of evil subjects:  
If but an hour you hold this from his health.  Rug. 
'Tis some rare virtuous thing sure, he is a good man,  
It must be so, come, let's apply it presently,  
And may it sweetly work.  Sor. 
Pray let me hear on't, and carry it close my Lords.  Mar. 
Yes, good Sorano. Exit Rugio, Marco.  Sor. 
Do my good fools, my honest pious coxcombs,  
My wary fools too, have I caught your wisdoms,  
You never dreamt I knew an Antidote,  
Nor how to take it to secure mine own life;  
I am an ass, go, give him the fine cordial,  
And when you have done go dig his grave, good Friar,  
Some two hours hence we shall have such a bawling,  
And roaring up and down for Aquavitae,  
Such rubbing, and such 'nointing, and such cooling,  
I have sent him that will make a bonfire in's belly,  
If he recover it, there is no heat in Hell sure. Exit.  Enter Frederick and Podrano. Fred. 
Podrano?  Pod. 
Sir.  Fred. 
Call hither Lord Valerio, and let none trouble us.  Pod. 
It shall be done Sir. Exit.  Enter Cassandra. Fred. 
I know he wants no additions to his tortures,  
He has enough for humane blood to carry,  
Yet I must vex him further;  
So many that I wonder his hot youth  
And highbred spirit breaks not into fury;  
I must yet torture him a little further,  
And make myself sport with his miseries,  
My anger is too poor else. Here he comes, Valerio.  
Now my young married Lord, how do you feel yourself?  
You have the happiness you ever aimed at  
The joy and pleasure.  Val. 
Would you had the like Sir.  Fred. 
You tumble in delights with your sweet Lady,  
And draw the minutes out in dear embraces,  
You live a right Lords life.  Val. 
Would you had tried it,  
That you might know the virtue but to suffer,  
Your anger though it be unjust and insolent,  
Sits handsomer upon you then your scorn,  
To do a wilful ill and glory in it,  
Is to do it double, double to be damned too.  Fred. 
Hast thou not found a loving and free Prince,  
High in his favours too; that has conferred  
Such hearts ease, and such heaps of comfort on thee,  
All thou couldst ask.  Val. 
You are too grown a tyrant  
Upon so suffering, and so still a subject;  
You have put upon me such a punishment,  
That if your youth were honest it would blush at:  
But you are a shame to nature, as to virtue.  
Pull not my rage upon ye, 'tis so just,  
It will give way to no respect; my life,  
My innocent life, I dare maintain it Sir,  
Like a wanton prodigal you have flung away,  
Had I a thousand more I would allow 'em,  
And be as careless of 'em as your will is;  
But to deny those rights the Law has given me,  
The holy Law, and make her life the penance,  
Is such a studied and unheard of malice,  
No heart that is not hired from Hell dare think of;  
To do it then too, when my hopes were high,  
High as my blood, all my desires upon me,  
My free affections ready to embrace her,  
And she mine own; do you smile at this, is't done well?  
Is there not heaven above you that sees all?  
Come hither Time, how does your noble Mistress?  Cass. 
As a Gentlewoman may do in her case that's newly married Sir:  
Sickly sometimes, and fond on't, like your Majesty.  Fred. 
She is breeding then?  Cass. 
She wants much of her colour,  
And has her qualms as Ladies use to have Sir,  
And her disgusts.  Fred. 
And keeps her chamber?  Cass. 
Yes Sir.  Fred. 
And eats good Broths and Jellies.  Cass. 
I am sure she sighs Sir, and weeps, good Lady.  Fred. 
Alas good Lady for it,  
She should have one could comfort her Cassandra,  
Could turn those tears to joys, a lusty comforter.  Cass. 
A comfortable man does well at all hours,  
For he brings comfortable things.  Fred. 
Come hither, & hold your face between, you have eaten Onions,  
Her breath stinks like a Fox, her teeth are contagious,  
These old women are all Elder-pipes, do ye mark me.  Gives a Purse. Cass. 
Yes Sir, but does your Grace think I am fit,  
That am both old and virtuous.  Fred. 
Therefore the fitter, the older still the better,  
I know thou art as holy as an old Cope,  
Yet upon necessary use.  Cass. 
'Tis true Sir.  Fred. 
Her feeling sense is fierce still, speak unto her,  
You are familiar; speak I say unto her,  
Speak to the purpose; tell her this, and this.  Cass. 
Alas, she is honest, Sir, she is very honest,  
And would you have my gravity—  Fred. 
ay, ay, your gravity will become the cause the better,  
I'll look thee out a Knight shall make thee a Lady too,  
A lust Knight, and one that shall be ruled by her;  
And add to these, I'll make 'em good, no mincing,  
Nor ducking out of nicety good Lady,  
But do it home, we'll all be friends to tell her;  
And such a joy—  Cass. 
That's It that stirs me up Sir,  
I would not for the world attempt her chastity,  
But that they may live lovingly hereafter.  Fred. 
For that I urge it too.  Cass. 
A little evil may well be suffered for a general good, Sir,  
I'll take my leave of your Majesty. Exit.  Enter Valerio. Fred. 
Go fortunately, be speedy too, here comes Valerio,  
If his affliction have allayed his spirit  
My work has end. Come hither Lord Valerio,  
How do you now?  Val. 
Your Majesty may guess,  
Not so well, nor so fortunate as you are,  
That can tie up men's honest wills and actions.  Fred. 
You have the happiness you ever aimed at,  
The joy, and pleasure.  Val. 
Would you had the like Sir.  Fred. 
You tumble in delights with your sweet Lady,  
And draw the minutes out in dear embraces,  
You lead a right Lords life.  Val. 
Would you had tried it,  
That you might know the virtue but to suffer,  
If anger, though it be unjust and insolent  
Sits handsomer upon you then your scorn, Sir.  Fred. 
Yond clearly see now brave Valerio  
What 'tis to be the rival to a Prince,  
To interpose against a raging Lion;  
I know you have suffered, infinitely suffered,  
And with a kind of pity I behold it,  
And if you dare be worthy of my mercy,  
I can yet heal you; yield up your Evanthe,  
Take off my sentence also.  Val. 
I fall thus low Sir,  
My poor sad heart under your feet I lay,  
And all the service of my life.  Fred. 
Do this then, for without this 'twill be impossible,  
Part with her for a while.  Val. 
You have parted us,  
What should I do with that I cannot use Sir?  Fred. 
'Tis well considered, let me have the Lady,  
And thou shalt see how nobly I'll befriend thee,  
How all this difference.  Val. 
Will she come, do you think Sir?  Fred. 
She must be wrought, I know she is too modest,  
And gently wrought, and cunningly.  Val. 
'I is fit Sir.  Fred. 
And secretly it must be done.  Val. 
As thought.  Fred. 
I'll warrant ye, her honour shall be fair still,  
No foil nor stain shall appear on that, Valerio,  
You see a thousand that bear sober faces,  
And show of as inimitable modesties;  
You would be sworn to that they were pure Matrons,  
And most chaste maids; and yet to augment their fortunes  
And get them noble friends—  Val. 
They are content Sir,  
In private to bestow their beauties on 'em.  Fred. 
They are so, and they are wise, they know no want for't,  
Nor no eye sees they want their honesties.  Val. 
If it might be carried thus.  Fred. 
It shall be Sir.  Val. 
I'll see you dead first, with this caution,  
Why sure I think it might be done.  Fred. 
Yes, easily.  Val. 
For what time would your Grace desire her body?  Fred. 
A month or two, it shall be carried still  
As if she kept with you, and were a stranger,  
Rather a hater of the Grace I offer:  
And then I will return her with such honour—  Val. 
'Tis very like I dote much on your honour.  Fred. 
And load her with such favour to Valerio—  Val. 
She never shall claw off, I humbly thank ye.  Fred. 
I'll make ye both the happiest, and the richest,  
And the mightiest too—  Val. 
But who shall work her Sir,  
For on my conscience she is very honest,  
And will be hard to cut as a rough Diamond?  Fred. 
Why you must work her, any thing from your tongue,  
Set off with golden and persuasive language,  
Urging your dangers too.  Val. 
But all this time  
Have you the conscience Sir to leave me nothing,  
Nothing to play withal?  Fred. 
There be a thousand, take where thou wilt.  Val. 
May I make bold with your Queen,  
She is useless to your Grace as it appeals Sir,  
And but a loyal wife that may be lost too;  
I have a mind to her, and then 'tis equal?  Fred. 
How Sir?  Val. 
'Tis so Sir, thou most glorious impudence,  
Have I not wrongs enough to suffer under,  
But thou must pick me out to make a monster?  
A hated wonder to the world? Do you start  
At my entrenching on your private liberty,  
And would you force a highway through mine honour,  
And make me pave it too? but that thy Queen  
Is of that excellence in honesty,  
And guarded with Divinity about her,  
No loose thought can come near, nor flame unhollowed,  
I would so right myself.  Fred. 
Why take her to ye,  
I am not vexed at this, thou shalt enjoy her,  
I'll be thy friend if that may win thy courtesy.  Val. 
I will not be your Bawd though for your Royalty  
Was I brought up, and nourished in the Court,  
With thy most Royal Brother and thyself,  
Upon thy Father's charge, thy happy Fathers,  
And sucked the sweetness of all humane Arts,  
learned arms and honour to become a rascal;  
Was this the expectation of my youth,  
My growth of honour? Do ye speak this truly,  
Or do ye try me Sir? for I believe not,  
At least I would not, and methinks 'tis impossible  
There should be such a Devil in a king's shape,  
Such a malignant Fiend.  Fred. 
I thank ye Sir,  
Tomorrow is your last day, and look to it,  
Get from my light, away.  Val. 
Ye are, Oh, my heat's too high and full to think upon ye. Exeunt.  Enter Evanthe and Cassandra. Evan. 
You think it fit then mortified Cassandra,  
That I should be a Whore?  Cass. 
Why a whore, Madam?  
If every woman that upon necessity  
Did a good turn, for there's the main point, mark it,  
Were termed a whore, who would be honest, Madam?  
Your Lords life and your own are now in hazard,  
Two precious lives may be redeemed with nothing,  
Little or nothing; say an hours or day's sport,  
Or such a toy, the end to it is wantonness.  
(That we call lust that maidens lose their fame for)  
But a compelled necessity of honour,  
Fair as the day, and clear as innocence,  
Upon my life and conscience a direct way.—  Evan. 
To be a rascal.  Cass. 
'Tis a kind of Rape too,  
That keeps you clear, for where your will's compelled,  
Though you yield up your body you are safe still.  Evan. 
Thou art grown a learned Bawd, I ever looked  
Thy great sufficiency would break out.  Cass. 
You may,  
You that are young and fair scorn us old creatures,  
But you must know my years ere you be wise Lady,  
And my experience too; say the King loved ye?  
Say it were nothing else?  Evan. 
I marry wench, now thou comest to me.  Cass. 
Do you think Princes favours are such slight things,  
To fling away when you please? there be young Ladies  
Both fair and honourable, that would leap to reach 'em,  
And leap aloft too.  Evan. 
Such are light enough;  
I am no Valter, wench, but canst thou tell me,  
Though he be a King, whether he be sound or no?  
I would not give my youth up to infection.  Cass. 
As found as honour ought to be, I think Lady;  
Go too, be wise, I do not bid you try him;  
But if he love you well, and you neglect him,  
Your Lords life hanging on the hazard of it,  
If you be so wilful proud.  Evan. 
Thou speakest to the point still;  
But when I have lain with him, what am I then, Gentlewoman?  Cass. 
What are you? why the same you are now, a Woman,  
A virtuous woman, and a noble woman,  
Touching at what is noble, you become so.  
Had Lucrece e'er been thought of, but for Tarquin?  
She was before a simple unknown woman,  
When she was ravished, she was a reverent Saint;  
And do you think she yielded not a little?  
And had a kind of will to have been re-ravished?  
Believe it yes: There are a thousand stories  
Of wondrous loyal women, that have slipped,  
But it has been on the ice of tender honour,  
That kept 'em cool still to the world, I think you are blessed,  
That have such art occasion in your hands to beget a Chronicle,  
A faithful one.  Evan. 
It must needs be much honour.  Cass. 
As you may make it, infinite and safe too,  
And when; 'tis done, your Lord and you may live  
So quietly and peaceably together,  
And be what you please.  Evan. 
But suppose this, wench,  
The King should so delight me with his company,  
I should forget my Lord, and no more look on him.  Cass. 
That's the main hazard, for I tell you truly,  
I have heard report speak, is an infinite pleasure,  
Almost above belief: there be some Ladies,  
And modest to the world too, wondrous modest,  
That have had the blessedness to try his body,  
That I have heard proclaim him a new Hercules.  Evan. 
So strongly able?  Cassan. 
There will be the danger,  
You being but a young and tender Lady,  
Although your mind be good, yet your weak body,  
At first encounter too, to meet with one  
Of his unconquered strength.  Evan. 
Peace thou rude bawd,  
Thou studied old corruptness, tie thy tongue up,  
Your hired base tongue; is this your timely counsel?  
Dost thou seek to make me dote on wickedness?  
Because 'tis ten times worse than thou deliverest it?  
To be a whore, because he has sufficiency,  
To make a hundred? O thou impudence,  
Have I relieved thy age to mine own ruin?  
And worn thee in my bosom to betray me?  
Can years and impotence win nothing on thee  
That's good and honest, but thou must go on still?  
And where thy blood wants heat to sin thyself,  
Force thy decrepit will to make me wicked.  Cass. 
I did but tell ye.  Evan. 
What the damnedest woman,  
The cunningest and the skilfullest bawd comes short of:  
If thou hadst lived ten ages to be damned in,  
And exercised this art the Devil taught thee,  
Thou couldst not have expressed it more exactly.  Cass. 
I did not bid you sin.  Evan. 
Thou wouldst me to it,  
Thou that art fit for prayer and the grave,  
Thy body earth already, and corruption,  
Thou taughtest the way; go follow your fine function,  
There are houses of delight, that want good Matrons,  
Such grave instructors, get thee thither monster,  
And read variety of sins to wantons,  
And whey they roar with pains, learn to make plasters.  Cass. 
This we have for our good wills.  Evan. 
If e'er I see thee more,  
Or any thing that's like thee, to affright me,  
By this fair light I'll spoil thy bawdry,  
I'll leave thee neither eyes nor nose to grace thee,  
When thou wantest bread, and common pity towards thee,  Enter Frederick. 
And art a starving in a ditch, think of me,  
Then die, and let, the wandering bawds lament thee;  
Be gone, I charge thee, leave me.  Cass. 
You'll repent this. Exit.  Fred. 
She's angry, and tother crying too, my suit's cold;  
I'll make your heart ache, stubborn wench, for this;  
Turn not so angry from me, I will speak to you,  
Are you grown proud with your delight, good Lady,  
So pampered with your sport, you scorn to know me?  Evan. 
I scorn ye not, I would you scorned not me, Sir,  
And forced me to be weary of my duty,  
I know your Grace, would I had never seen ye.  Fred. 
Because I love you, because I dote upon ye,  
Because I am a man that seek to please ye.  Evan. 
I have man enough already to content me,  
As much, as noble, and as worthy of me,  
As all the world can yield.  Fred. 
That's but your modesty,  
You have no man, nay never look upon me,  
I know it Lady, no man to content ye,  
No man that can, or at the least that dare,  
Which is a poorer man, and nearer nothing.  Evan. 
Be nobler, Sir, informed.  Fred. 
I'll tell thee, wench,  
The poor condition of this poorer fellow,  
And make thee blush for shame at thine own error,  
He never tendered yet a husband's duty,  
To thy warm longing bed.  Evan. 
How should he know that?  Fred. 
I am sure he did not, for I charged him no,  
Upon his life I charged him, but to try him;  
Could any brave or noble spirit stop here?  
Was life to be preserved before affection?  
Lawful, and longed for too?  Evan. 
Did you command him?  Fred. 
I did in policy to try his spirit.  Evan. 
And could he be so dead cold to observe it?  
Brought I no beauty? nor no love along with me?  Fred. 
Why what is it that makes me scorn to name him?  
I should have loved him, if he had ventured for't,  
Nay, doted on his bravery.  Evan. 
Only charged?  
And with that spell sit down? dare men fight bravely  
For poor slight things, for drink or ostentation?  
And there endanger both their lives and fortunes,  
And for their lawful love's fly off with fear?  Fred. 
'Tis true, and with a cunning base fear too to abuse thee;  
Made thee believe, poor innocent Evanthe,  
Wretched young girl it was his impotency;  
Was it not so? deny it.  Evan. 
O my anger, at my years to be cozened with a young man!  Fred, 
A strong man too, certain he loved ye dearly.  Evan. 
To have my shame and love mingled together,  
And both flung on me like a wait to sink me,  
I would have died a thousand times.  Fred. 
So would any,  
Any that had the spirit of a man;  
I would have been killed in your arms.  Evan. 
I would he had been,  
And buried in mine arms, that had been noble,  
And what a monument would I have made him?  
Upon this breast he should have slept in peace,  
Honour, and everlasting love his mourners;  
And I still weeping till old time had turned me,  
And pitying powers above into pure crystal.  Fred. 
Hadst thou loved me, and had my way been stuck  
With deaths, as thick as frosty nights with stars,  
I would have ventured.  Evan. 
Sure there is some trick in't; Valerio ne'er was coward.  Fred. 
Worse than this too,  
Tamer, and seasoning of a baser nature,  
He set your woman on ye to betray ye,  
Your bawdy woman, or your sin solicitor:  
I pray but think what this man may deserve now,  
I know he did, and did it to please me too.  Evan. 
Good Sir afflict me not too fast, I feel  
I am a woman, and a wronged one too,  
And sensible I am of my abuses,  
Sir, you have loved me.  Fred. 
And I love thee still, pity thy wrongs, and dote upon thy person.  Evan. 
To set my woman on me 'twas too base Sir.  Fred. 
Abominable vild.  Evan. 
But I shall fit him.  Fred. 
All reason and all Law allows it to ye,  
And ye are a fool, a tame fool, if you spare him.  Evan. 
You may speak now, and happily prevail too,  
And I beseech your Grace be angry with me.  Fred. 
I am at heart. She staggers in her faith,  
And will fall off I hope, I'll ply her still.  
Thou abused innocence, I suffer with thee  
If I should give him life, he would still betray thee;  
That fool that fears to die for such a beauty,  
Would for the same fear sell thee unto misery?  
I do not say he would have been bawd himself too.  Evan. 
Followed thus far? nay then I smell the malice,  
It tastes too hot of practised wickedness,  
There can be no such man, I am sure no Gentleman:  
Shall my anger make me whore, and not my pleasure?  
My sudden unconsiderate rage abuse me?  
Come home again, my frighted faith, my virtue,  
Home to my heart again: he be a bawd too?  Fred. 
I will not say, he offered fair Evanthe.  Evan. 
Nor do not dare, 'twill bean impudence,  
And not an honour for a Prince to lie;  
Fie Sir, a person of your rank to trifle,  
I know you do lie.  Fred. 
How?  Evan. 
Lie shamefully, and I could wish myself a man but one day,  
To tell you openly you lie too, basely.  Fred. 
Take heed wild fool.  Evan. 
Take thou heed thou tame Devil,  
Thou all Pandora's box in a king's figure,  
Thou hast almost whored my weak belief already,  
And like an Engineer blown up mine honour;  
But I shall countermine, and catch your mischief,  
This little Fort you seek, I shall man nobly,  
And strongly too, with chaste obedience  
To my dear Lord, with virtuous thoughts that scorn ye.  
Victorious Tameris ne'er won more honour  
In cutting off the Royal head of Cyrus,  
Than I shall do in conquering thee; farewell,  
And if thou canst be wise, learn to be good too,  
'Twill give thee nobler lights than both thine eyes do;  
My poor Lord and myself are bound to suffer,  
And when I see him faint under your sentence,  
I'll tell ye more, it may be then I'll yield too.  Fred. 
Fool, unexampled, shall my anger follow thee?  Exeunt. Enter Rugio, and friar Marco, amazed. Rugio. 
Cursed on our sights, our fond credulities,  
A thousand curses on the slave that cheated us.  
The damned slave.  Mar. 
We have e'en shamed our service,  
Brought our best care and loyalties to nothing,  
'Tis the most fearful poison, the most potent,  
Heaven give him patience; oh it works most strongly,  
And tears him Lord.  Rug. 
That we should be so stupid,  
To trust the arrantest villain that e'er flattered,  
The bloodiest too, to believe a few soft words from him,  
And give way to his prepared tears.  Within Alpbonso. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Rug. 
Hark friar Marco, hark, the poor Prince, that we should he such blockheads,  
As to be taken with his drinking first?  
And never think what Antidotes are made for?  
Two wooden sculls we have, and we deserve to be hanged for't;  
For certainly it will be laid to our charge;  
As certain too, it will dispatch him speedily,  
Which way to turn, or what to—  Mar. 
Let's pray, heaven's hand is strong.  Rug. 
The Poisons strong, you would say.  Enter Alphonso, carried in a Coach by two Friars. 
Would any thing— He comes, let's give him comfort.  Alphon. 
Give me more air, air, more air, blow, blow,  
Open thou Eastern gate, and blow upon me,  
Distil thy cold dews, O thou icy Moon,  
And rivers run through my afflicted spirit,  
I am all fire, fire, fire, the raging dog star  
Reins in my blood, oh which way shall I turn me?  
AEtna and all his flames burn in my head,  
Fling me into the Ocean or I perish:  
Dig, dig, dig, till the springs fly up,  
The cold, cold springs, that I may leap into 'em,  
And bathe my scorcht limbs in their purling pleasures;  
Or shoot me up into the higher Region,  
Where treasures of delicious snow are nourished,  
And banquets of sweet hail.  Rug. 
Hold him fast friar, O how he burns!  Alph. 
What will ye sacrifice me?  
Upon the Altar lay my willing body?  
And pile your wood up, fling your holy incense?  
And as I turn me you shall see all flame,  
Consuming flame, stand off me, or you are ashes.  Both. 
Most miserable wretches.  Alph. 
Bring hither charity  
And let me hug her, Flyer, they say she's cold,  
Infinite cold, devotion cannot warm her;  
Draw me a river of false lovers tears  
Clean through my breast, they are dull, cold, and forgetful,  
And will give ease, let Virgins sigh upon me,  
Forsaken souls, the sighs are precious,  
Let them all sigh: oh hell, hell, hell, oh horror.  Mar. 
To bed, good Sir.  Alpha. 
My bed will burn about me,  
Like Phaeton, in all consuming flashes  
I am enclosed, let me fly, let me fly, give room;  
Betwixt the cold bear, and the raging Lion  
Lies my safe way; O for a cake of ice now,  
To clap unto my heart to comfort me;  
Decrepit winter hang upon my shoulders,  
And let me we are thy frozen icicles  
Like Jewels round about my head, to cool me;  
My eyes burn out, and sink into their sockets,  
And my infected brain like brimstone boil,  
I live in hell, and several furies vex me;  
O carry me where no Sun ever showed yet  
A face of comfort, where the earth is crystal,  
Never to be dissolved, where nought inhabits  
But night and cold, and nipping frosts, and winds  
That cut the stubborn rocks, and make them shiver;  
Set me there friends.  Rug. 
Hold fast, he must to bed friar, what scalding sweats he has?  Mar. 
He'll scalded in hell for't, that was the cause.  Alph. 
Drink, drink, a world of drink,  
Fill all the cups, and all the antic vessels,  
And borrow pots, let me have drink enough,  
Bring all the worthy drunkards of the time,  
The experienced drunkards, let me have them all,  
And let them drink their worst, I'll make them Idiots,  
I'll lie upon my Back and swallow Vessels;  
Have Rivers made of cooling wine run through me,  
Not stay for this man's health, or this great Princes,  
But take an Ocean, and begin to all; oh, oh.  Mar. 
He cools a little, now away with him,  
And to his warm bed presently.  Alph. 
No drink? no wind? no cooling air?  Rug. 
You shall have any thing.  
His hot fit lessens, Heaven put in a hand now,  
And save his life; there's drink Sir in your chamber,  
And all cool things.  Alph. 
Away, away, let's fly to'em. Exeunt.  Enter Valerio and Evanthe. Evan. 
To say you were impotent, I am ashamed on't,  
To make yourself no man, to a fresh maid too,  
A longing maid, upon her wedding night also,  
To give her such a dor.  Val. 
I prithee pardon me.  Evan. 
Had you been drunk, 'thad been excusable,  
Or like a Gentleman under the Surgeons hands,  
And so not able, there had been some colour,  
But wretchedly to take a weakness to ye,  
A fearful weakness, to abuse your body,  
And let a lie work like a spell upon ye,  
A lie, to save your life.  Val. 
Will you give me leave sweet?  Evan. 
You have taken too much leave, and too base leave too,  
To wrong your Love; hast thou a noble spirit?  
And canst thou look up to the people's loves,  
That call thee worthy, and not blush Valerio?  
Canst thou behold me that thou hast betrayed thus?  
And no shame touch thee?  Val. 
Shame attend the sinful, I know my innocence.  Evan. 
ne'er think to face it, that's a double weakness,  
And shows thee falser still; the King himself,  
Though he be wicked, and our Enemy,  
But juster than thine, in pity of my injuries,  
Told me the truth.  Val. 
What did he tell Evanthe?  Evan. 
That but to gain thy life a fortnight longer,  
Thy loved poor life, thou gav'st up all my duties.  Val. 
I swear 'tis false, my life and death a recital,  
I have weir'd 'em both, and find'em but one fortune,  
But Kings are men, and live as men, and die too,  
Have the affection's men have, and their falsehoods;  
Indeed they have more power to make 'em good;  
The King's to blame, it was to save thy life wench,  
Thy innocent life, that I forbore thy bed,  
For if I had touched thee thou hadst died, he swore it.  Evan. 
And was not I as worthy to die nobly?  
To make a story for the times that follows,  
As he that married me? what weakness, Sir,  
Or disability do you see in me,  
Either in mind or body? to defraud me  
Of Such an opportunity? Do you think I married you  
Only for pleasure, or content in lust?  
To lull you in mine arms, and kiss you hourly?  
Was this my end? I might have been a Queen, Sir,  
If that had caught me, and have known all delicates;  
There's few that would have shunned so fair an offer,  
O thou unfaithful fearful man, thou hast killed me,  
In saving me this way, thou hast destroyed me,  
robbed me of that thy love can never give more;  
To be unable to save me? O misery!  
Had I been my Valerio, thou Evanthe,  
I would have lain with thee under a Gallows,  
Though the Hangman had been my Hymen, and the furies  
With iron whips and forks, ready to torture me,  
I would have hugged thee too, though hell had gaped at me;  
Save my life! that expected to die bravely,  
That would have wooed it too? Would I had married  
An Eunuch, that had truly no ability,  
Than such a fearful liar, thou hast done me  
A scurvy courtesy, that has undone me.  Val. 
I'll do no more, since you are so nobly fashioned,  
Made up so strongly, I'll take my share with ye,  
Nay dear, I'll learn of you.  Evan. 
He weeps too tenderly;  
My anger's gone, good my Lord pardon me,  
And if I have offended, be more angry,  
It was a woman's flash, a sudden valour,  
That could not lie concealed.  Val. 
I honour ye by all the rights of holy marriage,  
And pleasures of chaste love, I wonder at ye,  
You appear the vision of a Heaven unto me,  
Stuck all with stars of honour shining clearly,  
And all the motions of your mind celestial;  
Man is a lump of earth, the best man spiritless,  
To such a woman; all our lives and actions  
But counterfeits in Arras to this virtue;  
Chide me again, you have so brave an anger,  
And flows so nobly from you, thus delivered,  
That I could suffer like a child to hear ye,  
Nay make myself guilty of some faults to honour ye.  Evan. 
I'll chide no more, you have robbed me of my courage.  
And with a cunning patience checked my impudence;  
Once more forgiveness? She kneels. Kisses her.  Val. 
Will this serve Evanthe?  
And this my love? heaven's mercy be upon us;  
But did he tell no more?  Evan. 
Only this trifle: You set my woman on me, to betray me;  
'Tis true, she did her best, a bad old woman,  
It stirred me Sir.  Val. 
I cannot blame thee, Jewel.  Evan. 
And methought when your name was sounded that way—  Val. 
He that will spare no fame, will spare no name Sweet;  
Though as I am a man, I am full of weakness,  
And may slip happily into some ignorance,  
Yet at my years to be a bawd, and cozen  
Mine own hopes with my Doctrine—  Evan. 
I believe not, nor never shall; our time is out tomorrow.  Val. 
Let's be too night then full of fruitfulness,  
Now we are both of one mind, let's be happy,  
I am no more a wanting man Evanthe,  
Thy warm embraces shall dissolve that impotence,  
And my cold lie shall vanish with thy kisses;  
You hours of night be long, 'as when Alemena  
Lay by the lusty side of Jupiter;  
Keep back the day, and hide his golden beams,  
Where the chaste watchful morning may not find 'em;  
Old doting Tithon hold Aurora fast,  
And though she blush the daybreak from her cheeks,  
Conceal her still; thou heavy Walne stand firm,  
And stop the quicker revolutions;  
Or if the day must come, to spoil our happiness,  
Thou envious Sun peep not upon our pleasure,  
Thou that all Lovers curse, be far off from us.  Enter Castruchio with Guard. Evan. 
Then let's to bed, and this night in all joys  
And chaste delights—  Cast. 
Stay, I must part ye both;  
It is the king's command, who bids me tell ye,  
Tomorrow is your last hour.  Val. 
I obey, Sir,  
In Heaven we shall meet, Captain, where King Frederick  
Dare not appear to part us.  Cast. 
Mistake me not, though I am rough in doing of my Office,  
You shall find, Sir, you have a friend to honour ye.  Val. 
I thank ye Sir.  Evan. 
Pray Captain tell the King,  
They that are sad on Earth, in Heaven shall sing.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter friar Marco, and Rugio. Rug. 
HAve you writ to the Captain of the Castle?  Mar. 
Yes, and charged him  
Upon his soul's health, that he be not cruel,  
Told him Valerio's worth among the people,  
And how it must be punished in posterity,  
Though he scape now.  Rug. 
But will not he, friar Marco, betray this to the King?  Mar. 
Though he be stubborn, and of a rugged nature,  
yet he is honest,  
And honours much Valerio.  Rug. 
How does Alphonso?  
For now methinks my heart is light again,  
And pale fear fled.  Mar. 
He is as well as I am;  
The Rogue against his will has said his life,  
A desperate poison has recured the Prince.  Rug. 
To me 'tis most miraculous.  Mar. 
To me too, till I consider why it should do so,  
And now I have found it a most excellent Physic,  
It wrought upon the dull cold misty parts,  
That clogged his soul, which was another poison,  
A desperate too, and found such matter there,  
And such abundance also to resist it,  
And wear away the dangerous heat it brought with it,  
The pure blood and the spirits scaped untainted.  Rug, 
'Twas heaven's high hand, none of Sorano's pity.  Mar. 
Most certain 'twas, had the malicious villain  Enter Castruchio 
Given him a cooling poison, he had paid him.  Rug. 
The Captain of the Castle.  Mar. 
O ye Are welcome, how does your Prisoner?  Cast. 
He must go for dead;  
But when I do in deed of so much villainy,  
I'll have my skin pulled o'er mine ears, my Lord,  Enter Alphonso, and Friars, 
Though I am the Kings, I am none of his abuses;  
How does your Royal Charge? that I might see once.  Mar. 
I pray see now, you are a trusty Gentleman.  Alph. 
Good Fathers, I thank Heaven, I feel no sickness,  Cast. 
He speaks again.  Alph. 
Nothing that bars the free use of my spirit,  
methinks the air's sweet to me, and company  
A thing I covet now Castruchio.  Cast. 
Sir, he speaks, and knows, for Heaven sake break my pate Lord,  
That I may be sure I sleep not.  Alph. 
Thou wert honest.  
Ever among the rank of good men counted,  
I have been absent long out of the world,  
A dream I have lived, how does it look Castruchio?  
What wonders are abroad?  Cast. 
I fling off duty to your dead Brother, for he is  
dead in goodness,  
And to the living hope of brave Alphonso,  
The noble heir of nature, and of honour,  
I fasten my Allegiance.  Mar. 
Softly Captain, we dare not trust the air with this blessed secret,  
Good Sir, be close again, heaven has restored ye,  
And by miraculous means, to your fair health,  
And made the instrument your enemy's malice,  
Which does prognosticate your noble fortune;  
Let not our careless joy lose you again, Sir,  
Help to deliver ye to a further danger,  
I pray you pass in, and rest a while forgotten,  
For if your brother come to know you are well again,  
And ready to inherit as your right,  
Before we have strength enough to assure your life,  
What will become of you? and what shall we  
Deserve in all opinions that are honest,  
For our loss of judgement, care, and loyalty?  Rug. 
Dear Sir, pass in, Heaven has begun the work,  
And blessed us all, let our endeavours follow,  
To preserve this blessing to our timely uses,  
And bring it to the noble end we aim at;  
Let our cares work now, and our eyes pick out  
An hour to show ye safely to your Subjects,  
A secure hour.  Alph. 
I am counselled; ye are faithful,  Cast. 
Which hour shall not be long, as we shall handle it.  
Once more the tender of my duty.  Alph. 
Thank ye.  Castr. 
Keep you the Monastery.  Rug. 
Strong enough I'll warrant ye. Exeunt.  Enter the Fool, and Podrano. Pod. 
Who are all these that crowd about the Court Fool?  
Those strange new faces?  Foole. 
They are Suitors Coxcomb,  
Dainty fine Suitors to the widow Lady,  
Thou hadst best make one of 'em, thou wilt be hanged as handsomely  
At the month's end, and with as much joy followed,  
And 'twere tomorrow; as many mourning bawds for thee,  
And holy Nuns, whose vestal fire ne'er vanishes,  
In sackcloth smocks, as if thou wert Heir apparent  
To all the impious Suburbs, and the sink-holes.  Pod. 
Out you base rogue.  Foole. 
Why dost abuse thyself,  
Thou art to blame, I take thee for a Gentleman,  
But why does not thy Lord and Master marry her?  Pod. 
Why, she is his sister.  Foole. 
'Tis the better Fool,  
He may make bold with his own flesh and blood,  
For a my conscience there's none else will trust him,  
Than he may pleasure the King at a dead pinch too,  
Without a Mephestophilus, such as thou art,  
And engross the royal disease like a true Subject.  Pod. 
Thou wilt be whipped.  Foole. 
I am sure thou wilt be hanged,  
I have lost a Ducat else, which I would be loath to venture Without certainty. They appear.  Pod. 
Why these are rascals.  Foole. 
They were meant to be so, does thy Master deserve better kindre?  Pod. 
there's an old Lawyer,  
Trimmed up like a Galley Foist, what would he do with her?  Foole. 
As Usurers do with their Gold, he would look on her,  
And read her over once a day, like A hard report,  
Feed his dull eye, and keep his fingers itching;  
For any thing else, she may appeal to a Parliament;  
Sub Paena's and Post Kaes have spoiled his Cod piece;  
There's a Physician too, older than he,  
And Galen Gallenatius, but he has lost his spurs,  
He would be nibbling too.  Pod. 
I marked the man, if he be a man.  Foole. 
Has much ado to be so,  
searcloths and syrups glue him close together,  
He would fall a pieces else; mending of she patients,  
And then trying whether they be right or no,  
In his own person, there's the honest care an't,  
Has mollified the man; if he do marry her,  
And come but to warm him well at Cupid's bonfire,  
He will bulge so subtly and suddenly,  
You may snatch him up by parcels, like a Sea Rack:  
Will your Worship go, and look upon the res, Sir?  
And hear what they can say for themselves.  Pod. 
I'll follow thee. Exeunt.  Enter Camillo, Menallo, Cleanthes, Castruchio. Cam. 
You tell us wonders.  Cast. 
But I tell you truths, they are both well.  Men. 
Why are not we in Arms then?  
And all the Island given to know—  Cast. 
Discreetly and privately it must be done, 'twill miss else,  
And prove our ruins; most of the noble Citizens  
Know it by me, and stay the hour to attend it,  
Prepare your hearts and friends, let theirs be right too,  
And keep about the King to avoid suspicion;  Enter Frederick and Socano. 
When you shall hear the Castle Bell, take courage,  
And stand like men, away, the King is coming. Exeunt Lords.  Fre. 
Now Captain, what have you done with your Prisoner?  Cast. 
He is dead, Sir, and his body flung i'th' Sea,  
To feed the fishes, 'twas your will, I take it,  
I did it from a strong Commission,  
And stood not to capitulate.  Fred. 
'Tis well done,  
And I shall love you for your faith. What anger  
Or sorrow did he utter at his end?  Castr. 
Faith little, Sir, that I gave any ear to,  
He would have spoke, but I had no Commission  
To argue with him, so I flung him off;  
His Lady would have seen, but I locked her up,  
For fear her woman's tears should hinder us.  Fred. 
'Twas truly still. I wonder, my Sorano,  
We hear not from the Monastery; I believe  
They gave it not, or else it wrought not fully.  Cast. 
Did you name the Monastery?  Fred. 
Yes, I did Captain.  Cast. 
I saw the friar this morning, and Lord Rugio,  
Bitterly weeping, and wringing of their hands,  
And all the holy men hung down their heads.  Sora. 
'Tis done, I'll warrant ye.  Cast. 
I asked the reason.  Fred. 
What answer hadst thou?  Cast. 
This in few words, Sir,  
Your Brother's dead, this morning he deceased,  
I was your servant, and I wept not, Sir,  
I knew 'twas for your good,  Fred. 
It shall be for thine too,  
Captain, indeed it shall, O my Soranto,  
Now we shall live.  Sor. 
ay, now there's none to trouble ye.  Fred. 
Captain, bring out the woman, and give way  
To any Suitor that shall come to marry her,  
Of What degree soever.  Cast. 
It shall be done, Sir. Exit Cap.  Fre. 
O let me have a lusty Banquet after it,  Enter Evanthe, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, Fool, Castruchio. 
I will be high and merry.  Sor. 
There be some Lords  
That I could counsel ye to sling from Court, Sir,  
They pry into our actions, they are such  
The foolish people call their country's honours,  
Honest brave things, and style them with such Titles,  
As if they were the patterns of the Kingdom,  
Which makes them proud, and prone to look into us,  
And talk at random of our actions,  
They should be your lovers of your commands,  
And followers of your will; bridles and curbs  
To the hard headed Commons that malign us,  
They come here to do honour to my sister,  
To laugh at your severity, and fright us;  
If they had power, what would these men do?  
Do you hear, Sir, how privily they whisper?  Fred. 
I shall silence 'em,  
And to their shames within this week Sorane,  
In the mean time have patience.  Sor. 
How they jeer, and look upon me as I were a Monster?  
And talk and jeer, How I shall pull your plumes, Lords  
How I shall humble ye within these two days,  
Your great names, nor your Country cannot save ye,  Fred. 
Let in the Suitors. Yet submit, I'll pardon ye,  
You are half undone already, do not wind  
My anger to that height, it may consume ye.  Enter Lawyer, Physician, Captain Cutpurse. 
And utterly destroy thee, fair Evanthe: yet I have mercy.  Evan. 
Use it to your bawds,  
To me use cruelty, it best becomes ye,  
And shows more Kingly: I contemn your mercy,  
It is a cozening, and a bawdy mercy;  
Can any thing be hoped for, to relieve me?  
Or is it fit? I thank you for a pity, when you have killed my Lord.  Fred. 
Who will have her?  Evan. 
My tears are gone,  
My tears of love to my dear Valerio,  
But I have filled mine eyes again with anger;  
O were it but so powerful to consume ye,  
My tongue with curses I have armed against ye,  
With Maiden curses, that Heaven crown with horrors,  
My heart set round with hate against thy tyranny;  
O would my hands could hold the fire of Heaven,  
Wrapped in the thunder that the God's revenge with,  
That like stern Justice I might fling it on thee;  
Thou art a King of Monsters, not of men,  
And shortly thou wilt turn this Land to Devils.  Fred. 
I'll make you one first, and a wretched Devil,  
Come, who will have her?  Law. 
I an't like your Majesty, I am a Lawyer,  
I can make her a jointure of any man's Land in Naples,  
And she shall keep it too, I have a trick for it.  Foole. 
Canst thou make her a jointure of thine honesty?  
Or thy ability, thou lewd abridgement?  
Those are nonsuited and flung o'er the bar.  physician. 
An't please your Majesty to give me leave,  
I dare accept her; and though old I seem, Lady,  
Like Aeson, by my art I can renew youth and ability.  Foole. 
In a powdering Tub  
Stew thyself tender again, like a Cock Chicken,  
The broth, may be good, but the flesh is not fit for dogs sure;  Capt. 
Lady, take me, and I'll maintain thine honour,  
I am a poor Captain, as poor people call me,  
Very poor people, for my Soldiers  
They are quartered in the outsides of the City,  
Men of ability, to make good a high way;  
We have but two grand Enemies that oppose us,  
The Don Gout, and the Gallows.  Foole. 
I believe ye, and both these you will bind her for a jointure;  
Now Signior firk.  Cutpurse. 
Madam, take me and be wise,  
I am rich and nimble, and those are rare in one man,  
Every man's pocket is my Treasury,  
And no man wears a Suit but fits me neatly;  
Clothes you shall have, and wear the purest Linen,  
I have a tribute out of every Shop, Lady,  
Meat you shall eat, I have my cators out too,  
The best and lustiest, and drink good Wine, good Lady,  
Good quickening Wine, Wine that will make you caper.  
And at the worst—  Foole. 
It is but capering short, Sir,  
You seldom stay for Agues or for Surfeits,  
A shaking fit of a whip sometimes o'er takes ye,  
Marry you die most commonly of chokings,  
Obstructions of the halter are your ends ever;  
Pray leave your horn and your knife for her to live on.  Evan. 
Poor wretched people, why do you wrong yourselves?  
Though I feared death, I should fear you ten times more,  
You are every One a new death, and an odious,  
The earth will purify corrupted bodies,  
You'll make us worse, and stink eternally.  
Go home, go home, and get good nurses for you,  
Dream not of wives.  Fred. 
You shall have one of 'em, if they dare venture for ye.  Evan. 
They are dead already,  
Crawling diseases that must creep into  
The next grave they find open, are these fit husbands  
For her you have loved Sir, though you hate me now,  
And hate me mortally, as I hate you,  
Your nobleness in that you have done otherwise,  
And named Evanthe once as your poor Mistress,  
Might offer worthier choice.  Fred. 
Speak, who dare take her for one month, and then die?  Phi. 
Die Sir?  Fred. 
ay, die Sir, that's the condition.  Phi. 
One month is too little  
For me to repent in for my former pleasure,  
To go still on, unless I were sure she would kill me,  
And kill me delicately before my day,  
Make it up a year, for by that time I must die,  
My body will hold out no longer.  Fred. 
No Sir, it must be but a month.  Lawy. 
Then farewell Madam,  
This is like to be a great year of dissension  
Among good people, and I dare not lose it,  
There will be money got.  Capt. 
Bless your good Ladyship, there's nothing in the grave but bones and ashes,  
In Taverns there's good wine, and excellent wenches,  
And Surgeons while we live  Cutp. 
Adieu sweet Lady,  
Lay me when I am dead near a rich Alderman,  
I cannot pick his Purse, no, I'll no dying,  
Though I steal Linen, I'll not steal my shroud yet.  All. 
Send ye a happy match. Exeunt.  Foole. 
And you all halters, you have deserved 'em richly  
These do all Villainies, an mischiefs of all sorts, yet those they fear not  
To flinch where a fair wench is at the stake.  Evan. 
Come, your sentence, let me die, you see Sir,  
None of your valiant men dare venture on me,  
A month's a dangerous thing,  Enter Valerio disguised. Fred. 
Away with her, let her die instantly.  Evan. 
Will you then be willing  
To die at the time prefixed, that I must know too,  
And know it beyond doubt.  Fred. 
What if I did wench?  Evan. 
On that condition if I had it certain,  
I would be your any thing, and you should enjoy me,  
however in my nature I abhor you,  
Yet as I live I would be obedient to you,  
But when your time came how I should rejoice,  
How then I should bestir myself to thank ye  
To see your throat cut, how my heart would leap Sir,  
I would die with you, but first I would so torture ye,  
And cow you in your end, so despise you,  
For a weak and wretched coward, you must end sure;  
Still make ye fear, and shake, despised, still laugh at ye  Fred. 
Away with her, let her die instantly.  Cam. 
Stay, there's another, and a Gentleman,  
His habit shows no less, may be his business  
Is for this lady's love.  Fred. 
Say why ye come Sir, and what you are.  Val. 
I am descended nobly, a Prince by birth, and by my trade a Soldier,  
A PRINCE's fellow, Abidig brought me forth,  
My parent's Duke Agenor, and fair Egla,  
My parent's Duke Agenor and fair Egla,  
My business hither to renew my love  
With a young noble spirit, called Valerio;  
Our first acquaintance was At Sea, in fight  
Against a Turkish man of War, a stout one,  
Where lion-like I saw him show his valour,  
And as he had been made of complete virtue,  
Spirit, and sire, no dregs of dull earth in him.  Evan. 
Thou art a brave Gentleman, and bravely speakest him.  Val. 
The Vessel dancing under him for joy,  
And the rough whistling winds becalmed to view him;  
I saw the child of honour, for he was young,  
Deal such an Alms amongst the spiteful pagans,  
His towering sword flew like an eager Falcon,  
And round about his reach invade the Turks,  
He had entrenched himself in his dead quarries;  
The silver Crescents on the tops they carried  
Shrank in their heads to see his rage so bloody,  
And from his fury suffered sad eclipses;  
The game of death was never played more nobly,  
The meager thief grew wanton in his mischiefs,  
And his shrunk hollow eyes smiled on his ruins.  Evan. 
Heaven keep this Gentleman from being a Suitor,  
For I shall ne'er deny him, he's so noble.  Val. 
But what can last long? strength and spirit wasted,  
And fresh supplies flew on upon this Gentleman,  
Breathless and weary with oppression,  
And almost killed with killing, 'twas my chance  
In a tall Ship I had to view the fight;  
I set into him, entertained the Turk.  
And for an hour gave him so hot a breakfast,  
He clapped all linen up he had to save him,  
And like a lover's thought he fled our fury;  
There first I saw the man I loved, Valerio,  
There was acquainted, there my soul grew to him,  
And his to me, we were the twins of friendship.  Eva. 
Fortune protect this man, or I shall ruin him.  Val. 
I made this voyage to behold my friend,  
To warm my love anew at his affection;  
But since I landed, I have heard his fate:  
My Fathers had not been to me more cruel,  
I have lamented too, and yet I keep  
The treasure of a few tears for you Lady,  
For by description you were his Evanthe.  Evan. 
Can he weep that's a stranger to my story?  
And I stand still and look on? Sir, I thank ye;  
It noble spirits after their departure,  
Can know, and wish, certain his soul gives thanks too;  
There are your tears again, and when yours fail Sir,  
Pray ye call to me, I have some store to lend ye. Your name?  Val. 
Urbino.  Evan. 
That I may remember,  
That little time I have to live, your friendships,  
My tongue shall study both.  Fred. 
Do you come hither, only to tell this story Prince Urbino?  Val. 
My business now is, Sir, to woo this Lady.  Evan. 
Blessing defend ye; Do you know the danger?  Val. 
Yes, and I fear it not, danger's my playfellow,  
Since I was man 'thas been my best companion,  
I know your doom, 'tis for a Month you give her,  
And then his life you take that marries her.  Fred. 
'Tis true, nor can your being borne a Prince,  
If you accept the offer, free you from it.  Val. 
I nor desire it, I have cast the worst,  
And even that worst to me is many blessings;  
I loved my friend, not measured out by time,  
Nor hired by circumstance of place and honour,  
But for his wealthy self and worth I loved him,  
His mind and noble mould he ever moved in,  
And woe his friend because she was worthy of him,  
The only relic that he left behind, Sir;  
To give his ashes honour, Lady take me,  
And in me keep Valerio's love alive still,  
When I am gone, cake those that shall succeed me,  
Heaven must want light, before you want a husband,  
To raise up Heirs of love and noble memory,  
To your unfortunate—  Evan. 
Am I still hated? hast thou no end, O fate, of my affliction?  
Was I ordained to be a common murderess?  
And of the best men too? Good Sir.  Val. 
Peace Sweet, look on my hand.  Evan. 
I do accept the Gentleman, I faint with joy.  Fred. 
I stop it, none shall have her, convey this stranger hence.  Val. 
I am no stranger.— Hark to the bell, that rings,  
Hark, hark, proud Frederick, that was King of mischief.  
Hark, thou abhorred man, dost thou hear thy sentence  
does not this bell ring in thine ears thy ruin?  Fred. 
What bell is this?  Cam. 
The Castle bell: Stand sure Sir, and move not, if you do you perish.  Men. 
It rings your knell; Alphonso, King Alphonso.  All. 
Alphonso, King Alphonso.  Fred. 
I am betrayed, lock fast the Palace.  Cam. 
We have all the keys, Sir.  
And no door here shall shut without our Licence.  Clean. 
Do you shake now Lord Sorano? no new trick?  
Nor speedy poison to prevent this business?  
No bawdy meditation now to fly to?  Fred. 
Treason, Treason, Treason.  Cam. 
Yes, we hear ye,  Enter Alphonso, Rugio, Marco, Castruchio, Queen, with Guard. 
And we have found the Traitor in your shape, Sir,  
we'll keep him fast too.  Fred. 
recovered! then I am gone,  
The Sun of all my pomp is set and vanished.  Alp. 
Have you not forgot this face of mine, King Frederick?  
Brother I am come to see you, and have brought  
A Banquet to be merry with your Grace;  
I pray sit down, I do beseech your Majesty  
And eat, eat freely, Sir, why do you start?  
Have you no stomach to the meat I bring you?  
Dare you not taste? have ye no Antidotes?  
You need not fear; Sorano's a good Apothecary,  
methinks you look not well, some fresh wine for him,  
Some of the same he sent me by Sorano;  
I thank you for't, it saved my life, I am bound to ye,  
But how 'twill work on you— I hope your Lordship  
Will pledge him too, methinks you look but scurvily,  
And would be put into a better colour,  
But I have a candied Toad for your good Lordship.  Sor. 
Would I had any thing that would dispatch me,  
So it were down, and I out of this fear once.  Fred. 
Sir, Thus low as my duty now compels me,  
I do confess my unbounded sins, my errors,  
And feel within my soul the smarts already;  
Hide not the noble nature of a brother,  
The pity of a friend, from my afflictions;  
Let me a while lament my misery,  
And cast the load off of my wantonness,  
Before I find your fury, then strike home,  
I do deserve the deepest blow of Justice,  
And then how willingly, O death, I'll meet thee.  Alp. 
Madam, those sweet tears are potent speakers,  
And brother live, but in the Monastery,  
Where I lived, with the self same silence too,  
I'll teach you to be good against your will brother,  
Your tongue has done much harm, that must be dumb now;  
The daily pilgrimage to my father's Tomb,  
Tears, sighs, and groans, you shall wear out your days with,  
And true ones too, you shall perform dear brother;  
Your diet shall be slender to enforce these; to light a penance, Sir.  Fred. 
I do confess it.  Alph. 
Sorano you shall—  Sor. 
How he studies for it,  
hang's the least part of my penance certain.  Evanthe kneels. Alph. 
What Lady's that that kneels?  Cast. 
The chaste Evanthe.  Alph. 
Sweet, your petition?  Evan. 
'Tis for this bad man, Sir,  
Abominable bad, but yet my brother.  Alph. 
The bad man shall attend at bad a Master,  
And both shall be confined within the Monastery;  
His rank flesh shall be pulled with daily fasting,  
But once a week he shall smell meat, he will surfeit else,  
And his immodest mind compelled to prayer;  
On the bare boards he shall lie, to remember  
The wantonness he did commit in beds;  
And drink fair water, that will ne'er inflame him;  
He saved my life, though he purposed to destroy me,  
For which I'll save his, though I make it miserable:  
Madam, at Court I shall desire your company,  
You are wise and virtuous, when you please to visit  
My brother Frederick, you shall have our Licence,  
My dear best friend, Valerio.  Val. 
Save Alphonso.  Omn. 
Long live Alphonso, King of us, and Naples.  Alph. 
Is this the Lady that the wonder goes on?  
Honoured sweet maid, here take her my Valerio,  
The King now gives her, she is thine own without fear:  
Brother, have you so much provision that is good?  
Not seasoned by Sorano and his Cooks?  
That we may venture on with honest safely,  
We and our friends?  Fred. 
All that I have is yours, Sir.  Alph. 
Come then, let's in, and end this Nuptial,  
Then to our Coronation with all speed:  
My virtuous maid, this day I'll be your brideman,  
And see you bedded to your own desires too;  
Beshrew me Lords, who is not merry hates me,  
Only Sorano shall not bear my cup:  
Come, now forget old pains and injuries,  
As I must do, and drown all in fair healths;  
That Kingdom's blessed, where the King begins  
His true love first, for there all loves are twins.  Exeunt Omnes,    

Prologue.  
YOu are welcome Gentlemen, and would our Feast  
Were so well seasoned, to please every Guest;  
Ingenuous appetites, I hope we shall,  
And their examples may prevail in all  
(Our noble friends) who writ this, bid me say,  
He had rather dress, upon a Triumph day,  
My Lord Mayor's Feast, and make him Sauces too,  
Sauce for each several mouth, nay further go,  
He had rather build up those invincible Pies  
And Castle Custards that affright all eyes,  
Nay eat 'em all, and their Artillery,  
Then dress for such a curious company  
One single dish; yet he has pleased ye too,  
And you have confessed he knew well what to do;  
Be hungry as you were wont to be, and bring  
Sharp stomachs to the stories he shall sing,  
And he dare yet, he says, prepare a Table  
Shall make you say well dressed, and he well able.   

Epilogue.  
WE have your favours Gentlemen, and you  
Have our endeavours, (dear friends grudge not now,)  
There's none of you, but when you please can sell  
Many a lame Horse, and many a fair tale tell;  
Can put off many a maid unto a friend,  
That was not so since the action at Mile-end;  
Ours is a Virgin yet, and they that love  
Untainted flesh, we hope our friends will prove.  
Here endeth A Wife for a Month.