THE FOOL Would be a favourite: Or, the DISCREET LOVER. A tragicomedy.  
Written by LODOWICK CARLELL, Gent.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Prince's arms in St. Paul's churchyard. 1657.   

dramatis Personae.  


Duke, Of Milan.  
Agenor, His son, in love with Lucinda.  
Philanthus, Friend to Agenor.  
Adrastus, A Lord, in love with Aurelia.  
Old Gudgen, A simple Bumpkin.  
Young Gudgen, The favourite that would be.  
His Man.  
Courtiers.  
Herald at arms.  
Dancing Master.  
Singing Master.  
Taylor.  
Moor.  
Servant.  
Aurelia, Daughter to the Duke.  
Lucinda, Sister to Adrastus.  
Miranthe, Aurelia 's waiting-woman.  
Linda, Lucinda 's waiting-woman.    
Scene Milan.   
THE FOOL Would be a FAVOURITE: Or, the DISCREET lover.  

Actus primus.  Enter Aurelia and a Servant. Aur. 
CAN the Prince Philanthus, my cousin, look so far beneath himself, as on my servant.  Ser. 
Madam, believe me, he makes love to her daily, and now they are together in the Garden.  Aur. 
If this be true, as I begin to fear, for I have heard him make some desperate protestations; yet, by the stronger magic of this brow, I'll break those Spells that hold him; these Eyes, which have to all that sued ●een clad in frowns, shall, for his sake, receive all the ●●ditions, that a woman's art can give, to make them victors. He shall not cast away himself, nor spend a sigh more, for so mean a person. For sure, when I shall cozen him, making him think, that I will deign to love, he'll hate himself, and fly so mean a Mistress. I'll see, if they be still together.  Exeunt. Enter Philanthus and Miranthe. Mir. 
I see the Princess coming.  Phil. 
The better. Injure not so much your own merit,  
To misdoubt the truth of what I say; and if you fear  
A change, I'll call the gods to witness.  Enter Aurelia, and Servant. Mir. 
Good my young Lord, spare your rash inconsiderate oaths,  
Which you would be content to buy again at any rate,  
Within this month.  Aur. 
Crafty Wench, she sees us.  Mir. 
You must not think, that I will lay myself  
Open to your courtship thus alone, it was  
By accident you met me, pray let go.  Phil. 
Will you then leave me?  Aur. 
How now, cousin, making love to Miranthe?  Phil. 
Madam, I should be glad to gain her good opinion.  Aur. 
Consen, I hope the Court has not infected you as yet. Will you dissemble with me your friend, or no, if I should seriously ask you a question?  Phil. 
Madam, if I already know that vic●●●… name,  
My I or No, will be but small assurance.  Aur. 
yet I dare trust you. Love you Miran earnest?  
Why do I ask? I do not think you yet know love means.  Phil. 
Not what it is, I would I did not.  Aur. 
I see you do, that sigh approves it.  
And, Miranthe, you love entirely.  Phil. 
Admit I grant.  Exeunt Miran. & Ser. Aur. 
Leave us a little. Then you must grant withal,  
That you much injure yourself; for you are equal  
To the greatest in your blood; to say, your mind  
Or person's louly, is a truth, befits some other  
Better than myself to speak. Yet friendship,  
And pity of your youth, to see you ignorantly offer your devotions  
To so poor a Saint, whose influence, though ne'er so favourable,  
Cannot protect you from a general scorn forces me  
To tell you, you will be counted of a low spirit,  
Or wondrous ignorant, in loving Miranthe,  
Your birth being so far above hers.  Phil. 
Madam, 'tis true, that being descended from your house,  
I should have as just reason to be proud in that respect, as any:  
But, being otherwise defective in those things,  
Which I could not receive from ancestors, my mind and manners;  
Wonder not, that like a bastard Eaglet, I refuse to look upon  
The Sun-bright Beauties of the Court. Yet, Madam,  
You must think, in her I lord there's something,  
Though perhaps not obvious to your eyes,  
That to me renders her lovely.  Aur. 
'Tis true, she's a good Wench, perhaps her virtue takes you.  Phil. 
Madam, I know you do not slight that in others,  
●●…ough in her you do; she's your servant and you say,  
●●…e's my Mistress, and virtue should be Mistress to us all.  
Give me leave so far, to justify her and myself  
as to say, If she be more virtuous than the fairest  
Lady living, I ought to love her best.  Aur. 
Yes, if you could be married to her virtues, not to her person;  
For fix pence I'll buy a Book, shall more instruct you in that way.  
But think you, cousin, virtue and Beauty may not dwell together.  
I am accounted fair, wherein have I appeared to you  
Less virtuous than Miranthe?  Phil. 
In nothing, Madam, rather the wonder of your sex.  Aur. 
Cousin, believe me, there are many in the Court, that exceed  
Me in both. Let me persuade you leave Miranthe rather  
for your Man to woe, and dedicate your worthier services  
to some of those that I shall name you.  Phil. 
Madam, you persuade strongly, for I rely upon your counsel  
As an Oracle But think you, I have handsomesses o wit,  
To make me acceptable to a fair Lady?  Aur. 
Yes doubtless.  Phil. 
I fear you say it only, to draw me from my Mistress.  
But swear, you think me worthy.  Aur. 
As I live I do.  Phil. 
Well, Madam, you have persuaded me to be unconstant;  
If there be a punishment, may't light on you:  
Or, if I fail to gain a Mistress, you must promise  
To instruct me; for, whom you'll please to name  
As worthy, I'll make love to tell you all my discourse,  
And show you all my Letters.  Aur. 
Must you needs be in Love, it seems you he been much given to read love Books; when I know your study, I shall fit you with a Mistress.  Phil. 
Faith, Madam, they live such pleasant lives in those books,  
Kissing their Mistress' hands, and looking on their fair eyes,  
That I have envied them.  Aur. 
Your imagination's very strong, you begin with me.  
I must provide a Mistress for you very shortly,  
I shall be troubled with you else myself.  Exeunt. Enter two Courtiers. 1. 
Trust to my skill thus far, I have wrought him handsomely  2. 
My part is only, to be ready to entertain you.  1. 
No more  2. 
Farewell then.  1. 
Farewell. Let me alone to fit him here in the Country to the business, th'ass is rich, his father more fool than he, doting upon his sons believed perfections— Here comes the old fool.  Enter old Gudgen. O. Gud. 
Good-morrow Mr. Courtier, you're late a rising; you should have seen my son, your scholar, break half a dozen staves else, as graciously, as ere a poor man's son in Milan, and for Cut, black Cut.  1. 
Indeed he's a good sober beast.  O. Gud. 
Very quick, he starts before you can tell twenty; first does he troth, but then stand; I have the barrier thus with my whip Aloft, and when he comes, flash quoth I, away goes Cut so fast, you cannot see him move, than does he stop most willingly.  ● 
He does indeed.  O. Gudg. 
And turns about with great' liberation and' gillity, but old Roan what say you to him, there a hot Jade indeed, as like my son as can be, fiery and full of mettle, and here comes the grace of our Country, though I say it.  Enter young Gudgen and Man. Y. Gud. 
Luckey, poulcroone, look to my Roa● Jennet, let him allay his fury in thy hand, before he fet his hoof within the stable, and shouldst thou let him drink, thou diest as I am generous.  Man. 
Saving your young worships pleasure; he had more need be set up, and have a peck of grains, he'll ne'er be able to plow to morrow else.  Y. Gud. 
Peasant, I say let him allay his heat, and for the plow thou talkest on, I will have thee know this morning's service hath manumized him from such ba●● employments.  O. Gudg. 
How Son, what's that?  Y. Gud. 
I must speak plain to his dull understanding, oh torment! let it suffice that Roan is free from service of the plow or harrow.  Man. 
I your worship I am sure hath harrowed all the flesh off his back, a little rest and meat will do well, Sir.  Y. Gud. 
Another word, and as I hope to be a Gentleman, I'll make him feed on thee.  Man. 
Good your worship.  Y. Gud. 
Nay worse, thou shalt not wait upon m● to our Court of Milan.  O. Gud. 
'Tis his care, Son you must forgive him  Y. Gud. 
Live then; and thank this aged Nobleman  O. Gud. 
Oh hopeful boy, he may be one indeed Sir may he not.  1. 
Yes yes?  O. Gud. 
'Tis no matter though I be a yeoman still.  1. 
No no, there will be no great indecorum in it.  O. Gud. 
Ay, as you say 'twere well I were a'the coram, and so I will when my son's a Lord.  Enter a tailor. Y. Gud. 
How my clothes not made yet! let me perish, if I do not revenge the blood of all the innocent lice, since the first tailor.  Tay. 
I beseech your worship, you know I wanted, and you promised to let me have some money before hand.  Y. Gud. 
How tailor! money before hand? dost thou not know I am to be a Courtier, thou ignorant Country vermin, can there be hope to prosper in a suit paid thee for, before hand.  1. 
No 'tis unpossible you would appear a prodigy  Y. Gud. 
A prodigy; that's fine i'faith, nay I will pay aforehand then, and be a prodigy; if that be all my man to, he shall be a prodigy.  Man. 
I thank your worship.  Enter Dancer. Y. Gud. 
Master of the Dance and Fence you have been long a coming.  Dancer. 
Your worship knows 'tis two long mile and I came but softly, I must be more careful of my legs then another man.  Y. Gud. 
Why so man, thou makest new ones every day.  Dance. 
I Sir but I make them with my legs, and every trades man will preserve his tools.  Man. 
Or else his wife will Chide him when he comes home.  Enter Singer. Y. Gud. 
Ha, ha, ha, him sol, sol fa, fa.  Sing. 
I am glad to hear your worship so careful of my documents, use a voice, and have a voice.  Y. Gud. 
Come come shall we to't?  1. 
Sir 'twere best to day you only used your martial exercises, you have rid, and fencing will be enough.  Y. Gud. 
You say true, first I will learn to fight, and then to make my approaches to the Ladies: if they refuse to yield to my Courtship,  
I'll compel them by force of arms.  1. 
How ravish them, prove a Tarquin?  Y. Gud. 
Ay, ten Tarquin's, what shall they contend with me?  Man. 
By my faith, I will take your worships part.  Y. Gud. 
She that shall oppose me had better come on Master of the Noble science, behold thy scholar does thus confront thee.  Dan. 
Stay Sir you are too furious, first you must mark your distance.  O. Gud. 
I but son, you lost your opportunity; I have seen the time I would not have failed to paid him o'er the nodel, at such a vantage.  Y. Gudg. 
How take upon you to teach me, go to, you're an old busy fool, but, let's see what you can do, come on your ways.  O. good, 
Alas son, I am old, threescore.  Y. Gud. 
I know you might have been my father, but I have seen a wiser at thirty, come on Sir.  O. Gud. 
Nay Son.  Y. Gud. 
Take 'em, I charge you as you expect my favour, I'll let you see the fence is altered since your sword and buckler time.  Tav. 
I have an itching to him.  1. 
Sir your Father's old, you'll kill him.  Y. Gud. 
'Tis no matter, I shall not be ashamed o● him when I am a Lord.  1. 
Faith Sir, play with your tailor, he's a great mind too't.  Y. Gud. 
Has he, come on Sir shred, dare you adventure, the third part of a man to encounter; dost thou know what thou dost, I am a prodigy.  Tay. 
I Sir, but I must help to make you so: one 'bout sir, and it were at Cudgels, I durst venture the making of your worships clothes.  Y. Gud. 
Oh base Cudgels, I will kill that louse that sits upon thy ninth button.  Tay. 
Well sir.  They Play. Y. Gud. 
Oh Rogue do you offer to strike, and then to thrust against the Order of fence, this 'tis to play with ignorance.  1. 
'Tis true sir, I wonder you would do't.  Tay. 
I know the blow could not be great, alas I am but a louse, a shred at the most, Sir, but the third part of a man.  1. 
Away, you are saucy.  Tay. 
Will please your worship to let me have something before hand.  Y. Gud. 
A pox on thee, thou hast given me too much.  Tay. 
Truly sir, it was against my will, I did not think it possible I could have hit your skilful worship, wilt please your worship try another bout?  Y. Gud. 
No prithee.  1. 
A pox a these martial Exercises,  
Let's to the City, Dance, drink, Whore, and Dice,  
These are the virtues, fighting is a vice.  Exeunt. Enter Adrastus. Adra. 
Oh inconstant Aurelia, but women must be women still,  
Changing though for the worst: for wherein can Philanthus be justly prised before me; he's young  
And unexperienced, so cannot serve her with that waryness  
He ought considering her Birth, sure she cannot love him, oh yes she does, she does, it is apparent.  
They are still together and see, good manners pard me.  Enter Philanthus and Aurelia. 
I'll mark their actions, tho I cannot hear.  Phi. 
Madam do not refuse to instruct me yo●● scholar.  
But hear in what language I am able to deliver  
My affection in, and give such an answer as you think  
Adrastus' sister will do, whom you have  
appointed me to make love to.  Aur. 
I will,  Phi. 
Fair Aurclia.  Aur, 
Her name's Lucinda.  Phi. 
Madam you know that all one, but 〈◊〉 th'at-tribute of fair sufficient.  A●● 
'tis old and foolish either to say, fair or vertu● 〈◊〉  
Or madam, Mistress, or goddess, or Divine Lady  
Sweet Creature, or abstract, or indeed  
Any thing that way.  Phi. 
Then thus, If the respect I bear your had bee● less,  
Or that after the tender of my loyal heart,  
And your refusal of it, I could have lived,  
To enjoy your sight I had long ere this  
Made my love known, but since the  
Manifestation of your disdain and my death are  
Inseparable accidents, wonder not that I  
Have lost so many opportunities to tell you.  
For all Creatures have a desire to preserve life:  
And now I see my last period approaching.  
For in your heavenly eyes I read the sentence of my death,  
As plain as if the book of fate lay open to me.  
You're are the book of fate in two respects,  
To all that see and know you as I do.  
For if they love you, they justly perish by your scorn.  
If they love you not, their ignorance transforms  
Them into beasts, a worse Condition for a man  
Then not to be at all hope cannot fool me further,  
Then only make me to believe, that since  
I have some interest in your blood you'll shed a tear,  
To witness that you grieve my ruin.  Aur. 
May I perish, if you have not delivered this with as much passion.  
As if Lucinda for whom this speech was framed,  
Had been before you, but how shall she conceive  
That where you speak of interest in her blood?  
Are you akin to her?  Phi. 
When you have answered in her person; for that, I shall resolve You.  Aur. 
Well if your affection were thus violent as you pretend,  
I cannot but acknowledge that the consideration of it  
Were sufficient to move pity in any woman,  
That did allow the follies of protesting lovers.  
But for my part I have ever laughed at those,  
Who hoped to gain love by the manifestation  
Of their sufferings, and therefore had you professed less  
Till you had made your merits appear greater,  
It would have moved me more: when I shall see  
That in you which I asmuch covet to enjoy,  
As it seems you do now something in me.  
Then which an equality of affection we shall  
Meet without all these sophisticated protestations,  
And not before: for as you pursue that which you think  
Would be your happiness; so do I mine.  
Which I am sure consists in my freedom  
From the follies of Love.  Phi. 
'tis even so, you have delivered nothing but what I expected.  
The greatest merit I shall ere attain to,  
Is quickly to remove out of the world.  
One whom you somuch contemn.  Offers to kill himself. Aur. 
Philanthus, would you take this way  
To assure your Mistress of your affection?  Phi. 
No other ways then by my death after the assurance of her disdain.  Aur. 
P'shew, you must not despair for the first denial.  
Our hearts and tongues do not always agree.  
And because I am to instruct you to gain your Mistress,  
I'll discover some part of women's disposition, to you;  
Tho it be to our disadvantage.  Phi. 
Madam you shall infinitely oblige me.  Aur. 
First there's few of us what ere we seem,  
But are content to be beloved by all that see us.  
And those who are of birth may express love,  
In their actions without offence, tho ne'er so many.  
But he that comes to tell his Mistress in words he loves, her,  
Had need be first assured that she believes  
That he hath worth enough to gain a Mistress  
Equal to herself in merits, should he make  
Tender of his love else where: for when an other  
Would receive that which is offered it does approve  
The value of the gift, and sets the giver  
Free from scorn.  Phi. 
Madam for this I thank you, but more I beseech you.  Aur. 
I will, it may be you believe you could not mor●  
Oblige your Mistress to respect you then by giving  
Her assurance of many oaths that you can never love  
Any other Lady, tho she should much neglect you.  Phi. 
Madam, I do.  Aur. 
I thought so, mark a general error: whatsoever,  
We are sure is ours, the worth of it doth lessen  
In opinion, for we are still in pursuit  
Of new and difficult things to attain: yet it is  
As great a grief to us if our prisoners.  
Should undo their chains as 'tis contentment  
To enthrall a new one and make another.  
Woman's servant ours, pleases above thought,  
Because it is a testimony of our great virtue  
And merit that drew him.  Phi. 
The Change may grow as well from his inconstancy,  
As Judgement in discerning the worthier.  Aure. 
At least he will add one to the number, and multiplying  
Is the art most women study that are fair.  Aur. 
Are all so? Madam; are you so?  Phi. 
I did not tell you I would give you my particular  
Character, 'twas the general I spoke.  Phi. 
Madam, I take it for granted, you are not such.  
For these you name, are faculty in their humours.  
And therefore you being singular deserve more love,  
Which trust me madam I must pay to You.  
Not to Lucinda what ere I have seemed.  
Nor ever loved I Miranthe.  Aur. 
How Philanthus?  Phi. 
Madam, 'tis true by all that can be sworn by.  
That I only love Aurelia now, but how long.  
It will continue, if she neglect me, that I cannot tell.  Aure. 
This is fine juggling, do you make me discover  
The weakness of our sex, and then assault myself.  
I hate you, hence from my sight.  Phi. 
Madam, I do not believe you, you told me yourself.  
That women's hearts and tongues do not always agree.  Aur. 
But I told you withal I spoke not of myself.  
And you granted too, I was not like other women.  
Which you then made the argument of your love.  
Therefore you must believe me when I say I hate you.  Phi. 
Yes when' I do believe that, I deserve it.  
You swore you thought me worthy when you went about  
To persuade me from Miranthe, which assurance you  
Said was necessary before the verbal protestation  
Of affection, and fear not that you shall be too assured  
That I esteem you, for I, according to your own rule  
Will cease to love you when you use me ill.  Aur. 
Of which assure yourself, for you have offended me much.  
I much above expression, pray leave me to myself.  Phi. 
Madam I will, but for my own advantage.  
For when I am gone, you cannot choose but consider,  
That my merit to your words is equal to the best.  
Deserver, henceforth I will not woe in words but action.  
And if you love, each thought is of my faction.  Exit. Adra. 
Blessed opportunity.  Aur. 
'tis well, this troubles me; yet sure it cannot much displease me.  
For who in Philanthus can find the least defect?  
When I persuaded him not to love Miranthe,  
And thought it was a friendly care, I was deceived.  
Sure than I loved, it could not grow thus in an instant.  
How in an instant, do I love him then? no no.  Enter Adrastus. 
I do not; yet it would trouble me to see him love another  Adrastus. 
I shall be troubled then.  Adra. 
Madam excuse me that I interrupt your privacy  
Forced by the violence of my passion, for when I shall be once.  
Certain of that which I strongly suspect,  
There shall be nothing able to keep me  
From sudden death; not your command,  Aur. 
Adrastus, what is't troubles you?  Adra. 
Is't possible that you can ask me?  Aur. 
You see I do.  Adra. 
Madam, you know how entirely I gave myself,  
Reserving no faculty of mind or body, to be employed  
Other ways then by your Discretions, nor dare I say  
I yet repent, tho I see another ready to reap  
The fruit of my labors, 'tis Philanthus happy Philanthus  
who's the more fortunate in that he's not above me in merit,  
In affection far beneath me, nor should I grieve,  
To see him happy, were he not raised upon my ruins.  
But I must say to hope to see him one day forsaken  
Like myself: oh no I dare not, sure this change proceeds  
From some defect in me which you believe  
You have found, and not from your inconstancy.  Aur. 
Adrastus, the knowledge which I have had of your actions towards me,  
And my own beauty, assured me that your loved.  
But that my courtesy had bred a belief in you,  
That I desired you should do so, till now, I knew not of  
Henceforward I shall set a remedy to that: For Philanthus  
Being raised upon your ruins, 'tis a building of your fancy only.  
But trust me 'tis strange you should be jealous of what your ne'er  
Possessed: but you believed you did, that was sufficient.  
From this time know to value me and yourself.  
In so doing, you may regain that good opinion  
I held of your judgement, which by this rash●… you have lost.  E●… Abra. 
Lost, even so I am contemned, is this the ward  
Of all my services, all my fair hopes  
Thus blasted? This Philanthus was born to ruin 〈◊〉  
In all attempts of war and peace, he robs me of prize,  
What ere she seemed, till Philanthus supplanted me  
My services were most acceptable.  
I had not else forsook Miranthe for her, and well  
I know, she's even with me already,  
Furthering Philanthus, my rival, in his affection.  
Now I must look  
For nought but scorns from Aurelia. Could I 〈◊〉 Philanthus  
Yet with myself, 'twere some content; umh,  
The way to do it, is, to continue the seeming friendsh●…  
Which I bear him, so shall my plot be carried free  
From suspicion: he's of an open heart,  
And such natures are easy to work on.  
The Politician, when he hugs, does strike:  
Rivals in Love and State, will do alike.  Ex●… 
Finis Actûs primi.   

Actus secundus.  Enter Agenor and Philanthus. Phil. 
SIr, you have bound me to you by so many vows,  
That you do give me cause to hope, that this  
Discovery is not displeasing to you.  Ag. 
Come, leave this ceremony, it does not fit our loves.  
If you do love my sister, the friendship I have vowed,  
Ties me to aid you, although I know it may much  
Prejudice me in my Father's love, should he know't;  
For he so dotes upon my sister, that he believes  
None but a god is worthy of her.  Phil. 
'Tis true, she's full of all that can be excellent  
In women, yet so far do I prize you above mine own desires or hopes,  
That could your sister recompense me with a love equal to mine,  
And yet that love, purchased by you, prove prejudicial to you  
I rather would give o'er the thought of love for ever,  
At least in silence rather pine and die.  
No, far be't from my friendship, to build my happiness,  
Though ne'er so great, upon your smallest discontent.  Ag. 
You wrong my love in this, and undervalue me;  
For, you do seem to say, I fear to hazard my father's frown,  
Though I could purchase for you what you so desire:  
Now, by the gods, 'twas a most unkind thought;  
Nay, from a man less honest, 'twould appear  
Hypocrisy; or, do you think my youth hath not yet taught me,  
What 'tis to be a friend? Know, Philanthus,  
The few years I have past, have been employed,  
To make me something capable of those parts,  
Which most ennobles us; and I have found  
Friendship to be the soul and essence of a man.  
Therefore, believe me, since for your merits I have chose you  
For a friend, your discontents, dangers, and happiness,  
Are all mine; no, friend, I say, your growing love  
Can plead for you, not without success.  
She loves, but would not have you too assured on't,  
Lest it should make you less esteem the purchase.  Phil. 
Sir, you, in this assurance of your friendship,  
And her love, transport me with a double joy,  
Not to be expressed in words. I should fall down,  
And worship such a godlike friend, that thus  
Bestows his favours on a desertless person,  
Made only worthy by his love.  Age. 
Still you forget our friendship, heaping your thanks  
And praise on me, a burden my weak deserving  
Cannot bear without much shame; let it suffice,  
My love makes me a servant to your wishes;  
If they do take effect, 'tis your own merits,  
Whom the gods cannot refuse, that's the cause of it.  
My friendship only a willing instrument,  
Strives to bring their divine wills to pass.  
But Oh! friend.  Phil. 
Why sigh you, Sir?  Age. 
I have long liked, and now I fear I love,  
And therefore think, friendship obliges me  
To tell you, yet with the reservation of her name:  
For she's so cruel, so proud, if't be no sacrilege  
In me a Lover, to give that attribute.  
I say, she's so disdainful, and there's so little hope,  
Nay rather such a certain impossibility,  
That she will never love me, that I am ashamed  
To name the Tiger, that will in time, I know,  
Consume my heart.  Phil. 
Tell me her name, and send me to her, and I shall quickly  
Make her know, she's cruel to herself.  Age. 
Oh friend, I do not wish to lose you,  
'Twere the ready way to make you false; such a faith as yours  
Perhaps, for once, might bring you off, free and untouched;  
But should you often see her, and converse, you'd soon  
Break faith with me and all the world, to gain  
One smile from her; yet, even that smile were death,  
Except you might enjoy them often: the deprivation  
Of a good possessed, being our greatest misery.  Phil. 
Sir, may I not know this wonder, for such I must believe her,  
From your love; but more, that you believe she could  
Taint my faith. Venture to name her.  Age. 
If you urge it as a duty, belonging to our friendship,  
I must tell you; otherways I would for some  
Respects conceal it.  Phil. 
Except you mean to employ me to serve you,  
'Twill be to no advantage.  Age. 
If you will, I'll tell you.  Phil. 
Faith, Sir, I shall not take it ill, if you conceal her;  
May be, 'tis her will, because her cruel usage  
Of you, if known, would be thought folly.  Age. 
'Tis her will indeed; yet, friend, she hath more wit than all her sex.  Phil. 
Sir, were I not a Lover too, I should believe you.  Age, 
I dare not let you see her, so to approve it;  
she'll quickly find your worth to exceed mine.  
Now is my friendship from least taint most free:  
If she knew both, there might grow jealousy.  Exeunt. Enter old Gudgen, young Gudgen, 1. Courtier, and Man. Y. Gud. 
Pass not beyond this score, I charge thee, Father, upon thy allegiance; we are now within the verge of the Court. Away, make haste, to turn those dirty acres into crowns, to buy the place you wot of.  O. G. 
Well son, even god be with thee.  Y. G. 
Weep not, I say, but get you home, and remember my blessing to the old woman, your wife; bid her not be proud of me, though she have reason: Many a sweet-faced youth, like myself, hath miscarried at Court, coming to be a Favourite; but I'll buy't, and make sure work, I.  O. G. 
Well, well.  Y. G. 
What, not gone yet, I think I shall be troubled with you. Sure I was a bastard, I could not be his son, he's such a coxcomb.  1. 
Like enough.  Y. G. 
There have been Courtiers in our town, I and my mother was worth the whistling after, I can tell ye  1. 
I doubt it not.  Y. G. 
But come, how do you like me?  1. 
Believe me, Sir, you're wondrous well accountred.  Y. G. 
Well accoutred, is that a courtly phrase?  1. 
Yes.  Y. G. 
I have heard some word near it in the Country. And how do you like my vassal?  1. 
Very proper.  Enter a ragged Courtier. Y. G. 
Is he not well accoutred? What's he, what's he, Sir?  1. 
Some poor slight fellow, you must be surly to such, and look big.  Y. G. 
Nay, Sir, I can look big, I learned that of my father's Bull,  
He comes towards me.  R. C. 
Noble Sir, I shall be wondrous proud of your acquaintance.  Y. G. 
Then you shall never have it.  R. C. 
Why, Sir?  Enter 2. Courtiers. Y. G. 
Pride is a deadly virtue, humility a sin, that will better become your clothes. Look I not big? Ha! stay, what's he, what's he.  1. 
Some great man, by those that sue to him: you must abase your garb, and with an obsequious look salute him.  Y. G. 
Sir, I profess myself the vassal to your Dog; if you keep none, I am a most devout and obsequious servant to your Cat.  Man. 
I shall desire to have the providing of her Mice.  2. 
Sir, I am full of employments, excuse me, I must suddenly give his Grace an account.  Y. G. 
A great man certainly, 'tis well if I can come to speak with him this two hours.  1. 
Sir, may I entreat to know, what place you hold in Court? this Gentleman, I can assure you, is worthy your acquaintance.  Y. G. 
No, no, Sir; alas, I'm an ignorant, and know nothing, wondrous simple, believe it; a week hence will be fair, I'll wait your leisure. But what's your place, Sir, I beseech you honour me, Sir.  1. 
Pray, Sir, satisfy him.  2. 
Sir, I'm a favourite to his Grace.  1. 
What luck have you, Sir.  Y. G. 
Ay, is't not good luck? Why, Sir, I come to buy a Favourites place, and think I am as fit for't as another man, and will give as much money too.  2. 
Believe it, Sir, you must pay well for't, 'tis a place of great advantage.  Y. G. 
I know't, Sir, but one may have't for money, I am assured on't.  2. 
Yes, you shall have mine on good conditions.  Y. G. 
Good or ill conditions, I care not, that's all one, I'll have't.  2. 
Sir, you know not yet the duties, nor the privileges of the place.  Y. G. 
That's true, pray what are they?  2. 
First, you may be always next the Duke, and so advance, or else keep back suits, as you favour or dislike the person.  Y. G. 
Nay, I'll dislike all suits, that are not like mine own.  Man. 
or mine.  Y. G. 
Ay, or thine.  2. 
The great men will give thee the first good-morrow, perhaps show more respect, they are very courteous in this age: The Ladies, thei'I observe ye too, it may be, more than their husbands.  Y. G. 
That's brave i'faith.  1. 
Sir, hark ye, you must not seem so desirous of it. Let me alone to talk with him, and make the bargain; let's go to the next Tavern.  Y. G. 
Sir, I do not greatly care for this Favourites place of yours, I hear, a man shall never live in peace, my ears will always be glowing; they'I do nothing but talk of me, and they'I be hanged before they speak any good.  1. 
Though you deserve ne'er so much. Come, let's go.  2. 
Nay, that's certain, they'I misinterpret every action, if it prosper not; their faith in that is like to Turks.  Y. G. 
Sir, I would have you know, I care not ijd. for your place; but if you'I go to the next Tavern, he shall agree with you for it.  1. 
Fie, Sir, you'I spoil all.  2. 
But is there nothing the Duke may except against, in your friend?  Y. G. 
Except against me? 'tis impossible, he ne'er saw me in's life: why should he except against me then, am not I as fit for a favourite, as another man?  2. 
'Tis but a needful objection.  Y. G. 
Except against me?  2. 
Pacify yourself.  Y. G. 
I tell you Sir, if he should but think of excepting against me, I would return into the Country presently, as wise as I came.  1. 
Nay, good Sir, 'tis impossible.  Y. G. 
And he were ten Dukes, I'd send him to seek a favourite, I warrant you. Except against me? what me?  1. 
Nay, Sir.  Y. G. 
I tell you, Sir, should the Duke use me so,  
His Dukeship does not a right Gudgen know.  Exeunt. Enter Adrastus and Philanthus. Adr. 
Believe me, noble Philanthus, there's nothing  
That in the passages of life hath more contented me,  
Than the happiness of your friendship. The advantages of which,  
You have now had, at this and all other exercises,  
In the person of any other, would have given me cause  
Of grief and envy; but since 'twas my beloved  
Philanthus, that robbed me of the glory,  
The theft was so far from displeasing,  
That with the prize you won my heart too.  Phil. 
Your friendship, Sir, does make you attribute  
To merit, that which was due unto my fortune only,  
Or rather to your policy, who by permitting  
Me to win this prize, thinks to encourage me  
Against some others, weaker than yourself;  
And when I am grown something rich, by little victories o'er them,  
You'I show, you only let me grow to this,  
That with more ease at once, you might increase your store.  Adr. 
In this you overcome me too, but sure in love  
You cannot; I think, were I still certain to enjoy  
Your friendship, I ne'er should think of marriage:  
For to say true, how can there be, in vain  
Fantastic women, half that contentment found,  
That's in a perfect friend.  Phil. 
'Tis certain, in vain fantastic women, there no content.  
But, Sir, excuse me, if I say, you're in an error,  
If you hold all women so.  Adr. 
This moves him, I'll try him farther. Are you infected with that error,  
To think, there can be any other good in women,  
Than only, that they do increase mankind?  Phil. 
Certainly they're good for something else.  Adr. 
Yes, to set debate 'twixt the dearest friends,  
To ruin husbands in their states and honours,  
Nay, kingdoms, Empires; in a word, for certain,  
As they bring men into the world, so certain  
Do they ruin all our joys.  Phil. 
You speak from malice, friend, I fear, not from judgement;  
For you must give your opinion the lie, when you consider,  
That our Prince that governs us had a mother,  
Who, whilst she lived, did govern him.  Adr. 
It works. She was a Queen ordained by heaven and so  
Indeed, that she partaks none of her sexe's  
Ill, nor weaknesses. Name another.  Phil. 
she's easily seen, did not your malice blind you;  
The Princess Aurelia.  Adr. 
As she's a part of her divine Mother, I grant her excellent;  
But that laid by, she's but a woman.  Phil. 
But a woman, would you have her a monster, would ye?  Adr. 
I must close with him, I am satisfied.  
How his blood stirs at naming her.  
Sir, I'll admit those two to have some worth.  Phil. 
You had a mother Sir, and you have now a sister,  
Most perfect as I hear; will you bar them  
From all that's worthy?  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
The Duke calls for you, he thinks your Lordships well  
On your journey by this time.  Phil. 
Pray let him know no other.  Adr. 
Dear friend, your pardon.  Exe. Adr. & Ser. Phil. 
I do not like this carriage of Adrastus,  
He makes a greater show of love to me  
Then usual, pretending a strange hatred  
Against the nobler sex of women; noble, because  
Dearest Aurelia's one. How blessed am I,  
Though I dare only whisper to myself, I am beloved by her.  
My plot was prosperous, & she one of my best assistants,  
To whose dear care I owe my happiness,  
For by thy means, I did receive the first hope,  
That I was beloved above what she made show of.  Enter Miranthe. Mir. 
And from me you must receive assurance of the contrary.  Phil. 
Ha! that Aurelia loves me not.  Mir. 
she's so far from loving you now, that she Doth hate herself, that e'er she did  Phil. 
Oh! I am wretched, from what a pitch of happiness  
Thou hast thrown me in an instant, 'twas unkindly done; yet,  
So soon to let me see thou hast abused me  
By thy flatteries, in this thou hast disturbed,  
More than informed my judgement.  Mr. 
How?  Phil. 
For, what care I for knowledge of that truth,  
That brings a certain ruin?  Mir. 
She did love you, and may again; crosses in love are ordinary.  Phil. 
she'll hear me speak, that I may know the cause,  
At least, of her displeasure.  Mir. 
I know she will not, her heart's so swollen with some offences.  Phil. 
I have no other comfort left me but my innocence  
Each accident doth cross me. Tomorrow I must  
Leave the Court, to wait upon the Prince;  
How shall I get an opportunity to speak to her,  
The loss of time will ruin me, I must  
By Letters make her know my innocence.  Mir. 
When you are gone, if I can learn the cause  
Of her displeasure, I'll write.  Phil. 
Thou art all my comfort.  Exeunt. Enter Lucinda and Linda. Luc. 
See, Linda, what I found too in my Cabinet,  
Looking indeed for one of my dear brother,  
Kind Adrastus' Letters.  Lind. 
Believe me, Madam, the language of this Letter,  
Considering the sweetness of the youth that sent it,  
Would have moved pity, if not procured love,  
From any other, but your cruel self.  Luc. 
Alas, good wench, I see thou hast a tender heart;  
In truth I would it had been writ to thee.  Lind. 
Well, Madam, you think none worthy but your brother Adrastus.  Luc. 
I do indeed believe so; who equals him in worth?  
And till I find one something near him, I shall not  
Think of Marriage, I assure thee; for, my beauty,  
Which gives place to none, will not permit me  
To accept a servant, that is not equal to the best deserver.  Lind. 
Madam, though natural affection stop your ears,  
Against all reports, that do not sound Adrastus' praise;  
Yet, I by others hear, Philanthus and the young Prince,  
In all respects far praised above him.  Luc. 
Philanthus!  Lin. 
Why, Madam, speak you with so much scorn, he's now  
Accounted the glory of the Court, a man framed  
Both for Love and arms.  Luc. 
Pish.  Lind. 
You never saw him.  Luc. 
Nor ne'er desire.  Lind. 
Well, Madam, you are strangely averse, take heed  
Love do not lay some punishment upon you,  
Equal to your contempt of his great deity.  Luc. 
Contempt of his great deity, had he a temple  
Standing near, dedicated to him, and to his  
Mother both, I would go in and yerk his little worship:  
Or should she say, I were not fairer than herself,  
And more to be adored, I'd break her Statue,  
And those, whom by my beauty are captive made,  
Should in th'stead of it, erect my Picture, frowning too,  
That any should presume to love me; yet in those  
Clouds, more powerful to draw men's hearts to my devotion,  Flourish. 
Then she, with all her wanton blandishments.  Exeunt. Enter Duke, Adrastus, Aurelia, Courtiers, and Servant. Duk. 
Daughter, methinks you're sad, is't for your  
Brother's absence,— he's now upon return.  Aur. 
I am not sad, Sir, 'tis but your conjecture.  Duk. 
Adrastus, are there no sports, no pleasures to delight her?  Floris● Adr. 
None, Sir, the Court is clouded in the absenc● of the Prince.  Duk. 
What means this Trumpet? one go see.  Serv. 
A stranger Knight, Sir, one that desires to be admitted to your presence.  Enter Herald. Duk. 
we'll hear what he demands: What would ye?  Her. 
Great Duke, know, that this Knight is hither come,  
To repair himself by arms, of an injury  
He hath received; nor can he fear, so just a Prince  
As yourself, will break an honourable custom,  
That hath been so long used amongst your ancestors.  Duk. 
It cannot, nor it shall not be refused.  Her. 
Is Adrastus in this company?  Adr. 
Yes, I am the man.  Her. 
Then, Sir, my Master will maintain with his life,  
That you have belied a Knight, equal to yourself  
In merit, in whose behalf he's come to prove,  
That you have wickedly invented that,  
Which you have said of him.  Adr. 
Though I do not know your Master, which might excuse  
A man of my birth; yet, confident in mine own innocence,  
As having wronged no man, I do accept the Combat.  
Get me my Armour, nor shall it longer be deferred,  
There cannot be more noble witness.  Duk. 
Adrastus, I prize you too much, to suffer it.  Adr. 
How, Sir? then may my arms rot off, if ever I  
Lift them in your service; and yet my heart  
Misgives me in this occasion, more  
Than ever. Push is't not before divinest,  
Aurelia? I shall do wonders.  Exit. Aur. 
What can this stranger be? or what can  
Be the wrong, he now seeks right of from Adrastus,  
Whose valour makes him famous through the world?  Enter young Gudgen and his man. Y. G. 
Save your refulgent grace.  Duk. 
How now, who are you?  Y. G. 
A poor favourite of you graces, that desires to be better acquainted.  Duk. 
A favourite of mine, how came you so?  Y. G. 
Knowing myself fitly qualified, and well accoutred, as they say, I made bold to venture a sum of money.  Duk. 
Is this he?  2. 
Yes, Sir.  Duk. 
I am bound to you, it seems you love me well, that would buy my service, venturing in it my refusal of ye too.  Y. G. 
Yes, in good faith, I love ye very well; I have heard in the Country a good report of you; besides, you're bound to love me too, by my place.  Duk. 
Who swore you, your own imagination?  Y. G. 
Swore me, why, do you misdoubt me? I warrant ye, Sir, I'll execute it rarely.— Stand by there, the Duke is busy, another time he'll hear you.  Duk. 
We shall be troubled with this ass.  Y. G. 
Take away this fellow, you hear what the Duke says,  Duk. 
Take him away, this is not a time for fooling, I am serious.  Y. G. 
Your grace is wise, 'tis true indeed. See the council-chamber made ready, 'tis a business of great importance, worthy your fear. I would my old father were here, we two would advise you rarely i faith.  Duk. 
A way, coxcomb.  Y. G. 
He has a villainous head of his own, he'll tell you how many acres of land are in your dukedom, and never measure it.  Duke 
How?  Y. G. 
Another shall measure it for him.  Cour. 
Away with this fool.  strikes up Gudgens heels Y. G. 
Slight! what do you use a young Gentleman and a favourite thus, that comes out of his mere love to Court?  2. 
he's quite discouraged, that rude fellow hath spoilt all.  1. 
Not a whit, if I do not raise him to a belief above what he had, ne'er trust my skill.  Y. G. 
'Twas you Sir, that made me believe, I should rise at Court.  1. 
Why, so you do; but you are no ordinary Favourite, they rise first, and fall after commonly; but you shall rise after your fall.  Flourish, Charge. 2. 
'Tis not without example.  Exeunt. Enter Adrastus and Philanthus. Duk. 
Are the Knights ready?  1. 
Yes, Sir, see where they enter.  Duk. 
Then let the justice of the injured's cause protect them  they sight. 1. 
Was ever seen a braver Combat?  Duk. 
'Twere pity to lose such Knights, perhaps their quarrel,  
Truly understood, may not be great.  Aur. 
The stranger does appear the braver.  Duk. 
I fear Adrastus. Sweet daughter, make trial of your power,  
To stay the Combat, 'tis an an office will become you.  Aur. 
Most willingly. Sir, I beseech you hold.  She pulls him, and he turning suddenly, her fear makes her fall; he offering to help her, Adrastus comes behind; but he recovering himself, lays Adrastus at his feet. Phil. 
Traitor, this baseness will express thee.  Aur. 
Hold, Sir, I adjure you by her whom you  
Best love, give me his life.  Phil. 
Let him confess the wrong he has basely  
Done to me, and her whom you adjure me  
By; and he shall live by your command,  
Though far unworthy to be so obliged.  Adr. 
I am dead else, I do, or any thing.  Phil. 
Live then, to be more miserable than death could make thee.  Duk. 
Be careful of Adrastus, but see this stranger  
Receive no injury, from any of Adrastus' friends.  
Though ye have fought with one that we love dearly,  
Yet, I so much admire your courtesy  
And valour, that I should think my Court  
Much honoured by your stay.  Flourish. Adr. 
Friends, if you love me or my fortunes, revenge me,  
The way I leave to your discretion.  Friends. 
Enough, we'll die or doot',  
Notwithstanding the Duke's command.  Ex. omnes 
Finis Actûs secundi.   

Actus tertius.  Enter Lucinda and Linda. Luc. 
LIghted that armed Knight that rid fast by, at that little house?  Lin. 
He did madam, this fine day hath tempt you  
To walk further than you think: they say there's often  
Robberies done in this wood.  Luc. 
Alas poor wench art afraid.  Enter Adrastus, Friends. Luc. 
What are these that make this haste.  
Oh madam, thieves I fear.  1. 
Saw you a Knight ride by here, dear Lady is't you  Luc. 
Well met sir, yes I saw him, how does my brother?  
Oh speak, I long to know, I dreamt of him to night.  1. 
Madam I fear your brother is no more.  Luc. 
Ha? dead? Oh speak it not, for I shall bear him company.  1. 
Rather show us which way that Knight went, the Author of his death.  
That so we may revenge his murder.  Luc. 
Oh heavens, murdered? yet you are just ye powers  
That makes me thus the instrument of his revenge.  
I will not wash this hand kercher in womanish tears,  
But first in the murderer's blood, then cleanse it again  
With tears for my dear Brother.  2. 
But madam, which way went he?  Luc. 
I'll bring you where you cannot miss him, 'tis  
Not long since I saw him enter a little house.  
As we came walking hither.  Enter an old man, and an old woman. Wom. 
Now his wounds are dressed, he sleeps soundly.  Man. 
Alas good gentleman, he takes our poor entertainment kindly.  
He said at first he would come hither when he went to fight.  Wom. 
I wonder his man that dressed him, stays so long.  Enter Lucinda, Linda, and friends. 
'Tis not far to the next Town.  O Man. 
What are these? thieves?  1. 
Stop their mouths, he sleeps, shall I strike him dead?  Luc. 
No let me see the Murderer first, sure he looks ugly.  
You need not kill him, let the law seize on him.  2. 
Madam I would not have him wake, he's stout.  
'Twil not be in our powers to compel him.  
By all the gods, 'tis Philanthus, but he shall die.  Luc. 
Stay— it must be by my hand, no other.  
I am most injured, and so most interested in the revenge.  1. 
Alas you are not able.  Luc. 
Leave it to me, or else by all that's sacred:  
I'll lay you open to the Law give me your Dagger:  
Retire and leave me.  1. 
Alas madam you.  Luc. 
Are you such fools, not to be content  
To have a dangerous enterprise effected, and yourselves  
Freed from danger of the Law, none will suspect me.  2. 
Madam, if he should wake.  Luc. 
Stay you without, and if you hear me call  
For help: come in, not, otherwise.  1. 
We dare not disobey you, her own great spirit  
And the much love she bears her brother, makes her,  
Forget her sex.  1. 
But we shall lose your thanks, since she performs it.  2. 
Not a whit, he shall not know it for us, how e'er  
she's a witness of our zeal to do't; and we are free  
From danger of the Law, if ever the deed be known.  Enter Lucinda. Luc. 
'Tis done, away, he welters in his blood, leave all to me.  2. 
But what for these?  Luc. 
Fie, no, 'tis unnecessary, by giving Gold,  
I'll make them speechless ever, but now I better  
Think, bear them into some wood and bind them  
But hurt them not.  1. 
Madam, 'tis possible, your brother may not yet b● dead.  
How e'er this act will please him much.  Lu. 
Not dead? this may be malice, then if it be known,  
I'll justify the Act, if not the thanks and recompense  
Be you from him. I'll send, and know the truth of all.  Lin. 
Oh madam I never thought you could have done a wickedness like this.  
The wounds which you have given will strike  
Your own soul deep one day.  Lin. 
Oh fool the wounds I have received are far more dangerous,  
Then those that I have given.  Lin. 
Madam your own hand's cut.  Luc. 
'Tis so, all the blood thou seest came only from thence.  
Let me with better leisure look on what I have preserved.  
His travel makes him sleep sound.  Lin. 
Madam, how blessed were you to change your cruel resolution.  
Some angel prompted you to save him from those  
Murderers, by seeming, as if you did yourself intend to be one.  Luc. 
There was no other way; but the good angel  
That prompted me, was Love; 'twas strange I should  
Be taken by a sleeping man, that have from all eyes  
That have seen me, almost banished sleep,  
To think upon my beauty, which must be now  
My part for him; for, I have lost myself  
By saving him, since I am sister to his enemy.  
Yet, he may love like me, when he intends revenge:  
But shall I be so lovely when I sleep, and he behold  
Some stand ready to murder me, so making  
Pity usher love into his heart, as into mine?  
For all ways else have been before attempted  
To make me amorous, none prevailed: Oh no,  
It cannot be, he stirs, away.  
I must do something,  
What, I cannot tell:  
Who loves, and dares not say, he lives in hell.  Exeunt. Enter Aurelia and Miranthe. Aur. 
Miranthe, have you known valour, and so little courtesy,  
meet in the person of one man so fully,  
As in this Knight that overcame Adrastus?  Mir. 
Madam, his valour did appear to all,  
But wherein he behaved himself discourteously,  
I am yet to learn.  Aur. 
What Knight but he, would have refused to stay  
Their Combat, when I, a Princess,  
Not to be contemned, besought him?  Mir. 
Oh, Madam, how unjust you are, since you accuse him  
In that, wherein you ought to thank him?  
You saw, when through your fear you fell, he turned  
To take you up, by which he did receive  
A wound, I feat too mortal, by that most base  
Adrastus; and if he had given o'er the Combat  
Afterward, when you desired, his enterprise  
Had been most vain from the beginning:  
Adrastus had not then confessed, that you or any  
Might have heard, the lies he had invented.  
But Philanthus is most unfortunate, to have  
His best deservings still misinterpreted.  Aur. 
How! was't Philanthus that fought? me thought indeed,  
The voice was his▪ but he being thought so far off,  
Kept me from being certain.  Mir. 
It scaped my tongue before I was aware,  
Now I must make it good. Yes, Madam, it was Philanthus,  
To whom I did give notice in a Letter,  
How much Adrastus injured you and him,  
By saying, Philanthus boasted of the great love  
You bare him, in every place, and that you partly did  
Believe, he spoke but truth, which was the cause  
Of your displeasure.  Aur. 
Is't then Philanthus hath done me this displeasure?  
Durst he put my honour on the hazard of fortune?  
Durst he capitulate and make conditions,  
When I did beg Adrastus' life? am I so miserable,  
That I was gladder to receive, than he to give  
What I did ask?  Mir. 
Oh poor Philanthus, how happy art thou, if the wound  
Thou didst receive, helping her up, have freed  
Thee from those greater torments, which her cruelty  
Prepares, in recompense of all thy faithful services.  
But, Madam when I think on't, did not you say,  
He was to right himself with his sword, if he knew  
No other remedy; and with more secrecy, or more  
Discretion, it was to bar the action, all  
Thinking Philanthus to be far hence,  
Even when he drew their eyes to wonder at his valour.  Aur. 
Peace, no more of him, you praise him without cause.  Mir. 
Without cause?  
When as his death, caused by your cruelty,  
More than his wounds, shall make the world know,  
'Twas he that overcame Adrastus, and for your sake,  
As well as for his own. How will the virtuous  
People tax you, of your great injustice?  Aur. 
I must confess, I should be very sorry his death  
Should give the world a knowledge of my follies.  Mir. 
Be not you cruel to him, and prevent it.  Aur. 
Nay, let him love himself, and save me a labour.  Mir. 
Madam, he cannot love that, which he thinks you hate.  Aur. 
he's neither worthy of my hate nor love.  Mir. 
Madam, 'tis impossible there should be that indifferency  
Towards Philanthes, whom you must either love,  
Or hate extremely.  Enter Agenor. Aur. 
Well then, I do not hate him, my brother; upon your life  
Let him not know, that I do know the stranger was  
Philanthus. Miranthe, seek not to excuse him, he's a most  
Discourteous Knight, and I do hate him deadly.  Age. 
Who's that she speaks of?  Mir. 
The stranger-Knight.  Age. 
Believe me, fister, you had no reason.  Aur. 
Well, Sir, I know mine own reasons best.  Age. 
But, sister, when you hear mine, which are stronger,  
You'll be of another mind.  Aur. 
You may as soon persuade the fixed stars  
To move, as me from my opinion. 'Twas sure  
Some enchantment that overcame Adrastus.  Age. 
Then you'll abandon reason quite, this truly shows,  
You women think your foes your friends, your friends your foes.  Exeunt. Enter Philanthus, and Lucinda's Servants. Phil. 
Villains, for what respect is't, that you do preserve  
Me longer, to torment me? why did you not rather  
Kill me, when you found me sleeping first?  Ser. 
'Twas not in our commission, you are reserved to feel  
A thousand torments, to which death is a pleasure.  Phil. 
From what person living have I deserved such usage?  Ser. 
I'll let you know your misery, the more to torment you.  
Know, that we are servants to a Lady, the most malicious  
And deformed, that ever lived; so great  
An enemy to virtue, that 'tis her only study  
To destroy those men in whom it doth inhabit.  
Her vigilancy for mischief is ever busy.  
It seems she hath found you out to wreak her spite upon,  
Intending here to keep you ever, except she shall  
Prove merciful, and kill you.  Phil. 
If her hate to me only proceed from a belief,  
That I am virtuous, it seems she knows me not,  
I am not such. But if thou be'st a gentle villain,  
Tell me, where I am.  Ser. 
Far from the house, in which we found you sleeding,  
And now in the most loathed Prison, that ever eyes  
Beheld, if eyes can be of use in so much darkness;  
Your chiefest companions must be Toads, Snakes,  
And frogs, except two villains sometimes, as now, ready stand,  
To inflict torments, that cannot be expressed.  Phil. 
Oh that I could but see, and were unloosed, that with my fist  
I might reward thee for this kind relation.  Ser. 
Screech owls and Ravens, shall fill thy ears continually  
With dismal sounds. Hark.  Recorders. Phil. 
Sure some power, pitying the misery that I must suffer,  
Gives me this farewell to all happiness.  Ser. 
Now begins your torments, but that they may be more  
Sensible, let him see him his misery.  they unveil him. Phil. 
Amazement seizes me, is this a loathed Prison?  
Or this the harsh and dismal notes of wicked birds?  
Or look these men as they would stab, rather adore me.  
What do I fool myself, this is a dream.  
I am sure asleep.  Ser. 
Propose your wishes, and we are ready to effect them,  
As far as lies in human power.  Phil. 
This is no dream, I am awake, this is my hand,  
And these my hairs, I feel pain, now I pull them.  
Sure 'tis a vision, or worse enchantment; the wicked Mistress  
Of this house, to all her other ills, is certainly a witch.  Enter Lucinda. 
I am confirmed 'tis so, for here she comes,  
Changed in a form equal to Aurelia, and far more  
Gently does she look upon me, than she did at our parting.  Luc. 
Sir, you are welcome, if there be defect in any thing,  
It comes from negligence of servants, not from my will.  
A valiant Knight, and fly thus from a Lady!  Phil. 
What should I fear, she cannot hurt my mind  
With all her art, how e'er she may my person.  
Besides, she'll change her form, and look before she do me ill.  
This shape can nought produce, that can offend.  Luc, 
Pray you sir, sit.  Phil. 
I will.  Luc. 
Not so far off, if you please.  Phil. 
You think I fear.  Luc. 
No, Sir; but I perceive, you are not confident of what you see.  
Sir, recollect yourself; for what you heard  
Before from these, was but what I directed,  
With an intent indeed, to set off, as with a foil,  
This mean but hearty entertainment.  Phil. 
I dare not trust you, you speak too well,  
To mean well, since I am a stranger,  
And no way have deserved these favours.  Ser. 
My Lady, Sir, hath told you truth.  Luc. 
Save your pains, leave us, I'll clear his understanding.  Exeunt Servants. Phil. 
The danger now approaches, if she be a witch.  
Wickedness desires no witness.  Luc. 
Sir, if ere you loved, which yet I wish you had not,  
Then the discourse I am to make, will with more ease  
Approach your understanding, and soon gain belief.  
I am a Lady as you see, not much deformed;  
The Servants and the stuff here are not borrowed,  
Nor will it hurt my state thus daily to entertain  
Such, as I make my friends; and such my birth is,  
As bids me live thus without tax of pride.  
I am mine own disposer, no Parents to blame  
My disobedience, though my choice should only  
Please myself: They live not, or if they did,  
My fortune was not wholly left by them.  Phil. 
You are in a happy state, since you have power  
To make some noble spirit fortunate, and you in him.  
Sure she is really what she relates.  Luc. 
I might have been most happy, if my unlucky stars  
Had not in one particular crossed me.  Phil. 
Your courtesy obliges me, to ask you wherein?  
I vow she weeps, the tears, like Oriental Pearls,  
Drop from her eyes making a path down  
Her most lovely cheeks, that may direct the looker on,  
If lost in wonder, as I am, to find the way  
Back to those heavenly springs, from whence all treasure  
Flows, rich above Tagus, or what poets ever feigned.  
Speak, gentle Lady, why this sorrow?  Luc. 
They are not tears of sorrow, but of anger,  
To see my liberty thus lost, that liberty,  
Which I have so much prised, as some have thought  
There was just cause to think me proud, and then to lay  
Myself and all my fortunes, even at mine enemy's feet.  
Oh misery, have I not cause, think you, to weep,  
And curse my cruel Stars, that force me to do this?  Phil. 
I must confess, 'tis a hard fate for to be subject  
To ones enemy: But sure your merits have the power to turn  
That enmity to friendship, if you please.  
Be plain, and let me know your meaning;  
And, with the hazard of my life, I'll serve you.  Luc. 
Then thus: I hated you above all creature living,  
The cause seek not to know, for 'tis impossible; nay came  
With an intent to see you murdered; but when I saw you  
Though you then slept, the graces all, methought,  
Dwelled in you face, and so protected you from harm;  
That I that came with all that malice, became  
Your sole preserver, and not content with that, straight way  
I made you absolute commander of me and mine.  Phil. 
You amaze me.  Luc. 
But not intending that you e'er should know me,  
Nor the place of my abode, if you returned not love,  
I made my servants bring you thus blind fold  
Hither, lest you might boast my love hereafter.  Phil. 
Madam, 'tis a most strange discourse that you have made,  
And yet you so deliver it, that I must think it  
Truth; but what to answer, I am ignorant.  
'Tis best I should be plain, since you desire to be so.  
Then must you know, that my unhappy stars  
Make me uncapable to receive the unequal treasure,  
Which you offer in your rich self. A Lady, like yourself,  
To say more fair, were false, hath long since robbed  
Me of the power, to be my own disposer.  Luc. 
I feared indeed, that so much worth as you are Master of,  
Could not be undisposed of, since where's that woman  
Would not use her utmost art, to gain a servant,  
That she might so justly glory in. I desire to know  
Her name yet, that I may pay her beauty and her wisdom,  
That respect it merits, for loving you.  Phil. 
Madam, I must not; but, trust me, she's too wise to love  
Me still, for she hath found me now of late, much' much  
Defective; but I do hope, my constancy will  
Make supply; for, I vow, my affection and my life have  
But one date.  Luc. 
Say you so, this protestation hath much lessened  
The opinion I held of your worth: Perhaps you say  
This, to avoid my importunity, which I do too much  
Apprehend. I am no ravisher; may be, when you shall see  
Some greedily pursue what you do, with such scorn, refuse,  
And those perhaps your equals, you'll find too late,  
You fondly have pursued your misery, and fled  
From a great happiness, and begin to make you  
Feel your folly▪ I'll tie you to this hard condition,  
As I believe you will account it.  Phil. 
What is't, Lady? there's but one woman's threatening,  
That can affright me.  Luc. 
Say you so, I'll try that; tell me that woman's name,  
The place of her abode, or by my hopes of happiness,  
I'll make you the most miserable man alive;  
For, you shall never see again, what you so cov●● enjoy.  Phil. 
You are witty in your anger, this is no ef●●●… of that great love,  
That you professed; it may be, time will make me  
Better know your worth. Methinks you look m●… lovely  
Then you did, though at the first fair.  Luc. 
Oh Sir, do you begin to flatter: Her name, name,  
And with it, liberty; if you deny, to prison.  Phil. 
No other way.  Luc. 
None, as I live; can you expect from me, the injured,  
Any favour? Could I invent a way more to afflict y●●  
You should be sure to feel it.  Phil. 
What shall I do? the choice is hard:  
How can this any way advantage you?  Luc. 
If she be more deserving than myself,  
I shall not then repine to be refused; if less,  
Contemn you for your folly; and do not fear,  
That I will make another partner of  
The secret, which may be troubles you.  Phil. 
If I have not lost it, I am happy; read the direction of this Letter.  Luc. 
Let's see't.  Phil. 
Aurelia made me so direct my Letters, so●●… deceive,  
If any by misfortune should be seen.  Luc. 
To the fair hands of the most admired Lucinda.  
How's this? he must not see my blushing, this cannot be.  
It may; How? I am transported betwixt joy and fear?  
Swear by the gods, Lucinda is the creature you most affect.  Phil. 
There's no help, she's too wise to be deceived.  Luc. 
Come, swear.  Phil. 
By Aurelia's self, the greatest oath, I love no other than Aurelia.  Luc. 
All my hopes thus again vanished. You are free,  Enter Servants. 
And I the most unfortunate. Sir, you must be contented,  
They bear you back as you came hither; and think,  
What you have seen or heard, was but a dream.  Exit. Phil. 
Thus I refuse, cruel Aurelia, for thy sake,  
A beauty, that the powerful gods might rivals make.  Ser. 
Sir, we must bear you many leagues hence.  Phil. 
Even where you please.  Exeunt. Enter the two Courtiers. 1. 
He's stark mad, with the conceit of his favourites place.  2. 
You'll ne'er make him know himself.  1. 
The better: you see, he makes good sport at Court.  2, 
Take heed, it may be there are some that do believe, you brought him to mock them.  1. 
If there be any there so simple to believe that, than I have personated those I know not of, & I am glad on't  2. 
Ay, but to touch upon the name or actions of a favourite, may bear equal danger with those of Princes.  1. 
If this fool favourite of ours do trouble any other, tell them, that jewels receive their lustre from a foil; if then not satisfied, they're near a kin to him in judgement, and envious to me; yet, I forgive them, knowing their malice cannot hurt my innocence, who rather wish to receive an injury myself, then touch at any, whose fooling is not their greatest merit; I mean, their only hope of rising. Here comes our Gallant.  Enter Gudgen and his Man. Y. G. 
Tell my Lord's man, I am wondrous busy, and cannot speak with him these two hours.  Man, 
I will, an't please your honour. He's stark mad, but I must humour him.  2. 
What Lord's man?  1. 
There's none to speak with him, 'tis his fancy.  Y. G. 
In good faith, Sir, I cannot do't for you.  Man. 
I am very sorry for't.  Y. G. 
I must not waste my stock of favour, on so unreasonable businesses. Greater profit. Ay, ye say true; I know it will be the greater profit: But, Sir, 'twill likewise raise much envy against me, and I am not very well settled; the great men apprehend the danger of my rising, and study how to give a stop to all my hopes.  Man. 
Very like, Sir.  Y. G. 
Oh, Sir, assure yourself, in any other thing I shall be ready to serve you. Farewell, noble Sir.  Man. 
Now I must go.  Y. G. 
Pox of'is coxcomb, why does he trouble me? Yet, 'tis good policy to speak him fair to his face, I may have use of him. Please your grace, this is a friend of mine, a deserving man.  Man. 
Alas, Sir.  Y. G. 
I humbly thank your grace. Your suit is granted.  Man. 
Is it?  Y. G. 
But with great difficulty. Sir, this man's suit is most impertinent, himself an idle, ill natured, and seditious fellow; I have known him long. Away, you're saucy. Madam, your husband shall have the place, I vow 'tis for your sake only. Command you? no, Madam: I'll wait on you at your lodging, sweet Madam. Gentlemen, you must pardon me, I cannot hear you now, you see his grace hath sent for me in haste, pray tell him that I come. You are importunate, Get the Coach there ho.  Man. 
Yes, Sir.  Exeunt. 2. 
This is direct madness, and yet he speaks more sense, than ere he did in his life, but that he speaks to no.  1. 
Nay, th'Ass is strangely mixed; sometimes he will have starts of wit, that would almost cozen a man.  2. 
He would pass for a very accomplished Gentleman amongst some women; but that his hoping to be a favourite discovers him.  Enter Gudgen and his Man. Y. G. 
Slave, not my Coach ready?  2. 
What, the scene's changed now, the Lady is Sprat again.  Y. G. 
My Coach, thou cur.  Man. 
How many horses, Sir?  Y. G. 
Six, thou peasant.  Man. 
An't please your honour, will not Cut, and your father's dung-Cart serve to day, I'll be the Coachman.  Y. G. 
Be dumb, thou traitor, dost thou not know, Obedience, not advice, belongs to servants; but I will teach thee how to be malapert, thou Brock.  1. 
Nay, Sir, for this time let me beg his pardon; besides, Sir, spend not your rage so poorly. Hark you, Sir.  Y. G. 
How?  1. 
It must be so, your reputation is in danger else; a favourite must be noble, of a great spirit, careless of danger.  Y. G. 
Why, Sir, than I am right; I care so little for danger, I would ne'er come near it; and if danger approach me, it had better keep farther off, it shall be sure of cold entertainment.  1. 
You are wise, Sir, I believe it.  Y. G. 
Wise, I would have you know,  
Ere all be done, the world shall think me so.  1. 
Ay, Sir, we find the weight of it.  Exeunt 
Finis Actûs tertii.   

Actus quartus.  Enter Philanthus. Phil. 
HOW strange a fortune have I run, since I did leave  
The Court; but it most vexes me, to be ungrateful to  
Her, that saved my life, though not by love; yet there  
Might be some other way to serve her, did I know  
Her name. Why, sure methinks I'm free, since 'tis her will,  
That bars me from the means, to know her. I have  
No comfort left, but in the faithful friendship of the Prince.  
His Sister is become cruel, I fear unconstant.  
Adrastus, how will he entertain me?  Enter Adrastus. Adr. 
Ha, is't his ghost, or he himself? he lives I my hopes are vain.  Phil. 
What means he, he cannot suspect 'twas I that overcame him.  Adr. 
I must dissemble. My dearest friend, where have you been  
These many days? How it joys me to have you in these arms?  
A Serpent or a Fury had been more welcome.  
The Court, Sir, languishes in your absence, and reason,  
Wanting you, the lustre of it.  Phil. 
Rather in your sickness, Sir; Now you are well, it will recover quickly.  Adr. 
You have heard, it seems, of my disaster.  Phil. 
I heard, Fortune envying your worth, became your enemy.  
But, was the Combat equal, had he no odds in Horse nor arms?  Adr. 
Something there was in that, but my respect to the Princess  
Was most prejudicial to me; yet since, she hath  
Requited me, with so much love and care of my health,  
That I esteem myself most happy to have received those wounds  
And with them, such assurance of her affection.  Phil. 
How's this?  Adr. 
I'll vex his soul with jealousy?  Phil. 
It cannot be.  Adr. 
If he accuse me for these words, I'll combat him,  
And so recover my honour lost, or lose my life.  
'Twas fortune, not his valour, that o' recame me.  Phil. 
Oh woman, woman, what art thou?  Adr. 
Philanthus, what is't that troubles you? if any secret grief,  
Discover it to me, whom you may boldly trust;  
For I have told you, what to no other creature  
Living I would discover, though wracked.  Phil. 
I am wracked indeed.  Adr. 
Come, speak man, be free, my friendship to you does command it.  Phil. 
I am of a sudden sick.  Adr. 
And that's my case: How I could hug myself for this?  Phil. 
Your pardon, Sir, I am not very well, I'll to my Chamber.  Adr. 
Shall I wait on you?  Phil. 
By no means.  Exit Adr. 
A fine excuse, alas poor shallow lover.  
Fortune, why dost thou thus assist an ignorant  
Against me? Why should she love him, and neglect me  
Thus, that am so much in Art his Master? he has a smother face,  
And more youth about him; th'Adamants,  
That draw a giddy Lady. I see him coming back,  
I do not like it; I'll make as if I did not see him.  Enter Philanthus. Phil. 
Friend. He goes away. Adrastus.  Adr. 
I cannot hear.  Exit. Phil. 
He will not hear. How base a wretched thing  
Is a dissembler of which Adrastus is the chief.  
With what a show of love he entertained me,  
As if his soul were joyed at sight of me;  
When by the lie he did invent of me, and of the Princess,  
I know he hates me: What a madness is it then in me,  
To believe that, which he spoke of her love to him;  
He's sure too cunning to discover it, if it were true,  
To me especially. Child that I was, I now find out his plot,  
Suffering my passion to give him an assurance  
Of my affection to Aurelia, which before  
He only could suspect.— See the sweet Prince.  Enter. Agenor. Age. 
Thou partner of my soul, where hast thou been?  Phil. 
Oh Sir, the strangest fortune hath befalln me, since  
I received your Letter, that ever man encountered,  
Too long to be told you now. But how go matters at Court?  
What say they of the stranger, I mean, of me?  Age. 
My sister most unjustly hates you, and no persuasions  
Can as yet alter her, as you're a stranger too.  
I left her with a Gipsy and his daughter, who tells  
The strangest things that e'er were heard; indeed he tells  
You almost what you can desire to know, men's fortunes past,  
And, I think, that which is to come too, if he please:  
Sure he's really a Conjurer,  Phil. 
I long to see and talk with this rare man,  
But more your beauteous sister, if she will deign  
To cast her heavenly eyes on so despised a subject.  Age. 
Come, fear it not, time will pacify that unjust anger,  
That she conceived against you.  Phil. 
I fear she is unconstant.  Age. 
If she love any other, nay, if she love not Philanthus,  
She's no more my sister, but in name; a stranger  
To my blood and my affection.  Phil. 
I do fear, if there be any by, they'll discover  
By my distemper, the affection, which except to your dearselfe,  
I have from all concealed.  Age. 
It shall be as you desire it. Come, leave these downcast looks;  
I could complain of my hard fate in love;  
Here's a greater witness of my Mistress scorn than ever,  
She almost swears here never to love me;  
There was some hope before, but I forget.  
Each one in his own cause is tedious,  
Taxes an other that's guilty in the same.  Exeunt Enter Aurelia, Adrastus, Miranthe, Linda, and a Gipsy. Aur. 
Come, Sir, what can you say to this hand?  Gip. 
You have been much in love, and there was cause  
You should be so, your servant was most worthy.  
But you of late have been unkind, perhaps  
You love another; I can, but will not tell you at this time.  Au. 
This is partly truth. Show him your hand.  Mir. 
I defy him to tell any thing of me.  Gip. 
you're a good dull soul, you neither think of love nor hate;  
To wait upon your Lady is all your pleasure.  Aur. 
In troth 'tis true.  Lind. 
Pray, Sir, look on mine.  Gip. 
you're wondrous amorous, and have already changed  
Three Servants, the better for the worse still.  Aur. 
Upon my knowledge, Sir, you have told most certain truth.  Enter Agenor. Age. 
God-save ye, sister. Can this man tell any thing?  
Sir, show your skill on me, but to myself;  
I would not have them hear what you conjecture:  
More I know you cannot of no man's fortune.  Gip. 
You'll straight believe the contrary, your hand's  
So easy, that I could almost tell every particular  
Of your whole life; at least, your passages  
Of love, which is the skill that I profess.  Age. 
Let's hear.  Aur. 
Adrastus, hath he seen your hand yet?  Adr. 
No, Madam, 'tis to no purpose, he can tell nothing.  Aur. 
I am not of your mind. It seems my brother  
Will not have us know his fortune.  Gip. 
You were in love at seven years old, as much as that age  
Could admit, and have continued the most constant living,  
Upon the smallest hopes; and 'tis not long since  
You received a great discouragement, yet still you love,  
And much I fear in vain.  Age. 
'Tis true, this makes me admire your skill.  Gip. 
You are as true a friend, as you're a lover too,  
And you in that will be unfortunate.  Age. 
It is impossible.  Gip. 
I may fail, but I speak according to my art.  Adr. 
What think you of him?  Age. 
I think him a rare man.  Adr. 
I'll see if he can make me think him so.  
Now, Sir, shall I entreat you to show your skill.  Gip. 
You will not have me speak aloud.  Adr. 
Why not aloud?  Gip. 
I will not; you have been a lover more than once, and still  
Unfortunate; first, by your own unconstancy, your quarrels  
Too, have been no advancement to your reputation lately;  
And more disgraces shall light on you, till you return  
Unto your first affection: the gods are much displeased.  
Be good, and reconcile yourself to heaven.  Adr. 
A strange fellow, but I'll seem to contemn him.  
The most ignorant might have told what he tells me,  
Of which number I believe him one.  Gip. 
Say you so, pray let me see your hand once more.  Adr. 
Well, Sir.  Gip. 
Your own arm being too weak to defend you against your enemy,  
I find, you basely have employed the arms of others.  Adr. 
Ha!  Gip. 
I find something like a murder written in this Line.  Adr. 
This fellow is a devil; besides, I see my falsehood does not thrive.  Aur. 
What says he to you?  Adr. 
He is indeed a rare man, and I recant,  
And much esteem him and his skill.  Age. 
I see he has told you things that please you.  Adr. 
He has so.  Exit. Age. 
Sister, if you love me.  Aur. 
Well, you know I can deny you nothing; I would not see him else.  
How I long to speak with him, yet I'll torment him too.  
It troubles me to think, my brother divides  
The channel of his love, which else would wholly  
Run in one continue stream to me.  Enter Agenor. 
I esteem you learned above all those I ever saw or heard of.  
This evening, Sir, we'll talk at better leisure.  
Now I desire all to retire and leave me.  Exeunt Gipsy, and Maids. 
Now, brother, where is Philanthus?  Age. 
Friend.  Enter Philanthus. Phil. 
How I tremble: Were I to enter Combat against a Lion,  
Nay, against an host of men, methinks I should not  
Be thus fearful. I know, 'tis not my part  
To play the passionate Lover, she'll laugh at me.  
But I have lost that power I had over my passion,  
By her unkindness, nor can I hide the sorrows of my heart.  she offers to go away. Age. 
Whither, sister, did not you promise to hear him?  Aur. 
Whom?  Age. 
Philanthus.  Aur. 
Yes, but I see nothing but a statue, there's neither  
Sound nor motion comes from that.  Phil. 
It is your cruelty that hath transformed me then.  
Dear Madam, tell me, from what can grow this alteration?  
If any false report have done it, 'tis great injustice  
To believe an enemy wronging a friend, and not  
To hear that friend first answer for himself.  Aur. 
Philanthus, I do not complain at all, why do you go about  
To justify yourself, before you be accused?  Phil. 
Madam, why am I then banished from  
Your presence, and your favour?  Aur. 
'Twas your occasion drew you from the Court,  
For aught I know; and for my favour, I never  
Doted on you, nor do I hate you now.  Age. 
Yet, sister, this cold answer does not become  
That love, which you, on my knowledge, desired,  
That he should think you bear him.  Aur. 
Brother, I must acknowledge, that I love and honour Philanthus merits;  
But yet, I take it, I never so far did engage myself,  
As not to be my own disposer; and you too far  
Interest yourself, in being more a friend to him than me.  Age. 
As how?  Aur 
You blind my judgement, which should wholly direct me in my choice:  
For he whom you commend of reasonable parts,  
Must from me gain respect above the best deserver.  
And much I wonder, that Philanthus will call in question  
His own merits, for so he does in my opinion, to use you,  
As a secondary means, since if he be a man deserves my love,  
I hope he thinks, that I have wit to know it.  Phil. 
Madam, 'twere ignorance in me, or any other, to plead other  
Desert, than readiness to obey; and fortune enviously  
To me, hath still denied such an occasion, as might let you see,  
The greatest danger should to me seem none,  
Where I might hope to do you any service.  Aur. 
Your promises are large, and I may perhaps  
Meet with employment.  Phil. 
Madam, if so, I shall believe myself most happy.  Age. 
Well, dear sister, use him kindly.  Aur. 
Brother, you did desire, that I should give him hearing,  
None by but you: I will exceed that favour,  
And wish to enjoy his company alone; pray leave us.  Age. 
Most willingly.  Exit. Aur. 
You may stay, Sir, if you please, except you fear  
To be alone with me.  Phil. 
Madam, why fear, what danger?  Aur. 
More than you think, I must impart a business to you  
In which I shall make trial of  
The great love that you profess.  Phil. 
I am blessed, if you be serious; though I should  
Perish in what you employ me, I must  
Account my end most fortunate.  Aur. 
You must swear to perform what I enjoin you,  
According to your power.  Phil. 
Madam, I vow't, if it be not against mine honour.  
I value you above my life, but less than that.  Aur. 
Well.  Phil. 
One exception more, and then be what it will.  Aur. 
What's that?  Phil. 
Not to command me to cease to love you.  Aur. 
Oh! fear it not; and yet I will not promise to love you,  
Not when you have performed, what I shall now enjoin;  
Yet, I confess, the service will be most acceptable:  
Nor must you make my Brother, though your dearest friend,  
Partaker of the secret.  Phil. 
That's worst of all.  Aur. 
Swear.  Phil. 
I do.  Aur. 
Then know, that I do hate that Knight, that overcame Adrastus,  
More than I love my beauty or my health.  Phil. 
How?  Aur. 
This cannot choose but pinch him. And do enjoin you  
By your oath, to find him out, and so deliver him into my hands,  
That I may have still power to punish him as I think fit.  Phil. 
And, Madam, wherefore do you hate him? I heard,  
His actions did not deserve it.  Aur. 
For his discourtesy, and neglect of me.  Phil. 
Know you of what Country he is?  Aur. 
No.  Phil. 
Oh, Madam, I find your plot, you know you shall  
Still be importuned by my love, which will  
Not give me leave, to let you live in peace;  
And therefore you have set me on this useless task.  
You are witty in your cruelty.  Aur. 
Not only so, for I desire to be revenged upon that Knight.  Phil. 
Will't content you if I kill him?  Aur. 
No, his punishment I reserve unto myself,  
The way to bring him hither, to your own discretion;  
By force, or by entreaty, as you please. And so I leave you.  
Think on your oath, remember too I promise no reward.  Phil. 
Nor may I hope one neither.  Aur. 
You are your own disposer.  Phil. 
At least allow me this encouragement.  
Why should I strive to please this scornful she, that hates me;  
Nay, hates me, when I do deserve all love?  
The beauteous Lady of the Castle did not so.  
Am I not by the gods thus punished, for my ingratitude to her? yes.  
Certainly, she saved my life: Her beauty is not much inferior,  
Her wit seems equal; how e'er, she ought  
To be esteemed by me much more. But where's she,  
Or what is she, I know not, only  
I feel her growing here, here, in my heart.  flourish Enter Duke, Agenor, Aurelia, Courtiers. Duk. 
This custom shall no longer be of use;  
The last Combat was granted, it seems,  
Hath drawn on this.  Age. 
Your Court will be dishonoured by the refusal.  
Shall it be said, You protect those, who do wrong  
To others, when the guilt perhaps makes them  
Too feeble to defend themselves.  Duk. 
Well be it as you will, I am innocent  
Of any blood, that shall this day be shed.  Age. 
Let the Knight enter.  Enter Gudgen and his Man. Duk. 
How, Gudgen my favourite? nay, then there's no great danger: Meant you 'twas he? Which of the women will he challenge?  Aur. 
Nay rather, how many men at all these weapons.  Y. G. 
Speak your prose first, and see you be not our before you begin your legs.  Man. 
No, I warrant you, Sir, I'll make my 〈…〉 rences very sweetly.  Age, 
Something long a beginning.  Y. G. 
Take heed your tongue do not discover you.  Man. 
No, nor my tail neither, I warrant you, as 〈◊〉 tell it.  Y. G. 
Remember, born a great way off.  Man. 
Ay, I, and not christened; for you are a T●●… you know.  Aur. 
Now he begins.  Man. 
Most doughty Duke. Master, what must I call you?  Y. G. 
Coxcomb.  Man. 
Oh!  Y. G. 
Shouldst not name me.  Man. 
Most doughty Duke, my Master Coxcomb whom you see.  Y. G. 
Oh slave.  Man. 
Is come to Court, to show his chivalry against.  Y. G. 
Speak softly.  Man. 
Against speak-softly, servant to your grace.  Y. G. 
Bernardo, servant to your grace, you fool.  Man. 
Bernardo, servant to your grace, you fool whom if he be within this dismal place, I him defy throwing the monstrous lie into his ugly throat.  Age. 
Good poetry.  Man. 
And should he come, I would not be in's coat:  
For sure my Master, who is come thus far,  
Will kill him dead before he be aware.  
I am his mouth, and I do tell you from him,  
My Master, if he come, will soundly bum him.  Y. G. 
Wool a?  Man. 
And therefore keep away, if you be wise,  
Till I my Trumpet have forth-sounded thrice.  Phil. 
Methinks the Knight should speak for himself.  Y. G. 
I do not understand a word of your language.  Duk. 
Hard luck, how far was your Knight born?  Y. G. 
Be sure you say far enough, they' I know me else.  Man. 
I warrant ye. Beyond the world's end.  Age. 
How many miles may that be?  Man. 
Forty good miles, and more. His Father?  Y. G. 
Peace, sound again, I am in some fear.  Aur. 
he'll learn to speak anon.  Y. G. 
It seems the enemy dares not approach; if he do, I'll send him after those ten Knights that I killed in Thrace, singly, man after man, though they assaulted me all at once.  Phil. 
That's strange.  Y. G. 
Ay, at one blow, with this rusty sword, rusty with being continually imbrued in blood of brutish beasts,  Man. 
Indeed he killed a mad Bullock once.  Y. G. 
Clove to the teeth a monstrous high and mighty mastiff Dog, of a Leminian Lion's hide.  Age. 
A Cow's perhaps, his father was a Butcher.  Y. G. 
Sound the third time. Not yet, how base is he, that dares do injury, but much more base, that dares not justify his wickedness. Not yet?  Phil. 
Now he speaks plain.  Y. G. 
I with this Gun have killed a monstrous Wren.  Man. 
He come! Hang him coward.  Y. G. 
Oh that he durst, then would I. What noise is that?  Man. 
Nothing.  Y. G. 
I thirst for blood, if there be any here.  Aur. 
To drink, would he have it?  Y. G. 
That dare according to ancient books, maintain the beauty of his Lady against mine. Since the enemy dare not appear, I must be in action.  Age. 
Where's yours?  Flourist Y. G. 
My squire here shall be she, my valour shall supply that which wants in beauty.  Duk. 
None dares. I am weary of this fool.  Y. G. 
Dare none encounter me, march quite away?  
He's come, but 'tis too late, I scorn to stay.  Duk. 
What did you come for?  Y. G. 
I will tell you the secret, I did come hitherto no end,  
And I do mean to depart to as little purpose.  
Therefore like other Knights, that make a show  
In glittering Armour, as I came I go.  Exeunt Gudg. & his Man. Phil. 
Call him back again, he's a rank coward.  Duk. 
No, let him alone, I'm weary; besides the day is far spent,  
And we do lose much better sport; nor were it well  
To have him so discouraged.  Aur. 
Pray, Sir, let me enjoy your friend Gudgen's company sometimes.  1. C. 
Madam, I'll fit him the best I can to make you sport.  Aur. 
If Philanthus conceal from Agenor  
What I enjoined, he loves me more than him,  
Which I shall much rejoice in.  Age. 
Is this your friendship?  Exeunt, manet Phil. & Age. Phil. 
Do not accuse me, where I am not guilty.  
The secret is not mine, that's trusted by another to me:  
And when it does concern them more than me,  
Yet so much I am touched, that I do burst  
With a desire to tell you.  Age. 
Why do you not?  Phil. 
She bound me by an oath to the contrary, most cunningly;  
For else, she knew I would have told it, you.  Age. 
Philanthus, I see she hath wholly won you from me,  
And I am glad you need not use my friendship further.  
Which of you two to accuse of most unkindness,  
I know not well. For me, I should not have entertained  
The knowledge of a secret, on a condition so prejudicial  
To our friendship.  Phil. 
It were great injustice in you, if't should.  
A perjured man would ill become your friendship.  Age. 
You tell it to no man in telling me.  Phil. 
Had not her tongue, her action did enjoin me to keep it from your  
Knowledge of all men; you saw, she did desire your absence.  Age. 
Perhaps she feared to speak before me, that which yet she would  
Be well content, that I should know from you.  Phil. 
If I have friendship, the knowledge of it, if you love me,  
Would more afflict you, than my denials does.  Age. 
Such an excuse does worst of all: farewell.  Phil. 
Sure Aurelia so much hates me, that she envies me  
That happiness of her brother's friendship, and only  
Did invent this plot to break it. Stay, Sir, I'll give you proof  
That I dare trust you with a secret, and you will  
Say, a strange one though not this.  Age. 
Well, what is't?  Phil. 
I do not love your sister.  Age. 
How!  Phil. 
No otherwise then as she is your sister.  Age. 
This makes me more suspect your friendship.  Phil. 
Why should you think I love her, since she hates me,  
And lays plots to deprive me of your friendship,  
Which, by the gods, I prize above what happiness  
Women can bring me.  Age. 
This protestation makes me think, you do not love indeed.  Phil. 
Be not mistaken, I do love.  Age. 
Whom?  Phil. 
Remember my past fortune with the beauteous Lady  
Of the Castle, and you will find, that I have cause  
To be a Lover, if only out of gratitude.  
Your sister's cruelty hath made my reason  
Once more Master of my will; and being so;  
I cannot choose, but see my former folly,  
In hoping to enjoy so absolute a creature  
As Aurelia is, whom heaven ordains  
For one of greater merits; the gods had been  
Indeed unjust, to make unworthy me the centre,  
Where so much worthy loves should meet, the least  
Of which, is sure to make the best deserver happy.  Age. 
Philanthus, my friendship's of that nature, that it does  
Glue me unto your designs; and since I see  
My sister hath given over to deserve your love,  
I must confess, I think you could not place it with more reason,  
Than on this Lady. 'Tis true, that I would have thee still a Lover  
Like myself, for so you'll hear me, and not laugh,  
When I deplore my misery in love; and I do glory,  
To be found more constent than you are. The scorns  
Of my Mistress have not altered me; I think  
It vice to change, how e'er she uses me.  Phil. 
Rather 'tis vice not to change, when reason does command it.  Age. 
Reason can never be your warrant to be false.  
I had been false to reason and myself both,  
To love where I should find neglect yet,  
Where I love, 'tis with much passion, but  
Not your blindfold constant way.  Age 
Nor would I that you should. I shall be happy  
In your happiness, or you in mine, if either  
Of our different ways do prosper. But you  
Now love you know not whom, nor know you where to find her.  Phil. 
Pardon me, the skilful Moor, late come to Court,  
Assures me, that he will let me see again  
That Lady by his art.  Age. 
When this?  Phil. 
This morning I sent my man before to tell him,  
I am coming; his house is here hard by.  Age. 
May I not see her too?  Phil. 
Perhaps, if you disguise you like my servant.  Age. 
I will.  Phil. 
Let's go then, I know he does expect me.  Exit. Enter Moor, and a Servant. Serv. 
Sir, my Master will straight be here.  Moor. 
Sir, I am ready.  Enter Philanthus and Agenor. Phil. 
Great Master of your art, good-morrow.  Moor. 
Good-morrow, noble Sir.  Phil. 
I hardly yet believe it possible,  
You should perform what you have undertaken.  Moor. 
More, Sir, if I please: I am in substance  
What others seem; nor shall you stay  
The making of a Circle. But who's this with you?  Phil. 
A servant, Sir, that I dare trust.  Moor. 
Pardon me, Sir, I have reason to be wary.  
This art is no ways lawful; for telling fortunes,  
That I count nothing. Is there nought else that you desire?  Phil. 
Nothing.  Moor. 
Stand by then. By that great power that's given me,  Recorder. 
I charge thee, the form of that Lady, to  
Appear, that this Prince desires, so habited,  
As when he saw her last.  Enter Lucinda. Phil. 
Oh ye powers, 'tis she. I must confess, your art  
Is inimitable, 'tis the same form; methinks  
It looks so like the life, that it would speak,  
If I should question it: no beauty can be greater.  
she's gone, can you not once more show her.  Exit Luc: Moor. 
Yes, and much more, if I were pleased.  Phil. 
What?  Moor. 
What? sit down and you shall see. Return thou beauteous shadow.  Enter Lucinda. Phil. 
She's by much fairer than Aurelia; I was a fool  
To pursue what's fled, and to refuse a blessing  
Offered like this; she smiles, as if she understood me,  
And confirmed my saying.  Age. 
Although I burst, I'll see the end.  Phil. 
When first I saw what's here presented, I  
could not think she was the thing she seemed,  
And now I cannot think she is a shadow,  
But a substance,— That sigh assures me,  
That she's flesh and blood; and yet a Daemon  
May possess a body, making it move by its own Organs.  
A dead Body, not a living body: pardon, if shadow,  
Or if substance, this bold touch; it is not profane,  
Since it proceeds from an affection, equal  
To what a mortal ere could boast of, in so short a time.  
This soft and warm hand does assure me, you are  
That noble Lady, to whose courtesy I owe  
My life, and now again it is within your power  
To see me die. But if you shall once more, make me a tender  
Of that love, which at your Castle I refused,  
As being then a prisoner to another's beauty.  
Assure yourself, I shall redeem that error,  
With an affection equal to your merits, paying the debt  
Of two lives that I owe you, and this of love the greater.  Age. 
Oh false friend.  Phil. 
She answers not. I fear I all this while, transported  
By my passion, have spoken to a shadow.  Luc. 
Rather I fear your protestations will prove such.  Age. 
'Tis she, and I am miserable.  Phil. 
Oh my joy. No, Madam, they are as firm as are the Poles,  Here the Gipsy pulls off his beard. 
That prop up heaven; and can I doubt? the proofs  
That you have given me of your love, are infinite,  
In that you thus disguise yourself thus once more  
T'engage me in an infinite affection, which I desire to seal thus.  Luc. 
Will you not think you, recall your vows,  
When you shall know my name.  Age. 
Cruel woman, thou needst not tell him, he too well knows  
Thou art Lucinda; the unkind Mistress of his  
Too kind, and much wronged friend Agenor.  Phil. 
Lucinda, Oh my cross fortune, I am false and knew it not.  Age. 
Excuse it not, but justify thyself,  
That I may kill thee without repining.  Phil. 
You know I never saw saw her.  Age. 
True. But was it possible thou couldst believe,  
That I could be transported with that passion  
For any other beauty, then for that thou seest in her?  
How often, ravished with admiration, did I describe  
Her face, and thought by love, like the must cunning Painter,  
To draw her very feature to thy understanding,  All this while, after their swords are drawn, the Gipsy and the Lady persuade and hold the Prince. 
As they do to the sight; so much at least,  
As if thou hadst but been that friend,  
Which I did hope, it would have prompted thee to fear  
No other but Lucinda could have been so fair.  Phil. 
you're passionate without all reason, and  
Forget friendship. Hear me.  Age. 
No, I am too tame, suffering thee, that hast  
Nothing, but the empty name of friendship,  
Thus to abuse me and shall that be a sufficient  
Bridle to hold back my revenge? Draw thy sword.  Phil. 
Why, you are mad.  Luc. 
I fear some ill event.  Age. 
Why smile you? Think you, because my valour is not like to yours,  
The subject of each tongue, my maiden-sword,  
Never unsheathed till now, that I do fear  
In a just cause to use it? Provide your best defence.  Phil. 
Defence, hear me.  Age. 
Come, draw, and do not dally. Your guilt hath  
Made you weaker than you think, you are not  
What you were, when you were faithful.  Luc. 
If I have any power, let me conjure you.  Age. 
You have none.  Here, she breaks from the Gipsy. Luc. 
Hear me.— How do you noble Sir: Oh for a Chirurgeon  Age. 
Ha! what have I done?  Phil. 
'Tis in vain, I am well, well as I could have wished  
I am removed from being a hindrance to  
My friend in his affection. You perceive  
How much he loves you, since it did force him  
To make a sacrifice of me, me, his better half.  
Sir, give me your hand; it was my fortune, not my will,  
That crossed you in this Lady's love. And, Madam,  
Remember, that my last breath is employed,  
To assure you, that I shall never rest  
In peace, if any other shall possess that place,  
Which you thought me worthy to hold, in your affection,  
Than this Prince, who only does deserve it;  
To whom, I hope, my weak defence, may justify my innocence.  Luc. 
Thou cruel murderer of thy friend, who rather than  
Endanger thee, would not defend himself. Thou cruel Butcher.  Age. 
I fear I have been too rash.  
He no way did employ his sword.  Luc. 
Oh cruel fate. Gone, he's gone for ever.  Age. 
He's quite dead, and you are hurt too, I think. Ha!  Luc. 
A scratch.  Age. 
He did employ his last breath to gain my love,  
From you too; did he not?  Luc. 
He did, but 'tis in vain, for I shall hate thee more than a Serpent.  Age. 
Yet less than I shall do my cursed self,  
The vildest monster of ingratitude,  
That the earth ever bore: I wonder why  
It does not gape, and swallow me alive.  
'Tis mockery to believe the gods are just,  
After this sufferance: Here, if you have any mercy, kill me.  Luc. 
Not I.  Age. 
I'll do't myself then.  Moor. 
Hold, Sir, for heaven's sake.  Age. 
Thou ignorant, 'twas to please heaven I would have done it.  Moor. 
You are deceived, they want not proper instruments;  
If 'twere their divine pleasure to shed your blood,  
To show their justice: No they delight in mercy more.  Age. 
But not so far as to confound their justice,  
I am no subject for it.  Moor. 
Madam, your help, to save another mischief.  Luc. 
Only that thought makes you unfit, you're penitent already;  
And that I may remove from you this black despair,  
That darkens thus your understanding, know,  
For your friends dear sake, if e'er I love again,  
It shall be you, except his memory.  Age. 
Fain I would die, yet fain I would believe her.  
Oh love! what power thou hast, that thus can change  
My just revenge; although I know this protestation  
Grows from a fear to offend his ghost, and not  
From love to me, for that's impossible:  
Yet, I will live, to inflict such punishment  
Upon myself, that you shall give me leave to die,  
To end my misery. The tomb I will erect  
For this dear corpse, shall well express my love,  
Howe'er, my unfortunate hand did shed his blood.  
Let your care be bestowed upon the body,  
Till I dispose of it; I shall reward your pain.  Moor. 
My Lord, I will.  Age. 
Heaven affects. Why do I live, and see him thus,  
And I the Author? Madam, what is your pleasure?  
Will you remove unknown, or shall I wait  
Upon you to your brother?  Luc. 
Sir, I beseech you, give me leave to be my own disposer.  Age. 
Obedience is my sacrifice.  Luc. 
But how, or where, is yet unknown to me,  
Uncertain fate, yet certain misery.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actûs quarti.   

Actus quintus.  Enter the two Courtiers. 2. 
WHat, are our Comedians ready?  1. 
Yes, yes.  1. 
That's well; the Princess does walk presently, and coming in unlooked for, it will please her the better. It's fine Poetry, is't not?  1. 
Only faulty, if not foolish enough; a quarter of an hour's work, when 'twas done; and yet I have studied a long time; and can find nothing more ridiculous,  2. 
Is there no prologue?  1. 
No, there's too few Actors.— Here's the Princess.  
They have their one, they'll enter sure.  Enter Aurelia and Miranthe. Aur. 
How now, what strange hob-goblin's this?  Enter Man. Man. 
Love, that intoxicate the brains of mortals, where there is any,  
Here inhabits none to be intoxicated, 'tis well known.  
Not Sisyphus, that restless rowles the stone still,  
Takes more delight, than I do in my own fill.  Enter Gudgen like a Lady. 
My Phillida, lo where she does appear,  
More humble than a Peacock, or his peer,  
The Turkey, who with her bristling plumes,  
Confounds my sense, and my poor heart consumes.  
Oh gods▪ Oh most glittering Wight,  
Thou workest upon me, I had need go write.  
My passion, 'tis not a stumbling tongue,  
That can express the love I bear thy bung.  Y. G. 
Kiss where thou lov'st, I thee pray, even here;  
Nothing I have too precious for my dear.  
But you do fool me, I and frump me; you,  
I Venus fair or chaste; go too, go too.  Man. 
Is Venus like to thee, thou dirty sow?  
No, thou art like unto our brinded Cow:  
But yet I fear she will prove wilder far,  
Thou art incensed, thy goblin eyes make war.  Y. G. 
Puh let me go, these come not from your heart;  
Too late I find you play the courtier's part.  Man. 
May all the joys of earth confound me, I,  
Have died thy love, and live I will perdie.  Y. G. 
Oh perjured man, see where she comes you wot of,  
Betwixt you surely I am made a sot of.  Enter a Wench. Wen. 
Sir, I am come to visit you, and your fair Mistress.  Man. 
Most odoriferous Lady, you are offensibly welcome; for you have done me a most desperate and intolerable favour; my Mistress does with me, I know, congratulate the mischief.  Wench. 
Sir, I am a simple wench, that understand nothing beyond sense.  Man. 
I am sorry for it, yet I will descend to your understanding, and speak none; or very little, hereafter.  Wen. 
It will become your person.  Y. G. 
Hark how she woes my dear: Oh, I am lost I fear.  Wen. 
Lady, you are sad, and much I wonder, being so happy in your servant.  Y. G. 
Damosel, you are unkind, your scorns are scurvy, and become you not.  Man. 
Oh thou art such a pretty wench, I could wish myself a gib Cat, and we two together in the dark.  Y. G. 
Ah me! he's lost. Sir, you forget me, your Phillida.  Man. 
Thee? I do contemn the thought of such a dowdy.  Y. G. 
Ah me, then let me die; thou constant wretch, Mayst thou sink down to bliss; but shall I curse, whom I have loved more, than my best Cow M●ll: Oh no. Come death and end my woe. But what shall finish my unhappy days? this knife, this shall afford me passage to the shades below, where I will try by dying thus my love to show, and fill his hard heartful of dismal woe.  Man. 
Alas good fool.  Wen. 
Will you not save her?  Y. G. 
Now I am dead, dost thou not grieve, thou cruel else,  
If I had known, I had not killed myself.  
Now I am stark dead, pray tell him so.  Man. 
Would thou wert buried, thou'lt ne'er leave talking else.  Aur. 
Miranthe, this is so woeful a story, I'll hear no more, make my excuse to the dead Lady, when she revives.  Exeunt Aur. and Miran. Man. 
Master, Master, rise, rise.  Y. G. 
That's not my cue, he's out.  Man. 
The Princess is gone.  Y. G. 
Gone is not my cue neither.  Man. 
The play is done.  Y. G. 
Thou liest, I must be kised first; I will I not open mine eyes till I be kised.  Man. 
What a coil's here, I could find in my heart, now his eyes are shut, to undo my points, and give him his cue. Sir, Master. I think he's a verier ass than myself, there let him lie, for me, I'll follow for a reward.  Exit. Y. G. 
Is he gone, had I no place about me worthy his kiss?  
Then let me wake from death. Why this it is,  
Since when I courted him, he would not come,  
My Ghost shall haunt him, till he kiss my hum, hum.  Exit. Enter Aurelia and Miranthe. Aur. 
This is the day, and this the place, that Philanthus  
Intends to present himself as the stranger Knight,  
To receive what punishment I shall inflict,  
Where I will make him jealous of himself.  Mir. 
Why will you so torment him, since you confess you love him.  Aur. 
Still to draw greater proofs of his affection, in which I glory.  Mir. 
Take heed, whilst that you use him thus, you do not  
Lessen what you would make greater, his love.  
Were I man and in his place, I should have hated  
You, for you in reason have appeared unworthy,  
And inconstant, which how his generous spirit  
May brook, who knows.  Aur. 
Púh these are needless fears, see where he comes,  
The same arms he wore, when he o'er came Adrastus;  
A coldness strikes my heart at sight of him.  Enter the Moor as Philanthus. Moor. 
If you be the Princess Aurelia, I was enjoined  
Thus low to bend my knee, lower my heart,  
In my submission to your offended deity.  Aur. 
Yes, Sir, I am, and you I take to be the most  
Discourteous Knight alive.  Moor. 
Madam, I have already paid for that offence,  
The forfeit of my honour, if not to be recovered,  
By faithfully performing what I was enjoined,  
Rather commanded, by your Philanthus, for such  
How e'er you prize him, he desires to be esteemed.  Aur. 
How well he counterfeits another's voice.  Moor. 
By a strange accident he met me, and when  
Persuasion would not move me, for I had a desire  
Another way, he did employ his not to be resisted valour,  
Compelling me to swear, for safeguard of my life,  
Here to present myself, and willingly receive  
What punishment your rigour can inflict.  Aur. 
What censure do you expect?  Moor. 
Death, for I do believe you the most cruel Lady living.  Aur. 
Why do you think so?  Moor. 
Your rigour to Philanthns', who partly made  
Me know his story, made me suspect; yet still  
He loves you, more than his own soul. But your  
Unjust hatred against me, gives me assurance,  
Of your cruel nature.  Aur. 
Perhaps I did but seem to hate you, you feel am unarmed  
For punishment, none but myself, and one weak woman more.  
But you are bound by oath to endure what ere  
I shall inflict; I'll try him fully.  Moor. 
I am, and wish to know my sentence.  Aur. 
With you own sword I will perform it.  Moor. 
Alas, you have not strength to take my life, were I unarmed.  Aur. 
Rather no will, you are not noble that would thus,  
T' the danger of your life, perform your promise.  
Receive your sword, and know, I am so far  
From hate, that I did love you, for the great respect  
You showed me, though I seemed otherwise.  
But you retiring, and to me unknown,  
Barred me from means to thank you, or let you know,  
How much I liked your valour, which sure by Philanthus  
Could not be exceeded; I rather take it as a courteous act  
From you to him, he hoping the performance  
Of the task enjoined, might reconcile him to my love,  
Which is now impossible; yet, I did much affect him,  
Till his boasting did beget my hatred.  
But trust me, in his sending you, how e'er,  
I thank him, he hath much prejudiced himself.  
There is no honour that this Court can do you,  
Which boldly you may not promise to yourself.  
Nor would I have you think I am unconstant,  
For I have still professed to love, where I did find  
Most worth, until I were confined by Marriage.  Moor. 
Madam, however some will censure this your humour,  
To me it does appear the best. I honour you,  
And shall believe myself the happiest creature  
Living, in this your good opinion.  Aur. 
Longer, Sir, I will not hold you, but when you please  
To visit me at Court, there's no assurance  
Of my affection, that I shall refuse,  
Which honour will permit me to bestow.  Moor. 
Ay, make me in my own opinion the mark of envy,  
To the most happy living. Besides, thus on your hand,  
I seal my lasting service.  Exit. Mir. 
Madam, what's your design in this, to give Philanthus,  
As a stranger, so large assurances of your affection,  
And yet make him think, you hate him as he is himself.  Enter the second Courtiers. 2. 
Ah! Madam, the most unfortunate accident.  Aur. 
How! what? thou frightest me, speak.  2. 
The Prince your brother.  Aur. 
What of him?  2. 
Hath killed his dearest friend, noble Philanthus.  Aur. 
'Tis impossible, I know the contrary.  2. 
Oh, Madam, 'tis too true, your brother's sorrow is a witness of it;  
The Court is drowned in tears, and justly,  
It never felt a greater loss.  Aur. 
I have abused myself then, made vows and protestations  
To I know not whom; the voice indeed was different.  
But is this certain truth? were ye a witness?  
But how, or why, or when? I am amazed  
With wonder and sorrow. Speak.  2. 
'Tis so certain, that your brother would have killed himself,  
Had he not been prevented.  Aur. 
He had done well, 'tis fit we all should die;  
For who would live after Philanthus.  Exeum. Enter Lucinda. Luc. 
You Gods, was't not sufficient misery for me  
To love a man, whom I had never seen before?  
His heart given to another, or ere he knew me?  
But that you afterwards must raise me to the happiness  
Of his affection, and then thus violently pull  
Him from me. Why should you thus oppose your strongest powers  
Against a silly woman. But, love, I know it is thy malice,  
That did invite the cruel destinies to cut  
The fine spun thread of dear Philanthus, and cruelly  
Lengthen mine. You powers, it is enough; for you have humbled  
My proud heart low as the earth. Seek out some other,  
That hath not felt your scourges, I confess  
Your power, and am obedient too. But why should I  
Begin to flatter unjust heaven, within whose power  
It does not lie to pleasure me. Philanthus gone,  
Whose name I'll reverence more in their despite,  
Than all the envious deities, that took him from me.  Enter Philanthus, as a Ghost. Phil. 
Impious, cruel, and forgetful woman, thy sacrilegious  
Thoughts and words, I see, have been the causes,  
That have stopped my passage to the Elysium fields,  
Forcing me thus wand'ring to stay above the earth,  
To feel torments above neglect in love;  
Nay, equal to those hellish pangs, bred from the thoughts  
Of a much loved inconstant Mistress. But I'll revenge  
Myself, by haunting thee perpetually.  Aur. 
Oh thou dear ghost, such a revenge were sweet,  
I should desire to look upon thee ever.  
After I had thee, thou wert soon lost, I was not satisfied.  
Let me if possible embrace thee, at least  
Converse with thee for ever thus.  Phil. 
I see you have forgot my last request.  
Think on the Prince, in whom I live; this way ye cross  
The ordinance of heaven, who never fails  
To punish disobedience, from me. If you  
Be slack in loving him, my ghost shall never rest  
In peace; and when I next appear, a thousand furies  
Will come along, and in your sight torment me,  
Past what a mortal can imagine, if not for love  
Of him, for love of me. Be pitiful, and free me  
From an endless misery. Go to my Tomb,  
Where daily you shall find him weeping:  
There make an offer of yourself, in recompense  
Of all his sufferings; this done, you may be happy.  
But if refused, the height of misery will fall upon you,  
To me, perpetual torment; remember,  
On me perpetual torment.  Luc. 
Stay, stay, and hear me.  Phil. 
My time is past, remember lasting torment.  Ex▪ Luc. 
'Tis vanished, cruel ghost, that dost conjure me,  
Thus unkindly to forsake my first love, inconstancy's avice,  
They do not love at all, that can love twice.  
'Tis to me impossible, which if I do it not, I shall be miserable.  
And in doing it, I shall be so too then 'tis indifferent:  
Oh no, I shall release from misery,  
And happy make the ghost of Philanthus;  
That thought alone o'ercomes me.  ( Recorders) 
Strange friendship when the ghost of him that's dead,  
Shall for the living with such reason's plead.  Exit. Enter the two Courtiers. 1. 
Where is the Prince? is he yet so transported with sorrow?  2. 
I ne'er saw man so torment himself. 'Tis true; Philanthus  
Deserved to have as many tears shed for him,  
As any Prince that lived, but yet, that being past,  
And sorrow fruitless, methinks the sorrow should grow less.  1. 
If it be possible, it does receive increase.  
Some say, the Princess Aurelia bears a part too.  2. 
Where's the old Duke? followed his children to the Tomb  
Of Philanthus: Never such a sorrow seen in Milan.  1. 
In duty we are bound to wait upon them,  
Both with our persons and our sorrow.  Exeunt. Enter Agenor. Age. 
Methinks this sacred ground, that does contain  
The body of my friend, should open itself,  
And give me leave once more to embrace him,  
If his dear ghost be' Conciled; and if it hate me,  
Why should not then the earth, in friendship  
To its now inhabitants, gape wide and swallow me  
Alive, for my base act? How often have the gods  
Made even the insensible elements, the executioners  
Of their justice, against a murderer, and a more  
Hateful one was never performed: murdered my friend,  
Oh base! and such a friend, that even in death  
Expressed himself above my malice. The wound  
This sword hath made in his noble & undefenced breast  
Was only like a vent to a full vessel,  
That so the stream of his unequal love might find  
The frecer passage. Why should I live then, to be the hateful,  
And contemned example of ingratitude, to all posterity?  
And I will daily sacrifice my sorrows and my tears  
Upon his tomb, 'twill not serve. Were I a woman,  
Water might wash my guilt off; but as I am a man,  
A manly sacrifice must expiate my fault.  
Blood must be satisfied with blood. Philanthus,  
Receive this sacrifice, I will revenge the murder.  Enter the two Courtiers. 1. 
Dear my Lord, what would ye do?  Age. 
Nothing, why do ye hinder?  
Who made you my controllers?  2. 
Heaven forbid, that we should suffer you.  Age. 
For friendship sake, give me my sword, why should you  
Keep me hereto torment me? in death I should find ease.  
If any of you had a mind to die, and knew 'twould be for your content,  
Think you I would be so discourteous to disturb you?  
You need not hold me, you may give me freedom,  
Now I have no weapon, you cannot hinder me to weep  
These cursed eyes out; by whose false lights,  
false to my soul, came in that beauty of Lucinda,  
Whose violence working by jealousy, forced me  
To murder my dearest dearest friend. Pardon love,  
I have blasphemed against thy deity, for which I know,  
His Ghost will hate me more than for his wounds.  Enter Aurelia and Miranthe. Aur. 
Hence hypocrite, dost thou not fear his wounds  
Should open themselves, and blead his searcloath through,  
At thy approach.  Age. 
Sister, you cannot pronounce words half so harsh  
As I deserve, nor tax me with a guilt so great,  
But I'll acknowledge more, but not the same  
Which you accuse me of: For, were the sorrow  
Of the world joined in one for Philanthus,  
Mine might be thought a worthy rival,  
Nay, exceed that far.  Aur. 
Oh Philanthus.  Age. 
But sister, you, why you, why do you seem to grieve  
Thus, that in his life showed such contempt?  Aur. 
Oh brother, brother, seeking to deceive and blind the world,  
I have ruined and undone myself, the heavens  
A● witnesses, that Philanthus to me was more  
Than father, you, and all the world. Then give me  
Leave alone to grieve, since all griefs else are  
but like drops to the vast Ocean.  Age. 
Sister, the Ocean hath his bounds, though large,  
But my sorrow, like to his love, for whom I grieve,  
Must be beyond all limits, but his desert,  
The cause of my affliction.  Aur. 
Philanthus, Philanthus. But what are words, or fighes, or tears,  
But weak expressions? let a dead silence rather show,  
They grieve not much, that can express their woe.  Enter Duke. 1. 
Sir, your father.  Age. 
Here, here.  1. 
Madam, the Duke.  Aur. 
Loved Philanthus, I know he did, and so did I,  
Though I dissembled, dearly I loved him; if there be charity  
In you, open his tomb, that I may make his body know,  
By kissing his pale lips, that I did love him,  
More than he did me; his spirit's already  
Satisfied, I know, else it would haunt me.  Enter Lucinda. Luc. 
You twins of sorrow, that strive with eagerness,  
Which should be thought the truest mourner, make room  
For one, whose actions have in point of love,  
Outgone your airy words.  Age. 
I know that voice, Lucinda.  Luc. 
For which of you, after the killing of a much loved brother,  
For than I thought Adrastus dead, became  
Enamoured of his murderer, as I did of Philanthus?  
Or which of you forsook your honours, or your state,  
Becoming like to me, a straggling Gipsy,  
Forced to it, by a greater feeling of his merit,  
Than ever touched your heart, pursuing him  
In that disguise, even when to hope the least requital  
Had been madness? and yet I must give proof  
Beyond all these, when I have offered some  
Few tears upon his tomb.  Aur. 
Lucinda, for such I know your name is, how would it vex me,  
To hear you boast your love thus of Philanthus,  
Were he alive; and yet I should have gloried much,  
To be by him preferred before so excellent a Lady  
As yourself: But since unkind brother,  
But worse friend, hath by his rash hand, enriched  
The tomb, with what we both should strive for, let' Join  
In sorrow, and from our moumfull eyes by turns,  
Drop tears, till by continual motion, this hard  
And unkind Marble, may yield us passage to him,  
Which it now denies.  
And so at last we by our tears shall gain,  
What now by prayers we cannot obtain.  Duk. 
My dear children, why do you yield to sorrow thus  
Where there's no hope of remedy? I am a partner  
In your grief; you know that Philanthus was as  
Dear to me as any; but since I know I cannot  
Raise him to life by weeping, why should I  
Show myself a child, and mourn in vain?  Enter Adrastus. Adr. 
How, my Sister here, and mourning o'er the Tomb  
Of Philanthus, 'tis impossible, she never saw him.  Age. 
You are deceived, Sir, be your own witness.  Adr. 
'Tis she. Degenerate from my blood, weep for mine  
Enemy. Save you, Lady.  Luc. 
Brother, I know you wonder much to see me here;  
But more, that I lament thus for a man,  
Which you believe I knew not.  Adr. 
I do, I see the great love that you professed to me,  
Was wholly counterfeit.  Luc. 
Rather your virtues, brother, are not what I thought'm●…  
But love however's my excuse.  Age. 
Oh Philanthus!  Luc. 
Ha! methought the spirit of Philanthus spoke from his tomb..  
Chiding my slackness in performing his will; did it not, Sir?  Age. 
Not that I heard.  Luc. 
His ghost appeared to me in dead of night,  
And cruelly commanded me thus to present myself  
Before his Tomb, a gift unto the Prince Agenor,  
From his dead friend.  Age. 
How! do you mock me?  Luc. 
Which, though unwillingly, I here perform,  
Much more to satisfy my promise to his ghost,  
Than to requite your love; and yet, noble  
Sorrow may be accounted merit.  Age. 
Strange ghost!  Adr. 
How?  Age. 
Madam, till now, my thoughts were in the grave with Philanthus,  
His spirit it seems, knowing my hearty sorrow and repentance  
Laboured to make me happy in your love:  
And I receive you with a joy above  
What any tongue is able to express.  Adr. 
This makes for my advantage, and is it possible,  
Aurelia may return to love me, Philanthus  
Being dead. Who's here, the Knight that fought with me?  
These arms are ominous.  Enter Philanthus and the Moor. Duk. 
Come from the Tomb, Agenor, leave this sorrow.  Age. 
Sir, I'll obey you for this time; but after, daily offer up  
Tears of joy and sorrow, in which Scene I still  
Must be an actor.  Duk. 
Aurelia, be not wilful.  Aur. 
Thus all forsake me, no companions in my sorrow left,  
And I do glory in it.  Phil. 
Sir, by your gracious favour: Lady, why weep you thus?  Aur. 
Ha! what are you so ignorant, that does not know the cause?  Phil 
Do you know me then, the large expression that  
You made me of your respects, I might say love,  
Made me believe, I should not be so soon forgot.  Aur. 
Pardon me, Sir, I took you for this Knight then, for whom I now  
Weep, whose body lies here in this Tomb, from whence  
I do not mean to part; pray leave me, Sir. How got  
This Knight these arms, they are the same Philanthus wore.  Phil. 
Lady, you grieve for one, does not deserve this sorrow;  
Behold in me a worthier servant, who now am come to claim  
Performance of your so large promises. Point not to that,  
I beat him whilst he lived, and from him took these arms.  Age. 
Traitor Knight, thou liest; no, thou didst rather  
Play the thief, and steal them, which I will  
Make thee confess, else offer thee a  
Sacrifice upon his tomb.  Phil. 
In these arms I overcame Adrastus.  Age. 
Thou liest, and shalt not live to injure thus  
The dead; know, 'twas Philanthus by all the gods,  
And this is.  Phil. 
Philanthus, your servant.  discovers himself. Age. 
Ha! is't possible.  Phil. 
Be not amazed, but trust your eyes.  Age. 
How can this be?  Phil. 
You being wilful and enraged, I rather  
Ventured to receive one wound, and so seem slain,  
Than in your death to lose a friend, a Mistress,  
And my own life too; but life would have been hateful  
After your loss, if I could have preserved it.  Moor. 
But mark his love, while his wounds yet bled;  
( For to my charge, you know, you did commit  
The body) He studied to make you happy  
In my lady's love, which was effected, by playing  
His own ghost, whilst I did in his arms,  
With you supply his place; how easy 'twas  
To cozen you, and those you sent, by filling  
The Coffin with some trash, having my brother  
To assist me in it, the dullest may conceive.  
For my part, I was glad to raise my Mistress to a greater  
At least, if not a better fortune in  
The Prince's love.  Age. 
Madam, I hope you will not make his labour fruitless.  Luc. 
It were in vain to cross the will of heaven, which seems  
To have ordained Philanthus for your worthier sister.  Phil. 
It lay not in my power till now, by reason of my wounds,  
To keep my promise truly; but now, behold  
Me ready to receive.  Aur. 
Me, as a recompense for all your sufferings; no other punishment.  Age. 
Sir, we are joined, and do mean to grow together,  
If you do not severe us.  Duk. 
Enjoy your wishes both. Adrastus,  
For your sister's sake I wish your friendship.  Adr. 
Pardon the faults that grew from love to Aurelia,  
And I shall study your advancement.  Luc. 
Brother, be better than you have been.  Adr. 
Which to begin, I give myself again  
A servant to fair Miranthe, whose love, I know,  
Not malice, crossed me in my love to Aurelia.  Mir. 
I'll none, I thank you;  
You that forsook me, aiming at a greater  
Now offered I refuse, hoping a better.  Enter old Gudgen and young Gudgen. Y. G. 
Old man, I say to thee, be proud, and eke rejoice, to see thy hopeful son salute the Duke in triumph, and by him resaluted like to an Emperator.  Duk. 
Away rididulous ass.  Y. G. 
Did not I tell you?  Duk. 
Get you into the Country to your sheep and oxen, those, you feed well, will like your company, here your Favouritship is grown stale; the Court is not so barren, but it brings forth daily some new humour, which at first is pleasant, but after, like to yours, grows tedious.  O. G. 
Why, son, is this your gracing?  Y. G. 
The envy of some politic hath done this.  Duk. 
See all things straight prepared to solemnize  
The happy marriages of these, in whom,  
Friendship and love strove for a name;  Exeunt. 
In you love, in you friendship overcame.  Flourish. O. G. 
Come, son, come, after the loss of all our money, let's e'en go home, and be wiser once, never too old to learn.  Y. G. 
Ay, Father, but I am too young yet. Well, I will be a favourite for all this; I, so it shall be. Gentlemen, I mean to make a petition to the Duke, which I must entreat you to set your hand to, being the best judges of my ability; and thus it is:  
That since to be a worthy minion I'm not fit,  
Yet I may be the chief fool-Favourit.  
FINIS.