Father's own Son. A COMEDY. Formerly Acted at the Private House in Black friars; And now at the Theatre in Verestreet by His majesty's Servants.  
The Author John FLETCHER Gent.  
LONDON, Printed for Robert Crofts at the Crown in Chancery lane.   

TO THE NOBLE honourer OF The dead author's works and memory, Master CHARLES COTTON.  
SIR,  
MY directing of this piece unto you, renders me obvious to many censures, which I would willingly prevent by declaring mine own and your right thereto. Mine was the fortune to be made the unworthy preserver of it; yours is the worthy opinion you have of the Author and his Poems: neither can it easily be determined, whether your affection to them hath made you (by observing) more able to judge of them, than your ability to judge of them hath made you to affect them, deservedly, not partially. In this presumptuous act of mine, I express my twofold zeal; to him and your noble self, who have built him a more honourable monument in that fair opinion you have of him, than any inscription subject to the wearing of time can be. You will find him in this Poem as active as in others, to many of which, the dull apprehensions of former times gave but slender allowance, from malicious custom more than reason: yet they have since by your candid self and others been clearly vindicated. You shall oblige by your acceptance of this acknowledgement (which is the best I can render you, mine own weak labours being too unworthy your judicious perusal) him that is ambitious to be known  
Your most humble servant; RICHARD BROME.   

In praise of the author, and his following poem.  
'TIs both the life of Action and of wit,  
When Actors so the fancied humours hit,  
As if'twixt them and th' author there were strife  
How each to other should give mutual life.  
The last this wanted not. Invention strays  
Here in full many pleasant turning ways,  
That like Meanders their curled circles bend,  
Yet in a smooth stream run to crown the end.  
Then 'tis authorised by the author's name;  
Who never writ but with such sprightly flame,  
As if the Muses jointly did inspire,  
His raptures only with their sacred fire.  
And yet perhaps it did participate  
At first presenting but of common fate;  
When ignorance was judge, and but a few  
What was legitimate, what bastard, knew.  
The world's grown wiser now: each man can say  
If Fletcher made it 'tis an excellent play.  
Thus poems like their Authors may be said,  
Never to live till they have first been dead.  Rich: Brome.  

Monsieur Thomas, A Comedy.  
Actus Primus,  

Scena Prima.  Enter Alice and Valentine. Alice. 
HOw dearly welcome you are!  Val. 
I know it,  
And my best sister, you as deer to my sight.  
And pray let this confirm it, how you have governed  
My poor state in my absence, how my servants,  
I dare and must believe, else I should wrong ye,  
The best and worthiest.  Alice 
As my woman's wit Sir,  
Which is but weak and crazy.  Val. 
But good Alice  
Tell me how fares the gentle Cellide,  
The life of my affection, since my travel,  
My long, and lazy travel? is her love still  
Upon the growing hand? does it not stop  
And wither at my years? has she not viewed  
And entertained some younger smooth behaviour  
Some youth but in his blossom, as herself is?  
There lies my fears.  Alice 
They need not, for believe me  
So well you have managed her, and won her mind,  
Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness,  
And in your absence, that by me enforced still,  
So well distilled your gentleness into her,  
Observed her, fed her fancy, lived still in her,  
And though Love be a boy, and ever youthful,  
And young, and beauteous objects ever aimed at,  
Yet here ye have gone beyond love, bettered nature,  
Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery,  
His bow at full bent ever: fear not brother,  
For though your body has been far off from her,  
Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness,  
I have forced into her, won a place prepared too,  
And willingly to give it ever harbour:  
Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle,  
(Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on her  
By your observances, she cannot alter,  
Were the child living now ye lost at sea  
Among the Genua galleys, what a happiness,  
What a main blessing?  Val. 
O no more good sister,  
Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring.  
With that child all my hopes went, and you know  
The root of all those hopes, the mother too  
Within few days.  Alice 
'Tis too true, and too fatal,  
But peace be with their souls.  Val. 
For her loss  
I hope, the beauteous Cellide.  Alice. 
You may Sir,  
For all she is, is yours.  Val. 
For the poor boy's loss,  
I have brought a noble friend, I found in travel  
A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit  
If I have so much judgement to discern 'em,  
Man yet was never master of.  Alice 
What is he?  Val. 
A Gentleman, I do assure myself,  
And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it:  
I found him at Valentia, poor and needy,  
Only his mind the master of a treasure.  
I sought his friendship, won him by much violence,  
His honesty and modesty still fearing  
To thrust a charge upon me; how I love him,  
He shall now know, where want and he hereafter  
Shall be no more companions: use him nobly,  
It is my will, good sister, all I have  
I make him free companion in, and partner,  
But only  Alice 
I observe ye, hold your right there,  
Love and high rule allows no rivals, brother,  
He shall have fair regard, and all observance.  Enter Hylas. Hylas 
Ye are welcome noble Sir.  Val. 
What, Monsieur Hylas,  
I'm glad to see your merry body well yet.  Hyl. 
Yf'aith you're welcome home; what news beyond seas?  Val. 
None, but new men expected, such as you are  
To breed new admirations: 'tis my sister,  
Pray ye know her sir.  Hylas 
With all my heart, your leave Lady.  Alice 
Ye have it sir.  Hylas 
A shrewd smart touch, which does prognosticate  
A body keen and active, somewhat old,  
But that's all one: age brings experience  
And knowledge to dispatch. I must be better  
And nearer in my service, with your leave sir,  
To this fair Lady.  Val. 
What, the old squire of dames still?  Hyl. 
Still the admirer of their goodness with all my heart now  
I love a woman of her years, a pacer  
That lay the bridle in her neck will travel  
Forty, and some what fulsome is a fine dish,  
These young colts; are too sketish.  Enter Mary. Al. 
My x Mary  
In all her joy Sir to congratulate  
Your fair return.  Val. 
My loving, and kind x,  
A thousand welcomes.  Mary. 
A thousand thanks to heaven Sir  
For your safe, voyage, and return.  Val. 
I thank ye:  
But where's my blessed Cellide? her slackness  
In visitation.  Mary 
Think not so dear uncle,  
I left her on her knees, thanking the gods  
With tears and prayers.  Val. 
Ye have given me too much comfort.  Mary 
She will not be long from ye.  Hyl. 
Your fair x?  Val. 
It is so, and a bait you cannot balk sir,  
If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her.  
A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady,  
The poorest of your servants, vows his duty  
And obliged faith.  Mary 
O 'tis a kiss you would sir,  
Take it, and tie your tongue up.  Hyl. 
I am an ass  
I do perceive now: a blind ass, a blockhead:  
For this is handsomeness, this that that draws us,  
Body and bones: oh what a mounted forehead,  
What eyes and lips, what every thing about her?  
How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bears  
Her silver breasts? this is the woman, she,  
And only she, that I will so much honour  
As to think worthy of my love, all older Idols  
I heartily abhor, and give to gunpowder,  
And all complexions besides hers, to Gypsies.  Enter Francis at one door, and Cellide at another. Val. 
O my dear life, my better heart, all dangers,  
Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes,  
Had they been endless like the houses upon me,  
In this kiss, had been buried in oblivion:  
How happy have ye made me, truly happy?  Cel. 
My joy has so much overmastered me,  
That in my tears for your return.  Val. 
O dearest:  
My noble friend too: what a blessedness  
Have I about me now? how full my wishes  
Are come again, a thousand hearty welcomes  
I once more lay upon ye: all I have,  
The fair and liberal use of all my servants  
To be at your command, and all the us  
Of all within my power.  Fran. 
Ye are too munificent,  
Nor am I able to conceive those thanks sir.  Val. 
Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service,  
Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between us  
And our entire affections, but this woman,  
This I beseech ye friend.  Fran. 
It is a jewel  
I do confess would make a thief, but never  
Of him that's so much yours, and bound your servant,  
That were a base ingratitude.  Val. 
Ye are noble,  
Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way sir,  
My x and my sister.  Alice 
Ye are most welcome:  Marry 
If any thing in our poor powers fair sir  
To render ye content, and liberal welcome  
May but appear, command it.  Alice 
Ye shall find us  
Happy in our performance.  Fra. 
The poor servant  
Of both your goodnesses presents his service.  Val. 
Come no more compliment: custom has made it  
Dull, old, and tedious: ye are once more welcome,  
As your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever.  
And so we'll in to ratify it.  Hyl. 
Hark ye Valentine,  
Is wild oats yet come over?  Val. 
Yes: with me Sir.  Mar. 
How does he bear himself?  Val. 
A great deal better:  
Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well.  Mar. 
I should be glad on't Sir.  Val. 
How does his Father?  Hyl. 
As mad a worm as ere he was.  Val. 
I looked for't:  
Shall we enjoy your company?  Hyl. 
I'll wait on ye:  
Only a thought, or two.  Val. 
We bar all prayers. Exeunt all but Hylas.  Hyl. 
This last wench, I this last wench was a fair one:  
A dainty wench, a right one: a devil take it,  
What do I ail; to have fifteen now in liking  
Enough a man would think to stay my stomach,  
But what's fifteen, or fifteen score to my thoughts?  
And wherefore are mine eyes made, and have lights,  
But to increase my objects? this last wench  
Sticks plaguy close unto me: a hundred pound  
I were as close to her: if I loved now  
As many foolish men doe, I should run mad.   

Scaena Secunda.  Enter old Sebastian, and Launcelot Seb. 
Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs I advise you,  
If you be lousy, shift yourself.  Lan. 
May it please your worship:  Seb. 
Only to see my son, my son good Launcelot  
Your Master, and my son's body O me sir,  
No money, no more money Monsieur Launcelot,  
Not a dinar, sweet Signior: bring the person,  
The person of my boy, my boy Tom: Monsieur Thomas,  
Or get you gone again, du gata whee sir,  
Bassa mi cum, good Lancelot, valetote.  
My boy, or nothing.  Lan. 
Then to answer punctually.  Seb. 
I say to th' purpose.  Lan. 
Then I say to'th purpose,  
Because your worship's vulgar understanding  
May meet me at the neerest: your son, my master,  
Or Monsieur Thomas, (for so his travel styles him)  
Through many foreign plots that virtue meets with,  
And dangers (I beseech ye give attention)  
Is at the last arrived  
To ask your (as the French man calls it sweetly)  
Benediction, as jour en jour.  Seb. 
Sirrah, do not conjure me with your French furies.  Lan. 
Che ditt'a vou, Monsieur.  Seb. 
Che doga vou, rascal:  
Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly  
And quickly sirrah, lest I crack your French crown,  
What your good Master means: I have maintained  
You and your Monsieur, as I take it Launcelot  
These two years at your ditty vous, your jours:  
jour me no more, for not another penny  
Shall pass my purse.  Lan. 
Your Worship is erroneous,  
For as I told you, your son Tom, or Thomas,  
My Master, and your son is now arrived  
To ask ye, as our language bears it nearest  
Your quotidian blessing, and here he is in person.  Enter Thomas. Seb. 
What Tom, boy, welcome with all my heart boy,  
Welcome 'faith, thou hast gladded me at soul boy,  
Infinite glad I am, I have prayed too, Thomas  
For you wild Thomas, Tom, I thank thee heartily  
For coming home.  Thom. 
Sir, I do find your prayers  
Have much much prevailed above my sins.  Seb. 
How's this?  Thom. 
Else certain I had perished with my rudeness,  
Ere I had won myself to that discretion  
I hope you shall hereafter find.  Seb. 
Humh, humh,  
Discretion? is it come to that? the boy's spoilt.  Thom. 
Sirrah, you rogue, look for 't, for I will make thee  
Ten times more miserable than thou thoughtst thyself  
Before thou travelledst: thou hast told my father  
I know it, and I find it, all my rogueries  
By mere way of prevention to undo me.  Lan. 
Sir, as I speak eight languages, I only  
Told him you came to ask his benediction,  
De jour en jour.  Thom. 
But that I must be civil.  
I would beat thee like a dog: sir, howsoever  
The time I have misspent may make you doubtful,  
Nay, harden your belief 'gainst my conversion,  Seb. 
A pox o' travel, I say.  Thom. 
Yet dear father  
Your own experience in my after courses.  Enter Dorothea. Seb. 
Prithee no more; 'tis scurvy; ther 's thy sister  
Undone without redemption: he eats with picks  
Utterly spoilt, his spirit baffled in him.  
How have I sinned that this affliction  
Should light so heavy on me. I have no more sons;  
And this no more mine own, no spark of nature  
Allows him mine now, he 's grown tame: my grand curse  
Hang o'er his head that thus transformed thee: travel?  
I'll send my horse to travel next: we monsieur,  
Now will my most canonical dear neighbours  
Say I have found my son, and rejoice with me  
Because he has mewed his mad tricks off. I know not,  
But I am sure, this Monsieur, this fine gentleman  
Will never be in my books like mad Thomas,  
I must go seek an heir, for my inheritance  
Must not turn secretary: my name and quality  
Has kept my land three hundred years in madness,  
And it slip now, may it sink. Exit.  Tho. 
Excellent sister,  
I am glad to see thee well: but where's my father?  Dor. 
Gone discontent, it seems.  Thom. 
He did ill in it  
As he does all: for I was uttering  
A handsome speech or two, I have been studying  
Ere since I came from Paris: how glad to see thee?  Dor. 
I am gladder to see you, with more love too  
I dare maintain it, than my father's sorry  
To see (as he supposes) your conversion:  
And I am sure he is vexed, nay more I know it,  
He has prayed against it mainly: but it appears sir  
Ye had rather blind him with that poor opinion,  
Then in yourself correct it, dearest brother,  
Since there is in our uniform resemblance,  
No more to make us two, but our bare sexes:  
And since one happy birth produced us hither,  
Let one more happy mind.  Thom. 
It shallbe sister,  
For I can do it when I list: and yet wench  
Be mad too when I please: I have the trick on't.  
Beware a traveller.  Dor. 
Leave that trick too,  Thom. 
Not for the world: but wher 's my mistress  
And prithee say how does she? I melt to see her,  
And presently: I must a way.  Dor. 
Then do so.  
For o' my faith she will not see you brother.  Thom. 
Not see me? I'll.  Dor. 
Now you play your true self;  
How would my father love this! I'll assure ye  
She will not see you: she has heard, (and loudly)  
The gambols that you played since your departure,  
In every town ye came, your several mischeifes.  
Your rouses, and your wenches: all your quarrels,  
And the no causes of 'em: these I take it  
Although she love ye well, to modest ears,  
To one that waited for your reformation,  
To which end travel was propounded by her uncle,  
Must needs, and reason for it, be examined,  
And by her modesty, and feared too light too  
To file with her affections: ye have lost her  
For any thing I see, exiled yourself.  Thom. 
No more of that sweet Doll, I will be civil.  Dor. 
But how long?  Thom. 
Wouldst thou have me lose my birth-right?  
For yond old thing will disinherit me  
If I grow too demure: good sweet Doll, prithee:  
Prithee dear sister, let me see her.  Dor. 
No.  Thom. 
Nay, I beseech thee: by this light.  Dor. 
I: swagger.  Thom. 
kiss me, and be my friend, we two were twins.  
And shall he now grow strangers?  Dor. 
'T is not my fault,  Thom. 
Well, there be other women, and remember  
You, you were the cause of this: there be more lands too,  
And better people in 'em: fare ye well,  
And other loves: what shall become of me  
And of my vanities, because they grieve ye.  Dor. 
Come hither, come, do you see that cloud that flies there?  
So light are you, and blown with every fancy:  
Will ye but make me hope ye may be civil?  
I know your nature's sweet enough, and tender,  
Not grated on, nor curbed: do you love your Mistress?  Thom. 
He lies, that says I do not.  Dor. 
Would ye see her?  Thom. 
If you please: for it must be so.  Dor. 
And appear to her  
A thing to be beloved?  Thom. 
Yes.  Dor. 
Change then  
A little of your wildness into wisdom,  
And put on a more smoothness:  
I'll do the best I can to help ye, yet  
I do protest she swore, and swore it deeply,  
She would never see you more: where's your man's heart now?  
What do you faint at this?  Thom. 
She is a woman:  
But he she entertains next for a servant,  
I shall be bold to quarter.  Dor. 
No thought of fighting:  
Go in, and there we'll talk more: be but ruled,  
And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of.  Exeunt  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Alice and Mary. Al. 
He cannot be so wild still.  Ma. 
'Tis most certain  
I have now heard all, and all the truth.  Al. 
Grant all that:  
Is he the first, that h'as been given a lost man,  
And yet come fairly home? he is young, and tender  
And fit for that impression; your affections  
Shall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion,  
A year hence, these mad toys that now possess him  
Will show like bugbears to him, shapes to fright him;  
Marriage dissolves all these like mists.  Mar. 
They are grounded  
Hereditary in him, from his father  
And to his grave they will haunt him.  Al. 
'Tis your fear  
Which is a wise part in you; yet your love  
However you may seem to lessen it  
with these dislikes, and choke it with these errors,  
Do what you can will break out to excuse him,  
Ye have him in your heart, and planted, x,  
From whence the power of reason, nor discretion  
Can ever root him.  Mar. 
Planted in my heart Aunt?  
Believe it no, I never was so liberal:  
What though he show a so so comely fellow  
Which we call pretty? or say it may be handsome?  
What though his promises may stumble at  
The power of goodness in him, sometimes use too?  Al. 
How willingly thy heart betrays thee x?  
Cozen thyself no more: thou hast no more power  
To leave off loving him, than he that's thirsty  
Has to abstain from drink standing before him.  
His mind is not so monstrous for his shape  
If I have eyes; I have not seen his better.  
A handsome brown complexion  Mar. 
Reasonable  
Inclining to a tawny.  Al. 
Had I said so  
You would have wished my tongue out: then his making.  Mar. 
Which may be mended: I have seen legs straiter.  
And cleaner made.  Al. 
A body too,  Mar. 
Far neater,  
And better set together.  Alice 
God forgive thee,  
For against thy conscience thou liest stubbornely.  Mar. 
I grant 'tis neat enough.  Alice 
'Tis excellent,  
And where the outward parts are fair and lovely,  
(Which are but moulds o'th' mind) what must the soul be?  
Put case youth has his swing, and fiery nature  
Flames to mad uses many times.  Mar. 
All this  
You only use, to make me say I love him:  
I do confess I do, but that my fondness  
Should fling itself upon his desperate follies.  Alice 
I do not counsel that, see him reclaimed first,  
Which will not prove a miracle, yet Mary  
I am afraid 'twill vex thee horribly  
To stay so long.  Mar. 
No, no Aunt, no believe me.  Alice 
What was your dream to night? for I observed ye  
Hugging of me; with good, dear, sweet Tom.  Mar. 
Fie Aunt,  
Upon my conscience.  Alice 
On my word 'tis true wench:  
And then ye kissed me Mary, more than once too,  
And sighed, and O sweet Tom again: nay, do not blush,  
Ye have it at the heart wench.  Mar. 
I'll be hanged first,  
But you must have your way. Enter Dorothea.  Alice 
And so will you too,  
Or break down hedges for it: Dorothea,  
The welcom'st woman living: how does thy brother?  
I hear he's turned a wondrous civil gentleman  
Since his short travel.  Dor. 
Pray heaven he make it good Alice.  Mar. 
How do ye friend, I have a quarrel to ye,  
Ye stole away, and left my company.  Dor. 
O pardon me, dear friend, it was to welcome  
A brother, that I have some cause to love well.  Mar. 
Prithee how is he? thou speak'st truth.  Dor. 
Not perfect:  
I hope he will be.  Mar. 
Never: ha's forgot me,  
I hear wench, and his hot love too:  Alice 
Thou wouldst howl then.  Mar. 
And I am glad it should be so; his travels  
Have yielded him variety of Mistresses,  
Fairer in his eye far.  Alice 
O cogging rascal.  Mar. 
I was a fool, but better thoughts I thank heaven.  Dor. 
Pray do not think so, for he loves you dearly,  
Upon my troth most firmly: would fain see you.  Mar. 
See me friend? do you think it fit?  Dor. 
It may be,  
Without the loss of credit too: he's not  
Such a prodigious thing, so monstrous,  
To fling from all society.  Mar. 
His so much contrary  
To my desires, such an antipathy  
That I must sooner see my grave.  Dor. 
Dear friend,  
He was not so before he went.  Mar. 
I grant it,  
For than I daily hoped his fair conversion.  Alice 
Come, do not mask yourself, but see him freely,  
Ye have a mind.  Mar. 
That mind I'll master then.  Dor. 
And is your hate so mortal?  Mar. 
Not to his person,  
But to his qualities, his madcap follies,  
Which still like Hydra's heads grow thicker on him.  
I have a credit friend, and maids of my sort,  
Love where their modesties may live untainted.  Dor. 
I give up that hope then: pray, for your friend's sake,  
If I have any interest within ye,  
Do but this courtesy, accept this Letter.  Mar. 
From him?  Dor. 
The same: 'tis but a minutes reading,  
And as we look on shapes of painted devils,  
Which for the present may disturb our fancy,  
But with the next new object lose 'em so  
If this be foul, ye may forget it, pray:  Mar. 
Have ye seen it friend?  Dor. 
I will not lie: I have not,  
But I presume, so much he honours you,  
The worst part of himself was cast away  
When to his best part he writ this.  Mar. 
For your sake,  
Not that I any way shall like his scribbling.  Alice 
A shrewd dissembling quean.  Dor. 
I thank ye dear friend,  
I know she loves him.  Alice 
Yes, and will not lose him,  
Unless he leap into the moon, believe that,  
And then she'll scramble too: young wenches loves  
Are like the course of quarterns, they may shift  
And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see  
The least distemper pulls 'em back again,  
And seats 'em in their old course: fear her not,  
Unless he be a devil.  Mar. 
Now heaven bless me.  Dor. 
What has he writ?  Mar. 
Out, out upon him.  Dor. 
Ha, what has the mad man done?  Mar. 
Worse, worse, and worse still,  Alice 
Some Northern toy, a little broad.  Mar. 
Still fowler?  
Hay, hay boys: goodness keep me: oh:  Dor. 
What ail ye?  Mar. 
Here, take your spell again, it burns my fingers,  
Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter,  
So elegant a stile? pray look upon't:  
The rarest inventory of rank oaths  
That ever cutpurse cast.  Alice 
What a mad boy is this?  Mar. 
Only i'th' bottom  
A little julip gently sprinkled over  
To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters,  
Indeed law. Yours for ever.  Dor. 
I am sorry.  Mar. 
You shall be welcome to me, come when you please,  
And ever may command me virtuously,  
But for your brother, you must pardon me,  
Till I am of his nature, no access friend,  
No word of visitation, as ye love me,  
And so for now I'll leave ye. Exit.  Alice 
What a letter  
Has this thing written, how it roars like thunder?  
With what a slate he enters into stile.  
Dear Mistress.  Dor. 
Out upon him bedlam.  Alice 
Well, there be ways to reach her yet: such likeness  
As you two carry me thinks.  Dor. 
I am mad too,  
And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well,  
The fool shall now fish for himself.  Alice 
Be sure then  
His tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing,  
He'll catch no fish else. Farewell Doll.  Dor. 
Farewell Alice. Exeunt.    

Actus Secundus,  

Scena Prima.  Enter Valentine, Alice, and Cellide. Cell. 
INdeed he's much changed, extremely altered,  
His colour faded strangely too.  Val. 
The air,  
The sharp and nipping air of our new climate  
I hope is all, which will as well restore  
To health again th'affected body by it,  
And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous;  
How does my sweet, our blessed hour comes on now  
Apace my Cellide, (it knocks at door)  
In which our loves, and long desires like rivers  
Rising asunder far, shall fall together,  
Within these too days dear.  Cel. 
When heaven, and you sir  
Shall think it fit: for by your wills I am governed,  Alice 
'Twere good some preparation.  Enter Frank. Val. 
All that may be:  
It shall be no blind wedding: and all the joy  
Of all our friends I hope: he looks worse hourly:  
How does my friend, myself? he sweats too coldly.  
His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spout,  
Scarce gives his function: how is't man, alas sir,  
You look extreme ill: is it any old grief,  
The weight of which?  Fra. 
None, gentle sir, that I feel  
Your love is too too tender.  
Nay believe sir,  Cell. 
You cannot be the master of your health,  
Either some fever lies in wait to catch ye,  
Whose harbinger's already in your face  
We see preparing: or some discontent,  
Which if it lie in this house, I dare say  
Both for this noble Gentleman, and all  
That live within it, shall as readily  
Be purged away, and with as much care softened,  
And where the cause is.  Fra. 
'Tis a joy to be ill,  
Where such a virtuous fair physician  
Is ready to relieve: your noble cares  
I must, and ever shall be thankful for,  
And would my service (I dare not look upon her)  
But be not fearful, I feel nothing dangerous,  
A grudging caused by th' alteration  
Of air, may hang upon me: my heart's whole,  
(I would it were)  Val. 
I knew the cause to be so.  Fra. 
No, you shall never know it.  Alice 
Some warm broths  
To purge the blood, and keep your bed a day Sir,  
And sweat it out.  Cel. 
I have such cordials,  
That if you will but promise me to take 'em,  
Indeed you shall be well, and very quickly,  
I'll be your Doctor, you shall see how finely  
I'll fetch ye up again.  Val. 
He sweats extremely:  
Hot, very hot: his pulse beats like a drum now,  
Feel sister, feel, feel sweet.  Fra. 
How that touch stung me?  Val. 
My gown there.  Cel. 
And those julips in the window.  Alice 
Some see his bed made.  Val. 
This is most unhappy,  
Take courage man, 'tis nothing but an ague.  Cell. 
And this shall be the last fit.  Fra. 
Not by thousands:  
Now what 'tis to be truly miserable,  
I feel at full experience.  Alice 
He grows fainter.  Val. 
Come, lead him in, he shall to bed: a vomit,  
I'll have a vomit for him.  Alice 
A purge first,  
And if he breathed a vein.  Val. 
No, no, no bleeding,  
A Clyster will cool all.  Cell. 
Be of good cheer Sir.  Alice 
He 's loath to speak.  Cel. 
How hard he holds my hand Aunt?  Alice 
I do not like that sign.  Val. 
Away to's chamber,  
Softly, he's full of pain, be diligent  
With all the care ye have: would I had 'scused him. Exeunt   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Dorothea and Thomas. Dor. 
Why do you rail at me? do I dwell in her  
To force her to do this or that? your Letter,  
A wildfire on your Letter; our sweet Letter;  
You are so learned in your writs: ye stand now  
As if ye had worried sheep: you must turn tippet,  
And suddenly, and truly, and discreetly  
Put on the shape of order and humanity,  
Or you must marry Malkyn the May Lady:  
You must, dear brother: do you make me carrier  
Of your confound-mees, and your culverins?  
Am I a seemly agent for your oaths?  
Who would have writ such a debauched?  Thom. 
Your patience,  
May not a man profess his Love?  Dor. 
In blasphemies?  
Rack a maids tender ears, with dam's and devils?  Thom. 
Out, out upon thee.  
how would you have me write?  
Begin with my love premised? surely,  
And by my truly Mistress  Dor. 
Take your own course  
For I see all persuasion's lost upon ye:  
Humanity, all drowned: from this hour fairly  Tho. 
I'll wash my hands of all ye do: farewell Sir.  
Thou art not mad?  Dor. 
No, if I were, dear brother  
I would keep you company: get a new mistress  
Some suburb saint, that six pence, and some others  
Will draw to parley: carouse her health in Cans  
And candles ends, and quarrel for her beauty,  
Such a sweet heart must serve your turn: your old love  
Releases ye of all your ties; disclaims ye  
And utterly abjures your memory  
Till time has better managed ye, will ye command me  Tho. 
What bobbed of all sides?  Dor. 
Any worthy service  
Unto my father sir, that I may tell him  
Even to his peace of heart, and much rejoicing  
Ye are his true son Thom still? will it please ye  
To beat some half a dozen of his servants presently  
That I may testify you have brought the same faith  
Vnblemishd home, ye carried out? or if it like you  
There be two chambermaids within, young wenches,  
Handsome and apt for exercise: you have been good, sir,  
And charitable though I say it signior  
To such poor orphans: and now, by th' way I think on't  
Your young rear admiral, I mean your last bastard  
Don John, ye had by Lady Blanch the Dairy Maid,  
Is by an Academy of learned Gypsies,  
Foreseeing some strange wonder in the infant  
Stolen from the Nurse, and wanders with those Prophets.  
There is plate in the parlour, and good store sir,  
When your wants shall supply it. So most humbly  
(First rendering my due service) I take leave sir. Exit.  Tho. 
Why Doll, why Doll I say: my letter fubbed too,  
And no access without I mend my manners?  
All my designs in Limbo? I will have her,  
Yes, I will have her, though the devil rore,  
I am resolved that, if she live above ground,  
I'll not be bobbed i'th' nose with every bobtail:  
I will be civil too: now I think better,  
Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried:  
And yet be mad upon occasion,  
And stark mad too, and save my land: my father:  
I'll have my will of him, how e'er my wench goes. Exit.  Enter Sebastian and Launcelot. Seb. 
Sirrah, I say still you have spoilt your Master: leave your stitches:  
I say thou hast spoilt thy master.  Lan. 
I say how sir?  Seb. 
Marry thou hast taught him like an arrant rascal,  
First to read perfectly: which on my blessing  
I warned him from: for I knew if he read once,  
He was a lost man. Secondly, sir Lancelot,  
Sir lousy Lancelot, ye have suffered him  
Against my power first, then against my precept.  
To keep that simp'ring sort of people company,  
That sober men call civil: mark ye that Sir?  Lan. 
an't please your worship.  Seb. 
It does not please my worship,  
Nor shall not please my worship: third and lastly,  
Which if the law were here, I would hang thee for,  
(However I will lame thee) like a villain,  
Thou hast wrought him  
Clean to forget what 'tis to do a mischief,  
A handsome mischief, such as thou knew'st I loved well.  
My servants all are sound now, my drink soured,  
Not a horse pawned, nor played away: no warrants  
Come for the breach of peace.  
Men travel with their money, and nothing meets 'em:  
I was accursed to send thee, thou wert ever  
Leaning to laziness, and loss of spirit,  
Thou sleptest still like a cork upon the water,  
Your worship knows, I ever was accounted  
The most debauched, and please you to remember,  
Every day drunk too, for your worship's credit,  
I broke the butler's head too.  Seb. 
No base Palliard  
I do remember yet that anslaight, thou wast beaten,  
And fledst before the Butler: a black jack  
Playing upon thee furiously, I saw it:  
I saw thee scattered rogue, behold thy Master.  Enter Thomas with a book. Thom. 
What sweet content dwells here?  La. 
Put up your book sir,  
We are all undone else.  Seb. 
Tom, when is the horse-race?  Tho. 
I know not sir.  Seb. 
You will be there?  Tho. 
Not I sir,  
I have forgot those journeys.  Seb. 
Spoilt for ever,  
The cocking holds at Derby, and there will be  
jack Wild-oats, and Will Purser.  Tho. 
I am sorry sir,  
They should employ their time so slenderly,  
Their understandings will bear better courses.  Seb. 
Yes, I will marry again: but Monsieur Thomas,  
What say ye to the gentleman that challenged ye  
Before he went, and the fellow ye fell out with?  Thom. 
O good Sir,  
Remember not those follies: where I have wronged sir,  
(So much I have now learned to discern myself)  
My means, and my repentance shall make even,  
Nor do I think it any imputation  
To let the law persuade me.  Seb. 
Any woman:  
I care not of what colour, or complexion,  
Any that can bear children: rest ye merry. Exit.  La. 
Ye have utterly undone: clean discharged me,  
I am for the ragged regiment.  Thom. 
Eight languages,  
And wither at an old man's words?  La. 
O pardon me.  
I know him but too well: eight score I take it  
Will not keep me from beating, if not killing:  
I'll give him leave to break a leg, and thank him:  
You might have saved all this, and sworn a little.  
What had an oath or two been? or a head broke,  
Though t''ve been mine, to have satisfied the old man?  Tho. 
I'll break it yet.  La. 
Now 'tis too late, I take it:  
Will ye be drunk to night, (a less entreaty  
Has served your turn) and save all yet? not mad drunk,  
For than ye are the devil, yet the drunker,  
The better for your father still: your state is desperate,  
And with a desperate cure ye must recover it:  
Do something, do sir: do some drunken thing,  
Some mad thing, or some any thing to help us.  Tho 
Go for a fiddler then: the poor old fiddler  
That says his songs: but first where lies my Mistress,  
Did ye inquire out that?  La. 
I'th' Lodge, alone sir,  
None but her own attendants.  Tho. 
'Tis the happier:  
Away then, find this fiddler, and do not miss me  
By nine o'clock.  La. 
Via. Exit.  Tho. 
My father's mad now,  
And ten to one will disinherit me:  
I'll put him to his plunge, and yet be merry.  
What Rybabalde?  Enter Hylas and Sam. Hyl. 
Don Thomasio.  
De bene venew.  Tho. 
I do embrace your body:  
How dost thou Sam.  Sam. 
The same Sam still: your friend sir.  Tho. 
And how is't bouncing boys?  Hyl. 
Thou art not altered,  
They said thou wert all Monsieur.  Tho. 
O believe it,  
I am much altered, much another way:  
The civilest Gentleman in all your Country:  
Do not ye see me altered? ye, and nay Gentlemen,  
A much converted man: where's the best wine boys?  Hyl. 
A sound Convertite.  Tho. 
What hast thou made up twenty yet?  Hyl. 
By'r Lady,  
I have given a shrewd push at it, for as I take it,  
The last I fell in love with, scored sixteen.  Tho. 
Look to your skin, Rambaldo the sleeping giant  
Will rouse, and rent thee piecemeal.  Sam. 
He ne'er perceives 'em  
Longer than looking on.  Tho. 
Thou never meanest then  
To marry any that thou lov'st?  Hyl. 
No surely,  
Nor any wise man I think; marriage?  
Would you have me now begin to be prentice,  
And learn to cobble other men's old boots?  Sam. 
Why you may take a Maid.  Hyl. 
Where? can you tell me?  
Or if 'twere possible I might get a Maid,  
To what use should I put her? look upon her,  
Dandle her upon my knee, and give her sugar sops?  
All the new gowns i'th' parish will not please her,  
If she be high bred, for there's the sport she aims at,  
Nor all the feathers in the friars.  Thom. 
Then take a widow,  
A good staunch wench, that tith,  Hyl. 
And begin a new order,  
Live in a dead man's monument, not I sir,  
I'll keep mine old road, a true mendicant:  
What pleasure this day yields me, I never covet  
To lay up for the morrow: and methinks ever  
Another man's cook dresses my diet neatest.  Thom. 
Thou wast wont to love old women, fat, and flat nosed,  
And thou wouldst say they kissed like Flounders, flat  
All the face over.  Hyl. 
I have had such damsels  
I must confess.  Tho. 
Thou hast been a precious rogue.  Sam. 
Only his eyes: and O my conscience  
They lie with half the kingdom.  Enter over the stage, physicians and others. Tho. 
What's the matter?  
Whither go all these men-menders, these physicians?  
Whose dog lies sick o'th' mulligrubs?  Sam. 
O the Gentleman,  
The young smug signior, Master Valentine,  
Brought out of travel with him, as I hear  
Is fall'n sick o'th' sudden, desperate sick,  
And likely they go thither.  Tho. 
Who? young Frank?  
The only tempered spirit, scholar, soldier,  
Courtier: and all in one piece? 'tis not possible.  Enter Alice. Sam. 
there's one can better satisfy you.  Tho. 
Mistress Alice,  
I joy to see you Lady:  Alice 
Good Monsieur Thomas,  
You're welcome from your travel: I am hasty,  
A Gentleman lies sick sir.  Tho. 
And how dost thou?  
I must know, and I will know.  Alice 
Excellent well,  
As well as may be, thank ye.  Thom. 
I am glad on't,  
And prithee hark.  Alice 
I cannot stay.  Thom. 
A while Alice.  Sam. 
Never look so narrowly, the mark's in her mouth still,  Hyl. 
I am looking at her legs, prithee be quiet.  Alice 
I cannot stay.  Thom. 
O sweet Alice.  Hyl. 
A clean instep,  
And that I love a life: I did not mark  
This woman half so well before, how quick  
And nimble like a shadow, there her leg showed:  
By th' mass a neat one, the colour of her stocking,  
A much inviting colour.  Alice 
My good Monsieur,  
I have no time to talk now  Hyl. 
Pretty breeches,  
Finely becoming too.  Thom. 
By heaven.  Alice 
She will not,  
I can assure you that, and so  Tho. 
But this word.  Alice 
I cannot, nor I will not: good Lord. Exit.  Hyl. 
Well you shall hear more from me.  Thom. 
we'll go visit  
'Tis charity: besides I know she is there:  
And under visitation I shall see her  
Will ye along?  Hyl. 
By any means.  Thom. 
Be sure than  
I be a civil man: I have sport in hand boys  
Shall make mirth for a marriage day.  Hyl. 
Away then. Exeunt   

Scaena Tertia.  Enter three physicians with an urinal. 1 Phis. 
A pleurisy. I see it.  2 
I rather hold it  
For tremor cordis.  3 
Do you mark the Pheses?  
'Tis a most pestilent contagious fever,  
A surfeit, a plaguy surfeit: he must bleed.  1 
By no means.  3 
I say bleed.  1 
I say 'tis dangerous:  
The person being spent so much before hand,  
And nature drawn so low, clysters, cool clysters.  2 
Now with your favours, I should think a vomit:  
For take away the cause, the effect must follow,  
The stomach's foul and fured, the pot's unflamed yet.  3 
No, no, we'll rectify that part by mild means,  
Nature so sunk, must find no violence.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
Wilt please ye draw near? the weak gentleman  
Grows worse and worse still.  1 
Come, we will attend him.  2 
He shall do well my friend.  Ser. 
My masters love sir.  1 
Excellent well I warrant thee, right and straight friend.  3 
there's no doubt in him, none at all, ne'er fear him.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Valentine and Michael. Mich. 
THat he is desperate sick, I do believe well,  
And that without a speedy cure, it kills him,  
But that it lies within the help of physic,  
Now to restore his health, or art to cure him:  
Believe it you are cozened: clean beside it.  
I would tell ye the true cause too, but 'twould vex ye,  
Nay, run ye mad.  Val. 
May all I have restore him?  
So dearly and so tenderly I love him,  
I do not know the cause why, yea my life too.  Mich. 
Now I perceive ye so well set, I'll tell you,  
Hei mihi quod nullis amor, est medicabilis herbis.  Val. 
'T was that I only feared: good friend go from me,  
I find my heart too full for further conference:  
You are assured of this?  Mich. 
'Twill prove too certain,  
But bear it nobly sir, youth hath his errors.  Val. 
I shall do, and I thank ye: pray ye no words on't,  
I do not use to talk sir. Exit.  Val. 
Ye are welcome:  
Is there no constancy in earthly things:  
No happiness in us, but what must alter,  
No life without the heavy load of fortune?  
What miseries we are, and to ourselves,  
Even then when full content seems to sit by us,  
What daily sores, and sorrows?  Enter Alice. Alice 
O dear brother,  
The Gentleman if ever you will see him  
Alive as I think.  Enter Cellide. Cel. 
O he faints, for heaven sake,  
For heaven sake sir.  Val. 
go comfort him dear sister. Exit Alice  
And one word sweet, with you: then we'll go to him.  
What think you of this Gentleman?  Cel. 
My pity thinks sir,  
'Tis great misfortune, that he should thus perish.  Val. 
It is indeed: but Cellide, he must die.  Cel. 
That were a cruelty, when care may cure him,  
Why do you weep so sir, he may recover?  Val. 
He may, but with much danger: my sweet Cellide  
You have a powerful tongue.  Cel. 
To do you service.  Val. 
I will betray his grief: he loves a gentlewoman,  
A friend of yours, whose heart another holds.  
He knows it too: yet such a sway blind fancy,  
And his not daring to deliver it,  
Have won upon him, that they must undo him:  
Never so hopeful and so sweet a spirit,  
Misfortune fell so foul on.  Cel. 
Sure she's hard hearted,  
That can look on, and not relent, and deeply  
At such a misery: she is not married?  Val. 
Not yet.  Cel. 
Nor near it?  Val. 
When she please.  Cel. 
And pray sir,  
Does he deserve her truly, that she loves so?  Val. 
His love may merit much: his person little,  
For there the match lies mangled.  Cel. 
Is he your friend?  Val. 
He should be, for he is near me.  Cel. 
Will not he die then?  
When th'other shall recover?  Val. 
Ye have posed me.  Cell. 
Me thinks he should go near it, if he love her;  
If she love him  Val. 
She does, and would do equal:  Cel. 
'Tis A hard task you put me: yet for your sake  
I will speak to her: all the art I have:  
My best endeavours: all his youth, and person,  
His mind more full of beauty: all his hopes,  
The memory of such a sad example,  
Ill spoken of, and never old: the curses  
Of loving maids, and what may be alleged  
I'll lay before her: what's her name? I am ready  Val. 
But will you deal effectually?  Cell. 
Most truly:  
Nay, were it myself, at your entreaty.  Vall. 
And could ye be so pitiful?  Cell. 
So dutiful;  
Because you urge it sir.  Vall. 
It may be then  
It is yourself  Cell. 
It is in deed, I know it:  
And now know how ye love me.  Vall. 
O my dearest,  
Let but your goodness judge: your own part: pitiy:  
Set but your eyes on his afflictions:  
He is mine, and so becomes your charge: but think  
What ruin nature suffers in this young man,  
What loss humanity, and noble manhood:  
Take to your better judgement my declining,  
My age, hung full of impotence, and ils,  
My body budding now no more: sere winter  
Hath sealed that sap up, at the best and happiest  
I can but be your infant: you my nurse,  
And how unequal deerest: where his yeeres,  
His sweetness, and his ever spring of goodnesse,  
My fortunes growing in him, and myself too,  
Which makes him all your old love: misconceive not,  
I say not this, as weary of my bondage,  
Or ready to infringe my faith: bear witnesse,  
Those eyes that I adore still, those lamps that light me  
To all the joy I have.  Cel. 
You have said enough sir,  
And more than ere I thought that tongue could utter,  
But ye are a man, ● a false man too.  Val. 
Dear Cellide.  Cel. 
And now, to show you that I am a woman  
Robbed of her rest, and fooled out of her fondness,  
The Gentleman shall live: and if he love me,  
Ye shall be both my triumphs: I will to him,  
And as you carelessly fling off your fortune,  
And now grow weary of my easy winning,  
So will I lose the name of Valentine,  
From henceforth all his flatteries, and believe it,  
Since ye have so so slightly parted with affection,  
And that affection you have nawned your faith for:  
From this hour, no repentance, vows, nor prayers  
Shall pluck me back agen: what I shall do,  
Yet I will undertake his cure, expect it,  
Shall minister no comfort, no content  
To either of ye, but hourly more vexations.  Val. 
Why let him die then.  Cel. 
No, so much I have loved  
To be commanded by you, that even now,  
Even in my hate I will obey your wishes.  Val. 
What shall I do?  Cel. 
Die like a fool unsorrow'd?  
A bankrupt foole, that flings away his treasure?  
I must begin my cure.  Val. 
And I my crosses. Exeunt.    

Actus Tertius,  

Scena Prima.  Enter frank sick, physicians, and a apothecary. 1 Phis. 
CLap on the cataplasm.  Fra. 
Good Gentlemen,  
Good learned Gentlemen.  2 
And see those broths there,  
Ready within this hour, pray keep your arms in,  
The air is raw, and ministers much evil.  Fra. 
Pray leave me: I beseech ye leave me gentlemen,  
I have no other sickness but your presence,  
Convey your Cataplasms to those that need 'em,  
Your Vomits, and your Clysters.  3 
Pray be ruled sir.  1 
Bring in the lettuce cap: you must be shaved sir,  
And then how suddenly wee 'll make you sleep.  Fra. 
Till doomsday: what unnecessary nothings  
Are these about a wounded mind?  2 
How do ye?  Fra. 
What questions they propound too: how do you sir?  
I am glad to see you well?  3 
A great distemper, it grows hotter still.  1 
Open your mouth I pray sir.  Fra. 
And can you tell me  
How old I am then? there's my hand, pray show me  
How many broken shins within this two year.  
Who would be thus in fetters, good master Doctor,  
And you dear Doctor, and the third sweet Doctor  
And precious master Apothecary, I do pray ye  
To give me leave to live a little longer,  
Ye stand before me like my blacks.  2 
'Tis dangerous,  
For now his fancy turns too.  Enter Cellide. Cell. 
By your leave Gentlemen:  
And pray ye your leave a while too, I have something  
Of secret to impart unto the patient.  1 
Withal our hearts.  3 
I marry such a physic  
May chance to find the humour: be not long Lady  
For we must minister within this half hour. Exit. Plus.  Cell. 
You shall not stay for me.  Fra. 
Would you were all rotten  
That ye might only intend one another's itches:  
Or would the Gentlemen with one consent  
Would drink small beer but seven year, and abolish  
That wild fire of the blood, unsatiate wenching  
That your too Indies, springs and false might fail ye  
What torments these intruders into bodies.  Cell. 
How do you worthy Sir?  Fra. 
Bless me, what beams  
Flew from these angel eyes: O what a misery  
What a most studied torment tis to me now  
To be an honest man: dare ye sit by me?  Cell. 
Yes; and do more than that too: comfort ye  
I see ye have need.  Fra. 
You are a fair physician:  
You bring no bitterness gilt o'er, to gull us  
No danger in your looks, yet there my death lies.  Cell. 
I would be sorry sir, my charity  
And my good wishes for your health should merit  
So stubborn a construction: will it please ye  
To taste a little of this cordial Enter Valentine.  
For this I think must cure ye.  Fra. 
Of which Lady?  
Sure she has found my grief? why do you blush so?  Cell. 
Do you not understand? of this● this cordial.  Val. 
Of my afflicted heart: she is gone for ever.  Fra. 
What heaven ye have brought me Lady?  Cell. 
Do not wonder:  
For 'tis not impudence, nor want of honour  
Makes me do this: but love to save your life sir  
Your life, too excellent to lose in wishes  
Love, virtuous love.  Fra. 
A virtuous blessing crown ye  
O goodly sweet, can there be so much charity  
So noble a compassion in that heart  
That's filled up with another's fair affections?  
Can mercy drop from those eyes.  
Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man,  
When all the power ye have, and perfect object  
Lies in another's light: and his deserves it?  Cell. 
Do not despair: nor do not think to boldly  
I dare abuse my promise, 'twas your friends  
And so fast tied, I thought no time could ruin:  
But so much has your danger, and that spell  
The powerful name of friend, prevailed above him.  
To whom I ever owe obedience,  
That here I am, by his command to cure ye,  
Nay more for ever, by his full resignment  
And willingly I ratefie it.  Fra. 
Hold for heaven sake,  
Must my friend's misery make me a triumph?  
Bear I that noble name, to be a Traitor?  
O virtuous goodness, keep thyself untainted:  
You have no power to yield, nor he to render  
Nor I to take: I am resolved to die first.  Val. 
Ha; sayst thou so? nay than thou shalt not perish.  Fra. 
And though I love ye above the light shines on me,  
Beyond the wealth of kingdoms, free content,  
Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offered  
Then at my pardoned life by the law forfeited,  
Yet, yet O noble beauty, yet O paradise  
For you are all the wonder revealed of it,  
Yet is a gratitude to be preserved  
A worthy gratitude to one most worthy  
The name, and nobleness of friends.  Cell. 
Pray tell me  
If I had never known that gentleman  
Would you not willingly embrace my offer?  Fra. 
Do you make a doubt?  Cell. 
And can ye be unwilling  
He being old and impotent: his aim too  
Leveled at you, for your good? not constrained,  
But out of cure, and council? alas consider  
Play but the woman with me, and consider  
As he himself does, and I now dare see it  
Truly consider sir, what misery.  Fra. 
For virtue's sake take heed.  Cell. 
What loss of youth,  
What everlasting banishment from that  
Our years do only covet to arrive at  
Equal affections and shot together:  
What living name can dead age leave behind him  
What art of memory but fruitless doting?  Fra. 
This cannot be.  Cell. 
To you unless ye apply it  
With more and firmer faith, and so digest it  
I speak but of things possible, not done  
Nor like to be, a posset cures your sickness  
And yet I know ye grieve this; and howsoever  
The worthiness of Friend may make ye stagger  
Which is a fair thing in ye, yet my Patient,  
My gentle Patient, I would fain say more  
If you would understand.  Val. 
O cruel Woman.  Cell. 
Yet sure your sickness is not so forgetful  
Nor you so willing to be lost.  Fra. 
Pray stay there:  
Me thinks you be not fair now; me thinks more  
That modest, virtue, men delivered of you  
shows but like shadow to me, thin, and fading.  Val. 
Excellent Friend.  Fra. 
Ye have no share in goodnesse:  
Ye are belyde; you are not Cellide,  
The modest, unaculate: who are ye?  
For I will know: what devil to do mischief  
Unto my virtuous Friend, hath shifted shapes  
With that unblemished beauty.  Cell. 
Do not rave Sir,  
Nor let the violence of thoughts distract ye,  
You shall enjoy me: I am yours: I pity  
By those fair eyes I do.  Fra. 
O double hearted,  
O woman, perfect woman: what distraction  
Was meant to mankind when thou was't made a devil,  
What an invyting hell invented? tell me,  
And if you yet remember what is goodness,  
Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherished  
So sainted in the soul of him, whose service  
Is almost turned to supperstition,  
Whose every day endeavours, and desires  
Offer themselves like incense on your altar,  
Whose heart holds no intelligence, but holy  
And most religious with his love: whose life  
(And let it ever be remembered Lady)  
Is drawn out only for your ends.  Val. 
O miracle.  Fra. 
Whose all, and every part of man: pray make me  
Like ready Pages wait upon your pleasures;  
Whose breath is but your bubble. Can ye, dare ye,  
Must ye cast of this man, though he were willing,  
Though in a nobleness, so cross my danger  
His friendship durst confirm it, without baseness,  
Without the stain of honour? shall not people  
Say liberally hereafter, there's the Lady  
That lost her Father, Friend, herself, her faith too,  
To fawn upon a stranger, for ought you know  
As faithless as yourself, in love as fruitless?  Val. 
Take her withal my heart, thou art so honest  
That 'tis most necessary I be undone.  Cell. 
With all my soul possess her. Exit, Val.  
Till this minut.  
I scorned, and hated ye, and came to cozen ye:  
Uttered those things might draw a wonder on me,  
To make ye mad.  Fra. 
Good heaven, what is this woman?  Cell. 
Nor did your danger, but in charity.  
Move me a whit: nor you appear unto me  
More than a common object, yet, now truly,  
Truly, and nobly I do love ye dearly,  
And from this hour, ye are the man I honour,  
You are the man, the excellence, the honesty,  
The only friend, and I am glad your sickness  
Fell so most happily at this time on ye,  
To make this truth the worlds.  Fra. 
Whether do you drive me?  Cell. 
Back to your honesty, make that good ever,  
'Tis like a strong built Castle, seated high,  
That draws on all ambitions, still repair it,  
Still fortify it: there are thousand foes  
Besides the tyrant beauty, will assail it:  
Look to your Centinels that watch it hourly,  
Your eyes, let them not wander.  Fra. 
Is this serious?  Cell. 
Or does she play still with me?  
Keep your ears,  
The two main ports that may betray ye strongly  
From light belief first, then from flattery,  
Especially where woman beats the parley:  
The body of your strength, your noble heart  
From ever yielding to dishonest ends,  
Rigged round about with virtue, that no breaches,  
No subtle mines may meet ye.  Fra. 
How like the Sun  
Labouring in his eclipse, dark, and prodigious,  
She showed till now? when having won her way,  
How full of wonder he breaks out again,  
And sheds his virtuous beams: excellent angel,  
For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee,  
Honour of all thy sex, let it be lawful,  
And like a pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it,  
Not with profane lips now, nor burnt affections,  
But, reconciled to faith, with holy wishes,  
To kiss that virgin hand.  Cel. 
Take your desire sir,  
And in a nobler way, for I dare trust ye,  
No other fruit my love must ever yield ye,  
I fear no more: yet your most constant memory  
(So much I am wedded to that worthiness)  
Shall ever be my friend, companion, husband,  
Farewell, and fairly govern your affections,  
Stand, and deceive me not: O noble young man,  
I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it:  
Once more farewell, and prosper. Exit.  Fra. 
goodness guide thee:  
My wonder like to fearful shapes in dreams,  
Has wakened me out of my fit of folly,  
But not to shake it off: a spell dwels in me,  
A hidden charm shot from this beauteous woman,  
That fate can ne'er avoid, nor physic find,  
And by her counsel strengthened: only this  
Is all the help I have, I love fair vertue.  
Well, something I must do, to be a friend,  
Yet I am poor, and tardy: something for her too,  
Though I can never reach her excellence.  
Yet but to give an offer at a greatness.  Enter Valentine, Thomas, Hylas, and Sam. Val. 
Be not uncivil Tom, and take your pleasure.  Thom. 
do you think I am mad? you'll give me leave  
To try her fairly?  Val. 
Do your best.  Thom. 
Why there boy,  
But where's the sick man?  Hyl. 
Where are the gentlewomen  
That should attend him, there's the patent  
Me thinks these women.  Thom. 
Thou thinkst nothing else.  Val. 
Go to him friend, and comfort him: I'll lead ye:  
O my best joy, my worthiest friend, pray pardon me,  
I am so overjoyed I want expression:  
I may live to be thankful: bid your friends welcome.  Exit. Val. Thom. 
How dost thou Frank? how dost thou boy, bear up man:  
What, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness?  
Deavolo morte.  Fra. 
I am o'th' mending hand.  Thom. 
How like a Flute thou speak'st: o'th' mending hand man  
gog's bores, I am well, speak like a man of worship.  Fra. 
Thou art a mad companion: never stayed Tom?  Tho. 
Let rogues be stayed that have no habitation,  
A gentleman may wander: sit thee down Frank,  
And see what I have brought thee: come discover,  
Open the scene, and let the work appear,  
A friend at need you rogue is worth a million.  Fra. 
What hast thou there, a julip?  Hyl. 
He must not touch it,  
'Tis present death.  Tho. 
Ye are an ass, a twirepipe,  
A Jeffrey John bo peep, thou mimister,  
Thou mend a left-handed packsaddle, out puppey,  
My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow:  
Dost thou see that bottle? view it well.  Fran. 
I do Tom.  Tom. 
There be as many lives in't, as a Cat carries,  
'Tis everlasting liquour.  Fra. 
What?  Tom. 
Old Sack boy,  
Old reverend Sack, which for aught that I can read yet,  
Was that philosopher's Stone the wise King Ptolomeus  
Did all his wonders by.  Fra. 
I see no harm Tom,  
Drink with a moderation.  Tom. 
Drink with sugar,  
Which I have ready here, and here a glass boy,  
Take me without my tools.  Sam. 
Pray sir be temperate,  
You know your own state best.  Fra. 
Sir, I much thank ye,  
And shall be careful: yet a glass or two  
So fit I find my body, and that so needful.  Tom, 
Fill it, and leave your fooling: thou sayst true Frank.  Hyl. 
Where are these women I say?  Tom. 
'tis most necessary,  
Hang up your julips, and your portugal possets,  
Your barley broths, and sorrel sops, they are mangy,  
And breed the scratches only: give me Sack:  
I wonder where this wench is though: have at thee:  Hyl. 
So long, and yet no bolting.  Fra. 
do, I'll pledge thee.  Tom. 
Take it off thrice, and then cry heigh like a Huntsman  
With a clear heart, and no more fits I warrant thee.  
The only cordial Frank. Phis. within, & Serv.  1 Phis. 
Are the things ready?  
And is the Barber come?  Ser. 
An hour ago sir.  1 Phis. 
Bring out the oils then.  Fra. 
Now or never gentlemen,  
Do me a kindness and deliver me.  Tom 
From whom boy?  Fra. 
From these things, that talk within there,  
Physicians, Tom, physicians, scowring-sticks,  
They mean to read upon me.  Enter three Phis. Apoth. and Barber. Hyl. 
Let 'em enter.  Tom. 
And be thou confident, we will deliver thee:  
For look ye Doctor, say the devil were sick now,  
His horns sawed off and his head bound with a Biggin,  
Sick of a calenture taken by a surfeit  
Of stinking souls at his nephews, and S. Dunstan's,  
What would you minister upon the sudden?  
Your judgement short and sound.  1 Ph. 
A fools head.  Tom. 
No sir,  
It must be a physicians for three causes,  
The first because it is a bald head likely,  
Which will down easily without apple-pap.  3 Phis. 
A main cause.  Tom. 
So it is, and well considered,  
The second, for 'tis filled with broken Greek sir,  
Which will so tumble in his stomach, Doctor,  
And work upon the crudities, conceive me  
The fears, and the fiddle strings within it,  
That those damned souls must disembogue again.  Hyl. 
Or meeting with the stygian humour.  Tom. 
Right sir.  Hyl. 
Forced with a cataplasm of crackers.  Tom. 
Ever.  Hyl. 
Scour all before him, like a Scavenger.  Tom. 
Satis fecisti domine: my last cause,  
My last is, and not least, most learned Doctors,  
Because in most physicians heads (I mean those  
That are most excellent, and old withal,  
And angry, though a patient say his prayers,  
And Paracelsians that do trade with poisons,  
We have it by tradition of great writers)  
There is a kind of toadstone bread, whose virtue  
The Doctor being dried.  1 Phis. 
We are abused sirs.  Hyl. 
I take it so, or shall be, for say the belly-ache  
Caused by an inundation of peas-porridge,  
Are we therefore to open the port vein,  
Or the port Esquiline?  Sam. 
A learned question:  
Or grant the diaphragma by a rupture,  
The sign being then in the head of Capricorn.  Tom. 
Meet with the passion Hupercondriaca,  
And so cause a carnosity in the kidneys.  Tom. 
Must not the brains being buttered with this humour?  
Answer me that.  Sam. 
Most excellently argued.  2 Phis. 
The next fit you will have, my most fine scholler,  
Bedlam shall find jam salve for: fare ye well sir,  
We came to do you good, but these young Doctors  
It seems have bored our noses.  3 
Drink hard Gentlemen,  
And get unwholesome drabs: 'tis ten to one than  
We shall hear further from ye, your note altered. Exit.  Tom. 
And wilt thou be gone, says one?  Hyl. 
And wilt thou be gone says tother?  Tom. 
Then take the odd crown  
To mend thy old gown.  Sam. 
And we'll be gone all together.  Fra. 
My learned Tom.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Sir, the young Gentlewomen  
Sent me to see what company ye had with ye,  
They much desire to visit ye.  Fra. 
Pray ye thank 'em,  
And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence:  
Ye see my company.  Tom. 
Come hither Crab,  
What gentlewomen are these? my Mistress?  Ser. 
Yes sir.  Hyl. 
And who else?  Ser. 
Mistress Alice.  Hyl. 
Oh.  Tom. 
Hark ye sirrah.  
No word of my being here, unless she know it.  Ser. 
I do not think she does.  Tom. 
Take that, and mum, then  Ser. 
You have tied my tongue up. Exit.  Tom. 
Sit you down good Francis,  
And not a word of me till ye hear from me,  
And as you find my humour, follow it:  
You two come hither, and stand close, unseen boyes,  
And do as I shall tutor ye.  Fran. 
What, new work?  Tom. 
Prithee no more, but help me now,  Hyl. 
I would fain  
Talk with the gentlewomen.  Tom. 
Talk with the gentlewomen?  
Of what forsooth? whose maidenhead the last mask  
Suffered impression, or whose clyster wrought best:  
Take me as I shall tell thee.  Hyl. 
To what end?  
What other end came we along?  Sam. 
Be ruled though.  Tom. 
Your weasel face must needs be ferreting  
About the farthing-ale,  
Do as I bid ye,  
Or by this light.  Hyl. 
Come then,  Tom. 
Stand close and mark me,  Fran. 
All this forced foolery will never do it.  Enter Alice and Mary. Alice 
I hope we bring ye health sir: how is't with ye?  Ma. 
You look far better trust me, the fresh colour  
Creeps now again into his cheeks.  Alice 
Your enemy  
I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye  
Lusty again, and frolic man; leave thinking  Ma. 
Indeed it does ye harm sir.  Fra. 
My best visitants,  
I shall be governed by ye.  Alice 
You shall be well then,  
And suddenly, and soundly well.  Ma. 
This air sir  
Having now seasoned ye: will keep ye ever.  Tho. 
No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends,  
My life has been so lewd, my loose condition,  
Which I repent too late, so lamentable,  
That any thing but curses light upon me,  
Exorbitant in all my ways.  Alice 
Who's that sir,  
Another sick man.  Ma. 
Sure, I know that voice well.  Tho. 
In all my courses, cureless disobedience.  Fra. 
What a strange fellow's this?  Tho. 
No counsel friends,  
No look before I leapt.  Alice 
Do yo' know the voice sir?  Fra. 
Yes, 'tis a gentleman's that's much afflicted  
In's mind: great pity Ladies.  Alice 
Now heaven help him.  Fra. 
He came to me, to ask free pardon of me,  
For some things done long since, which his distemper  
Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so.  Ma. 
O that this could be truth.  Hyl. 
Persuade yourself.  Tho. 
To what end gentlemen, when all is perished  
Upon a wrack, is there a hope remaining?  
The sea, that ne'er knew sorrow, may be pitiful,  
My credit's spilled, and sunk, nor is it possible,  
Were my life lengthened out as long as.  Ma. 
I like this well.  Sam. 
Your mind is too mistrustful.  Tho. 
I have a virtuous sister, but I scorned her,  
A mistress too, a noble gentlewoman,  
For goodness all outgoing.  Alice 
Now I know him.  Thom. 
With these eyes friends, my eyes must ne'er see more.  Al. 
This is for your sake Mary: take heed x,  
A man is not so soon made.  Tom. 
O my fortune,  
But it is just, I be despised and hated.  Hyl. 
Despair not, 'tis not manly: one hours' goodness  
Strikes off an infinite of ils.  Al. 
Weep truly  
And with compassion x.  Fra. 
How exactly  
This cunning young thief plays his part.  Ma. 
Well Tom  
My Tom again, if this be truth.  Hil. 
She weeps boy.  Tom. 
O I shall die.  Ma. 
Now heaven defend.  Sam. 
Thou hast her.  Tom. 
Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewell,  
And then what fortune shall befall me, welcome.  
How does it show?  Hyl. 
O rarely well.  Ma. 
Say you so Sir●  Fra. 
O ye grand ass.  Ma. 
And are ye there my juggler  
Away we are abused Alice.  Al. 
Fool be with thee. Exit. Ma● and Al.  Tom. 
Where is she.  Fra. 
Gone; she found you out, and finely●  
In your own noose she haltered ye: you must be whispering  
To know how things showed: not content to fare well  
But you must roar out roast meat; till that suspicion  
You carried it most neatly, she believed too  
And wept most tenderly● had you continue,  
Without doubt you had brought her off.  Tom. 
This was thy Rouging,  
For thou wert ever whispering: fie upon thee  
Now could I breeches thy head.  Hyl. 
You spoke to me first.  Tom. 
Do not anger me,  
For by this hand I'll beat the buzzard blind than  
She shall not scape me thus: farewell for this time,  Fra. 
Good night, 'tis almost bed time: yet no sleep  
Must enter these eyes, till I work a wonder. Exit.  Tom. 
Thou shalt along too, for I mean to plague thee  
For this night's sins, I will ne'er leave walking of thee  
Till I have worn thee out.  Hyl. 
Your will be done Sir.  Tom. 
You will not leave me Sam.  Sam. 
Not I.  Tom 
Away then: I'll be your guide now, if my man be trusty  
My spiteful Dame, I'll pipe ye such a huntsup  
Shall make ye dance a tipvac●: keep close to me. Exeunt.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Sebastian, and Dorothy. Seb. 
NEver persuade me, I will marry again  
What should I leave my state to, pins & poking sticks  
To frathingales, and frounces, to Fore-horses  
And a old leather bawdy house behind 〈◊〉  
To thee?  Dor. 
You have a son Sir●  Seb. 
Where, what is he?  
Who is he like?  Dor. 
Yourself.  Seb. 
Thou liest, thou hast marred him,  
Thou, and thy prayer books: I do disclaim him:  
Did not I take him singing yesternight  
A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too,  
And had a catechizme in's pocket damsel,  
One of your dear disciples, I perceive it?  
When did he ride abroad since he came over?  
What tavern has he used to● what things done  
That shows a man, and mettle? when was my house  
At such a shame before, to creep to bed  
At ten a clock, and twelve, for want of company?  
No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking?  
Thou think'st not of these scandals; when, and where  
Ha● he but showed his sword of late.  Dor. 
Despair not  
I do beseech you Sir, nor tempt your weakness,  
For if you like it so, I can assure you  
He is the same man still.  Seb. 
Would thou wert ash●●  
On that condition; but believe it gossip  
You shall know you have wrong  Dor. 
You never Sir●  
So will I know my duty●●nd for heaven sake,  
Take but this council with ye ere you marry,  
You were wont to leave me: take him, and confess him  
Search him toth' quick, and if you find him false  
Do as please yours Mothers name I honour.  Seb. 
He is lost, and spoiled I am resolved my 〈◊〉  
Shall never harbour him: and for your Minion  
I'll keep you close enough, lest you break loose  
And do more mischief: get ye in● who wait. Exit. Dor.  Enter Servants Ser. 
Do you call Sir?  Seb. 
Seek the Boy: and bid him wait  
My pleasure in the morning: mark what house  
He is in, and what he does: and truly tell me.  Ser. 
I will not fail Sir.  Se●● 
If ye do, I'll hang ye. Exeunt.   

Scena Tertia.  Enter Thomas, Hylas, and Sam. Tom. 
Keep you the back door there, and be sure  
None of her servants enter, or go out,  
If any woman pass, she is lawful prize, boys  
Cut off all convoys.  Hyl. 
Who shall answer this?  Tho. 
Why, I shall answer it, you fearful widgen,  
I shall appear toth' action.  Hyl. 
May we discourse too  
On honourable terms?  Tho. 
With any gentlewoman  
That shall appear at window: ye may rehearse too  
By your commission safely, some sweet parcels  
Of poetry to ● Chambermaid.  Hyl. 
May we sing too?  
For there's my masterpiece.  Tho. 
By no means, no boys,  
I am the man reserved for air, 'tis my part,  
And if she be not rock, my voice shall reach her●  
Ye may record a little, or ye may whistle,  
As time shall minister, but for main singing●  
Pray ye satisfy your selves● away, be careful.  Hyl. 
But har● ye one word Tom, we may be beaten.  Tom. 
That's as ye think good your selv●●● if you deserve it,  
Why 'tis the easiest thing to compass: beaten?  
What bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee?  Hyl. 
She has men enough●  Thom. 
Art not thou man enough took  
Thou hast flesh enough about thee: if all that mass  
Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it,  
And dry it too for dogs meats get you gone;  
I have things of moment in my mind: that door,  
Keep it as thou wouldst keep thy wife from a Servingman.  
No more I say: away Sam.  Sam. 
At your will sir, Exit Hyl. & Sam.  Enter Lancelot and Fidler. Lan. 
I have him here, a rare rogue, good sweet master,  
Do something of some savour suddenly●  
That we may eat, and live; I am almost starved,  
No point manieur● no point devein, 〈◊〉 Signi●●●,  
Not by the virtue of my languages,  
Nothing at my old masters to be hoped for,  
O seignior du, nothing to line my life with,  
But cold pies with a cudgel, till you help us.  Tho. 
Nothing but famine frights thee: come hither Fidler,  
Whad Ballads are you seen in best: be short sir.  Fidler 
Under your masterships' correction, I can sing  
The Duke of Norfolk●, or the merry Ballad  
Of Diver●● and Lazarus, the Rose of England,  
In Crect when Dedimus first began,  
Jonas his crying out against Coventry,  Tho. 
Excellent,  
Rare matters all.  Fid. 
Maudlin the merchant's daughter,  
The devil, and ye dainty Dames.  Tom. 
Rare still.  Fid. 
The landing of the Spaniards at Bow,  
With the bloody battle at Mile-end.  Tho. 
All excellent:  
No tuning as ye love me; let thy fiddle  
Speak Welsh, or any thing that's out of all tune,  
The vilder still the better, like thyself,  
For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance.  Fid. 
Nay truly, ye shall have it even as homely.  Tho. 
Keep ye to that key, are they all a-bed trow?  Lan. 
I hear no stirring anywhere, no light  
In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir.  Tom. 
Come strike up then: and say the merchant's daughter,  
We'll bear the burden: proceed to incision Fidler. Song.  Enter Servant above. Ser. 
Who's there? what noise is this? what rogue  
At these hours?  Thom. 
O what is that to you my fool?  
O what is that to you,  
Pluck in your face you bawling ass,  
Or I will break your brow.  
A new Ballad, a new, a new.  
hay down, down, adown.  Fid. 
The twelfth of April, on May day,  
My house and goods were burnt away, &c. Maid above.  Maid 
Why who is this?  Lan. 
O damsel dear,  
Open the door, and it shall appear,  
Open the door,  
O gentle squire.  Maid 
I'll see thee hang first: farewell my d●●re,  
'Tis master Thomas, there he stands.  Enter Mary above. Mary 
'Tis strange  
That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence,  
Or sing him out in's own way, any thing  
To be delivered of him.  Maid 
Then have at him●  
My man Thomas did me promise.  
He would visit me this night.  Tho. 
I am here Love, tell me dear Love,  
How I may obtain thy sight.  Maid 
Come up to my window love, come, come, come,  
Come to my window my dear,  
The wind, nor the rain, shall trouble th●● again,  
But thou shalt be lodged here.  Thom. 
And art thou strong enough?  Lan. 
Up, up, I warrant ye.  Mary 
What dost thou mean to do?  Maid 
Good Mistress peace,  
I'll warrant ye we'll cool him: Madge, Madge above.  Madge 
I am ready.  Tho. 
The love of Greece and it tickled him so,  
That he devised a way to go.  
Now sing the Duke of Northumberland.  Fidler 
And climbing to promotion,  
He fell down suddenly, Madge with a devil's vizard roaring, offers to kiss him, and he falls down,  Maid 
Farewell sir.  Mary 
What hast thou done? thou hast broke his neck.  Maid 
Not hurt him,  
He pitched upon his legs like a Cat,  Tho. 
O woman:  
O miserable woman, I am spoiled,  
My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs.  Mary. 
I told thee what thou hadst done, mischief go with thee,  Tho. 
O I am lamed for ever: O my leg,  
Broken in twenty places: O take heed,  
Take heed of women, fiddler: oh a Surgeon,  
A Surgeon, or I die: oh my good people,  
No charitable people, all despiteful,  
Oh what a misery am I in: oh my leg.  Lan. 
Be patient sir, be patient: let me bind it.  Enter Samuel and Hylas with his head broken. Tho. 
Oh do not touch it rogue.  Hyl. 
My head, my head,  
Oh my head's killed.  Sam. 
You must be courting wenches  
Through keyholes, Captain Hylas, come and be comforted,  
The skin is scarce broke.  Tho. 
O my leg.  Sam. 
How do ye sir?  Tho. 
Oh maimed for ever with a fall, he's spoiled took  
I see his brains.  Hyl. 
Away with me for God's sake,  
A Surgeon.  Sam. 
Here'● a night indeed.  Hyl. 
A Surgeon. Exit all but Fidler.  Enter Mary and servant below. Mary 
Go run for helpe.  Tho. 
Oh,  Marry 
Run all● and all too little,  
O cursed beast that hurt him, run, run, fly,  
He will be dead else.  Tho. 
Oh.  Mary 
Good friend go you too.  Fid. 
Who pays me for my music?  Mary 
Pox o'your music,  
there's twelve pence for ye.  Fid. 
there's two groats again forsooth,  
I never take above, and rest ye merry. Exit.  Ma. 
A grease pot guild your fiddle strings: how do you,  
How is my dear?  Tom. 
Why well I thank ye sweet heart,  
Shall we walk in, for now th●●'s none to trouble us?  Ma. 
Are ye so crafty sir? I shall meet with ye,  
I knew your trick, and I was willing: my Tom,  
Mine own Tom, now to satisfy thee, welcome, welcome,  
Welcome my best friend to me, all my dearest.  Tom. 
Now ye are my noble Mistress: we lose time sweet.  Ma. 
I think they are all gone.  Tom. 
All, ye did wisely.  Ma. 
And you as craftily.  Tom. 
We are well met Mistress.  Ma. 
Come, let's go in then lovingly: O my scarf Tom.  
I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it  
As your poor Mistress favour. Exit.  Tom. 
I am made now,  
I see no venture is in no hand: I have it,  
How now? the door locked, and she in before?  
Am I so trimmed?  Ma. 
One parting word sweet Thomas,  
Though to save your credit, I discharged your fiddler,  
I must not satisfy your folly too sir,  
You're subtle, but believe it fox, I'll find ye,  
The Surgeons will be here straight, ●ore again boy,  
And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else,  
Good night.  Tom. 
She says most true, I must not stay: she has bobbed me,  
Which if I live, I'll recompense, and shortly,  
Now for a Ballad to bring me off again.  
All young men be warned by me, how you do go a wooing.  
Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall thereby, comes your undoing, &c. Exeunt.    

Actus Quartus,  

Scena Prima.  Enter Valentine, Alice, and servant. Val. 
HE cannot go and take no farewell of me,  
Can he be so unkind? he's but retired  
Into the Garden or the Orchard: see sirs.  Alice 
He would not ride there certain, those were planted  
Only for walks I take it.  Val. 
Ride, nay then,  
Had he horse out?  Ser. 
So the groom delivers  
Somewhat before the break of day.  Val. 
He's gone,  
My best friends gone Alice? I have lost the noblest,,  
The truest, and the most man I e'er found yet.  Alice 
Indeed sir, he deserves all praise.  Val. 
All sister,  
All, all, and all too little: O that honesty,  
That ermine honesty, unspotted ever,  
That perfect goodness.  Alice 
Sure he will return sir,  
He cannot be so harsh.  Val. 
O never, never,  
Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lies.  Alice 
He was the worthiest welcome.  Val. 
He deserved it.  Alice 
Nor wanted, to our knowledge.  Val. 
I will tell thee,  
Within this hour, things that shall startle thee.  
He never must return. Enter Michael.  Mich. 
Good morrow seignior.  Val. 
Good morrow master Michael.  Mich. 
My good neighbour,  
Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel,  
You have learned the rule of health sir, where's your Mistress?  
She keeps her warm I warrant ye, a bed yet?  Val. 
I think she does.  Alice 
'tis not her hour of waking.  Mich. 
Did you lie with her Lady?  Alice 
Not to night sir.  
Nor any night this week else.  Mich. 
When last saw ye her?  Alice 
Late yester.  Mich. 
Was she a-bed then?  Alice 
No sir,  
I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me?  Mich. 
I have been strangely haunted with a dream  
All this long night, and after many waking●,  
The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide  
Just at S. Katherine's gate the Nunnery.  Val. 
Ha?  Mich. 
Her face slubbered o'er with tears, and troubles,  
Me thought she cried unto the Lady abbess,  
For charity receive me holy woman,  
A Maid that has forgot the world's affections,  
Into thy virgin order: me thought she took her●  
Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her,  
And there I left her.  Val. 
Dream?  Mich. 
Good Mistress Alice  
Do me the favour (yet to satisfy me)  
To s●ep but up, and see.  Alice 
I know she's there sir,  
And all this but a dream?  Mich. 
You know not my dreams,  
They are unhappy ones, and often truth●●  
But this I hope, yet  Alice 
I will satisfy ye, Exit.  Mich. 
Neighbours, how does the gentleman?  Val. 
I know not,  
Dream of a Nunnery?  Mich. 
How found ye my words  
About the nature of his sickness Valentine?  Val. 
Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too  
That forced her to this 〈◊〉 did she not curse me?  
For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too,  
How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool,  
Tired with his joye●●  Mich. 
Alas poor gentleman.  
Ye promised me sir to 〈…〉 these 〈◊〉.  Val. 
I bear 'em till I break again.  Mich. 
But nobly.  
Truly to weigh.  Val. 
Good neighbours, no more of it,  
Ye do but fling flax on my fire● where is she?  Enter Alice. Alice 
Not yonder s●●, nor h●● not this night certain  
Been in her bed.  Mich. 
It must be truth she tell ye,  
And now I'll show ye why I came: this morning  
A man of mine being employed about business,  
Came early home, who at S. Katherine's Nunnery,  
About day peep, told me he met your Mistress,  
And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled  
And so received by the Abbess, did he see her?  
The wonder made me rise, and haste unto ye  
To know the cause.  Val. 
Farewell, I cannot speaks it. Exit Val.  Alice 
For heaven sake leave him note  Mich. 
I will not Lady.  Alice 
Alas, he's much afflicted,  Mich. 
We shall know shortly more, apply your own care  
At home good Alice, and trust him to my counsel.  
Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not●Exeunt .   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Sebastian, and a Servant. Seb. 
AT Valentinus house so merry●  Ser. 
As a pie ●ir●  Seb. 
So gam●son dost thou say?  S●r. 
I am sure I heard it.  Seb. 
Ballads, and Fidl●● took  S●r. 
No, but one Fidler  
But twenty noyces. Enter Launcelot.  Seb. 
Did he do devises?  Ser. 
The best devices sir: her's my fellow Lancelot  
He can inform ye all: he was among'em,  
A mad thing took I stood but in a corner.  Seb. 
Come sir, what can you say? is there any hope yet  
You Master may return?  Lan. 
He went far else  
I will assure your worship on my credit  
By the faith of a traveler, and a Gentleman,  
Your son is found again, the son, the To●●  Seb. 
Is he the old Tom?  Lan. 
The old Tom.  Seb. 
Goe forward.  L●n. 
Next, to consider how he is the old T●m●  Seb. 
Handle me that●  Lan. 
I would ye had seen it handled●  
Last night sir, as we handled its 〈…〉  
Foot●● for leer●, and le●●ings● O the noise  
The noise we made.  Seb. 
Good, good.  Lan. 
The windows cla●●r●ng  
And all the Cham●erma●des, in such a hubbub,  
One with her smock half off ●other in hast  
With a servingm●n● hose upon her head.  Seb. 
Good still,  Lan. 
A fellow ●ayling out of a loop hole there  
And his mouth stopped with dirt.  Seb. 
I'faith a fine Boy.  Lan. 
Here one of our heads broke.  Seb. 
Excellent good still.  Lan. 
The gentleman himself young M. Thomas,  
Environed with his furious Myrmidons  
The fiery fiddler, and myself; now singing,  
Now beating at the door, there parlying,  
Courting at that window, at the other scalling  
And all these several noises to two Trenchers,  
Strung with a bottom of brown thread, which showed admirable.  Seb. 
There ●ate, and grow again, I am pleased.  Lan. 
Nor here sir.  
Gave we the frolic over: though at length  
We quit the Ladies sconce on composition  
But to the silent streets we turned our furies:  
A sleeping watchman here we stole the shoes from●  
There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows:  
The streets are dirty, takes a Queen hith cold,  
Hard cheere, and that chokes him o' Monday next:  
Windows, and signs we sent to Erebus;  
A crew of bawling curs we entertained last,  
When having let the pigs loose in out parishes,  
O the brave cry we made as high as Algate●  
Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister  
Most traitorously tramples upon Authority,  
There a whole stand of rug gowns routed manly  
And the King's peace put flight: a purblind pig here  
Runs me his head into the Admirable lantern,  
Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion:  
A Potter rises, to inquire this passion  
A boar embossed takes sanctuary in his shop.  
When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering  
Down goes the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans,  
The cream bols cry reveng●●ere, there the candlesticks.  Seb. 
If this be true, thou little tyny page  
This tale that thou tellest me  
Then on thy back will I presently hang  
A handsome new Levery:  
But if this be false, thou little tyney page  
As false it well may be  
Then with a cudgel of four foot long  
I'll beat thee from head to toe. Enter Servant.  Seb. 
Will the boy come.  Ser. 
He will sir. Enter Thomas.  Seb. 
Time tries all there.  Lan. 
Here he comes now himself sir.  Seb. 
To be short Thomas  
Because I feel a scruple in my conscience  
Concerning the demeanour, and a main one  
And therefore like a Father would be satisfied,  
Get up to that window there, and presently  
Like a most complete Gentleman, ●ome from Tripoli.  Tom 
Good Lord sir, how are you misled: what fancie●  
(Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't  
And with a little wonder I beseech you)  
Choke up your noble judgement?  Seb. 
You Rogue Launcel●t●  
You lying rascal.  Lan. 
Will ye spoil all again sir.  
Why, what a devil do you mean?  Tom. 
Away knave,  
Ye keep a company of saucy fellowe●  
Debauched, & daily drunkards, to deavoure ye,  
Things, whose dull souls, tend to the cellar only,  
Ye are ill advised sir, to commit your credit.  Seb. 
Sirha, sirrah.  Lan. 
Let me never ●ate again sir,  
Nor feel the blessing of another blue-coat  
If this young Gentleman, sweet Master Thomas  
Be not as mad as heart can wish: your heart sirs  
If yesternights discourse: speak fellow Robin  
And if thou speakest less than truth●  Tom. 
'tis strange these varlets.  Ser. 
By these ten bones sir, if these eyes, and ears  
Can hear and see.  Tom. 
extreme strange, should thus boldly  
Bud in your sight, unto your son.  Lan. 
O deu guin  
Can ye deny, ye beat a Constable  
Last night.  Tom. 
I touch authority ye rascal?  
I violate the Law?  Lan. 
Good M. Thomas.  Ser. 
Did you not take two Wenches from the Watch to●  
And put'em into pudding lane?  Lan. 
We mean not  
Those civil things you did at M. Valentine●  
The fiddle, and the fa'las.  Tom. 
O strange impudence?  
I do beseech you sir give no such licence  
To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thu●●  
Be wise in time, and turn'em off: we live sir  
In a State governed civilly, and soberly  
Where each man's actions should confirm the Law●  
Not crack, and canzell it.  Seb. 
Lancelot du Lake  
Get you upon adventers: cast your coat  
And make your exit.  Lan. 
Pur la mour de die●  
Pur me no purs: but pur at that door, ou●●irh●  
I'll beat ye purblind else, out ye eight languages,  Lan. 
My blood upon your head. Exit● Lan.  Tom. 
Purge me'em all sir.  Seb. 
And you too presently.  Tom. 
Even as you please sir.  Seb. 
Bid my maid servant comes and bring my daughter  
I will have one shall please me. Exit ser.  Tom. 
'tis most fit sir.  Seb. 
Bring me the money there● here M. Thomas,  Enter two servants with two bags. 
I pray sit down, ye are no more my son now,  
Good gentleman be covered  Tom. 
At your pleasure.  Seb. 
This money I do give ye, because of whilom  
You have been thought my son, and by myself too,  
And some things done like me: ye are now another  
There is two hundred pound, a civil some  
For a young civil man: much land and Lordship  
Will as I take it now, but prove temptation  
To dread ye from your settled, and sweet carriage.  Tom. 
You say right sir.  Seb. 
Nay I beseech ye cover.  Tom. 
At your dispose: and I beseech ye too sir,  
For the word civil, and more settled course  
It may be put to use, that on the interest  
Like a poor Gentleman.  Seb. 
It shall, to my use  
To mine again: do you see sir: good fine gentleman,  
I give no brooding money for a Scrivener,  
Mine is for present traffic, and so I'll use it.  Tom. 
So much for that then.  Enter Dorothy, and four Maids. Seb. 
For the main cause Mounsieur  
I sent to treat with you about, behold its  
Behold that piece of story work, and view it  
I want a right heir to inherit me,  
Not my estate alone, but my conditions,  
From which you are revolted, therefore dead,  
And I will break my back, but I will get one.  Tom. 
Will you choose there sir?  Seb. 
There, among those Damsels,  
In mine own tribe: I know their qualities  
Which cannot fail to please men for their beauties  
A matter of a three farthings, makes all perfect,  
A little beer, and beef broth: they are sound too.  
Stand all a breast: now gentle M. Thomas  
Before I choose, you having lived long with me,  
And happily sometimes with some of these too,  
Which fault I never frowned upon: pray show me  
(For fear we confound our Genealogies)  
Which have you laid aboord● speak your mind freely  
Have you had copulation with that damsel?  Tom. 
I have.  Seb. 
Stand you a side then: how with her sir?  Tom. 
How, is not seemly h●●● to say.  Dor. 
here's fine sport.  Seb. 
Retire you too: speak forward M. Thomas.  Tom. 
I will: and to the purpose; even with all sir.  Seb. 
With all that's somewhat large.  D●●. 
And yet you like it  
W●● ever sin so glorious  Seb. 
With all Thomas.  Tom. 
All surely sir.  Seb. 
A sign thou art mine own yet,  
In again all: and to your several Functions. Exit. Maids.  
What say you to young Luce, my neighbours daughter,  
She was too young I take it, when you traveled;  
Some twelve year old?  Tom. 
Her will was fifteen sir,  Seb. 
A pretty answer, to cut of long discourse,  
For I have many yet to ask ye of,  
Where I can choose, and nobly, hold up your finger  
When ye are right: what say ye to Venetian  
Whose husband lies a-dying now? Why two,  
And in that form?  Tom. 
Her husband i●●ecov●●'d●  Seb. 
A witty moral: have at ye once more Thomas,  
The sisters of St. Alban's, all five; dat boy,  
Dat's's mine own boy.  Dor. 
Now our upon thee Monster.  Tom. 
Still hoping of your pardon.  Seb. 
There needed none man:  
A straw on pardon: prithee ●●●d no pardon:  
I'll ask no more, nor think no more of marriage,  
For O my conscience I shall be thy Cuckold:  
there's some good yet left in him: bear yourself well,  
You may recover me, there's twenty pound sir;  
I see some sparkles which may flame again,  
You may eat with me when you please, you know me.  Exit Seb. Dor. 
Why do you lie so damnably, so foolishly?  Tom. 
Dost thou long to have thy head broke? hold thy peace  
And do as I would have th●●● or by this hand  
I'll kill thy parrot, hang up thy small hands  
And drink away thy dowry to a penny.  Dor. 
Was eyes such a wild Ass?  Tho. 
Prithee be quiet.  Dor. 
And dost thou think men will not beat thee monstrously  
For abusing their wives and children?  Tom. 
And dost thou think  
Men's wives and children can be abus'd too much?  Dor. 
I wonder at this.  Tom. 
Nay, thou shalt adjure me  
Before I have done●  Dor. 
How stand ye with your Mistress?  Thom. 
I shall stand nearer  
Ere I be twelve hours' older: there's my business,  
She is monstrous subt●le Doll.  Doll 
The devil I think  
Cannot out subtle the●.  Tho. 
If he play fair play,  
Come, you must helpe me presently.  Dor. 
I discard ye.  Tom. 
Thou shalt not sl●●● no●●ate.  Dor. 
I'll no hand with ye,  
No bawd to your abuses.  Thom. 
By this light Doll,  
Nothing but in the way of honesty.  Dor. 
Thou never knew'st that ro●d● I hea●● your vigil●●  Tom. 
Sweet honey Doll, if I do not marry her,  
Honestly marry her, if I meane not honourably,  
Come, thou shalt help me, take heed how you v●●● me,  
I'll help thee to a husband too, a fine gentleman,  
I know thou art mad, ●●●ll young man, a brown man,  
I swear he has his maidenhead, a rich man●  Dor. 
You may come in to dinner, and I'll answer ye.  Tho. 
Nay I'll go with thee D●ll: four hundred a year wene●●. Exeunt.   

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Michael and Valentine. Mich. 
GOod sir go back again, and take my counsel,  
Sores are 〈…〉, nor time broke from us,  
Pulled back again by sighe●.  Val. 
What should I do friend?  Mich. 
Do that that may redeem ye, go back quickly,  
Sebastian's daughter can prevail much with her,  
The Abbess is her Aunt took  Val. 
But my friend then●  
Whose love and loss is equal ty'd●  Mich. 
Con●ent ye,  
That shall be my ta●ke if he be alive,  
Or where my travel and my care may reach him,  
I'll bring him back again.  Val. 
Say he ●ome back  
To piece his poor friend's life out? and my Mistress  
Be vowed for ever a re●●●se?  Mich. 
So suddenly  
She cannot, haste ye therefore instantly away ●●r,  
To put that daughter by first as to a father,  
Then as a friend she was committed to ye,  
And all the care she now has: by which privilege  
She cannot do her this violence,  
But you may break it, and the law allows ye.  Val. 
O but I forced her to it.  Mich. 
Leave disputing  
Against yourself, if you will needs be miserable  
Spite of her goodness, and your friend's persuasions,  
Think on, and thrive thereafter.  Val. 
I will hold th●●●  
And follow your advice and good, good Michael.  Mich. 
No more, I know your soul's divided Valentine,  
Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage  
Ere my return, for then those thoughts that vexed her,  
While there ran any stream for l●o●● affections,  
Will be stopped up, and chaste eyed honour guide her  
Away, and hope the best still: I'll work for ye,  
And pray too heartily, away, no more words. Exeunt.   

Scena Quarta.  Enter Hylas and Sam. Hyl. 
I Care not for my broken head,  
But that it should be his plot, and ● wench too,  
A lousy, lazy wench prepared to do it.  Sam. 
Thou hadst as good be quiet, for o' my conscience  
He'll put another on thee 〈◊〉  Hyl. 
I am resolved  
To call him to account, was it not manifest  
He meant a mischief to me, and laughed at me,  
When he lay pouring out, his leg was broken,  
And no such matter: had he broke his neck,  
Indeed 'twould ne'er ha' grieved me: gallows gall him.  
Why should he 〈◊〉 but me?  Sam. 
Thou art 〈◊〉 ready  
To thrust thyself into those she occasions,  
And he as full of knavery to accept it.  Hyl. 
Well, if I live, I'll have a new trick for him.  Sam. 
That will not be amiss, but to fight with him  
Is to no purpose: besides, he's truly valiant,  
And a most deadly hand: thou never foughtst yet,  
Nor o' my conscience haste ●o saith in fighting.  Hyl. 
No, no, I will not fight.  Sam, 
Beside the quarrel,  
Which has a woman in't, to make it scurvy,  
Who would lie stinking in a surgeon's hands  
A month or two this weather; for believe it,  
He never hurts under a quarters healing.  Hyl. 
No 〈…〉 thought, I will not fight S●m,  
But watch my time  Sam. 
To pay him with ● projects  
Watch him too, I would wish ye: prethe●●●ll me,  
Dost thou affect these women still?  Hyl. 
Yes faith Sam,  
I love 'em even as well as e'er I did,  
Nay, if my brains were 〈◊〉 out● I must ●o 〈◊〉.  Sam. 
Dost thou love any woman?  Hyl. 
Any woman  
Of what degree or calling.  Sam. 
Of any age too?  Hyl. 
Of any ages from fourscore to fourteen boy,  
Of any fashion.  Sam. 
And defect too?  Hyl. 
Right●  
For those I love to lead ●e to repent●●●e●  
A woman with no 〈◊〉 after my 〈◊〉  
Shows like King Phil●●● moral, 〈…〉 mori,  
And she that has a wooden leg, demonstrates  
Like Hypocrites, we halt before the gallows:  
An old one with one tooth, seemed 〈◊〉 lay●ou●  
Sweet meats have sour sauces she that'●●●ll of ●ch●●,  
Crum not your bread before you taste your porridge,  
And many morals we may find.  Sam. 
'Tis well sir,  
Ye make so worthy uses: but quid 〈◊〉  
What shall we now determine?  Hyl. 
Let's consider,  
An hour or two, how I may fit this fellow.  Sam. 
Let's find him first, he'll quickly give occasion.  
But take heed to your s●l●●●●nd say ● warned ye:  
He has a plaguy 〈◊〉.  Hyl. 
That ●t my 〈◊〉. Exeunt. Music.   

Scena Quinta.  Enter sailors singing to them, Michael and Francis. Sayl. 
ABoard, aboard, the wind stand●●●ire.  Mich. 
These call for passengers, I'll stay, & see  
What men they take aboard.  Fra. 
A boat, a boat, a boat.  Say. 
A way then.  Fra. 
Whether are ye bound friends?  Sayl. 
Down to the Strayte●.  Mich. 
Ha, 'tis not much unlike him.  Fra. 
May I have passage for my money?  Say. 
And welcome too.  Mich. 
'Tis he, I know 'tis he now.  Fra. 
Then merrily aboard, and noble friend  
Heavens goodness keep thee ever, and all virtue  
Dwell in thy bosom Cellide, my last tears  
I leave behind me this, a sacrifice,  
For I dare stay no longer to betray you  Mich. 
Be not so quick sir: Saylo●●I here charge ye  
By Virtue of this warrant, as you will answer it,  
For both your ship and Merchant I know perfectly:  
Lay hold upon this fellow.  Fra. 
Fellow?  Mich. 
I sir.  Sayl. 
No hand to sword sir, we shall master you  
Fetch out the manacles.  Fra. 
I do obey yet  
But I beseech ye sir, inform me truely  
How I am guilty.  Mich. 
Ye have robbed a gentleman,  
One that ye are bound to for your life and being●  
Money and horse unjustly ye took from him,  
And something of more note, but for y'ar● a gentlema●●  Fra 
It shall be so, and here 〈…〉 all miseries,  
Since friendship is so cruel, I confess it,  
And which is more, a hundred of these robberies●  
This Ring I stole too from him: and this jewel  
The first and last of all my wealth: forgive me  
My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em,  
And may they prove of value but to recompense  
The thousand part of his love, and bread I have eaten.  
Pray see 'em rendered noble sir, and so  
I yield me to your power.  Mich. 
Guard him to'th water,  
I charge you sailors, there I will receive him,  
And back convey him to a justice.  Say. 
Come sir,  
Look to your neck, you are like to sail i'th' air now.  Exeunt.  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Maid. Tho. 
COme quickly, quickly, quickly, paint me handsomely  
Take heed my nose be not in grain too,  
Come Doll, Doll, disen me.  Dor. 
If you should play now  
Your devil's parts again.  Tom. 
Yea and nay Dorothy.  Dol. 
If ye do any thing, but that ye have sworn to,  
Which only is access.  Tho. 
As I am a gentleman:  
Out with this hair Doll, handsomely.  Doll. 
You have your breeches?  Tom. 
I prithee away, thou know'st I am monstrous ticklish,  
What dost thou think I love to blast my buttocks?  Doll. 
I'll plague ye for this roguery: for I know well  
What ye intend sir.  Tom. 
On with my Muffler●  Dol. 
Ye are a sweet Lady: come let's see you cu●tsie●  
What broke i'th' bum, hold up your head.  Tom. 
Plague on't  
I shall be piss my breeches if I cowre thus  
Come, am I ready.  Maid. 
At all points, as like sir  
As if you were my Mistress.  Dol. 
Who goes with ye.  Tom. 
None but my fortune, and myself. 〈◊〉.  Dol. 
Bless ye  
Now run thou for thy life, and get before him●  
Take the by way, and tell my x Marie  
In what shape he intends to come to cozen her  
I'll follow at thy heels myself: fly wench  Maid. 
I'll do it. Exit.  Enter Sebastian and Thomas. Dol. 
My Father has met him● this goes excellent  
And I'll away in time: look to your skin Thomas. Exit.  Seb. 
What, are you grown so corn fed goody Gillian.  
You will not know your Father: what vaga'res  
Have you in hand, what out l●apes, dirty heels  
That at these hours of night ye must be gadding,  
And through the Orchard take your private passage●  
What, is the breeze in your breech or has your brother  
Appointed you an hour of meditation  
How to demean himself: get ye to bed, drab  
Or I'll so crab your shoulders: ye demure slut  
Ye civil dish of sliced beef get ye in.  Tho. 
I why ' not, that I wy ' not.  Seb. 
Is't even so Dame  
Have at ye with a night spell then.  Th●. 
Pray hold sir.  Seb. 
St. Geoge, St. George● our Lady's knight  
He walks by day, so do's he by night,  
And when he had her found  
He her beat, and her bound,  
Until to him her troth she plights  
She would not stir from him that night.  Tho. 
Nay then have at ye with a counter-spell,  
From Elves, Hobbs and fairies, that trouble our dairies,  
From Fire-drakes and fiends, and such as the devil sends,  
Defend us heaven. Exi●●  Enter Lancelot. Lan. 
Bless my Master: look up sir I beseech ye,  
Up with your eyes to heaven.  Seb. 
Up with your nose sir,  
I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me,  
A plaguy mankind girl, how my brains totters?  
Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more  
With this dog trick,  
Mine own true spirit in her too,  Lan. 
In her, alas sir,  
Alas poor gentlewoman, she a hand so heavy  
To knock ye like a calf down, or so brave a courage  
To beat her father? if you could beleeve sir.  Seb. 
Who wouldst thou make me believe it was, the devil?  Lan. 
One that spits fire as fast 〈◊〉 he sometimes sir,  
And changes shapes as often: your son Thomas:  
Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me.  Seb. 
He● if it be so●  
I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't.  Lan. 
I saw his legs, has Boots on like a Player,  
Under his wenches cloath●: 'tis he, 'tis Thomas  
In his own sister's cloaths● sir, and I can want him.  Seb. 
No more words then, 'll'l watch him● thou'lt not believe Lance,  
How heartily glad I am.  Lan. 
May ye be gladder,  
But not this way sir.  Seb. 
No more words, but watch him. Exeunt.   

Scena septima.  Enter Mary, Dorothy, and Maid. Mar. 
When comes he?  Doll. 
Presently.  Mar. 
Then get you up Doll,  
Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready?  Maid 
All.  Ma. 
Let the light stand far enough.  Maid 
'Tis placed so.  Ma. 
Stay you to entertain him to his chamber.  
But keep close wench, he flies at all.  Maid 
I warrant ye.  Mar. 
You need no more instruction?  Maid 
I am perfect. Ex●●nt.   

Scena secunda.  Enter Valentine and Thomas. Th●. 
MOre stops yet? ●●re the fiend's my ghostly ●a●●er●  
Old Valentine: what wind's in his poope●  Val. 
Lady,  
You are met most happily: O gentle Doll,  
You must now do me an especial favour.  Tom. 
What is it Master Valentine? I am sorely troubled  
With a salt ●heum●●alne i'my gu●●●.  Val. 
I'll tell ye,  
And let it move you equally: my blessed Mistress  
Upon a slight occasion taking anger,  
Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery,  
From whence by my persuasion to redeem her,  
Will be impossible: nor have I liberty  
To come, and visit her: my good, good Dorothy,  
You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too,  
And have access at all hours liberally,  
Speak now, or never for me,  Tho. 
In a Nunnery?  
That course must not be suffered Master Valentine,  
Her mother never knew its rare sport for me:  
Spoke upon sport, by th' break of day I'll meet ye,  
And fear not man, we'll have her out I warrant ye,  
I cannot stay now.  Val. 
You will not break?  Tho. 
By no means.  
Good night.  Val. 
Good night kind Mistress Doll. Exit.  Tho. 
This thrives well,  
Every one takes me for my sister, excellent●  
This N●●●ery● fall ●o pat too, to my figure,  
Where there be handsome wenches, and they shall know it  
If once I creep in, ere they get me out again:  
Stay, her'● the house and one of her Maids,  Enter Ma●●. Maid 
Who's there?  
O Mistress Dorothy you are a stranger.  Tho. 
Still Mistress Dorothy? this geere will cotton.  Maid 
Will you walk in forsooth?  Tho. 
Where is your Mistress?  Maid 
Not very well: she's gone to bed, I am glad  
You are come so fit to comfort her.  Tho. 
Yes, I●le comfort her.  Maid 
Pray make not much noise, for she is sure asleep,  
You know your side, creep softly in, your company  
Will warm her well.  Tho. 
I warrant thee I'll warm her.  Maid 
Your brother has been here, the strangest fellow.  Tho. 
A very rogue, a rank rogue.  Maid 
I'll conduct ye  
Even to her chamber door, and there commit ye. Exeunt.   

Scena Octava.  Enter Michael, Francis● and O●●●ers. Mich. 
COme sir, for this night I shall entertain yet  
And like a gentleman, how e'er your fortune  
Hath cast ye on the worst part.  Fra. 
How you please sir,  
I am resolved, nor can a joy or misery  
Much move me now.  Mich. 
I am angry with myself now  
For putting this forced way anon his patience,  
Yet any other course had been too slender●  
Yet what to think I know not for most liberally●  
He hath confess ● strange wrongs, which if they prove 〈◊〉  
How e'er the others long love may forget all●  
Yet 'twas most fit he should come back, and this was  
Drink that: and now to my case leave your priso●er●  
I'll be his guard for this night.  Off. 
Good night to your worship.  Mich. 
Good night my honest friends: Come sir, I hope  
There shall be no such cause of such a sadness  
As you put on.  Fra. 
●aith sir, my rest is 〈◊〉  
And what I now pull, 〈◊〉 no more 〈◊〉 me  
Then if I played at span-counter, nor is my face  
The map of any thing I seem to suffer,  
Lighter affections seldom dwell in me sir.  Mich. 
A constant gentleman! would I had taken  
A 〈◊〉 when I took this harsh way to disturb him●  
Come walk with me ●i● ere to morrow night  
I doubt not but to see all this blown over. Exeunt.    

Actus Quintus,  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Hylas. Hyl. 
I Have doged his sister, sure 'twas she,  
And I hope she will come back again this night too:  Same 
I have lost of purpose: now if I can  
With all the art I have, as she comes back,  
But win a parley for my broken pate,  
Off goes her maidenhead, and there's vindict●.  
They stir about the house, I'll stand at distance. Exit.  Enter Mary and Dorothy, and then Thomas & Maid. Doll. 
Is he come in?  Mar. 
Speak softly,  
He is, and there he goes.  Tho. 
Good night, good night wench.  a bed discovered with a black More in it. Maid 
As softly as you can. Exit●  Tho. 
I'll play the Mouse Nan,  
How close the little thief lies.  Mar. 
How he itches?  Doll. 
What would you give now to be there, and I  
At home Mall?  Ma. 
Peace for shame.  Tom. 
In what a figure  
The little fool has pulled itself together:  
Anon you will lie straighter:  
Ha, there's rare circumstance  
Belongs to such a treatise: do ye tumble,  
I'll tumble with ye straight wench: she sleeps soundly,  
Full little thinkst thou of thy joy that's coming,  
The sweet, sweet joy, full little of the kisses,  
But those unthought of things come ever happiest.  
How soft the rogue feels? Oye little villain,  
Ye delicate coy thief, how I shall thrum ye?  
Your fie away, good servant, as ye are a gentleman's  Ma. 
Prithee leave laughing.  
Out upon ye Thomas  
What do ye mean to do? I'll call the house up,  
O god. I am sure ye will not, shall not serve ye,  
For up ye go now, and ye were my Father.  Ma. 
Your courage will be cold anon.  Tho● 
If it do hang for '  
Yet I'll be quartered here first.  Dor. 
O fierce villain.  Ma. 
What would he do indeed Doll?  Dor. 
You had best try him.  Tho. 
I'll kiss thee ere I come to bed: sweet Mary.  Ma. 
Prithee leave laughing.  Dor. 
O, for gentle Nicholas.  Tho. 
And view that stormy face, that has so thundered me,  
A coldne's crept over't now; by your leave, candle,  
And next door by yours too, so, a pretty, pretty  
Shall I now look upon ye: by this light it moves me.  Ma. 
Much good may it do you sir.  Tho. 
Holy saints, defend me.  
The devil, devil, devil, devil, O the devil.  Ma. 
Dor. Ha, ha, ha, ha, the devil O the devil.  Tho. 
I am abused most damnedly: most beastly,  
Yet if it be a she devil: But the house is up,  
And here's no staying longer in this Cassock,  
Woman, I here disclaim thee; and in vengeance  
I'll marry with that devil, but I'll vex thee.  Ma. 
By'r ' Lady, but you shall not sir, I'll watch ye.  Tho. 
Plague O your spanish leather hide; I'll waken ye:  
Devil, good night: good night good devil.  Moor. 
Oh.  Tho. 
Roar again, devil, roar again. Ex. Tho.  Moor. 
O, O, sir.  Ma. 
Open the doors before him: let him vanish.  
Now, let him come again, I'll use him kinder  
How now Wench.  Moor. 
Pray lie here yourself, next Mistress  
And entertain your sweet heart.  Ma. 
What said he to thee.  Moor. 
I had a soft bed: and I slept out all,  
But his kind farewell: ye may bake me now  
For O my conscience, he has made me venison.  Ma. 
Alas poor Kat●; I'll give thee a new petticoat,  Dor. 
And I a waistcoat, Wench.  Ma. 
Draw in the bed maids,  
And see it made again; put fresh sheets on too,  
For Doll. and I: come Wench, let's laugh an hour now,  
To morrow early, will we see young Cellide  
They say she has taken Sanctuary: love, & they  
Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles.  Dor. 
They must needs maul: for 'tis a pricking age grown  
Prithee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy●  Ma. 
A match, but art not thou thy brother?  Dor. 
Would I were Wench,  
You should hear further.  Ma. 
Come, no more of that Doll. Exeunt.   

Scena quinta.  Enter Hylas, and Thomas. Hyl. 
I Heard the doors clap: now, an't be thy will, wench  
By th' mass she comes: you are surely melt fair gentlewoman,  
I take it Mistress Doll, Sebastian's daughter.  Tho. 
I take right sir: Hylas, are you feretting  
I'll fit you with a pennyworth presently.  Hyl. 
How dare you walk so late so sweet: so weak guarded?  Tho. 
Faith sir, I do no harm, nor none I look for  
Yet I am glad, I have met so good a gentleman,  
Against all chances: for though I never knew ye  
Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye,  Hyl. 
Hark ye.  
What if a man should kiss ye?  Tho, 
That's no harm sir,  
Pray God he 'scape my heard, there lies the mischief.  Hyl. 
Her lips are monstrous rugged, but that surely  
Is but the sharpness of the weather: hark ye once more,  
And in your ear, sweet Mistress, for ye are so,  
And ever shall be from this hour: I have vowed it.  Enter Sebastian and Lancelot. Seb. 
Why that's my daughter, rogue, dost thou not see her  
Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner?  Lan. 
Kissing?  Seb. 
Now, now, now they agree o'th' match too.  Tho. 
Nay then ye love me not.  Hyl. 
By this white hand Doll.  Tom. 
I must confess, I have long desired your sight sir.  Lan. 
Why there's the Boots still sir.  Seb. 
Hang Boots sir,  
Why they'll wear breeches too.  Tom. 
Dishonest me  
Not for the world.  Seb. 
Why now they kiss again, there  
I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing  
Out the back way must needs have such a meaning.  Lan. 
I am at my small wits end.  Thom. 
If ye mean honourably.  Lan. 
Did she ne'er beat ye before sir?  Seb. 
Why dost thou follow me?  
Thou rascal slave hast thou not twice abused me?  
Hast thou not spoiled the boy? by thine own covenant,  
Wouldst thou not now be hanged?  Lan. 
I think I would sir,  
But you are so impatient: does not this show sir,  
(I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgement,  
And let the case be equally considered)  
Far braver in your daughter? in a son now  
'Tis nothing, of no mark: every man does it,  
But, to beget a daughter, a man maiden  
That reaches at there high exploits, is admirable:  
Nay she goes far beyond him: for when durst he,  
But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of?  
This is Sebastian truly.  Seb. 
Thou sayest right Lance,  
And there's my hand once more.  Tho. 
Not without marriage.  Seb. 
Didst thou hear that?  Lan. 
I think she spoke of marriage,  Seb. 
And he shall marry her, for it seems she likes him,  
And their first boy shall be my heir.  Lan. 
I marry  
Now ye go right to work.  Thom. 
Fie, fie sir,  
Now I have promised ye this night to marry,  
Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a gentleman?  Hyl. 
I have no maw to marriage, yet this rascal  
Tempts me extremely: will ye marry presently?  Tho. 
Get you afore, and stay me at the chapel,  
Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Pri●  
Little sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony  
Over without book, for we must have no company  
Nor light, for fear my father know, which must not yet●  
And then to morrow night.  Hyl. 
Nothing to night sweet?  Tho. 
No, not a bit, I am sent of business  
About my dowry, sweet, do not you spoil all now,  
'Tis of mun haste. I can scarce stay the marriage,  
Now if you love me, get you gone.  Hyl. 
You'll follow?  Tom. 
Within this hour, my sweet chick.  Hyl. 
Kiss.  Tho. 
A rope kiss ye,  
Come, come, I stand o'thorne●●  Hyl. 
Me thinks her mouth still  
Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it,  
Farewell.  Tom. 
Farewell, I'll fit ye with a wife, sir.  Seb. 
Come, follow close, I'll see the end she aims at,  
And if he be a handsome fellow Launcelot,  
Fiat, 'tis done, and all my state is settled. Exeunt.   

Scena Sexta.  Enter abbess, Cellide, and N●●s. Ab. 
COme, to your Mattin● Maids: these early hours  
My gentle daughter, will disturb a while,  
Your fair eyes, nurterd in ease.  Cel. 
No virtuous mother●  
'tis for my holy health, to purchase which  
They shall forget the child of ease, soft slumbers,  
O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortured,  
And Love, how like a tyrant, thou raignest in me,  
Commanding and forbidding at one instant:  
Why came I hither that desire to have  
Only all liberty, to make me happy?  
Why didst thou bring that young man home, O Valentine,  
That virtuous youth, why didst thou speak his goodness  
In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises  
Were made for him? O fond and ignorant,  
Why didst thou foster my affection  
Till it grew up, to know no other father,  
And then betray it?  Ab. 
Can ye sing?  Cel. 
Yes, Mother,  
My sorrows only.  Ab. 
Be gone, and to the choir then. Exeunt.  Music singing.  

Scena septima.  Enter Michael and Servant, and Francis. Mich. 
hast thou inquired him out?  Ser. 
He's not at home sir,  
His sister thinks he's gone to th' Nunnery,  Mich. 
Most likely: I'll away, an hour hence sirrah,  
Come you along with this young gentleman,  
Do him all service, and fair office.  Ser. 
Yes sir. Exeunt.   

Scena Octava.  Enter Hylas and Sam. Sam. 
Where hast thou been man?  Hyl. 
Is there ne'er a shop open?  
I'll give thee a pair of gloves Sam.  Sam. 
What's the matter?  Hyl. 
What dost thou think?  Sam. 
Thou art not married?  Hyl. 
By th'mass but I am, all to be married,  
I am i'th' order now Sam.  Sam. 
To whom prithee?  
I thought there was some such trick in't, you stole from me  
But who, for heaven sake?  Hyl. 
Even the sweetest woman,  
The rarest woman Samuel, and the lustiest,  
But wondrous honest, honest as the ice boy,  
Not a bit before hand, for my life, sirrah,  
And of a lusty kindred.  Sam. 
But who Hylas?  Hyl. 
The young gentleman and I are like to be friends again,  
The fates will have it so.  Sam. 
Who, Monsieur Thomas?  Hyl. 
All wrongs forgot.  Sam. 
O now I smell ye Hylas.  
Does he know of it?  Hyl. 
No, there's the trick I owe him  
●Tis done boy, we are fast faith, my youth now  
Shall know I am aforehand, for his qualities●  Sam. 
Is there no trick in't?  Hyl. 
None, but up and ride boy:  
I have made her no jointure neither, there I have paid him●  Sam. 
She's a brave wench.  Hyl. 
She shall be, as I'll use her,  
And if she anger me, all his abuses  
I'll clap upon her Caslocke.  Sam. 
Take heed Hylas●  Hyl. 
'Tis past that Sam, come, I must meet her presently,  
And now shalt see me, a most glorious husband.  Exeunt.  

Scena Nona.  Enter Dorothy, Mary, Valentine. Dor. 
IN troth sir, you never spoke to me.  Val. 
Can ye forget me?  
Did not you promise all your help and cunning  
In my behalf, but for one hour to see her,  
Did you not swear it? by this hand, no strictness  
Nor rule this house holds, shall by me, be broken.  Dor. 
I saw ye not these two days.  Val. 
Do not wrong me,  
I met ye, by my life, just as you entered  
This gentle Lady's Lodge last night, thus suited  
About eleven a clock.  Dor. 
'Tis true I was there,  
But that I saw or spoke to you.  Mar. 
I have found it,  
Your brother Thomas, Doll.  Dor. 
Pray sir be satisfied,  
And wherein I can do you good, command me,  
What a mad fool is this? stay here a while sir,  
Whilst we walk in, and make your peace. Exit.  Enter abbess. Val. 
I thank ye. squeak within.  Ab. 
Why, what's the matter there among these Maids?  
Now benedicite, have ye got the breeze there?  
Give me my holly sprinkle.  Enter 2 Nun. 1 Nun 
O Madam, there's a strange thing like a gentlewoman,  
Like Mistress Dorothy, I think the fiend  
Crept in to th' Nunnery we know not which way,  
Plays revel rout among us.  Ab. 
Give me my holy water pot.  1 Nun 
Here Madam.  Ab. 
Spirit of earth or air, I do conjure thee, squeak within  
Of water or of fire.  1 Nun 
Hark Madam, ●a●k.  Ab. 
Be thou ghost that cannot rest● or a shadow of the blessed,  
Be thou black, or white, or green, be thou heard, or to be seen  Enter Thomas and Cellide. 2 Nun 
It comes, it comes.  Cell. 
What are ye? speak, speak gently,  
And next, what would ye with me?  Tom. 
Any thing you'll let me.  Cell. 
You are no woman certain.  Tom. 
Nor you no Nun, nor shall not be.  Cel. 
What make ye here?  Tom. 
I am a holy friar.  Ab. 
Is this the Sipirit?  Tho. 
Nothing but spirit Aunt.  Ab. 
Now out upon thee.  Tho. 
Peace, or I'll conjure too Aunt.  Ab. 
Why come you thus?  Tho. 
That's all one, her's my purpose:  
Out with this Nun, she is too handsome for ye,  
I'll tell thee (Aunt) and I speak it with tears to thee,  
If thou keptst her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser,  
Mark but the mischief follows.  Ab. 
She is a votress.  Tho. 
Let her be what she will, she will undo thee,  
Let her but one hour out, as I direct ye,  
Or have among your N●n● again.  Abb. 
You have no project  
But fair and honest?  Tom. 
As thine eyes, sweet abbess,  Abb. 
I will be ruled then.  Tom. 
Thus then and persuade her  
But do not juggle with me, if ye do Aunt.  Abb. 
I must be there myself.  Tom. 
Away and fit her.  Abb. 
Come daughter, you must now be ruled, or never.  Cell. 
I must obey your will.  Abb. 
That's my good daughter● Exeunt.   

Scena Decima.  Enter Dorothy, and Mary. Ma. 
What a coil has this Fellow kept i'th' Nunnery  
Sure he has run the abbess out of her wits.  Do. 
Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither see her  
Nor the young Cellide.  Mar. 
Pray heavens he be not teasing.  Dor. 
Nay you may thank yourself, 'twas your own structures.  Enter Hylas, and Sam. Sam. 
Why there's the gentlewoman,  Hyl. 
Mass 'tis she indeed  
How smart the pretty thief looks? ' morrow Mistress.  Dor. 
Good morrow to you sir.  Sam. 
How strange she bears it?  Hyl. 
Maid's must do so, at first.  Dor. 
Would ye ought with us, gentlemen?  Hyl. 
Yes marry would I  
A little with your Ladyship.  Dor. 
Your will sir.  Hyl. 
Doll, I would have ye presently prepare yourself  
And those things you would have with you,  
For my house is ready.  Dor. 
How sir?  Hyl. 
And this night not to fail, you must come to me,  
My Friends will all be there too: For Trunks & those things  
And household stuff, and clothes you would have carried  
To morrow, or the next day, I'll take order:  
only, What money you have, bring away with ye,  
And jewels:  Dor. 
Jewels sir?  Hyl. 
Ay, for adornment  
There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy,  
And now come kiss me heartily.  Dor. 
Who are you?  Hyl. 
This Lady shall be welcome too.  Ma. 
To what sir?  Hyl. 
Your neighbour can resolve ye.  Dor. 
The man's foolish  
Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow,  
And where's his business?  Sam. 
By heaven, thou art abus'd still.  Hyl. 
It may be so: Come, ye may speak now boldly  
There's none but friends, Wench.  Dor. 
Came ye out of Bedlam?  
Alas, 'tis ill sir, that ye suffer him  
To walk in th' open air thus ●'tw●ll undo him.  
A pretty handsome gentleman: great pity.  Sam. 
Let me not live more if thou be'st not cousins,  Hyl. 
Are not you my Wife? did not I marry you last night  
At St●Michaels chapel?  Dor. 
Did not I say he was mad?  Hyl. 
Are not you Mistress Dorothy, Thomas sister?  Mar. 
There he speaks sense, but I'll assure ye gentleman,  
I think no Wife of yours: at what hours was it?  Hyl. 
● ' Precious; you'll make me mad; did not the Priest  
Sir Hugh that you appointed, about twelve a clock  
Tie our hands fast? did not you swear you loved me?  
Did not I court ye, coming from this gentlewomen?  Ma. 
Good sir, go sleep: for if I credit have  
She was in my arms, then, a-bed.  Sam. 
I told ye.  Hyl. 
Be not so confident.  Dor. 
By th' mass, she must sirs  
For I'll so husband here, before I know him:  
And so good morrow to ye: Come, let's go seeke'em.  Sam. 
I told ye what ye had done.  Hyl. 
Is the devil stirring?  
Well, go with me: for now I will be married. Exeunt.   

Scena Vndecima.  Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice. Mich. 
I Have brought him back again.  Val. 
You have done a friendship  
Worthy the love you bear me.  Mich. 
Would he had so too.  Val. 
O he's a worthy young man.  Mich. 
When als tried  
I fear you'll change your faith● bring in the gentleman.  Enter Francis, and servant, and abbess, and Cellide, severally. Val. 
My happy Mistress too: now Fortune help me,  
And all you stars, that govern chaste desires  
Shin fair, and lovely.  Abb. 
But one hour, dear Daughter,  
To hear your Guardian, what he can deliver  
In love's defence, and his: and ●hen your pleasure.  Cell. 
Though much unwilling, you have made me yield,  
More for his sake I see: how full of sorrow  
Sweet catching sorrow, he appears? O love,  
That thou but knew'st to heale, as well as hurt us.  Mich. 
Be ruled by me: I see her ●ye 〈…〉 him:  
And what ye heard, believe, for 〈…〉  
He neither dared, not must oppose my 〈…〉;  
And be you wife, young Lady, and believe to●.  
This man you love, Sir?  Val. 
As I love my soul, Sir.  Mich. 
This man you put into a free possession  
Of what his wants could ask: or yourself render?  Val. 
And shall do still.  Mich. 
Nothing was bar his libertie●  
But this fair maid; that friendship first was broken,  
And you, and she abus'd; next, (to my sorrow  
So fair a form should hide so dark intentions,)  
He hath himself confesed (my purpose being  
Only to stop his journey, by that policy  
Of laying felony to his charge, to fright the sailors)  
Divers abuses, done, thefts often practised,  
Moneys, and jewels too, and those no trifles.  Cell. 
O where have I bestrewed my faith: in neither●  
Let's in for ever now, there is virtue.  Mich. 
Nay do not wonder at it, he shall say it.  
Are ye not guilty thus?  Fra. 
Yes: O my Fortune.  Mich. 
To give a proof I speak not enviously  
Look here: do you know these jewels.  Cell. 
In, good Mother.  Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Mary: then Sebastian and Lancelot. Val. 
These jewels; I have known.  Dor. 
You have made brave sport.  Tho. 
I'll make more, if I live Wench  
Nay do not look on me: I care not for ye.  Lan. 
Do you see now plain? that's Mistress Dorothy,  
And that's his Mistress.  Seb. 
Peace, let my joy work easily  
Ha, boy: art there my boy: mine own boy, Tom. boy,  
Home Launce, and strike a fresh piece, of wine, the towns ours,  Val. 
Sure, I have known these jewels.  Alice 
They are they, certain.  Val. 
Good heaven, that they were.  Alice. 
I'll pawn my life on't  
And this is he; Come hither Mistress Dorothy,  
And Mistress Mary: who does that face look like:  
And view my brother well?  Dor. 
In truth like him.  Ma. 
Upon my troth exceeding like,  Mich. 
Beshrew me,  
But much: and main resemblance, both of face  
And lineaments of body: now heaven grant it.  Alice 
My brother's full of passion, I'll speak to him.  
Now, as you are a gentleman, resolve me,  
Where did you get these jewels?  Fra. 
Now I'll tell ye,  
Because blind fortune yet may make me happy,  
Of whom I had 'em, I have never heard yet,  
But from my infancy, upon this arm  
I ever wore 'em.  Alice 
'Tis Francisco brother,  
By heaven I tied 'em on: a little more sir,  
A little, little more, what parents have ye?  Fra. 
None  
That I know yet: the more my stubborn fortune,  
But as I heard a Merchant say that bred me,  
Who, to my more affliction, died a poor man,  
When I reached eighteen years.  Alice 
What said that Merchant?  Fra. 
He said, an infant, in the Genoway galleys,  
But from what place he never could direct me.  
I was taken in a sea fight, and from a mariner,  
Out of his manly pity he redeemed me.  
He told me of a Nurse that waited on me,  
But she, poor soul, he said was killed.  
A letter too, I had enclosed within me,  
To one Castructio a Venetian Merchant,  
To bring me up: the man, when years allowed me,  
And want of friends compelled, I sought, but found him  
Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him.  
The wars was my retreat then, and my travel  
In which I found this gentleman's free bounty,  
For which, heaven recompensed him: now ye have all.  Val. 
And all the worldly bliss that heaven can send me,  
And all my prayers and thanks.  Alice 
Down o' your knees, sir,  
For now you have found a father, and that father  
Tha●●ill not venture ye again in galleys.  Mich. 
'Tis true, believe her sir, and we all joy with ye.  Val. 
My best friend still: my dearest: now heaven bless thee  
And make me worthy of this benefit.  
Now my best Mistress.  Cel. 
Now sir, I come to ye.  Ab. 
No, no, let's in wench.  Cel. 
Not for the world, now, Mother,  
And thus sir, all my service I pay to you,  
And all my love to him.  Val. 
And may it prosper,  
Take her Francisco: now no more young Callidon,  
And love her dearly, for thy father does so.  Fra. 
May all hate seek me else, and thus I seal it.  Val. 
Nothing but mirth now, friends.  Enter Hylas and Sam. Hyl. 
Nay, I will find him.  Sam. 
What do all these here?  Tho. 
You are a trusty husband,  
And a hot lover too.  Hyl. 
Nay then, good morrow,  
Now I perceive the knavery.  Sam. 
I still told ye.  Tho. 
Stay, or I'll make ye stay: come hither sister,  Val. 
Why how now Mistress Thomas?  Tho. 
Peace a little,  
Thou wouldst fain have a wife?  Hyl. 
Not I, by no means.  Tho. 
Thou shalt have a wife, & a fruitful wife, for I find  
That I shall never be able to bring thee children. Hylas, known son again.  Seb. 
A notable brave boy.  Hyl. 
I am very well sir.  Tho. 
Thou shalt be better Hylas, thou hast 7 hundred pound a year,  
And thou shalt make her 3 hundred jointure.  Hyl. 
No.  Tho. 
Thou shalt boy, and shalt bestow  
Two hundred pound in clothes, look on her,  
A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred,  
And feasible: strike hands, or I'll strike first.  Dor. 
You'll let me like?  Mar. 
He's a good handsome fellow,  
Play not the fool.  Tho. 
Strike, brother, Hylas quickly.  Hyl. 
If you can love me well.  Dor. 
If you can please me.  Tho. 
Try that out soon, I say, my brother Hylas.  Sam. 
Take her, and use her well, she's a brave gentle woman.  Hyl. 
You must allow me another Mistress.  Dor. 
Then you must allow me another servant.  Hyl. 
Well, let's together then, a lusty kindred.  Seb. 
I'll give thee five hundred pound more for that word.  Ma. 
Now sir, for you & I to make the feast full.  Tho. 
No, not a bit, you are a virtuous Lady,  
And love to live in contemplation.  Ma. 
Come fool, I am friends now.  Tho. 
The fool shall not ride ye,  
There lie my woman, now my man again,  
And now for travel once more.  Seb. 
I'll bar that first.  Ma. 
And I next.  Tho. 
Hold yourself contented: for I say I will travel,  
And so long I will travel, till I find a father  
That I never knew, and a wife that I never looked for,  
And a state without expectation,  
So rest you merry gentlemen.  Ma. 
You shall not  
Upon my faith, I love you now extremely,  
And now I'll kiss ye.  Tho. 
This will not do it, Mistress,  Ma. 
Why when we are married, we'll do more,  Seb. 
there's all boy,  
The keys of all I have, come, let's be merry,  
For now I see thou art right.  Tho. 
Shall we to Church straight?  Val. 
Now presently, and there with nuptial.  
The holy Priest shall make ye happy all.  Tho. 
Away then, fair afore. Exeunt.   
FINIS.