Vera Effigies Tho. Midletoni Gent.    

TWO NEW plays.  
VIZ. More DISSEMBLERS besides WOMEN.  
VIZ. WOMEN beware WOMEN.  
WRITTEN By Tho. Middleton, Gent.  
 
London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley and are to be sold at his Shop at the Prince's Arms in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1657.   

MORE DISSEMBLERS BESIDES WOMEN.  
A COMEDY, BY Tho. Middleton, Gent.  
 
LONDON: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, 1657:   

TO THE READER.  
WHen these amongst others of Mr. Thomas Middleton's Excellent Poems, came to my hands, I was not a little confident but that his name would prove as great an Inducement for thee to Read, as me to Print them: Since those Issues of his Brain that have already seen the Sun, have by their worth gained themselves a free entertainment amongst all that are ingenious: And I am most certain, that these will no way lessen his Reputation, nor hinder his Admission to any Noble and Recreative Spirits. All that I require at thy hands, is to continue the Author in his deserved Esteem, and to accept of my Endeavours which have ever been to please thee.  
Farewell.   

UPON The Tragedy of My Familiar Acquaintance, THO. MIDDLETON.  

WOmen beware Women; 'tis a true Text  
Never to be forgot: Drabs of State vexed,  
Have Plots, Poisons, Mischiefs that seldom miss,  
To murder Virtue with a venom kiss.  
Witness this worthy Tragedy, expressed  
By him that well deserved among the best  
Of Poets in his time: He knew the rage,  
Madness of Women crossed; and for the Stage  
Fitted their humours, hellbred Malice, Strife  
Acted in State, presented to the life.  
I that have seen't, can say, having just cause,  
Never came Tragedy off with more applause.   
Nath. Richard's.   

The Actors Names.  

LOrd Cardinal of Milan.  
Lactantio, his Nephew.  
Andrugio, General of Milan.  
Father to Aurelia.  
Lords of Milan.  
Governor of the Fort, Servant to Aurelia.  
Crotchet, a Singing Master.  
Sinquapace, a Dancing Master.  
Usher to Sinquapace.  
Dondolo, Servant to Lactantio.   

Duchess of Milan.  
Celia, her Waiting-Gentlewoman.  
Aurelia, Mistress to Andrugio and Lactantio.   

Page, Lactantio's old Sweetheart disguised.  
Servants.   
Scaen Milan.   

MORE DISSEMBLERS BESIDES WOMEN.  
The First Part.  

Act. 1.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Lactantio, and Aurelia, and Servant. Music. 

SONG.  
TO be chaste, is Woman's glory,  
'Tis her fame and honour's story.  
Here sits she in Funeral weeds,  
Only bright in virtuous deeds.  
Come and read her life and praise,  
That singing weeps, and sighing plays.   Lact. 

WElcome Souls Music: I have  
been listening here  
To melancholy strains from  
the Duchess lodgings.  
That strange great Widow,  
that has vowed so stiffly  
Never to know loves heat in a second Husband:  
And she has kept the Fort most valiantly  
(To th' wonder of her Sex) this seven years' day;  
And that's no sorry trial. A months' constancy  
Is held a virtue in a City-widow,  
And are they excelled by so much more i'th' Court?  
'My faith a rare example for our Wives.  
heaven's blessing of her heart for't poor Soul,  
she'd need have somewhat to comfort her.  
What wouldst thou do? Faith now  
If I were dead, suppose I wear thy Husband,  
(As shortly I will be, and that's as good)  
Speak freely, and thou lov'st me.   Aur. 

Alas Sir,  
I should not have the leisure to make Vows,  
For dying presently, I should be dead  
Before you were laid out.   Lact. 

Now fie upon thee for a hasty dier,  
Wouldst thou not see me buried?   Aur. 

Talk not on't Sir,  
These many years, unless you take delight  
To see me swoon, or make a ghost of me.   Lact. 

Alas poor Soul, I'll kiss thee into colour,  
Canst thou paint pale so quickly, I perceive then  
thou'dst go beyond the Duchess in her vow,  
thou'dst die indeed: What's he?   Aur. 

Be settled Sir,  
Spend neither doubt, nor fear upon that fellow,  
Health cannot be more trusty to man's life,  
Than he to my necessities in love.   Lact. 

I take him of thy word, and praise his face,  
Though he look scurvily, I will think hereafter  
That honesty may walk with fire in's Nose,  
As well as brave desert in broken clothes:  
But for thy further safety, I've provided  
A shape, that at first sight will start thy modesty,  
And make thee blush perhaps; but 'twill away  
After a qualm or two. Virginity  
Has been put often to those shifts before thee  
Upon extremities; a little boldness  
Cannot be called immodesty, especially  
When there's no means without it, for our safeties;  
Thou knowest my Uncle the Lord Cardinal  
Wears so severe an eye, so strict and holy,  
It not endures the sight of Womankind  
About his Lodgings;  
Hardly a Matron of fourscore's admitted,  
Though she be worn to gums, she comes not there,  
To mumble matins, all his admiration  
Is placed upon the Duchess; he likes her,  
Because she keeps her vow, and likes not any;  
So does he love that man, above his Book,  
That loves no woman, for my Fortune's sake then,  
For I am like to be his only Heir.  
I must dissemble and appear as fair  
To his opinion, as the brow of Piety;  
As void of all impureness as an Altar,  
Thine ear— that, and we are safe.   Aur. 
You make me blush Sir.  Lact. 

'Tis but a star shot from a beauteous cheek,  
It blazes Beauty's bounty, and hurts nothing.   Aur. 
The power of Love commands me.  Lact. 
I shall wither in comforts, till I see thee.  Exeunt.  

Scaen. 2.  Enter L. Cardinal in his Closet, and two or three Lords. L. Card. 

My Lords, I have work for you, when you have hours  
Free from the cares of State, bestow your eyes  
Upon those abstracts of the Duchess virtues,  
My study's ornaments. I make her Constancy  
The holy Mistress of my contemplation,  
Whole volumes have I writ in zealous praise  
Of her eternal vow: I have no power  
To suffer Virtue to go thinly clad,  
I that have ever been in youth, an old man  
To pleasures and to women, and could never love, but pity 'em,  
And all their momentary frantic follies.  
Here I stand up in admiration,  
And bow to the chaste health of our great Duchess,  
Kissing her constant name, O my fair Lords,  
When we find grace confirmed, especially  
In a creature that's so doubtful as a woman,  
weare spirit ravished, men of our probation  
Feel the Spheres, Music playing in their Souls  
So long, unto the eternising of her sex.  
Sh'as kept her vow so strictly, and as chaste  
As everlasting life is kept for Virtue.  
e'en from the sight of men, to make her oath  
As uncorrupt as th'honour of a Virgin  
That must be strict in thought, or else that title,  
Like one of Frailties ruins, shrinks to dust.  
No longer she's a Virgin, then she's just.   1. Lord. 

Chaste Sir, the Truth and Justice of her Vow  
To her deceased Lord's able to make poor  
Man's treasury of praises. But methinks  
She that has no temptation set before her,  
Her Virtue has no conquest; then would her constancy  
Shine in the brightest goodness of her glory,  
If she would give admittance, see, and be seen;  
And yet resist, and conquer. There were argument  
For Angels, 't would outreach the life of praise,  
Set in Mortality's shortness. I speak this  
Not for Religion, but for love of her,  
Whom I wish less religious, and more loving:  
But I fear she's too constant, that's her fault,  
But 'tis so rare, few of her sex are took with't,  
And that makes some amends.   L. Card. 

You have put my zeal into a way, my Lord.  
I shall not be at peace, till I make perfect;  
I'll make her victory harder, 'tis my crown  
When I bring grace to great'st perfection;  
And I dare trust that daughter with a world,  
None but her vow and she. I know she wears  
A constancy, will not deceive my praises,  
A Faith so noble; she that once knows Heaven,  
Need put in no security for her truth;  
I dare believe her face, use all the art,  
Temptation, witcheries, sleights, and subtleties,  
You Temporal Lords, and all your means can practise.   2. Lord. 
My Lord, not any we.  L. Card. 

Her resolute goodness  
Shall as a Rock stand firm, and send the sin  
That beat against it, into the bosom of the owners, weeping.   3. Lord. 
We with her virtues so.  L. Card. 

O give me pardon,  
I have lost myself in her, upon my friends.  
Your charitable censures I beseech,  
So dear her white fame is to my souls love 'Tis  
an affliction; but to hear it questioned,  
She's my religious triumph.  
If you desire a belief rightly to her,  
Think she can never waver than you're sure.  
She has a fixed heart, it cannot err;  
He kills my hopes of woman, that doubts her.   1. Lord. 
No more, my Lord, 'tis fixed.  L. Card. 

Believe my Judgement,  
I never praise in vain, nor ever spent  
Opinion idly, or lost hopes of any,  
Where I once placed it; welcome as my joys.  
Now you all part believers of her Virtue.   All L. 
We are the same most firmly.  L. Card. 

Good opinion  
In others reward you, and all your actions.  
Who's near us?   Enter a Servant. Serv. 
My Lord.  L. Card. 

Call our Nephew: There's a work too  
That for blood's sake I labour to make perfect,  
And it comes on with joy; he's but a youth  
To speak of years, yet I dare venture him  
To old men's goodnesses and gravities,  
For his strict manners, and win glory by him;  
And for the chasteness of his continence  
(Which is a rare grace in the spring of man)  
He does excel the youth of all our time,  
Which gift of his more than affinity,  
Draws my affection in great plenty to him.  
The company of a woman is as fearful to him,  
As death to guilty men: I'have seen him blush,  
When but a Maid was named; I'm proud of him,  
Heaven be not angry for't: He's near of kin  
In disposition to me. I shall do much for him  
In life time, but in death I shall do all;  
There he will find my love. He's yet too young  
In years to rise in state, but his good parts  
Will bring him in the sooner: Here he comes.   Enter Lactantio with a Book. 
What at thy Meditation? half in Heaven.  Lact. 

The better half my Lord, my mind's there still.  
And when the heart's above, the body walks here  
But like an idle Servingman below,  
Gaping and waiting for his Masters coming.   L. Card. 
What man in age, could bring forth graver thoughts?  Lact. 

He that lives Fourscore years, is but like one  
That stays here for a Friend; when death comes, then  
Away he goes, and is ne'er seen again.  
I wonder at the young men of our days,  
That they can dote on pleasure, or what 'tis  
They give that title too, unless in mockage.  
There's nothing I can find upon the Earth,  
Worthy the name of pleasure, unless 't be  
To laugh at folly; which indeed good Charity  
Should rather pity: But of all the frenzies  
That follow flesh and blood (O reverend Uncle)  
The most ridiculous is to fawn on women;  
There's no excuse for that, 'tis such a madness,  
There is no cure set down for't, no Physician  
Ever spent hour about it, for they guessed  
'Twas all in vain, when they first loved themselves,  
And never since durst practice, cry Heu mihi,  
That's all the help they have for't. I had rather meet  
A Witch far North, than a fine Fool in love,  
The sight would less afflict me, but for modesty;  
And your grave presence, that learns men respect,  
I should fall foul in words upon fond man  
That can forget his excellence and honour,  
His serious Meditations being the end  
Of his Creation, to learn well to die,  
And live a prisoner to a woman's eye.  
Can there be greater thraldom, greater folly?   L. Card. 

In making him my heir, I make good works,  
And they give wealth a blessing, where on the contrary,  
What curses does he heap upon his soul  
That leaves his riches to a riotous young man,  
To be consumed on Surfeits, Pride, and Harlots,  
Peace be upon that spirit, whose life provides  
A quiet rest for mine.   Enter Page with a Letter. Lact. 
How now, the news?  Page. 

A Letter Sir, brought by a Gentleman  
That lately came from Rome.   Lact. 

That's she, she's come:  
I fear not to admit her in his presence;  
There is the like already. I'm writ chaste  
In my grave Uncle's thoughts, and honest meanings  
Think all men's like their own— Thou look'st so pale,  
What ail'st thou here o' late.   Page. 
I doubt I have cause Sir.  Lact. 
Why, what's the news?  Page. 
I fear Sir I'm with child:  Lact. 
With child; peace, peace, speak low:  Page. 
'Twill prove I fear so.  Lact. 

Beshrew my heart for that— Desire the Gentleman  
To walk a turn or two.   L. Card. 
What Gentleman?  Lact. 

One lately come from Rome, my Lord, in credit,  
With L. Vincentio; so the Letter speaks him.   L. Card. 

Admit him, my kind Boy; the prettiest Servant  
That ever man was blessed with; 'tis so meek,  
So good and gentle, 'twas the best almsdeed  
That ere you did, to keep him. I have oft took him  
Weeping alone (poor Boy) at the remembrance  
Of his lost friends; which as he says, the Sea  
Swallowed with all their substance.   Lact. 

'Tis a truth Sir,  
Has cost the poor Boy many a feeling tear,  
And me some too, for company. In such pity,  
I always spend my part: Here comes the Gentleman.   Enter Aurelia like a Gentleman. L. Card. 

Welcome to Milan Sir, how is the health  
Of L. Vincentio.   Aur. 

May it please your Grace,  
I left it well and happy, and I hope  
The same: Blessed Fortune keeps it:   L. Card. 
I hear your near him.  Aur. 
One of his Chamber, my Lord.  Lact. 

I'd near wish one of her condition nearer,  
Than to be one of mine.   L. Card. 

Your news is pleasing;  
Whilst you remain in Milan, I request you,  
To know the welcome of no house but ours.   Aur. 
Thanks to your Grace.  L. Card. 

I'll leave you to confer;  
I'll to the Duchess, and labour her perfection.   Exit Cardinal. Lact. 

Then thus begins our conference, I arrest thee  
In Cupid's name, deliver up your weapon,  
It is not for your wearing, Venus knows it.  
Here's a fit thing indeed, nay, Hangers and all,  
Away with 'em, out upon 'em, things of trouble,  
And out of use with you: Now you're my prisoner,  
And till you swear you love me, all, and only  
You, part not from mine arms.   Aur. 
I swear it willingly.  Lact. 

And that you do renounce the general's love  
That heretofore laid claim to you.   Aur. 

My heart bids me  
You need not teach me, that my eye ne'er knew  
A perfect choice, till it stood blessed with you.  
There's yet a rival, whom you little dream of,  
Tax me with him, and I'll swear too, I hate him.  
I'll thrust 'em both together in one Oath,  
And send'em to some pair of waiting-women,  
To solder up their credits.   Lact. 

Prithee what's he  
Another yet, for laughter's sake discover him.   Aur. 
The Governor of the Fort:  Lact. 
That old dried Neat's tongue.  Aur. 
A Gentleman after my Father's relish.  Enter Father and Governor. Father. 
By your kind favours Gentlemen:  Aur. 

O my Father,  
We are both betrayed.   Lact. 

Peace, you may prove too fearful.  
To whom your business Sir.   Fath. 

To the Lord Cardinal,  
If it would please yourself, or that young Gentleman,  
To grace me with admittance.   Lact. 

I will see Sir,  
The Gentleman's a stranger, new come o'er.  
He understands you not— Loff trow veen, Tantumbro, Hoff Tufftee  
Locumber shaw.   Aur. 
Quisquimken, sapadlaman, Fool-urchin old Astrata.  Father. 

Nay, and that be the Language, we can speak't too: Strumpettikin,  
Bold Harlottum Queaninisma, Whoremongeria.  
Shame to thy Sex, and sorrow to thy Father.  
Is this a shape for reputation?  
And modesty to mask in? Thou too cunning  
For credulous goodness.  
Did not a reverent respect and honour  
That's due unto the Sanctimonious peace  
Of this Lords house, restrain my voice and anger,  
And teach it soft Humility: I would lift  
Both your disgraces to the height of grief  
That you have raised in me; but to shame you  
I will not cast a blemish upon Virtue.  
Call that your happiness, and the dearest too.  
That such a bold attempt could ever boast off.  
We'll see if a strong Fort can hold you now,  
Take her Sir to you.   Gover. 

How have I deserved  
The strangeness of this hour?   Father. 

Talk not so tamely,  
For you Sir, thank the reverence of this place,  
Or your Hypocrisy I had put out of grace,  
I had i'faith, if ever I can fit you,  
Expect to hear from me.   Exeunt: Lact. 

I thank you Sir,  
The Cough o'th' Lungs requite you: I could curse him  
Into diseases by whole dozens now.  
But one's enough to beggar him, if he light  
Upon a wise Physician. 'Tis a labour  
To keep those little wits I have about me.  
Still did I dream that Villain would betray her.  
I'll never trust slave with a parboiled nose again.  
I must devise some trick to excuse her absence  
Now to my Uncle too; there is no mischief  
But brings one Villain or other still  
e'en close at heels on't. I'm pained at heart:  
If ever there were hope of me to die  
For love, 'tis now, I never felt such gripings:  
If I can scape this Climacterical year,  
Women ne'er trust me, though you hear me swear.  
Kept with him in the Fort, why there's no hope  
Of ever meeting now; my ways not thither,  
Love bless us with some means to get together,  
And I'll pay all the old reckonings.   Exit.  

Scaen. 3.  Enter Duchess, above, and Celia. Dutch. 

What a contented rest rewards my mind  
For faithfulness; I give it Constancy,  
And it returns me Peace: How happily  
Might woman live, methinks, confined within  
The knowledge of one Husband?  
What comes of more, rather proclaims Desire  
Prince of affections, then religious love;  
Brings frailty and our weakness into question;  
'Mongst our Male enemies, makes Widows tears,  
Rather the cup of laughter then of pity?  
What credit can our sorrows have with men,  
When in some months' space, they turn light again;  
Feast, dance, and go in colours? If my vow  
Were yet to make, I would not sleep without it,  
Or make a Faith as perfect to myself  
In resolution, as a vow would come to;  
And do as much right so to Constancy,  
As strictness could require: For 'tis our goodness,  
And not our strength that does it. I am armed now  
'Gainst all deserts in man, be't Valour, Wisdom,  
Courtesy, Comeliness, nay, Truth itself,  
Which seldom keeps him company. I commend  
The Virtues highly, as I do an Instrument  
When the Case hangs by th'Wall; but man himself  
Never comes near my heart.   Enter Lord Cardinal. L. Card. 

The blessing of Perfection to your thoughts, Lady,  
For I'm resolved they are good ones,   Dutch. 

Honour of greatness,  
Friend to my vow, and Father to my fame,  
Welcome, as Peace to Temples.   L. Card. 
I bring War.  Dutch 
How Sir?  L. Card. 

A harder fight: If now you conquer,  
You crown my praises double.   Dutch. 
What's your aim Sir?  L. Card. 

To astonish sin, and all her tempting evils,  
And make your goodness shine more glorious,  
When your fair noble vow showed you the way  
To excellence in virtue, to keep back  
The fears that might discourage you at first,  
Pitying your strength, it showed you not the worst.  
'Tis not enough for Tapers to burn bright,  
But to be seen, so to lend others light,  
Yet not impair themselves, their flame as pure,  
As when it shined in secret, so t'abide  
Temptations, is the Souls flame truly tried.  
I have an ambition, but a virtuous one,  
I would have nothing want to your Perfection.   Dutch. 

Is there a doubt found yet, is it so hard  
For woman to recover, with all diligence,  
And a true fasting faith from sensual pleasure,  
What many of her sex has so long lost:  
Can you believe that any sight of man,  
Held he the worth of Millions in one spirit,  
Had power to alter me   L. Card: 

No, there's my hope,  
My credit, and my triumph.   Dutch. 

I'll no more,  
Keep strictly private, since the glory on't  
Is but a virtue questioned; I'll come forth  
And show myself to all, the world shall witness,  
That like the Sun, my Constancy can look  
On Earth's corruptions, and shine clear itself.   L. Card. 
Hold conquest now, and I have all my wishes.  Cornets: And a shout within Dutch. 
The meaning of that sudden shout, my Lord.  L. Card. 

signior Andrugio, General of the Field;  
Successful in his Fortunes, is arrived,  
And met by all the gallant hopes of Milan.  
Welcomed with Laurel wreaths, and Hymns of praises.  
Vouchsafe but you, to give him the first grace Madam,  
Of your so long hid presence, he has then  
All honours that can bless victorious man.   Dutch. 
You shall prevail grave Sir.  Enter Andrugio, attended with the Nobility and State, like a Victor. Music. 

SONG.  
LAurel is a Victor's due,  
I give it you,  
I give it you.  
Thy name with praise,  
Thy brow with bays;  
We circle round.  
All men rejoice  
With cheerful voice,  
To see thee like a Conqueror crowned.   

A Cupid descending, sings this.  
I am a little Conqueror too  
For wreaths of bays,  
There's Arms of cross,  
And that's my due.  
I give the flaming heart,  
It is my crest.  
And by the Mother's side,  
The weeping eye,  
The sighing breast.  
It is not power in you, fair beauties,  
If I command Love, 'tis your duties.   Ascend. 
During these Songs, Andrugio peruses a Letter delivered him by a Lord, and then closes with this Song below.  

Welcome, Welcome, Son of Fame,  
Honour triumphs in thy Name.   Exeunt in State. Lord. 

Alas poor Gentleman! I brought him news  
That like a Cloud spread over all his glories,  
When he missed her, whom his eye greedily sought for;  
His welcome seemed so poor, he took no joy in't:  
But when he found her, by her Father forced  
To the old governor's love, and kept so strictly,  
A coldness struck his heart; there is no State  
So firmly happy, but feels Envies might.  
I know Lactantio, Nephew to the Cardinal,  
Hates him as deeply as a Rich man death;  
And yet his welcome showed as fair and friendly,  
As his that wore the truest love to him.  
When in his wishes he could drink his blood,  
And make his heart the sweetness of his food.   Exit. Celia. 
Madam, Madam.  Dutch. 

Beshrew thy heart, dost thou not see me busy:  
You show your manners.   Celia. 

In the name of Goodness,  
What ails my Lady?   Dutch. 

I confess I'm mortal,  
There's no defending on't, 'tis cruel flattery  
To make a Lady believe otherways.  
Is not this flesh? Can you drive heat from fire?  
So may you love from this; for Love and Death  
Are Brothers in this Kingdom, only Death  
Comes by the Mother's side, and that's the surest.  
That General is wondrous fortunate,  
Has won another field since, and a victory  
That credits all the rest: He may more boast on't,  
Then of a thousand conquests. I am lost,  
Utterly lost, where are my Women now,  
Alas what help's in them, what strength have they?  
I call to a weak guard, when I call them,  
In rescuing me, they'd be themselves overcome,  
When I that professed war, am overthrown.  
What hope's in them then, that ne'er stirred from home?  
My Faith is gone for ever, my Reputation with the Cardinal,  
My Fame, my Praise, my Liberty, my Peace,  
Changed for a restless Passion: Oh hard spite  
To lose my seven years' victory at one sight.   Exit.  

Scaen. 4.  Enter Dondolo, and the Page with a Shirt. Page. 
I prithee Dondolo, take this shirt, and air it a little against my Master rises, I'had rather do any thing then do't i'faith.  Dond. 
O monstrous, horrible, terrible, intolerable! Are not you big enough to air a shirt; were it a smock now, you liquorish Page, you'd be hanged, ere you'd part from't. If thou dost not prove as arrant a smell-smock, as any the Town affords, in a Term time, I'll lose my judgement in Wenching.  Page. 
Pish; here Dondolo, prithee take it.  Dond. 
It's no more but up and ride with you then? All my generation were beadles and Officers: and do you think I'm so easily entreated? you shall find a harder piece of work (Boy) than you imagine, to get any thing from my hands; I will not disgenerate so much from the nature of my kindred; you must bribe me one way or other, if you look to have any thing done, or else you may do't yourself. 'Twas just my Father's humour when he bore office: you know my mind Page, The Song, the Song; I must either have the Song, you sung to my Master last night, when he went to Bed, or I'll not do a stitch of service for you, from one weeks end to the other. As I am a Gentleman, you shall brush Cloaks, make clean Spurs, nay, pull of straight Boots, although in the tugging, you chance to fall and hazard the breaking of your little Buttocks: I'll take no more pity of your Maribones, than a butcher's Dog of a Rump of Beef; nay, ka me, ka thee, If you will ease the Melancholy of my mind with singing, I will deliver you from the calamity of boot-haling.  Page. 
Alas you know I cannot sing.  Dond. 
Take heed, you may speak at such an hour, that your voice may be clean taken away from you: I have known many a good Gentlewoman say so much as you say now, and have presently gone to Bed, and lay speechless: 'Tis not good to jest, as old Chaucer was wont to say, that broad famous English Poet. Cannot you sing say you? Oh that a Boy should so keep cut with his Mother, and be given to dissembling.  Page. 

Faith to your knowledge in't, ill may seem well;  
But as I hope in comforts, I've no skill.   Dond. 
A pox of skill, give me plain simple cunning: Why should not singing be as well got without skill, as the getting of children; you shall have the arrantest Fool do as much there, as the wisest Coxcomb of 'em all, let 'em have all the help of Doctors put to 'em; both the directions of Physicians, and the erections of Pothecaries; you shall have a plain Hobnailed country-fellow, marrying some Dairy-wench, tumble out two of a year, and sometimes three, by’r lady, as the crop falls out; and your nice paling Physicking-Gentlefolks, some one in nine years, and hardly then a whole one, as it should be; the wanting of so me Apricock, or something, loses a member on him, or quite spoils it. Come will you sing, that I may warm the shirt; by this light, he shall put it on cold for me else.  Page. 
A Song or two I learned, with hearing Gentlewomen practise themselves.  Dond. 
Come, you are so modest now, 'tis pity that thou was't ever bred to be thrust through a pair of Canions; thou wouldst have made a pretty foolish Waiting-woman, but for one thing. will't 'sing?  Page. 
As well as I can Dondolo.  Dond. 

Give me the shirt then, I'll warm't as well I can too.  
Why look you Whoreson Coxcomb, this is a smock.   Page. 
No 'tis my Master's shirt.  Dond. 

Why that's true too,  
Who knows not that; why 'tis the fashion Fool,  
All your young Gallants here of late wear smocks;  
Those without Beards especially.   Page. 
Why what's the reason Sir.  Dond. 
Marry very great reason in't: A young gallant lying a-bed with his Wench, if the Constable should chance to come up and search, being both in smocks, they'd be taken for Sisters; and I hope a Constable dare go no further: And as for the knowing of their Heads, that's well enough too; for I know many young Gentlemen, wear longer hair than their Mistresses.  Page. 
'Tis a hot world the whilst:  Dond 
Nay, that's most certain,  
And a most witty age of a bald one; for all Languages you've many daughters so well brought up, they speak French naturally at fifteen, and they are turned to the Spanish and Italian half a year after.  Page. 

That's like learning the Grammar first, and the Accidence after;  
They go backward so.   Dond. 

The fitter for the Italian; thou'st no wit Boy,  
Hadst had a Tutor, he'd have taught thee that.  
Come, come, that I may be gone Boy?   Music. Page: 

SONG.  
CUpid is Venus only joy,  
But he's a wanton Boy:  
A very, very wanton Boy.  
He shoots at ladies' naked Breasts;  
He is the cause of most men's Crests;  
I mean upon the Forehead,  
Invisible, but horrid.  
Of the short Velvet Mask, he was deviser,  
That wives may kiss, the husband's ne'er the wiser.  
'Twas he first thought upon the way,  
To keep a lady's Lips in play.   Dond. 
Oh rich, ravishing, rare, and enticing: Well, go thy ways, for as sweet a Breasted Page, as ever lay at his Master's feet in a Truckle-bed.  Page. 
You'll hie you in straight Dondolo?  Exit. Dond. 

I'll not miss you.  
This smockified shirt, or shirted smock,  
I will go toast; let me see what's o'clock,  
I must to th'Castle straight to see his love,  
Either by hook or crook: My Master storming  
Sent me last night, but I'll be gone this morning.   Exit.   

Act. 2.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Duchess and Celia. Dutch. 

SEek out the lightest colours can be got;  
The youthful'st dressings; tawny is too sad.  
I am not thirty yet, I have wronged my time,  
To go so long in black, like a Petitioner.  
See that the Powder that I use about me,  
Be rich in Cassia.   Cel. 
Here's a sudden change.  Dutch. 

Oh I'm undone in Faith: Stay, art thou certain  
Lactantio, Nephew to the Cardinal,  
Was present in the late entertainment of the General?   Cel. 

Upon my reputation with your Excellence,  
These eyes beheld him: He came foremost, Madam,  
'Twas he in black and yellow.   Dutch. 

Nay, 'tis no matter, either for himself  
Or for the affectation of his colours,  
So you be sure he was there.   Cel. 

As sure as sight  
Can discern man from man, Madam.   Exit. Dutch. 

It suffices.  
Oh an ill cause had need of many helps,  
Much art, and many friends, ay, and those mighty,  
Or else it sets in shame. A Faith once lost,  
Requires great cunning, ere't be entertained  
Into the Breast of a belief again.  
There's no condition so unfortunate,  
Poor, miserable, to any Creature given,  
As hers that breaks in vow, she breaks with Heaven:   Enter Lord Cardinal. L. Card. 

Increase of health, and a redoubled courage  
To Chastities great Soldier: what so sad Madam?  
The memory of her seven years' deceased Lord  
Springs yet into her eyes, as fresh and full  
As at the seventh hour after his departure:  
What a perpetual Fountain is her virtue?  
Too much to afflict yourself with ancient sorrow  
Is not so strictly for your strength required:  
Your vow is charge enough, believe me 'tis Madam,  
You need no weightier task.   Dutch. 

Religious Sir,  
You heard the last words of my dying Lord.   L. Card. 
Which I shall ne'er forget.  Dutch. 

May I entreat  
Your goodness but to speak'em over to me  
As near as memory can be friend your utterance,  
That I may think a while I stand in presence  
Of my departing Husband.   L. Card. 

What's your meaning?  
In this most virtuous Madam?   Dutch. 

'Tis a courtesy  
I stand in need of Sir, at this time specially,  
Urge it no further yet; as it proves to me,  
You shall hear from me, only I desire it  
Effectually from you Sir, that's my request.   L. Card. 

I wonder, yet I'll spare to question farther.  
You shall have your desire.   Dutch. 

I thank you Sir.  
A blessing come along with't.   L. Card. 

You see my Lords, what all Earth's glory is  
Rightly defined in me, uncertain breath;  
A dream of threescore years to the long sleeper,  
To most not half the time. Beware Ambition,  
Heaven is not reached with Pride, but with submission.  
And you Lord Cardinal labour to perfect  
Good purposes begun, be what you seem,  
Steadfast, and uncorrupt, your actions noble,  
Your goodness simple, without gain or art,  
And not in vesture holier than in heart.  
But 'tis a pain, more than the pangs of death,  
To think that we must part, Fellows of life,  
Thou richness of my joys, kind and dear Princess.  
Death had no sting, but for our separation,  
'twould come more calm than an evening's peace,  
That brings on rest to labours: Thou art so precious,  
I should depart in everlasting envy  
Unto the man, that ever should enjoy thee:  
Oh a new torment strikes his force into me,  
When I but think on't, I am racked and torn,  
Pity me in thy virtues.   Dutch. 

My loved Lord,  
Let you confirmed opinion of my life,  
My love, my faithful love, seal an assurance  
Of quiet to your spirit, that no forgetfulness  
Can cast a sleep so deadly on my Senses,  
To draw my affections to a second liking.   L. Card. 

'thas ever been the promise, and the spring  
Of my great love to thee. For once to marry  
Is honourable in woman, and her ignorance  
Stands for a virtue, coming new and fresh;  
But second marriage shows desires in flesh:  
Thence lust, and heat, and common custom grows,  
But she's part Virgin, who but one man knows.  
I here expect a work of thy great Faith,  
At my last parting, I can crave no more,  
And with thy vow, I rest myself for ever,  
My soul and it shall fly to Heaven together:  
Seal to my spirit, that quiet satisfaction,  
And I go hence in Peace.   Dutch. 
Then here I vow, never.  L. Card 
Why Madam?  Dutch. 
I can go no further.  L. Card. 
What have you forgot your vow?  Dutch. 
I have, too certainly.  L. Card. 

Your vow? that cannot be; it follows now,  
Just where I left.   Dutch. 

My frailty gets before it,  
Nothing prevails but ill.   L. Card. 
What ail you Madam?  Dutch. 
Sir, I'm in love.  L. Card. 

Oh all you powers of Chastity,  
Look to this woman, let her not faint now  
For honour of yourselves: If she be lost,  
I know not where to seek my hope in woman.  
Madam, Oh Madam.   Dutch. 

My desires are sickened  
Beyond recovery of good counsel Sir.   L. Card. 

What mischief owed a malice to the Sex,  
To work this spiteful ill; better the man  
Had never known Creation, than to live  
Th'unlucky ruin of so fair a Temple;  
Yet think upon your vow, revive in Faith,  
Those are eternal things. What are all pleasures,  
Flatteries of men, and Follies upon Earth  
To your most excellent goodness? Oh she's dead,  
Stark cold to any virtuous claim within her.  
What now is heat, is sins. Have I approved  
Your constancy for this, called your Faith noble,  
Writ volumes of your victories and virtues?  
I have undone my judgement, lost my praises,  
Blemished the truth of my opinion.  
Give me the man, that I may pour him out  
To all contempt and curses.   Dutch. 

The man's innocent,  
Full of desert and grace, his name Lactantio.   L. Card. 
How?  Dutch. 
Your Nephew.  L. Card. 
My Nephew!  Dutch. 

Beshrew the sight of him; he lives not Sir,  
That could have conquered me, himself excepted.   L. Card. 

He that I loved so dearly, does he wear  
Such killing poison in his eye to sanctity?  
He has undone himself for ever by't,  
Has lost a friend of me, and a more sure one.  
Farewell all natural pity, though my affection  
Could hardly spare him from my sight an hour,  
I'll lose him now eternally, and strive  
To live without him; he shall straight to Rome.   Dutch. 
Not if you love my health, or life, my Lord.  L. Card. 
This day he shall set forth:  Dutch. 
Dispatch me rather.  L. Card. 
I'll send him far enough.  Dutch. 
Send me to death first.  L. Card. 

No Basilisk that strikes dead pure affection  
With venomous eye, lives under my protection.   Exit. Dutch. 

Now my conditions worse than e'er 'twas yet,  
My cunning takes not with him: Has broke through  
The Net, that with all art was set for him,  
And left the snarer here herself entangled  
With her own toils. Oh what are we poor souls,  
When our dissembling fails us? Surely Creatures  
As full of want, as any Nation can be  
That scarce have food to keep bare life about 'em:  
Had this but took effect, what a fair way  
Had I made for my love to th' General,  
And cut of all suspect, all reprehension?  
My hopes are killed i'th' blossom.   Exit.  

Scaen. 3.  Enter L. Cardinal. L. Card. 

Let me think upon't,  
Set holy anger by a while, there's time  
Allowed for natural argument: 'Tis she  
That loves my Nephew, she that loves, loves first;  
What cause have I to lay a blame on him then?  
He's in no fault in this; say 'twas his fortune  
At the free entertainment of the General,  
'Mongst others the deserts and hopes of Milan,  
To come into her sight, where's th' offence yet?  
What sin was that in him? man's sight and presence  
Are free to public view: She might as well  
Have fixed her hearts love then upon some other,  
I would t'had lighted anywhere but there,  
Yet I may err to wish't, since it appears  
The hand of Heaven, that only picked him out  
To reward virtue in him by this Fortune,  
And through affection I'm half conquered now,  
I love his good, as dearly as her vow,  
Yet there my credit lives in works and praises:  
I never found a harder fight within me,  
Since zeal first taught me war, say I should labour  
To quench this love, and so quench life and all;  
As by all likelihood it would prove her death:  
For it must needs be granted, she affects him  
As dearly, as the power of love can force,  
Since her vow awes her not, that was her Saint.  
What right could that be to Religion  
To be her end, and disposes my Kinsman;  
No I will bear in pity to her heart,  
The rest commend to Fortune, and my Art.   Exit.  

Scaen. 4.  Enter Father, Governor, Aurelia, and Andrugio disguised. Gover. 
I like him passing well:  Fath. 
He's a tall fellow.  Andr. 
A couple of tall wits: I have seen some service Sir.  Gover. 
Nay so it seems by thy discourse goodfellow.  Andr. 

Goodfellow, calls me thief familiarly:  
I could show many marks of resolution,  
But modesty could wish'em rather hidden:  
I fetched home three and twenty wounds together  
In one set battle, where I was defeated  
At the same time of the third part of my Nose,  
But meeting with a skilful Surgeon;  
Took order for my snuffling.   Gover. 

And a Nose  
Well healed, is counted a good cure in these days,  
It saves many a man's honesty, which else  
Is quickly drawn into suspicion.  
This night shall bring you acquainted with your charge;  
In the mean time you and your valour's welcome.  
Would we had more store of you, although they come  
With fewer marks about 'em.   Fath. 
So wish I Sir.  Exeunt Father and Governor. Andr. 

I was about to call her; and she stays  
Of her own gift, as if she knew my mind;  
Certain she knows me not, not possible.   Aur. 

What if I left my token, and my Letter  
With this strange fellow, so to be conveyed  
Without suspicion to Lactantio's servant:  
Not so, I'll trust no freshman with such secrets;  
His ignorance may mistake, and give't to one  
That may belong to th'General; for I know  
He sets some spies about me, but all he gets  
Shall not be worth his pains. I would Lactantio  
Would seek some means to free me from this place,  
'Tis prisonment enough to be a Maid;  
But to be mewed up too, that case is hard,  
As if a Toy were kept, by a double guard.   Andr. 

Away she steals again, not minding me.  
'Twas not at me she offered: Hark you Gentlewoman.   Aur. 
With me Sir?  Andr. 

I could call you by your name;  
But Gentle's the best attribute to woman.   Aur. 

Andrugio, Oh as welcome to my Lips,  
As morning Due to Roses: My first love.   Andr. 
Why have you more then?  Aur. 

What a word was there?  
More than thyself, what woman could desire  
If reason had a part of her Creation?  
For loving you, you see Sir I'm a prisoner;  
There's all the cause they have against me Sir.  
A happy persecution, I so count on't.  
If any thing be done to me for your sake,  
'Tis pleasing to me.   Andr. 

Are you not abused,  
Either through force, or by your own consent;  
Hold you your honour perfect and unstained;  
Are you the same still, that at my departure,  
My honest thoughts maintained you to my heart?   Aur. 
The same most just.  Andr. 
Swear 't.  Aur. 

By my hope of fruitfulness,  
Love, and agreement, the three joys of marriage:   Andr. 

I am confirmed, and in requital on't,  
Ere long expect your freedom.   Aur. 

Oh you flatter me,  
It is a wrong to make a wretch too happy,  
So suddenly upon affliction.  
Beshrew me, if I be not sick upon't;  
'Tis like a surfeit after a great feast.  
My freedom said you?   Andr. 
Dost overcome you so?  Aur. 

Temptation never overcame a sinner  
More pleasingly, than this sweet news my heart.  
Here's secret joy can witness, I am proud on't.   Andr. 

Violence I will not use, I come a friend,  
'Twere madness to force that, which wit can end:   Aur. 
Most virtuously delivered:  Andr. 
Thou art in raptures:  Aur. 
My love, my love.  Andr. 

Most virtuously delivered,  
Spoke like the sister of a Puritan Midwife:  
Will you embrace the means that I have thought on,  
With all the speed you can?   Aur. 

Sir any thing.  
You cannot name't too dangerous, or too homely.   Andr. 

Fie, you overact your happiness,  
You drive slight things to wonders.   Aur. 

Blame me not Sir,  
You know not my affection:   Andr. 

Will you hear me,  
There are a sect of pilfering juggling people,  
The vulgar tongue call Gipseys.   Aur. 

True, the same Sir.  
I saw the like this morning: Say no more Sir;  
I apprehend you fully:   Andr. 
What, you do not?  Aur. 
No: Hark you Sir.  Andr. 

Now by this light 'tis true:  
Sure if you prove as quick as your conceit,  
You'll be an excellent breeder.   Aur. 

I should do reason by the Mother's side Sir,  
If Fortune do her part, in a good Getter.   Andr. 

That's not to do now (sweet) the man stands near thee.   Aur. 

Long may he stand most fortunately Sir,  
Whom her kind goodness has appointed for me   Andr. 
A while I'll take my leave to avoid suspicion:  Aur. 
I do commend your course; good Sir forget me not.  Andr. 
All comforts sooner.  Aur. 
Liberty is sweet, Sir.  Andr. 

I know there's nothing sweeter, next to love,  
But health itself, which is the Prince of life.   Aur. 
Your knowledge raise you Sir.  Andr. 
Farewell till evening.  Exit Andrugio. Aur. 

And after that, farewell sweet Sir for ever.  
A good kind Gentleman to serve our turn with,  
But not for lasting: I have chose a Stuff  
Will wear out two of him, and one finer too:  
I like not him that has two Mistresses;  
War, and his sweetheart, he can ne'er please both:  
And War's a soaker, she's no friend to us,  
Turns a man home sometimes to his Mistress,  
Some forty ounces poorer than he went.  
All his discourse out of the Book of Surgery,  
cerecloth, and Salve, and lies you, all in Tents,  
Like your camp-vittlers: Out upon't, I smile  
To think how I have fitted him with an office;  
His love takes pains to bring our loves together,  
Much like your man that labours to get treasure,  
To keep his wife high for another's pleasure.   Exit.   

Act. 3.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Lactantio, and Page. Page. 
THink of your shame and mine.  Lact. 

I prithee peace,  
Thou art th'unfortunat'st piece of taking business,  
That ever man repented, when day peeped;  
I'll ne'er keep such a piece of Touchwood again,  
And I were rid of thee once. Welfare those  
That never shamed their Master, I have had such,  
And I may live to see the time again;  
I do not doubt on't:   Page. 

If my too much kindness  
Receive your anger only for reward,  
The harder is my fortune, I must tell you Sir,  
To stir your care up to prevention,  
(Misfortunes must be told as well as blessings)  
When I left all my friends in Mantua,  
For your love's sake alone, then with strange oaths  
You promised present marriage.   Lact. 

With strange oaths quoth 'a,  
They're not so strange to me, I have sworn the same things,  
I am sure forty times over; not so little.  
I may be perfect in 'em, for my standing.   Page. 
You see 'tis high time now Sir.  Lact. 

Yes, yes, yes,  
Marriage is nothing with you; a toy till death.  
If I should marry all those I have promised,  
'Twould make one Vicar hoarse, ere he could dispatch us:  
I must devise some shift, when she grows big,  
Those Masculine Hose will shortly prove too little:  
What if she were conveyed to Nurse's house;  
A good sure old Wench; and she'd love the child well,  
Because she suckled the Father: No ill course  
By my Mortality, I may hit worse.   Enter Dondolo. 
Now Dondolo, the news.  Dond. 
The news:  Lact. 
How does she.  Dond. 

Soft, soft Sir, you think 'tis nothing to get news out o'th' Castle;  
I was there.   Lact. 
Well Sir.  Dond. 
As you know a merry fellow may pass anywhere.  Lact. 
So Sir.  Dond 
Never in better fooling in my life.  Lact. 
What's this to th' purpose?  Dond. 
Nay 'twas nothing to th' purpose, that's certain.  Lact. 
How Wretched this slave makes me! Didst not see her?  Dond. 
I saw her.  Lact. 
Well, what said she then?  Dond. 
Not a word Sir.  Lact. 
How, not a word?  Dond. 

Proves her the better Maid;  
For Virgins should be seen more than they're heard.   Lact. 
Exceeding good Sir; you are no sweet villain.  Dond. 
No Faith Sir; for you keep me in foul Linen.  Lact. 
Turned scurvy rimer are you?  Dond. 

Not scurvy neither,  
Though I be somewhat itchy in the profession;  
If you could hear me out with patience, I know her mind  
As well as if I were in her belly:   Lact. 
Thou saidst e'en now, she never spoke a word:  Dond. 
But she gave certain signs, and that's as good.  Lact. 
Canst thou conceive by signs?  Dond. 

Oh passing well Sir,  
e'en from an Infant; did you ne'er know that?  
I was the happiest child in all our Country,  
I was born of a dumb woman.   Lact. 
How?  Dond. 
Stark dumb Sir: My Father had a rare bargain of her, a rich pennyworth; there would have been but too much money given for her. A Justice of Peace was about her, but my Father being then Constable, carried her before him.  Lact. 

Well since we are entered into these dumb shows,  
What were the signs she gave you?   Dond. 

Many and good, Sir.  
Imprimis, she first gaped, but that I guessed  
Was done for want of air, cause she's kept close;  
But had she been abroad, and gaped as much,  
T'had been another case; then cast she up  
Her pretty eye, and wink't; the word methought was then  
Come not till twitter light: Next, thus her fingers went,  
As who should say, I'd fain have a hole broke to 'scape away.  
Then looked upon her watch, and twice she nodded,  
As who should say, The hour will come Sweetheart  
That I shall make two Noddies of my Keepers.   Lact. 

A third of thee. Is this your Mother tongue?  
My hopes are much the wiser for this Language,  
There is no such curse in love to an arrant Ass.   Dond 
O yes, Sir, yes, an arrant whore's far worse. You ne'er lin railing on me, from one weeks end to another: But you can keep a little Titmouse Page there, that's good for nothing, but to carry Toothpicks, put up your Pipe or so, that's all he's good for: he cannot make him ready as he should do, I am fain to truss his points every morning. Yet the proud scornful Ape, when all the lodgings were taken up with strangers th'other night, he would not suffer me to come to Bed to him, but kicked and pricked, and pinched me, like an Urchin; there's no good quality in him. Oh my Conscience, I think he scarce knows how to stride a Horse; I saw him with a little hunting Nag, but thus high tother day, and he was fain to lead him to a high rail, and get up like a Butter-wench; there's no good Fellowship in this Dandiprat, this Dive-dapper, as is in other Pages; they'd go a swimming with no familiarly i'th' heat of Summer, and clap what you call'ems: But I could never get that little Monkey yet to put off his Breeches. A tender, puling, nice, chitty faced Squal' cis.  Lact. 

Is this the good you do me? his love's wretched,  
And most distressed, that must make use of Fools.   Dond. 

Fool to my face still! that's unreasonable;  
I will be a knave one day for this trick,  
Or it shall cost me a fall, though it be from a Gibbet,  
It has been many a proper man's last leap.   
Nay sure I'll be quite out of the precincts of a Fool, if I live but two days to an end: I will turn Gipsy presently, and that's the highway to the daintiest knave that ever Mother's Son took journey too. Oh those dear Gipseys, they live the merriest lives, eat sweet stolen Hens, plucked over Pales or Hedges by a twitch; they are ne'er without a plump and lovely Goose, or beautiful Sow-pig; those things I saw with mine own eyes today; they call those vanities, and trifling pilferies: But if a privy search were made amongst 'em, they should find other manner of ware about 'em; Cups, Rings, and Silver Spoons, by'r Lady, Bracelets, Pearl Necklaces, and Chains of Gold sometimes; they are the wittiest thieves: I'll stay no longer, but e'en go look what I can steal, now presently, and so begin to bring myself acquainted with 'em.  Exit. Lact. 

Nothing I fear so much, as in this time  
Of my dull absence, her first love, the General  
Will wind himself into her affection,  
By secret gifts and Letters; there's the mischief;  
I have no enemy like him, though my policy  
Dissembled him a welcome, no man's hate  
Can stick more close unto a loathed disease,  
Than mine to him.   Enter Lord Cardinal. L. Card. 

What ails this pretty Boy to weep so often?  
Tell me the cause child; how his eyes stand full!  
Beshrew you Nephew, you're too bitter to him;  
He is so soft, th'unkindness of a word  
Melts him into a woman; 'las poor Boy,  
Thou shalt not serve him longer; 'twere great pity  
That thou shouldst wait upon an angry Master.  
I have promised thee to one will make much of thee,  
And hold thy weak youth in most dear respect.   Page. 

Oh I beseech your Grace, that I may serve  
No Master else.   L. Card. 

Thou shalt not: Mine's a Mistress,  
The greatest Mistress in all Milan, Boy;  
The Duchess self.   Page. 
Nor her, nor any:  L. Card. 

Cease Boy,  
Thou knowest not thine own happiness, through fondness,  
And therefore must be learned; go dry thine eyes.   Page. 
This rather is the way to make 'em moister.  Exit Page. L. Card. 
Now Nephew, Nephew.  Lact. 

Oh you've snatched my spirit Sir,  
From the divinest Meditation  
That ever made Soul happy.   L. Card. 

I am afraid  
I shall have as much toil to bring him on now,  
As I had pains to keep her off from him.  
I have thought it fit Nephew, considering  
The present barrenness of our name and house,  
(The only Famine of succeeding honour)  
To move the ripeness of your time to marriage.   Lact. 
How Sir, to marriage?  L. Card. 

Yes, to a fruitful life;  
We must not all be strict so generation  
Would lose her right; thou'rt young, 'tis my desire  
To see thee bestowed happily in my life time.   Lact. 

Does your Grace well remember who I am,  
When you speak this?   L. Card. 

Yes, very perfectly;  
You're a young man, full in the grace of life,  
And made to do love credit; proper, handsome,  
And for affection, pregnant.   Lact. 

I beseech you Sir,  
Take off your praises, rather than bestow 'em  
Upon so frail a use, alas you know Sir,  
I know not what love is, or what you speak of;  
If woman be amongst it, I shall swoon; take her away  
For contemplation's sake; most serious Uncle,  
Name no such thing to me.   L. Card. 

Come, come you're fond:  
Prove but so strict and obstinate in age,  
And you are well to pass. There's honest love  
Allowed you now for recreation;  
The years will come when all delights must leave you.  
Stick close to Virtue then; in the mean time  
There's honourable joys to keep youth company;  
And if death take you there, dying no adulterer,  
You're out of his eternal reach, defy him.  
List hither, come to me, and with great thankfulness,  
Welcome thy Fortunes; 'tis the Duchess loves thee.   Lact. 
The Duchess!  L. Card. 

Dotes on thee: Will die for thee,  
Unless she may enjoy thee.   Lact. 
She must die then.  L. Card. 
How?  Lact. 

Alas, do you think she ever means to do't Sir?  
I'll sooner believe all a woman speaks,  
Then that she'll die for love: She has a vow my Lord,  
That will keep life in her.   L. Card. 

Believe me then,  
That should have bounteous interest in thy Faith,  
She's thine, and not her vows, the more my sorrow,  
My toil, and my destruction.   Lact. 
My blood dances.  L. Card. 

And though that bashful Maiden virtue in thee,  
That never held familiar league with woman,  
Binds fast all pity to her heart that loves thee.  
Let me prevail, my counsel stands up to thee;  
Embrace it as the fullness of thy Fortunes,  
As if all blessings upon Earth were closed  
Within one happiness; for such another  
Whole life could never meet with; go and present  
Your service, and your love, but on your hopes  
Do it religiously: What need I doubt him,  
Whom Chastity locks up?   Lact. 

Oh Envy, hadst thou no other means to come by virtue,  
But by such treachery! The Duchess love!  
Thou wouldst be sure to aim it high enough,  
Thou knew'st full well 'twas no prevailing else.  
Sir, what your will commands, mine shall fulfil:  
I'll teach my heart in all t'obey your will.   Enter Lords. L. Card. 

A thing you shall not lose by. Here come the Lords,  
Go follow you the course that I advised you;  
The comfort of thy presence is expected;  
Away with speed to Court, she languishes  
For one dear sight of thee. For life's sake haste,  
You lose my favour if you let her perish.   Lact. 

And art thou come brave Fortune, the reward  
Of neat hypocrisy, that ever booked it,  
Or turned up transitory white o'th' eye  
After the Feminine rapture: Duchess and I  
Were a fit match, can be denied of no man;  
The best dissembler lights on the best woman;  
'Twere sin to part us.   Exit: L. Card. 

You Lights of State, truth's Friends, much honoured Lords,  
Faithful admirers of our Duchess virtues,  
And firm Believers; it appears as plain  
As knowledge to the eyes of industry,  
That neither private motion, which holds counsel  
Often with woman's frailty, and her blood,  
Nor public sight, the lightning of temptations,  
Which from the eye strikes sparks into the bosom,  
And sets whole hearts on fire, hath power to raise  
A heat in her 'bove that which feeds chaste life,  
And gives that cherishing means; she's the same still,  
And seems so seriously employed in soul,  
As if she could not tend to cast an eye  
Upon deserts so low as those in man.  
It merits famous memory I confess;  
Yet many times when I behold her youth,  
And think upon the lost hopes of posterity,  
Succession, and the royal fruits of Beauty,  
All by the rashness of one vow made desperate,  
It goes so near my heart, I feel it painful,  
And wakes me into pity oftentimes,  
When others sleep unmoved.   1 Lord. 

I speak it faithfully,  
For 'tis poor fame to boast of a disease,  
Your Grace has not endured that pain alone;  
'thas been a grief of mine, but where's the remedy?   L. Card. 

True, there your Lordship spoke enough in little;  
There's nothing to be hoped for but repulses;  
She's not to seek for armour against love,  
That has bid battle to his powers so long;  
He that should try her now, had need come strong,  
And with more force than his own Arguments,  
Or he may part disgraced, being put to flight;  
That Soldier's tough, has been in seven years' fight,  
Her vow's invincible; for you must grant this,  
If those desires trained up in flesh and blood  
To war continually 'gainst good intents,  
Prove all too weak for her, having advantage  
Both of her sex, and her unskilfulness  
At a Spiritual weapon, wanting knowledge  
To manage resolution, and yet win;  
What force can a poor Argument bring in?  
The Books that I have published in her praise,  
Commend her constancy, and that's Fame-worthy;  
But if you read me o'er with eyes of enemies,  
You cannot justly, and with honour tax me,  
That I dissuade her life from marriage there:  
Now Heaven, and fruitfulness forbid, not I:  
She may be constant there, and the hard war  
Of Chastity, is held a virtuous strife,  
As rare in marriage, as in single life;  
Nay, by some writers rarer: hear their reasons,  
And you'll approve 'em fairly. She that's single,  
Either in Maid or Widow, oftentimes  
The fear of shame, more than the fear of Heaven,  
Keeps chaste, and constant; when the tempest comes  
She knows she has no shelter for her sin,  
It must endure the weathers of all censure:  
Nothing but Sea and Air, that poor Bark feels,  
When she in wedlock is like a safe vessel  
That lies at anchor; come what weathers can,  
She has her Harbour: At her great unlading,  
Much may be stolen, and little waste; the Master  
Thinks himself rich enough with what he has,  
And holds content by that. How think you now Lords?  
If she that might offend safe, does not err,  
What's chaste in others, is most rare in her.   2 Lord. 
What wisdom but approves it?  1 Lord. 

But my Lord,  
This should be told to her it concerns most;  
Pity such good things should be spoke and lost.   L. Card. 

That were the way to lose 'em utterly,  
You quite forget her vow; yet now I think on't,  
What is that vow? 'Twas but a thing enforced,  
Was it not Lords?   1 Lord. 
Merely compelled indeed.  L. Card. 

Only to please the Duke, and forced virtue  
Fails in her merit, there's no crown prepared for't:  
What have we done, my Lords? I fear we have sinned  
In too much strictness to uphold her in't,  
In cherishing her will; for woman's goodness  
Takes counsel of that first, and then determines.  
She cannot truly be called constant now,  
If she persever; rather obstinate,  
The Vow appearing forced, as it proves,  
Tried by our purer thoughts: The grace and triumph  
Of all her victories, are but idle glories;  
She wilful, and we enemies to succession.  
I will not take rest, till I tell her soul  
As freely as I talk to those I keep.   Lords. 
And we'll all second you, my Lord.  L. Card. 

Agreed.  
We'll knit such knots of Arguments so fast,  
All wit in her shall not undo in haste.   2 Lord. 

Nay sure, I think all we shall be too hard for her,  
Else she's a huge wild Creature.   1 Lord. 

If we win,  
And she yield marriage, then will I strike in.   Exeunt:  

Scaen. 2.  Enter Duchess and Celia. Dutch. 

Thou tell'st me happy things, if they be certain,  
To bring my wishes about wondrous strangely.  
Lactantio Nephew to the Cardinal,  
The Generals secret enemy?   Cel. 

Most true Madam,  
I had it from a Gentleman, my Kinsman,  
That knows the best part of Lactantio's bosom.   Dutch. 

It happens passing fortunately, to save  
Employment in another; he will 'come now  
A necessary property; he may thank  
The need and use we have of him for his welcome.  
Now who's that knocks?   Knocks within. Cel. 

Madam, 'tis he, with speed.  
I thought he had brought his horse to th' Chamber door,  
He made such haste and noise.   Dutch. 

Admit him prithee,  
And have a care your heart be true and secret:   Cel. 
Take life away from't, when it fails you Madam.  Exit. Enter Lactantio. Dutch. 

Enough; I know thee wise.  
He comes with haste indeed: Are you come now Sir?  
You should have stayed yet longer, and have found me  
Dead, to requite your haste.   Lact. 
Love bless you better Madam.  Dutch. 

Must I bid welcome to the man undoes me,  
The cause of my vow's breach, my honour's enemy;  
One that does all the mischief to my fame,  
And mocks my seven years' conquest with his name?  
This is a force of Love was never felt;  
But I'll not grudge at Fortune, I will take  
Captivity cheerfully: Here, seize upon me,  
And if thy heart can be so pitiless  
To chain me up for ever in those arms,  
I'll take it mildly, ay, and thank my Stars,  
For we're all subject to the chance of wars.   Lact. 

We are so, yet take comfort vanquished Duchess,  
I'll use you like an honourable prisoner,  
You shall be entreated; day shall be  
Free for all sports to you, the night for me;  
That's all I challenge, all the rest is thine;  
And for your fare that shall be no worse than mine.   Dutch. 

Nay then I'm heartily pleasant, and as merry  
As one that owes no malice, and that's well Sir;  
You cannot say so much for your part, can you?   Lact. 

Faith all that I owe, is to one man, Madam,  
And so can few men say: Marry that malice  
Wears no dead flesh about it, 'tis a stinger.   Dutch. 

What is he that shall dare to be your enemy,  
Having our friendship, if he be a servant  
And subject to our Law?   Lact. 

Yes, trust me Madam,  
Of a vild fellow, I hold him a true subject;  
There's many arrant knaves, that are good subjects,  
Some for their livings sakes, some for their lives,  
That will unseen, eat men, and drink their wives.   Dutch. 

They are as much in fault that know such people,  
And yet conceal 'em from the whips of Justice.  
For love's sake give me in your foe betimes,  
Before he vex you further; I will order him  
To your hearts wishes, load him with disgraces,  
That your revenge shall rather pity him,  
Then wish more weight upon him.   Lact. 

Say you so Madam!  
Here's a blessed hour, that feeds both love and hate;  
Then take thy time brave malice: Virtuous Princess,  
The only enemy that my vengeance points to,  
Lives in Andrugio.   Dutch. 
What the General?  Lact. 
That's the man, Madam.  Dutch. 
Are you serious Sir?  Lact. 
As at my prayers.  Dutch. 

We meet happily then  
In both our wishes; he's the only man  
My will has had a longing to disgrace,  
For divers capital contempts; my memory  
Shall call 'em all together now; nay Sir,  
I'll bring his faith in War, now into question,  
And his late conference with th'enemy.   Lact. 

By'r Lady a shrewd business, and a dangerous.  
signior, your neck's a cracking.   Dutch. 
Stay, stay Sir, take Pen and Ink.  Lact. 
Here's both, and Paper, Madam.  Dutch. 
I'll take him in a fine trap.  Lact. 
That were excellent.  Dutch. 
A Letter so writ, would abuse him strangely.  Lact. 

Good Madam, let me understand your mind,  
And then take you no care for his abusing,  
I serve for nothing else. I can write fast and fair  
Most true Orthography, and observe my stops.   Dutch. 

Stay, stay a while,  
You do not know his hand.   Lact. 

A bastard Roman,  
Much like mine own I could go near it Madam.   Dutch. 
Marry and shall.  Lact. 

We were once great together,  
And writ Spanish Epistles one to another,  
To exercise the Language.   Dutch. 

Did you so?  
It shall be a bold Letter of temptation  
With his name to't, as writ, and sent to me.   Lact. 

Can be no better Lady; stick there Madam,  
And never seek further.   Dutch. 

Begin thus: Fair Duchess, say:  
We must use flattery, if we imitate man,  
'Twill ne'er be thought his Pen else.   Lact. 
Most fair Duchess.  Dutch. 

What need you have put in most, yet since 'tis in,  
Let 't e'en go on, few women would find fault with't;  
We all love to be best, but seldom mend:  
Go on Sir.   Lact 
Most fair Duchess! Here's an admiration point.  Dutch. 
The report of your vow shall not fear me.  Lact. 
Fear me: Two stops at fear me.  Dutch. 
I know you're but a woman.  Lact. 
But a woman; a comma at woman.  Dutch. 
And what a woman is, a wiseman knows.  Lact. 
wiseman knows: A Full-prick there.  Dutch. 
Perhaps my condition may seem blunt to you.  Lact. 
Blunt to you: A comma here again.  Dutch. 
But no man's love can be more sharp set.  Lact. 
Sharp set, there a colon; for colon is sharp set oftentimes.  Dutch. 
And I know desires in both sexes have skill at that weapon.  Lact. 
Skill at that weapon: A Full-prick here, at weapon.  Dutch. 

So, that will be enough: Subscribe it thus now.  
One that vows service to your affections: signior such a one.   Lact. 
signior Andrugio: G. that stands for General.  Dutch. 

And you shall stand for Goose cap: Give me that,  
Betake you to your business; speedily Sir,  
We give you full authority from our person,  
In right of Reputation, Truth, and Honour,  
To take a strong Guard, and attach his body.  
That done, to bring him presently before us,  
Than we know what to do.   Lact. 

My hate finds wings,  
Man's spirit flies swift to all revengeful things.   Exit. Dutch. 

Why here's the happiness of my desires,  
The means safe, unsuspected, far from thought;  
His state is like the world's condition right,  
Greedy of gain, either by fraud or stealth;  
And whilst one toils, another gets the wealth.   Exit.   

Act. 4.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Andrugio. Andr. 

NOw Fortune show thyself the Friend of Love,  
Make her way plain, and safe; cast all their eyes  
That guard the Castle, into a thicker blindness than thine own,  
Darker than Ignorance or Idolatry,  
That in that shape, my love may pass unknown,  
And by her freedom, set my comforts free.  
This is the place appointed for our meeting,  
Yet comes she, I am covetous of her sight;  
That Gipsy habit altars her so far  
From knowledge that our purpose cannot err;  
She might have been here now, by this time largely  
And much to spare: I would not miss her now  
In this plight, for the loss of a year's joy.  
She's ignorant of this house, nor knows she where,  
Or which way to bestow herself through fear.   Enter Lactantio with a Guard. Lact. 

Close with him Gentlemen. In the Duchess name  
We do attach your body.   Andr. 

How, my body!  
What means this rudeness?   Lact. 

You add to your offences,  
Calling that rudeness, that is fair command,  
Immaculate Justice, and the Duchess pleasure.   Andr. 
signior Lactantio, Oh are you the Speaker?  Lact. 
I am what I am made.  Andr. 
Show me my crime.  Lact. 
I fear you'll have too many shown you Sir.  Andr. 

The Father of untruths possesses thy spirit,  
As he commands thy tongue: I defy fear,  
But in my love, it only settles there.   Lact. 
Bring him along.  Andr. 

Let law's severest brow  
Bend at my deeds, my innocence shall rise  
A shame to thee, and all my enemies:   Lact. 
You're much the happier man.  Andr. 

Oh my hard crosses;  
Grant me the third part of one hour's stay.   Lact. 
Sir, not a minute.  Andr. 
Oh she's lost.  Lact. 
Away.  Exeunt:  

Scaen. 2.  Enter Aurelia like a Gipsy. Aur. 

I'm happily escaped, not one pursues me,  
This shape's too cunning for 'em; all the sport was  
The Porter would needs know his fortune of me  
As I passed by him: 'Twas such a plunge to me,  
I knew not how to bear myself; at last  
I did resolve of somewhat, looked in's hand,  
Then shook my head, bade him make much on's eyes,  
He would lose his sight clean, long before he dies,  
And so away went I, he lost the sight of me quickly.  
I told him his fortune truer for nothing, than some  
Of my Complexion, that would have cozened him of his money.  
This is the place of meeting; where's this man now,  
That has took all this care and pains for nothing?  
The use of him is at the last cast now,  
Shall only bring me to my former face again,  
And see me somewhat cleanlier at his cost,  
And then farewell Andrugio; when I am handsome  
I'm for another straight: I wonder troth  
That he would miss me thus, I could have took  
Many occasions besides this, to have left him,  
I'm not in want, he need not give me any;  
A woman's will has still enough to spare  
To help her friends, and need be: What, not yet?  
What will become of me in this shape then?  
If I know where to go, I'm no dissembler;  
And I'll not lose my part in one woman so,  
For such a trifle, to forswear myself.  
But comes he not indeed?   Enter Dondolo. Dond. 
Oh excellent, by this light here's one of them. I thank my Stars: I learned that phrase in the Half-Moon Tavern. By your leave good Gipsy, I pray how far off is your company?  Aur. 

Oh happiness! This is the merry Fellow  
My love signior Lactantio takes delight in;  
I'll send him away speedily, with the news  
Of my so strange and fortunate escape,  
And he'll provide my safety at an instant.  
My friend, thou servest signior Lactantio.   Dond. 
Who I serve? Gipsy, I scorn your motion; and if the rest of your company give me no better words, I will hinder 'em the stealing of more poultry than fifty Poulterers were ever worth, and prove a heavier enemy to all their Pig-booties; they shall travel like Jews, that hate Swine's flesh, and never get a Sow by th'ear all their life time. I serve Lactantio? I scorn to serve anybody, I am more Gypsy-minded than so; though my face look of a Christian colour, if my belly were ripped up, you shall find my heart as black as any patch about you. The truth is, I am as arrant a thief, as the proudest of your company, I'll except none: I am run away from my Master in the state of a Fool, and till I be a perfect knave, I never mean to return again.  Aur. 

I'm ne'er the happier for this Fortune now,  
It did but mock me.   Dond. 
Here they come: Here they come.  Enter a company of Gipseys, Men and Women, with Booties of Hens, and Ducks, etc. singing. Music. Cap. 

SONG.  
Come my dainty Doxes,  
My Dells, my Dells most dear.  
We have neither House nor Land,  
Yet never want good cheer.   All. 
We never want good cheer.  Cap. 

We take no care for Candle, Rents,  
2: We lie.  
3. We snort.   Cap. 

We sport in Tents.  
Then rouse betimes, and steal our dinners.  
Our store is never taken  
Without Pigs, Hens, or Bacon,  
And that's good meat for sinners.  
At Wakes and Fairs we cozen,  
Poor Country folks by dozen,  
If one have money, be disburses,  
Whilst some tell fortunes, some pick purses.  
Rather than be out of use  
We'll steal Garters, Hose, or Shoes,  
Boots, or Spurs with gingling Rowels,  
Shirts or Napkins, Smocks or Towels.  
Come live with us, come live with us,  
All you that love your eases;  
He that's a Gipsy,  
May be drunk or tipsy,  
At what hour he pleases.   All. 

We laugh, we quaff, we roar, we scuffle.  
We cheat, we drab, we filch, we shuffle.   Dond. 
Oh sweet! they deserve to be hanged for ravishing of me.  Aur. 

What will become of me, if I seem fearful now,  
Or offer sudden flight? than I betray myself;  
I must do neither.   Cap. Gips. 

Ousabel, camcheteroon, puscatelion, hows-drows.  
2. Rumbos stragadelion  
Alla piskitch in Sows-clows.  
Oh, Oh!   Dond. 
Piskitch in howse-clout.  
I shall ne'er keep a good tongue in my head, till I get this Language.  Cap. 
Umbra fill kevolliden, magro-pye.  Dond. 
He calls her maggot o' pie.  Aur. 
I love your Language well, but understand it not.  Cap. 
Hah.  Aur. 

I am but lately turned to your profession,  
Yet from my youth, I ever loved it dearly,  
But never could attain to't: Steal I can;  
It was a thing I ever was brought up to,  
My Father was a Miller, and my Mother  
A tailor's widow.   Dond. 
She's a thief on both sides.  Cap. 

Give me thy hand, thou art no Bastard born,  
We have not a more true bred thief amongst us.   All. 
Not any Captain.  Dond. 
I pray take me into some grace amongst you too, for though I claim no goodness from my parents to help me forward into your Society, I had two Uncles that were both hanged for robberies, if that will serve your turn, and a brave cutpurse to my cousin-german: If kindred will be taken, I am as near a kin to a thief as any of you that had Fathers and Mothers.  Cap. 
What is it thou requirest, noble cousin?  Dond. 
cousin! nay, and we be so near a kin already, now we are sober, we shall be sworn Brothers when we are drunk: The naked truth is Sir, I would be made a Gipsy as fast as you could devise.  Cap. 
A Gipsy!  Dond. 
I with all the speed you can Sir; the very sight of those stolen Hens, eggs me forward horribly  Cap. 
Here's dainty Ducks too Boy.  Dond. 
I see 'em but too well; I would they were all rotten roasted, and stuffed with Onions.  Cap. 
Lov'st thou the common food of Eygpt, Onions?  Dond. 
ay, and Garlic too: I have smelled out many a Knave by't; but I could never smell mine own breath yet, and that's many a man's fault; he can smell out a Knave in another sometimes three yards off, yet his Nose standing so nigh his mouth, he can never smell out himself.  Cap. 
A pregnant Gipsy.  All. 
A most witty sinner.  Cap. 
Stretch forth thy hand Coz; art thou fortunate?  Dond. 
How? fortunate! nay, I cannot tell that myself; wherefore do I come to you but to learn that? I have sometimes found money in old shoes, but if I had not stolen more than I have found, I had had but a scurvy thin-cheeked fortune on't.  Cap. 
Here's a fair Table.  Dond. 
ay, so has many a man, that has given over housekeeping, a fair Table, when there's neither cloth, nor meat upon't.  Cap. 
What a brave line of life's here, look you Gipseys.  Dond. 
I have known as brave a live end in a halter.  Cap. 
But thou art born to precious fortune.  Dond. 
The Devil I am.  Cap. 
Bet, Bucketto.  Dond. 
How, to beat Bucks?  Cap. 
Stealee Bacono.  Dond. 
Oh, to steal Bacon, that's the better fortune o'th' two indeed.  Cap. 
Thou wilt be shortly Captain of the Gipseys.  Dond. 

I would you'd make me Corporal i'th' mean time;  
Or Standard-bearer to the Women's Regiment.   Cap. 
Much may be done for love.  Dond. 
Nay here's some money: I know an Office comes not all for love; a Pox of your Lime-twigs, you have't all already.  Gap. 
It lies but here in cash for thine own use Boy.  Dond. 
Nay an't lie there once, I shall hardly come to the fingering on't in haste; yet make me an apt Scholar, and I care not: Teach me but so much Gipsy, to steal as much more from another, and the Devil do you good of that.  Cap. 

Thou shalt have all thy heart requires:  
First, here's a Girl for thy desires,  
This Doxy fresh, this new come Dell  
Shall lie by thy sweet side and swell:  
Get me Gipseys brave and tawny;  
With Cheek full plump, and Hip full brawny.  
Look you prove industrious dealers  
To serve the Commonwealth with stealers,  
That th'unhoused race of Fortune-tellers  
May never fail to cheat Town-dwellers;  
Or to our universal grief,  
Leave Country Fairs without a Thief.  
This is all you have to do,  
Save every hour a filch or two,  
Be it money, cloth or pullen,  
When the evening's brow looks sullen.  
Lose no time, for then 'tis precious,  
Let your sleights be fine, facetious;  
Which hoping you'll observe, to try thee  
With rusty Bacon, thus I Gypsify thee.   Dond. 
Do you use to do't with Bacon.  Cap. 
Evermore:  Dond. 
By this light, the Rats will take me now for some hog's Cheek, and eat up my face when I am asleep; I shall have ne'er a bit left by tomorrow morning; and lying open mouthed as I use to do, I shall look for all the world like a Mousetrap baited with Bacon.  Cap. 

Why here's a face like thine, so done,  
Only grained in by the Sun, and this, and these.   Dond. 
Faith, then there's a company of Bacon faces of you, and I am one now to make up the number: We are a kind of conscionable people, and 'twere well thought upon for to steal Bacon, and black our faces with't; 'tis like one that commits sin, and writes his faults in his forehead.  Cap. 
Wit whether wilt thou?  Dond. 
Marry to the next pocket I can come at; and if it be a gentleman's, I wish a whole quarters rent in't: Is this my in dock, out nettle. What's Gipsy for her?  Cap. 
Your doxy she.  Dond. 
Oh right, are you my doxy sirrah.  Aur. 

I'll be thy doxy, and thy dell.  
With thee I'll live, for thee I'll steal:  
From Fair to Fair, from Wake to Wake,  
I'll ramble still for thy sweet sake.   Dond. 
Oh dainty fine doxy; she speaks the Language as familiarly already, as if she'd been begot of a Canter. I pray Captain, what's Gipsy for the hind quarter of a Woman?  Cap. 
Nosario.  Dond. 
Nosario: Why what's Gipsy for my Nose then?  Cap. 
Why Arsinio.  Dond. 
Arsinio? Faith' methinks you might have devised a sweeter word for't.  Enter Father and Governor. Cap. 

Stop, stop, fresh booties, Gentle folks, signiors,  
Calavario, Fulkadelio.   2 Gip. 
La gnambrol a tumbril.  Dond. 
How: Give me one word amongst you, that I may be doing too.  Aur. 

Yonder they are again, Oh guiltiness,  
Thou puttest more trembling fear into a Maid  
Than the first wedding night. Take courage wench  
Thy face cannot betray thee with a blush now.   Fath. 

Which way she took her flight Sir, none can guess,  
Or how she 'scaped:   Govern. 
Out at some Window certainly.  Fath. 
Oh 'tis a bold daring Baggage.  Govern. 

See good fortune Sir,  
The Gipseys, they're the cunningest people living.   Fath. 

They cunning? what a confidence have you Sir,  
No wiseman's faith was ever set in fortunes.   Govern. 

You are the wilfulst man against all learning still:  
I will be hanged now, if I hear not news of her amongst this company.   Fath. 

You are a Gentleman of the flatt'ring'st hopes  
That e'er lost woman yet.   Govern. 
Come hither Gipsy.  Aur. 

Luck now, or I'm undone,— What says my Master,  
Bless me with a silver cross,  
And I will tell you all your loss.   Govern. 

Lo you there Sir, all my loss, at first word too,  
There is no cunning in these Gipseys now.   Father 
Sure I'll hear more of this.  Govern. 
Here's silver for you.  Aur. 

Now attend your fortune's story,  
You loved a Maid.   Govern. 
Right.  Aur. 

She never loved you.  
You shall find my words are true.   Govern. 
'Mass I am afraid so.  Aur. 

You were about  
To keep her in, but could not do't.  
Alas the while she would not stay  
The cough o'th' Lungs blew her away;  
And which is worse, you'll be so crossed,  
You'll never find the thing that's lost;  
Yet oftentimes your sight will fear her,  
She'll be near you, and yet you ne'er the nearer.  
Let her go, and be the gladder;  
She'd but shame you, if you had her.  
Ten Counsellors could never school her,  
She's so wild, you could not rule her.   Govern. 
In troth I am of thy mind, yet I'd fain find her.  Aur. 

Soonest than, when you least mind her;  
But if you mean to take her tripping,  
Make but haste, she's now a shipping.   Govern. 
I ever dreamed so much.  Fath. 

Hie to the Key,  
We'll mar your voyage, you shall brook no Sea.   Exit Father and Governor. Cap. 
Cheteroon: High Gulleroon.  Dond. 
Filcheroon, purse-fulleroon: I can say somewhat too.  All. 
Excellent Gipsy, witty rare Doxy:  Dond. 
I would not change my Dell for a dozen of black bell-wether.  Cap. 
Our wealth swells high my Boys.  Dond. 
Our wealth swells high my Boys.  Cap. 

Let every Gipsy  
Dance with his Doxy,  
And then drink, drink for joy.   Dond. 

Let every Gipsy  
Dance with his Doxy,  
And then drink, drink for joy:   All. 
And then drink, drink for joy.  Exit with a strange wild fashioned dance to the Hoboys or Cornets.  

Scaen 3.  Enter Duchess, Lord Cardinal, and other Lords, Celia. L. Card. 

That which is merely called a will in woman,  
I cannot always title it with a virtue.   Dutch. 
Oh good Sir spare me.  L. Card. 

Spare yourself, good Madam.  
Extremest Justice is not so severe  
To great offenders, as your own forced strictness  
To beauty, youth and time; you'll answer for't.   Dutch. 
Sir settle your own peace, let me make mine.  L. Card. 

But here's a heart must pity it, when it thinks on't,  
I find compassion, though the smart be yours.   1 Lord. 
None here but does the like.  2 Lord. 

Believe it Madam,  
You have much wronged your time.   1 Lord. 

Nay, let your Grace  
But think upon the barrenness of succession.   2 Lord. 
Nay more, a Vow enforced.  Dutch. 

What do you all  
Forsake me then, and take part with you man;  
Not one friend have I left I do they all fight  
Under th'inglorious banner of his censure,  
Serve under his opinion?   L. Card. 

So will all Madam,  
Whose judgements can but taste a rightful cause,  
I look for more force yet; nay, your own women  
Will shortly rise against you, when they know  
The war to be so just and honourable  
As marriage is: You cannot name that woman,  
Will not come ready armed for such a cause:  
Can Chastity be any whit impaired  
By that which makes it perfect? Answer Madam,  
Do you profess constancy, and yet live alone?  
How can that hold! you're constant then to none.  
That's a dead virtue, goodness must have practice,  
Or else it ceases; then is woman said  
To be love chaste, knowing but one man's bed:  
A mighty virtue; beside, fruitfulness  
Is part of the salvation of your sex;  
And the true use of Wedlock's time and space,  
Is woman's exercise for Faith and Grace.   Dutch. 
Oh what have you done my Lord?  L. Card. 

Laid the way plain  
To knowledge of yourself and your Creation,  
Unbound a forced Vow, that was but knit  
By the strange jealousy of your dying Lord,  
Sinful i'th' fastening.   Dutch. 

All the powers of Constancy  
Will curse you for this deed.   L. Card. 

You speak in pain Madam,  
And so I take your words, like one in sickness  
That rails at his best friend: I know a change  
Of disposition has a violent working  
In all of us; 'tis fit it should have time  
And council with itself: May you be fruitful Madam  
In all the blessings of an honoured love.   1 Lord. 

In all your wishes fortunate, and I  
The chief of 'em myself.   L. Card. 
Peace be at your heart Lady.  1 Lord. 
And love, say I.  L. Card. 
We'll leave good thoughts now, to bring in themselves.  Exit Lords. Dutch. 

O there's no art like a religious cunning,  
It carries away all things smooth before it.  
How subtly has his wit dealt with the Lords  
To fetch in their persuasions, to a business  
That stands in need of none, yields of itself  
As most we women do, when we seem farthest?  
But little thinks the Cardinal he's requited  
After the same proportion of deceit  
As he sets down for others.   Enter Page. 

Oh here's the pretty Boy, he preferred to me,  
I never saw a meeker, gentler youth  
Yet made for man's beginning: How unfit  
Was that poor fool, to be Lactantio's Page,  
He would have spoiled him quite, in one year utterly,  
There had been no hope of him. Come hither child,  
I have forgot thy name.   Page. 
Antonio, Madam.  Dutch. 

Antonio! so thou toldst me; I must chide thee,  
Why didst thou weep, when thou cam'st first to serve me?   Page. 

At the distrust of mine own merit's Madam,  
Knowing I was not born to those deserts  
To please so great a Mistress.   Dutch. 

'Las poor Boy,  
That's nothing in thee, but thy modest fear  
Which makes amends faster than thou canst err:  
It shall be my care to have him well brought up  
As a youth apt for good things. Celia—   Cel. 
Madam.  Dutch. 
Has he bestowed his hour today for Music?  Cel 
Yes, he has Madam.  Dutch. 
How do you find his voice?  Cel. 

A pretty womanish faint sprawling voice Madam,  
But 'twill grow strong in time, if he take care  
To keep it when he has it from fond exercises.   Dutch. 

Give order to the dancing Schoolmaster,  
Observe an hour with him:   Cel. 

It shall be done Lady;  
He is well made for dancing, thick i'th' Chest Madam,  
He will turn long and strongly.   Dutch. 

He shall not be behind a quality,  
That aptness in him or our cost can purchase,  
And see he lose no time.   Cel. 
I'll take that order Madam.  Page. 

Singing and dancing! 'las my case is worse,  
I rather need a Midwife, and a Nurse.   Exit Celia and Page. Dutch. 

Lactantio, my procurer not returned yet?  
His malice, I have fitted with an office,  
Which he takes pleasure to discharge with rigor:  
He comes, and with him, my heart's Conqueror,  
My pleasing thraldom's near.   Enter General, Lactantio and the Guard. Andr. 
Not know the cause?  Lact. 

Yes, you shall soon do that now, to the ruin  
Of your neck-part, or some nine years' imprisonment,  
You meet with mercy, and you scape with that;  
Beside your Lands all begged and seized upon;  
That's admirable favour. Here's the Duchess.   Dutch. 
Oh Sir you're welcome.  Lact. 

Marry bless me still  
From such a welcome.   Dutch. 

You are hard to come by,  
It seems Sir by the guilt of your long stay.   Andr. 
My guilt good Madam.  Dutch. 

Sure you'd much ado  
To take him, had you not? speak truth Lactantio,  
And leave all favour, were you not in danger?   Lact. 

Faith something near it Madam: He grew headstrong,  
Furious and fierce; but 'tis not my condition  
To speak the worst things of mine enemy Madam,  
Therein I hold mine honour: But had fury  
Burst into all the violent storms that ever  
played over anger in tempestuous man.  
I would have brought him to your grace's presence,  
Dead or alive.   Dutch. 
You would not Sir?  Andr. 

What pride  
Of pampered blood has mounted up to this puckfist?  
If any way uncounseled of my judgement,  
My ignorance has stepped into some error,  
(Which I could heartily curse) and so brought on me  
Your great displeasure, let me feel my sin  
In the full weight of Justice, virtuous Madam,  
And let it wake me throughly. But chaste Lady,  
Out of the bounty of your Grace, permit not  
This perfumed parcel of curled powdered hair  
To cast me in the poor relish of his censure.   Dutch. 

It shall not need good Sir; we are ourselves  
Of power sufficient to judge you, ne'er doubt it Sir.  
Withdraw Lactantio; carefully place your Guard  
I'th' next Room.   Lact. 

You'll but fare the worse;  
You see your niceness spoils you; you'll go nigh now  
To feel your sin indeed.   Exit Lactantio and Guard: Andr. 

Hell-mouth be with thee.  
Was ever malice seen yet to gape wider  
For man's misfortunes?   Dutch. 

First Sir, I should think  
You could not be so impudent to deny,  
What your own knowledge proves to you.   Andr. 

That were a sin Madam,  
More gross than flattery spent upon a villain.   Dutch. 
Your own confession dooms you Sir.  Andr. 
Why Madam.  Dutch. 

Do not you know I made a serious vow  
At my Lord's death, never to marry more?   Andr. 
That's a truth Madam, I'm a witness to.  Dutch. 

Is't so Sir? you'll be taken presently,  
This man needs no accuser. Knowing so much,  
How durst you then attempt so bold a business  
As to solicit me (so strictly settled)  
With tempting Letters, and loose lines of love?   Andr. 
Who I do't Madam?  Dutch. 

Sure the man will shortly  
Deny he lives, although he walks and breath.   Andr. 

Better destruction snatch me quick from sight  
Of humane eyes, than I should sin so boldly.   Dutch. 

'Twas well I kept it then from rage or fire,  
For my truth's credit: Look you Sir, read out,  
You know the hand and name:   Andr. 
Andrugio!  Dutch. 
And if such things be fit, the world shall judge!  Andr. 
Madam.  Dutch. 

Pish; that's not so; it begins otherwise  
Pray look again Sir; how you'd slight your knowledge.   Andr. 
By all the reputation I late won.  Dutch. 
Nay, and you dare not read Sir, I am gone.  Andr. 
Read? most fair Duchess.  Dutch. 

Oh, have you found it now?  
There's a sweet flattering phrase for a beginning,  
You thought belike, that would overcome me.   Andr. 
I Madam?  Dutch. 
Nay on Sir, you are slothful:  Andr. 
The report of your Vow shall not fear me.  Dutch. 
No? are you so resolute? 'Tis well for you Sir:  Andr. 
I know you're but a woman.  Dutch. 
Well, what then Sir?  Andr. 
And what a woman is, a wiseman knows.  Dutch. 
Let him know what he can, he's glad to get us.  Andr. 
Perhaps my condition may seem blunt to you.  Duchess 
Well; we find no fault with your bluntness.  Andr. 
But no man's love can be more sharp set.  Dutch. 
I there's good stuff now.  Andr. 
And I know desires in both sexes have skill at that weapon.  Dutch. 

Weapon! You begin like a Flatterer, and end like a Fencer.  
Are these fit lines now to be sent to us?   Andr. 

Now by the honour of a man, his truth Madam,  
My name's abused.   Dutch. 

Fie, fie, deny your hand!  
I will not deny mine; here take it freely Sir,  
And with it my true constant heart for ever.  
I never disgraced man that sought my favour.   Andr. 
What mean you Madam?  Dutch. 

To requite you Sir  
By courtesy, I hold my reputation,  
And you shall taste it: Sir, in as plain truth  
As the old time walked in, when love was simple  
And knew no art, nor guile, I affect you;  
My heart has made her choice. I love you Sir  
Above my vow; the frown that met you first,  
Wore not the livery of anger Sir,  
But of deep policy: I made your enemy  
The Instrument for all; there you may praise me,  
And 'twill not be ill given.   Andr. 

Here's a strange Language!  
The constancy of love bless me from learning on't,  
Although ambition would soon teach it others.  
Madam, the service of whole life is yours. But—   Dutch. 
Enough; thou'rt mine for ever. Within there.  Enter Lactantio, and the Guard. Lact. 
Madam.  Dutch. 

Lay hands upon him, bear him hence,  
See he be kept close prisoner in our Palace,  
The time's not yet ripe for our Nuptial Solace.   Exit. Lact. 
This you could clear yourself.  Andr. 

There's a voice that wearies me  
More than mine own distractions.   Lact. 
You are innocent?  Andr. 

I have not a time idle enough from passion,  
To give this Devil an answer: Oh she's lost!  
Cursed be that love, by which a better's crossed.  
There my heart's settled.   Lact. 

How is he disgraced,  
And I advanced in love? Faith he that can  
Wish more to his enemy, is a spiteful man,  
And worthy to be punished.   Exeunt.   

Act. 5.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Page, Celia, and Crotchet. Cel. 
SIr I'm of that opinion, being kept hard to't, In troth I think he'll take his pricksong well.  Crotch. 

G, sol, re ut; you guess not right i'faith.  
Mistress, you'll find you're in an error straight:  
Come on Sir, lay the Books down; you shall see now.   Page. 

Would I'd an honest Caudle next my heart,  
Let whose would Sol Fa, I'd give them my part.  
In troth methinks I have a great longing in me  
To bite a piece of the musician's Nose off;  
But I'll rather lose my longing, then spoil the poor man's  
Singing; the very tip will serve my turn, methinks if I  
Could get it, that he might well spare; his Nose is of  
The longest— Oh my back.   Crotch. 
You shall hear that; rehearse your gamut Boy:  Page. 
who'd be thus toiled for love, and want the joy?  Crotch. 
Why when? begin Sir: I must stay your leisure.  Page. 
gamut, a re, b me, etc.  Crotch. 
Ee la: Aloft, above the clouds my Boy.  Page. 

It must be a better note than Ela Sir,  
That brings Musicians thither; they're too hasty,  
The most part of 'em, to take such a journey,  
And must needs fall by th' way.   Crotch. 
How many Cliffs be there?  Page. 
One Cliff Sir.  Crotch. 

Oh intolerable heretic  
To voice and music! Do you know but one Cliff?   Page. 

No more; indeed I Sir, and at this time,  
I know too much of that.   Crotch. 
How many Notes be there?  Page. 

Eight Sir, I fear me I shall find nine shortly,  
To my great shame and sorrow:— Oh my stomach!   Crotch. 
Will you repeat your notes then? I must Sol Fa you, why when Sir?  Page. 

A large, a long, a brief, a semibrief, a minim, a crotchet,  
A quaver, a semiquaver:   Crotch. 
Oh, have you found the way?  Page. 

Never trust me  
If I have not lost my wind with naming of 'em.   Crotch. 

Come Boy, your minds upon some other thing now:  
Set to your Song.   Page. 
Was ever Wench so punished?  Crotch. 
Ut. Come begin.  Page. 
Ut me re fa sol la.  Crotch. 

Keep time you foolish Boy— (Here they sing Pricksong)  
How like you this madonna?   Celia. 

Pretty,  
He will do well in time being kept under.   Crotch. 
I'll make his ears sore, and his knuckles ache else.  Cel. 
And that's the way to bring a Boy to goodness Sir.  Crotch. 

There's many now waxed proper Gentlemen.  
Whom I have nipped i'th' ear Wench, that's my comfort.  
Come sing me over the last song I taught you:  
You're perfect in that sure, look you keep time well,  
Or here I'll notch your faults up. Sol, Sol, begin Boy.   Music, Song. Cel. 

So you've done well Sir.  
Here comes the dancing Master now, you're discharged.   Enter cinquepace the Dancer. Sinq. 
Oh signior Crotchet, Oh.  Crotch. 

A minim rest, two cliffs, and a semibrief. In the name  
Of Alamire, what's the matter Sir?   Sinq. 
The horriblest disaster that ever disgraced the lofty cunning of a dancer.  Crotch. 
Be fa beme: Heaven forbid man.  Sinq. 
Oh— oo— the most cruel Fortune!  Crotch. 

That semiquaver is no friend to you,  
That I must tell you; 'tis not for a Dancer  
To put his voice so hard to't, every workman  
Must use his own tools Sir, de fa sol man, dilate  
The matter to me.   Sinq. 
Faith riding upon my Foot-cloth, as I use to do, coming through a crowd by chance, I let fall my Fiddle.  Crotch. 
De sol re. Your Fiddle Sir?  Sinq. 
Oh that such an instrument should be made to betray a poor Gentleman! nay, which is more lamentable, whose luck should it be to take up this unfortunate Fiddle, but a barber's Prentice, who cried out presently, according to his nature; You trim Gentleman on Horseback, you've lost your Fiddle, your worship's Fiddle; seeing me upon my Foot-cloth, the mannerly Coxcomb could say no less. But away rid I Sir, put my horse to a coranto pace, and left my Fiddle behind me:  Crotch. 
De la sol re.  Sinq. 
ay, was't not a strange fortune, an excellent Treble-vial, by my Troth 'twas my Masters, when I was but a pumper, that is a puller on of gentlemen's Pumps.  Crotch. 
C, c, sol fa: I knew you then Sir.  Sinq. 
But I make no question, but I shall hear on't shortly at one Brokers or another, for I know the Barber will scorse it away for some old citron.  Crotch. 

Ela me, my life for yours on that Sir; I must to my other  
Scholars, my hour calls me away: I leave you to your  
practice, Fa sol la. Fare you well Sir:   Exit. Sinq. 
The lavoltoes of a merry heart be with you Sir; and a merry heart makes a good singing man; a man may love to hear himself talk, when he carries pith in's mouth— Metereza Celia.  Cel. 

signior Sinquapace, the welcom'st Gentleman alive of  
A Dancer. This is the youth, he can do little yet;  
'Tis Pricksong very poorly; he is one  
Must have it put into him; somewhat dull Sir.   Sinq. 

As you are all at first. You know 'twas long  
Ere you could learn your doubles.   Cel. 

I that's true Sir,  
But I can tickle't now. Fa, la, la, etc.  
Lo you, how like you me now Sir?   Sinq. 
Marry pray for the Founder, here he stands; long may he live to receive quartridges, go brave, and pay his Mercer wondrous duly, ay, and his jealous Laundress, that for the love she bears him starches yellow, poor Soul; my own flesh knows I wrong her not. Come Metereza, once more shake your great hips, and your little heels, since you begin to fall in of yourself, and dance over the end of the coranto I taught you last night.  Cel. 
The tune's clear out of my head Sir.  Sinq. 
A Pox of my little Usher, how long he stays too with the second part of the former Fiddle! Come, I'll Solfa it, i'th' mean time, Fa, la, la, la, etc. perfectly excellent. I will make you fit to dance with the best Christian Gentleman in Europe, and keep time with him for his heart, ere I give you over.  Cel. 

Nay, I know I shall do well Sir, and I am somewhat proud on't,  
But 'twas my Mother's fault, when she danced with the Duke of Florence.   Sinq. 
Why you'll never dance well, while you live, if you be not proud. I know that by myself; I may teach my heart out, if you have not the grace to follow me.  Cel. 
I warrant you for that Sir:  Sinq. 
Gentlewomen that are good Scholars Will come as near their Masters, as they can; I have known some lie with 'em for their better understanding, I speak not this to draw you on forsooth; use your pleasure, if you come you're welcome, you shall see a fine lodging, a dish of Comfits, Music, and sweet Linen.  Cel. 

And trust me Sir, no woman can wish more in this world,  
Unless it be ten pound i'th' Chamber window,  
Laid ready in good gold against she rises.   Sinq. 
Those things are got in a morning Wench with me.  Cel. 

Indeed, I hold the morning the best time of getting;  
So says my Sister; she's a lawyer's wife Sir,  
And should know what belongs to cases best:  
A fitter time for this; I must not talk  
Too long of women's matters before Boys.  
He's very raw, you must take pains with him,  
It is the Duchess mind it should be so; she loves him  
Well I tell you—   Exit. Sinq. 
How, love him? he's too little for any woman's love i'th' Town, by three handfuls: I wonder of a great woman, sh' as no more wit i'faith; one of my pitch were somewhat tolerable.  Enter Usher. 
Oh are you come! who would be thus plagued with a Dandiprat Usher! how many kicks do you deserve in conscience?  Usher. 
Your Horse is safe Sir.  Sinq. 
Now I talked of kicking, 'twas well remembered, is not the foot-cloth stolen yet?  Usher. 
More by good hap then any cunning Sir: Would any Gentleman but you, get a tailor's son to walk his Horse, in this dear time of black Velvet?  Sinq. 
Troth thou sayst true; thy care has got thy pardon; I'll venture so no more. Come my young Scholar, I am ready for you now.  Page. 

Alas 'twill kill me,  
I'm even as full of qualms as heart can bear:  
How shall I do to hold up? Alas Sir  
I can dance nothing but ill-favoredly,  
A strain or two of passa-measure's Galliard.   Sinq. 

Marry you're forwarder than I conceived you,  
A toward Stripling; enter him Nicholao,  
For the fool's bashful, as they are all at first  
Till they be once well entered.   Usher. 
Passa-Measures Sir?  Sinq. 

I Sir, I hope you hear me; mark him now Boy. (Dance.)  
Ha well done, excellent Boys— Dainty fine Springals;  
The glory of Dancers Hall, if they had any;  
And of all Professions, they had most need of one  
For room to practise in, yet they have none.  
O times! O manners! you have very little.  
Why should the leaden heeled Plumber have his Hall,  
And the light-footed Dancer none at all?  
But Fortune de la guardo, things must be:  
we're born to teach in Back-houses and Nooks,  
Garrets sometimes, where't rains upon our Books.  
Come on Sir, are you ready? first your honour.   Page. 
I'll wish no foe, a greater cross upon her:  Sinq. 
Curtsy, heighday! Run to him Nicholao, by this light he will shame me; he makes curtsy like a Chambermaid.  Usher. 
Why what do you mean Page! are you mad? did you ever see a Boy begin a Dance, and make curtsy like a Wench before?  Page. 
Troth I was thinking of another thing; And quite forgot myself, I pray forgive me Sir.  Sinq. 
Come make amends then now with a good leg, and dance it sprightly: What a beastly leg has he made there now, 'twould vex one's heart out: Now begin Boy, Oh, oh, oh, oh, etc. open thy Knees, wider, wider, wider, wider; did you ever see a Boy dance clenched up, he needs a picklock; out upon thee for an arrant Ass, an arrant Ass, I shall lose my credit by thee, a pestilence on thee. Here Boy hold the Vial, let me come to him, I shall get more disgrace by this little Monkey now, then by all the Ladies that ever I taught. Come on Sir now; cast thy leg out from thee, lift it up aloft Boy; a Pox, his knees are soldered together, they're sowed together; canst not stride? Oh I could eat thee up, I could eat thee up, and begin upon thy hinder quarter, thy hinder quarter: I shall never teach this Boy without a screw, his knees must be opened with a Vice, or there's no good to be done upon him— Who taught you to dance Boy?  Page. 
It is but little Sir that I can do.  Sinq. 
No; I'll be sworn for you.  Page. 
And that signior Laurentio taught me Sir:  Sinq. 

signior Laurentio was an arrant Coxcomb,  
And fit to teach none but white-baker's children  
To knead their knees together. You can turn above ground Boy?   Page. 
Not I Sir; my turns rather underground.  Sinq. 

We'll see what you can do, I love to try  
What's in my Scholars, the first hour I teach them:  
Show him a close trick now Nicholao.  
Ha, dainty Stripling! come Boy.   Page. 

'las not I Sir,  
I am not for lofty tricks, indeed I am not Sir:   Sinq. 
How; such another word, down goes your Hose Boy.  Page. 
Alas 'tis time for me to do any thing then.  Sinq. 
Heyday he's down; is this your lofty trick Boy?  Usher. 
O Master, the Boy swoons; he's dead I fear me.  Sinq. 

Dead! I ne'er knew one die with a lofty trick before.  
Up Sirrah, up.   Page. 
A Midwife, run for a Midwife.  Sinq. 

A Midwife! By this light the Boy's with child.  
A miracle! Some Woman is the Father.  
The World's turned upside down, sure if Men breed,  
Women must get, one never could do both yet.  
No marvel you danced close-kneed the cinquepace:  
Put up my Fiddle, here's a stranger case—   Exeunt cinquepace and Page. Usher. 

That 'tis I'll swear; 'twill make the Duchess wonder.  
I fear me 'twill bring dancing out of request,  
And hinder our profession for a time:  
Your Women that are closely got with child,  
Will put themselves clean out of exercise,  
And will not venture now for fear of meeting  
Their shames in a coranto, specially  
If they be near their time: Well in my knowledge,  
If that should happen, we are sure to lose  
Many a good Waiting-woman, that's now over shoes.  
Alas the while—   Exit.  

Scaen. 2.  Enter the Duchess and Celia. Dutch. 

Thou tell'st me things are enemies to reason,  
I cannot get my Faith to entertain 'em,  
And I hope ne'er shall.   Cel. 
'Tis too true Madam.  Dutch. 

I say 'tis false: 'Twere better thou'dst been dumb,  
Then spoke a truth s'unpleasing; thou shalt get  
But little praise by't: He whom we affect  
To place his love upon so base a Creature!   Cel. 

Nay ugliness itself, you'd say so Madam,  
If you but saw her once, a strolling Gipsy,  
No Christian that is born a Hind could love her,  
She's the sun's Masterpiece for tawniness;  
Yet have I seen Andrugio's arms about her,  
Perceived his hollow whisperings in her ear,  
His joys at meeting her.   Dutch. 
What joy could that be?  Cel. 

Such Madam, I have seldom seen it equalled;  
He kissed her with that greediness of affection,  
As if his lips had been as red as yours.  
I looked still when he would be black in mouth,  
Like Boys with eating hedge-berries: Nay, more Madam,  
He bribed one of his Keepers with ten Ducats  
To find her out amongst a flight of Gipseys.   Dutch. 

I'll have that Keeper hanged, and you for malice,  
She cannot be so bad as you report,  
Whom he so firmly loves, you're false in much,  
And I will have you tried; go fetch her to us: Exit Celia.  
He cannot be himself, and appear guilty  
Of such gross folly, has an eye of judgement,  
And that will overlook him: This Wench fails  
In understanding service; she must home,  
Live at her house i'th' Country, she decays  
In beauty and discretion: Who hast brought there?   Enter Celia and Aurelia. Cel. 
This is she Madam.  Dutch. 

Youth and whiteness bless me,  
It is not possible: He talked sensibly  
Within this hour, this cannot be: How does he?  
I fear me my restraint has made him mad.   Cel. 
His health is perfect, Madam.  Dutch. 

You are perfect  
In falsehood still, he's certainly distracted:  
Though I'd be loath to foul my words upon her,  
She looks so beastly, yet I'll ask the question,  
Are you beloved (sweet face) of Andrugio?   Aur. 

Yes showr'ly Mistress, he done love me  
'Bove all the Girls that shine above me.  
Full often has he sweetly kissed me,  
And wept as often when he missed me:  
Swore he was to marry none,  
But me alone.   Dutch. 

Out on thee; marry thee? away with her.  
Clear mine eyes of her: Exit Aurelia.  
A Curate that has got his place by Simony,  
Is not half black enough to marry thee.  
Surely the man's far spent, howe'er he carries it,  
He's without question mad; but I ne'er knew  
Man bear it better before company.  
The love of Woman wears so thick a blindness,  
It sees no fault, but only man's unkindness;  
And that's so gross, it may be felt: Here Celia  
Take this; with speed command Andrugio to us,  
And his guard from him.   Cel 
It shall straight be done Madam.  Exit. Dutch. 

I'll look into his carriage more judiciously,  
When I next get him. A wrong done to Beauty,  
Is greater than an injury done to Love,  
And we'll less pardon it; for had it been  
A creature whose perfection had outshined me,  
It had been honourable judgement in him,  
And to my peace a noble satisfaction:  
But as it is, 'tis monstrous above folly!  
Look he be mad indeed, and throughly gone,  
Or he pays dearly for't: 'Tis not  
The ordinary madness of a Gentleman,  
That shall excuse him here; 'had better lose  
His wits eternally, then lose my Grace:  
So strange is the condition of his fall,  
He's safe in nothing, but in loss of all.   Enter Andrugio. 

He comes: Now by the Fruits of all my hopes,  
A man that has his wits, cannot look better;  
It likes me well enough, there's life in's eye,  
And civil health in's Cheek; he stands with judgement,  
And bears his body well: What ails this man?  
Sure I durst venture him 'mongst a thousand Ladies.  
Let 'em shoot all their scoffs, which makes none laugh  
But their own Waiting-women, and they dare do no otherwise.  
Come nearer Sir: I pray keep further off,  
Now I remember you.   Andr. 
What new trick's in this now?  Dutch. 
How long have you been mad Sir?  Andr. 

Mad! a great time Lady;  
Since I first knew I should not sin, yet sinned;  
That's now some thirty years; By'r Lady upwards.   Dutch 

This man speaks reason, wondrous feelingly,  
Enough to teach the rudest Soul good manners.  
You cannot be excused with lightness now,  
Or frantic fits; you're able to instruct Sir,  
And be a light to men. If you have errors,  
They be not ignorant in you, but wilful,  
And in that state I seize on 'em. Did I  
Bring thee acquainted lately with my heart!  
And when thou thought'st a storm of anger took thee,  
It in a moment cleared up all to love,  
To the abusing of thy spiteful enemy  
That sought to fix his malice upon thee,  
And couldst thou so requite me?   Andr. 
How! good Madam.  Dutch. 

To wrong all worth in man, to deal so basely  
Upon contempt itself, disdain and loathsomeness;  
A thing whose face through ugliness frights children;  
A straggling Gipsy!   Andr. 

See how you may err, Madam,  
Through wrongful information; by my hopes  
Of truth and mercy, there is no such love  
Bestowed upon a creature so unworthy.   Dutch 

No, than you cannot fly me; fetch her back:  
And though the sight of her displease mine eye  
Worse than th'offensiv'st object, Earth and Nature  
Can present to us; yet for truth's probation,  
We will endure't contentfully: What now  
Art thou returned without her?   Enter Celia and Aurelia. Andr. 

No Madam: This is she my peace dwells in,  
If here be either baseness of descent,  
Rudeness of manners or deformity  
In face or fashion, I have lost, I'll yield it;  
Tax me severely Madam.   Dutch. 

How thou standst,  
As dumb as the Salt-pillar; where's this Gipsy?  
What no? I cannot blame thee then for silence.  
Now I'm confounded too, and take part with thee.   Aur. 

Your pardon, and your pity, virtuous Madam.  
Cruel restraint joined with the power of love,  
Taught me that art, in that disguise I'scaped  
The hardness of my Fortunes; you that see  
What loves force is, good Madam pity me.   Andr. 

Your Grace has ever been the friend of truth;  
And here 'tis set before you.   Dutch. 

I confess  
I have no wrong at all; she's younger, fairer.  
He has not now dishonoured me in choice,  
I much commend his noble care and judgement.  
'Twas a just cross led in by a temptation,  
For offering but to part from my dear Vow,  
And I'll embrace it cheerfully: Rise both,  
The joys of faithful marriage bless your souls,  
I will not part you.   Andr. 
virtue's crown be yours Madam.  Enter Lactantio. Aur. 

Oh there appears the life of all my wishes;  
Is your Grace pleased out of your bounteous goodness  
To a poor virgin's comforts, I shall freely  
Enjoy whom my heart loves.   Dutch. 

Our word is past,  
Enjoy without disturbance.   Aur. 

There Lactantio  
Spread thy arms open wide, to welcome her  
That has wrought all this means to rest in thee.   Andr. 
Death of my joys; how's this?  Lact. 

Prithee away fond Fool, hast 'no shame in thee,  
thouart bold and ignorant, whate'er thou art.   Aur. 
whate'er I am, do not you know me then?  Lact. 

Yes for some Waiting-vessel, but the times  
Are changed with me, if you'd the grace to know 'em.  
I looked for more respect, I am not spoke withal  
After this rate I tell you; learn hereafter  
To know what belongs to me, you shall see  
All the Court teach you shortly. Farewell Manners.   Dutch. 
I'll mark the event of this.  Aur. 

I'have undone myself two ways at once; lost a great deal of time,  
And now I am like to lose more. O my fortune!  
I was nineteen yesterday, and partly vowed  
To have a child by twenty, if not twain:  
To see how Maids are crossed! but I'm plagued justly:  
And she that makes a fool of her first love,  
Let her ne'er look to prosper, Sir.   Andr. 
Oh falsehood!  Aur. 

Have you forgiveness in you? There's more hope of me  
Then of a Maid that never yet offended.   Andr. 
Make me your property?  Aur. 

I'll promise you,  
I'll never make you worse: And Sir you know  
There are worse things for women to make men.  
But by my hope of children, (and all lawful)  
I'll be as true for ever to your Bed  
As she, in thought or deed, that never erred:   Andr. 

I'll once believe a woman, be it but to strengthen  
Weak faith in other men: I have a love  
That covers all thy faults.   Enter Lord Cardinal and the Lords. L. Card. 

Nephew, prepare thyself  
With meekness and thanksgiving to receive  
Thy reverend fortune: Amongst all the Lords,  
Her close affection now makes choice of thee:   Lact. 

Alas I'm not to learn to know that now.  
Where could she make choice here, if I were missing?  
'Twould trouble the whole State, and puzzle 'em all  
To find out such another.   L. Card. 

'Tis high time Madam,  
If your Grace please, to make election now.  
Behold, they are all assembled!   Dutch. 

What election?  
You speak things strange to me Sir.   L. Card. 
How! good Madam.  Dutch. 

Give me your meaning plainly like a Father.  
You are too religious Sir to deal in Riddles.   L. Card. 

Is there a plainer way then leads to marriage, Madam,  
And the man set before you?   Dutch. 

O Blasphemy  
To Sanctimonious Faith! comes it from you Sir!  
An ill example; know you what you speak,  
Or who you are? Is not my Vow in place?  
How dare you be so bold Sir? Say a woman  
Were tempt with a temptation, must you presently  
Take all th'advantage on't?   L. Card. 
Is this in earnest, Madam?  Dutch. 

Heaven pardon you; if you do not think so Sir,  
You've much to answer for: But I will leave you;  
Return I humbly now from whence I fell.  
All you blessed powers that Register the Vows  
Of Virgins and chaste Matrons, look on me  
With eyes of mercy; seal forgiveness to me  
By signs of inward peace; and to be surer,  
That I will never fail your good hopes of me,  
I bind myself more strictly. All my riches  
I'll speedily commend to holy uses;  
This Temple unto some religious Sanctuary,  
Where all my time to come I will allow  
For fruitful thoughts; so knit I up my Vow.   Lactant. 

This is to hawk at Eagles: Pox of pride,  
It lays a man i'th' mire still, like a Jade  
That has too many tricks, and ne'er a good one.  
I must gape high, I'm in a sweet case now,  
I was sure of one, and now I have lost her too.   Dutch. 

I know, my Lord, all that great studious care  
Is for your Kinsman; he's provided for  
According to his merits.   L. Card. 
How's that! good Madam?  Dutch. 

Upon the firmness of my Faith it's true Sir;  
See here's the Gentlewoman; the match was made  
Near forty weeks ago: He knows the time Sir,  
Better than I can tell him, and the poor Gentlewoman  
Better than he: But being Religious Sir, and fearing you,  
He durst not own her for his wife till now,  
Only contracted with her in man's apparel,  
For the more modesty, because he was bashful,  
And never could endure the sight of woman,  
For fear that you should see her: This was he  
Chose for my love; this Page preferred to me.   Lact. 
I'm paid with mine own money.  L. Card. 

Dare hypocrisy,  
For fear of vengeance, sit so close to Virtue.  
Stealest thou a holy vestment from Religion,  
To cloth forbidden Lust with? th'open villainy  
Goes before thee to mercy, and his Penitency  
Is blessed with a more sweet and quick return.  
I utterly disclaim all blood in thee.  
I'll sooner make a Parricide my heir,  
Than such a monster. O forgive me Madam!  
Th'apprehension of the wrong to you  
Has a sin's wait at it. I forget all Charity,  
When I but think upon him.   Dutch. 

Nay, my Lord,  
At our request, since we are pleased to pardon,  
And send remission to all former errors,  
Which conscionable Justice now sets right,  
From you we expect patience; h'as had punishment  
Enough in his false hopes; trust me he has Sir;  
They have requited his dissembling largely.  
And to erect your falling-goodness to him,  
We'll begin first ourselves: Ten thousand Ducats  
The Gentlewoman shall bring out of our Treasure,  
To make her dowry.   L. Card. 

None has the true way  
Of overcoming anger with meek virtue,  
Like your compassionate Grace.   Lact. 

Curse of this fortune:  
This 'tis to meddle with taking stuff, whose Belly  
cannot be confined in a Waistband: Pray what have  
you done with the Breeches, we shall have need of  
'em shortly; and we get children so fast, they are too  
good to be cast away. My Son and Heir need not  
scorn to wear what his Mother has left off: I had  
my fortune told me by a Gipsy seven years ago, she  
said then I should be the spoil of many a Maid, and  
at seven years' end marry a Quean for my labour;  
which falls out wicked and true.   Dutch. 

We all have faults; look not so much on his.  
Who lives i'th' world that never did amiss?  
For you Aurelia, I commend your choice,  
You've one after our heart: And though your Father  
Be not in presence, we'll assure his voice;  
Doubt not his liking, his o'erjoying rather:  
You Sir embrace your own, 'tis your full due;  
No Page serves me more, that once dwells with you.  
Oh they that search out man's intents, shall find  
There's more Dissemblers then of Women kind.   Exeunt.   
FINIS.