WOMEN BEWARE WOMEN.  
A TRAGEDY, BY Tho, Middleton, Gent.  
 
LONDON: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, 1657.   


DUke of Florence.  
Lord Cardinal, Brother to the Duke.  
Two Cardinals more.  
A Lord.  
Fabritio, Father to Isabella.  
Hippolito, Brother to Fabritio.  
Guardiano, Uncle to the Foolish Ward.  
The Ward, a rich young Heir.  
Leantio, a Factor, Husband to Brancha.  
Sordido, the Wards Man.  
Livia, Sister to Fabritio.  
Isabella, Niece to Livia.  
Brancha, Leantio's Wife.  
Widow, his Mother.  
States of Florence.  
Citizens.  
A Prentice.  
Boys.  
Messenger.  
Servants.   
The Scaen. FLORENCE.   

WOMEN BEWARE WOMEN.  

Act. 1.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Leantio with Brancha, and Mother. Mother. 

THy sight was never yet more precious to me;  
Welcome with all the affection of a Mother,  
That comfort can express from natural love:  
Since thy birth-joy, a Mother's chiefest gladness.  
After sh'as undergone her curse of sorrows,  
Thou was't not more dear to me, than this hour  
Presents thee to my heart. Welcome again.   Leant. 

'Las poor affectionate Soul, how her joys speak to me!  
I have observed it often, and I know it is  
The fortune commonly of knavish Children  
To have the lovingest Mothers.   Moth. 
What's this Gentlewoman?  Leant: 

Speak low sweet Mother; you are able to spoil as many  
As come within the hearing: If it be not  
Your fortune to mar all, I have much marvel.  
I pray do not you teach her to rebel,  
When she's in a good way to obedience,  
To rise with other women in commotion  
Against their husbands, for six Gowns a year,  
And so maintain their cause, when they're once up,  
In all things else that require cost enough.  
They are all of 'em a kind of spirits soon raised,  
But not so soon laid (Mother) As for example,  
A woman's belly is got up in a trice,  
A simple charge ere it be laid down again:  
So ever in all their quarrels, and their courses,  
And I'm a proud man, I hear nothing of 'em,  
They're very still, I thank my happiness,  
And sound asleep; pray let not your tongue wake 'em.  
If you can but rest quiet, she's contented  
With all conditions, that my fortunes bring her to;  
To keep close as a wife that loves her husband;  
To go after the rate of my ability,  
Not the licentious swindg of her own will,  
Like some of her old Schoolfellows, she intends  
To take out other works in a new Sampler,  
And frame the fashion of an honest love,  
Which knows no wants; but mocking poverty  
Brings forth more children, to make rich men wonder  
At divine Providence, that feeds mouths of Infants,  
And sends them none to feed, but stuffs their rooms  
With fruitful bags, their beds with barren wombs.  
Good Mother, make not you things worse than they are,  
Out of your too much openness; pray take heed on't;  
Nor imitate the envy of old people,  
That strive to mar good sport, because they are perfect.  
I would have you more pitiful to youth,  
Especially to your own flesh and blood.  
I'll prove an excellent husband, here's my hand,  
Lay in provision, follow my business roundly,  
And make you a Grandmother in forty weeks.  
Go, pray salute her, bid her welcome cheerfully.   Moth. 

Gentlewoman, thus much is a debt of courtesy  
Which fashionable strangers pay each other  
At a kind meeting; then there's more than one  
Due to the knowledge I have of your nearness:  
I am bold to come again, and now salute you  
By th'name of daughter, which may challenge more  
Than ordinary respect.   Leant. 

Why this is well now,  
And I think few Mothers of threescore will mend it.   Moth. 

What I can bid you welcome to, is mean;  
But make it all your own; we are full of wants,  
And cannot welcome worth.   Leant. 

Now this is scurvy,  
And spoke as if a woman lacked her teeth.  
These old folks talk of nothing but defects,  
Because they grow so full of 'em themselves.   Branc. 

Kind Mother, there is nothing can be wanting  
To her that does enjoy all her desires.  
Heaven send a quiet peace with this man's love,  
And I am as rich, as Virtue can be poor;  
Which were enough after the rate of mind,  
To erect Temples for content placed here;  
I have forsook Friends, Fortunes, and my Country,  
And hourly I rejoice in't. Here's my Friends,  
And few is the good number; thy successes  
howe'er they look, I will still name my fortunes,  
Hopeful or spiteful, they shall all be welcome:  
Who invites many guests, has of all sorts,  
As he that trafficks much, drinks of all fortunes,  
Yet they must all be welcome, and used well.  
I'll call this place the place of my birth now,  
And rightly too; for here my love was born,  
And that's the birthday of a woman's joys.  
You have not bid me welcome since I came.   Leant. 
That I did questionless.  Branc. 

No sure, how was't?  
I have quite forgot it.   Leant. 
Thus.  Branc. 

Oh Sir, 'tis true;  
Now I remember well: I have done thee wrong,  
Pray take't again Sir.   Leant. 

How many of these wrongs  
Could I put up in an hour? and turn up the Glass  
For twice as many more.   Moth. 
willt please you to walk in daughter?  Branc. 

Thanks sweet Mother;  
The voice of her that bore me, is not more pleasing.   Exeunt. Leant. 

Though my own care, and my rich Master's trust,  
Lay their commands both on my Factorship,  
This day and night, I'll know no other business  
But her and her dear welcome. 'Tis a bitterness  
To think upon tomorrow, that I must leave her  
Still to the sweet hopes of the weeks end,  
That pleasure should be so restrained and curbed  
After the course of a rich Workmaster,  
That never pays till Saturday night.  
Marry it comes together in a round sum then,  
And does more good you'll say: Oh fair eyed Florence!  
Didst thou but know, what a most matchless Jewel  
Thou now art Mistress of, a pride would take thee,  
Able to shoot destruction through the bloods  
Of all thy youthful Sons; but 'tis great policy  
To keep choice treasures in obscurest places:  
Should we show Thieves our wealth, 'twould make 'em bolder;  
Temptation is a Devil will not stick  
To fasten upon a Saint; take heed of that;  
The Jewel is cased up from all men's eyes.  
Who could imagine now a Gem were kept,  
Of that great value under this plain roof?  
But how in times of absence? what assurance  
Of this restraint then; yes, yes? there's one with her.  
Old Mothers know the world; and such as these,  
When Sons lock Chests, are good to look to Keys.   Exit.  

Scaen. 2.  Enter Guardiano, Fabritio, and Livia. Guard. 
What has your daughter seen him yet? know you that?  Fab. 
No matter, she shall love him.  Guard. 

Nay let's have fair play,  
He has been now my Ward some fifteen year,  
And 'tis my purpose (as time calls upon me)  
By custom seconded, and such moral virtues,  
To tender him a wife; now Sir, this wife  
I'd fain elect out of a daughter of yours.  
You see my meaning's fair; if now this daughter  
So tendered (let me come to your own phrase Sir)  
Should offer to refuse him, I were hanselled.  
Thus am I fain to calculate all my words,  
For the Meridian of a foolish old man,  
To take his understanding: What do you answer Sir?   Fab. 
I say still she shall love him.  Guard. 

Yet again?  
And shall she have no reason for this love?   Fab. 
Why do you think that women love with reason?  Guard. 

I perceive Fools are not at all hours foolish,  
No more than wisemen wise.   Fab. 

I had a wife,  
She ran mad for me; she had no reason for't,  
For aught I could perceive: What think you Lady Sister?   Guard. 

'Twas a fit match that,  
Being both out of their wits: A loving wife, it seemed  
She strove to come as near you as she could.   Fab. 

And if her daughter prove not mad for love too,  
She takes not after her, nor after me;  
If she prefer reason before my pleasure,  
Your an experienced widow. Lady Sister,  
I pray let your opinion come amongst us.   Liv. 

I must offend you then, if truth will do't,  
And take my Niece's part, and call't injustice  
To force her love to one she never saw.  
Maid's should both see, and like; all little enough;  
If they love truly after that, 'tis well.  
counting the time, she takes one man till death,  
That's hard task, I tell you; but one may  
inquire at three years' end, amongst young wives,  
And mark how the game goes.   Fab. 

Why, is not man  
Tide to the same observance, Lady Sister,  
And in one woman?   Liv. 

'Tis enough for him;  
Besides he tastes of many sundry dishes  
That we poor wretches never lay our lips to;  
As Obedience forsooth, Subjection, Duty, and such Kickshaws,  
All of our making, but served in to them;  
And if we lick a finger, than sometimes  
We are not too blame: Your best Cooks use it:   Fab. 
thouart a sweet Lady, Sister, and a witty—  Liv. 

A witty! Oh the bud of commendation  
Fit for a Girl of sixteen; I am blown man,  
I should be wise by this time; and for instance,  
I have buried my two husbands in good fashion,  
And never mean more to marry.   Guard. 
No, why so Lady?  Liv. 

Because the third shall never bury me:  
I think I am more than witty; how think you Sir?   Fab. 

I have paid often fees to a Counsellor  
Has had a weaker brain.   Liv. 

Then I must tell you,  
Your money was soon parted.   Guard. 
Light her now Brother.  Liv. 

Where is my Niece? let her be sent for straight.  
If you have any hope, 'twill prove a wedding;  
'Tis fit i'faith she should have one sight of him,  
And stop upon't, and not be joined in haste,  
As if they went to stock a new found Land.   Fab. 

Look out her Uncle, and you're sure of her,  
Those two are ne'er asunder, they've been heard  
In Argument at midnight, Moonshine nights  
Are Noon days with them; they walk out their sleeps;  
Or rather at those hours, appear like those  
That walk in 'em, for so they did to me.  
Look you, I told you truth; they're like a chain,  
Draw but one link, all follows.   Enter Hippolito, and Isabella the Niece. Guard. 

Oh affinity,  
What piece of excellent workmanship art thou?  
'Tis work clean wrought, for there's no lust, but love in't,  
And that abundantly: when in stranger things,  
There is no love at all, but what lust brings.   Fab. 

On with your Mask, for 'tis your part to see now,  
And not be seen: Go too, make use of your time;  
See what you mean to like; nay, and I charge you,  
Like what you see: Do you hear me? there's no dallying:  
The Gentleman's almost twenty, and 'tis time  
He were getting lawful heirs, and you a breeding on 'em.   Niece. 
Good Father!  Fab. 

Tell not me of tongues and rumours.  
You'll say the Gentleman is somewhat simple,  
The better for a husband, were you wise;  
For those that marry fools, live Ladies lives.  
On with the Mask, I'll hear no more, he's rich;  
The fool's hid under Bushels.   Liv. 

Not so hid neither;  
But here's a foul great piece of him methinks;  
What will he be, when he comes altogether?   Enter the Ward with a Trapstick and Sordido his man. Ward. 

Beat him?  
I beat him out o'th' field with his own Cat-stick,  
Yet gave him the first hand.   Sord. 
Oh strange!  Ward. 

I did it,  
Than he set Jacks on me.   Sord. 
What, my Lady's Tailor?  Ward. 
ay, and I beat him too.  Sord. 

Nay that's no wonder,  
He's used to beating.   Ward. 

Nay, I tickled him  
When I came once to my tippings.   Sord. 
Now you talk on 'em;  
There was a poulterer's wife made a great complaint of you last night to your gardener, that you struck a bump in her child's head, as big as an Egg.  Ward 
An Egg may prove a Chicken then in time; the poulterer's wife will get by't. When I am in game, I am furious; came my Mother's eyes in my way, I would not lose a fair end: No, were she alive, but with one tooth in her head, I should venture the striking out of that. I think of nobody, when I am in play. I am so earnest. Coads-me, my gardener! Prithee lay up my Cat and Cat-stick safe.  Sord. 
Where Sir, i'th' Chimney-corner?  Ward. 
Chimney Corner!  Sord. 

Yes Sir, your Cats are always safe i'th' Chimney Corner,  
Unless they burn their Coats.   Ward. 
Marry, that I am afraid on!  Sord. 

Why, then I will bestow your Cat i'th' Gutter,  
And there she's safe I am sure.   Ward 

If I but live  
To keep a house, I'll make thee a great man,  
If meat and drink can do't. I can stoop gallantly,  
And pitch out when I list: I'm dog at a hole,  
I mar'le my Guardianer does not seek a wife for me;  
I protest I'll have a bout with the Maids else,  
Or contract myself at midnight to the Larder-woman,  
In presence of a Fool, or a Sack-posset.   Guard. 
Ward.  Ward. 

I feel myself after any exercise  
Horribly prone: Let me but ride, I'm lusty,  
A Cockhorse straight i'faith.   Guard. 
Why Ward. I say.  Ward. 

I'll forswear eating Eggs in Moonshine nights;  
There's ne'er a one I eat, but turns into a Cock  
In four and twenty hours, if my hot blood  
Be not took down in time, sure 'twill crow shortly.   Guard. 
Do you hear Sir? follow me, I must new School you.  Ward. 

School me? I scorn that now, I am past schooling.  
I am not so base to learn to write and read;  
I was born to better fortunes in my Cradle.   Exit. Fab. 

How do you like him Girl? this is your husband.  
Like him, or like him not wench, you shall have him,  
And you shall love him.   Liv. 

Oh soft there Brother! though you be a Justice,  
Your Warrant cannot be served out of your liberty,  
You may compel out of the power of Father,  
Things merely harsh to a Maid's flesh and blood;  
But when you come to love, there the soil altars;  
You're in another Country, where your Laws  
Are no more set by, than the cacklings  
Of Geese in Rome's great Capitol.   Fab. 

Marry him she shall then.  
Let her agree upon love afterwards.   Exit. Liv. 

You speak now Brother like an honest mortal  
That walks upon th'earth with a staff;  
You were up i'th' Clouds before, you'd command love,  
And so do most old folks that go without it.  
My best and dearest Brother, I could dwell here;  
There is not such another seat on earth,  
Where all good parts better express themselves.   Hip. 
You'll make me blush anon.  Liv. 

'Tis but like saying grace before a Feast then,  
And that's most comely; thou art all a Feast,  
And she that has thee, a most happy guest.  
Prithee cheer up that Niece with special Counsel:   Hip. 

I would 'twere fit to speak to her what I would; but  
'Twas not a thing ordained, Heaven has forbid it,  
And 'tis most meet, that I should rather perish  
Then the Decree Divine receive least blemish:  
Feed inward you my sorrows, make no noise,  
Consume me silent, let me be stark dead  
Ere the world know I'm sick. You see my honesty,  
If you befriend me, so.   Niece. 

Marry a Fool!  
Can there be greater misery to a woman  
That means to keep her days true to her husband,  
And know no other man! so virtue will it.  
Why; how can I obey and honour him,  
But I must needs commit Idolatry?  
A Fool is but the Image of a man,  
And that but ill made neither: Oh the heart-breakings  
Of miserable Maids, where love's enforced!  
The best condition is but bad enough;  
When women have their choices, commonly  
They do but buy their thraldoms, and bring great portions  
To men to keep 'em in subjection,  
As if a fearful prisoner should bribe  
The Keeper to be good to him, yet lies in still,  
And glad of a good usage, a good look  
Sometimes by'r Lady; no misery surmounts a woman's.  
Men buy their slaves, but women buy their masters;  
Yet honesty and love makes all this happy,  
And next to Angels, the most blessed estate.  
That Providence, that h'as made every poison  
Good for some use, and sets four warring Elements  
At peace in man, can make a harmony  
In things that are most strange to humane reason.  
Oh but this marriage! What are you sad too Uncle?  
Faith then there's a whole household down together:  
Where shall I go to seek my comfort now  
When my best friend's distressed? what is't afflicts you Sir?   Hip. 

Faith nothing but one grief that will not leave me,  
And now 'tis welcome; every man has something  
To bring him to his end, and this will serve  
Joined with your father's cruelty to you,  
That helps it forward.   Niece. 

Oh be cheered sweet Uncle!  
How long hast been upon you, I ne'er spied it:  
What a dull sight have I, how long I pray Sir?   Hip. 
Since I first saw you Niece, and left Bologna  Niece. 

And could you deal so unkindly with my heart,  
To keep it up so long hid from my pity?  
Alas, how shall I trust your love hereafter?  
Have we passed through so many arguments,  
And missed of that still, the most needful one?  
Walked out whole nights together in discourses,  
And the main point forgot? We are too blame both;  
This is an obstinate wilful forgetfulness,  
And faulty on both parts: Let's lose no time now,  
Begin good Uncle, you that feel't; what is it?   Hip. 

You of all creatures Niece must never hear on't,  
'Tis not a thing ordained for you to know.   Niece. 

Not I Sir! all my joys that word cuts off;  
You made profession once you loved me best;  
'Twas but profession!   Hip. 

Yes, I do't too truly,  
And fear I shall be chid for't: Know the worst then:  
I love thee dearlier than an Uncle can.   Niece. 
Why so you ever said, and I believed it.  Hip. 

So simple is the goodness of her thoughts,  
They understand not yet th'unhallowed language  
Of a near sinner: I must yet be forced  
(Though blushes be my venture) to come nearer.  
As a man loves his wife, so love I thee.   Niece. 

What's that?  
Methought I heard ill news come toward me,  
Which commonly we understand too soon,  
Then overquick at hearing, I'll prevent it,  
Though my joys fare the harder; welcome it:  
It shall ne'er come so near mine ear again.  
Farewell all friendly solaces and discourses,  
I'll learn to live without ye, for your dangers  
Are greater than your comforts; what's become  
Of truth in love, if such we cannot trust,  
When blood that should be love, is mixed with lust.   Exit. Hip. 

The worst can be but death, and let it come,  
He that lives joyless, every day's his doom.   Exit.  

Scaen. 3.  Enter Leantio alone. Lean. 

Methinks I'm e'en as dull now at departure,  
As men observe great Gallants the next day  
After a revel's; you shall see 'em look  
Much of my fashion, if you mark 'em well.  
'Tis e'en a second Hell to part from pleasure,  
When man has got a smack on't: As many holidays  
Coming together makes your poor heads idle  
A great while after, and are said to stick  
Fast in their fingers ends; e'en so does game  
In a new married couple for the time,  
It spoils all thrift, and indeed lies a-bed  
To invent all the new ways for great expenses. — Brancha and Mother above.  
See, and she be not got on purpose now  
Into the Window to look after me  
I have no power to go now, and I should be hanged:  
Farewell all business, I desire no more  
Than I see yonder; let the goods at Key  
Look to themselves; why should I toil my youth out?  
It is but begging two or three year sooner,  
And stay with her continually; is't a match?  
O fie, what a Religion have I leapt into!  
Get out again for shame, the man loves best  
When his care's most, that shows his zeal to love.  
Fondness is but the Idiot to Affection,  
That plays at Hot-cockles with rich merchants' wives;  
Good to make sport withal when the Chest's full,  
And the long Ware house cracks. 'Tis time of day  
For us to be more wise; 'tis early with us,  
And if they lose the morning of their affairs,  
They commonly lose the best part of the day,  
Those that are wealthy, and have got enough:  
'Tis after Sunset with 'em, they may rest,  
Grow fat with ease, banquet, and toy and play,  
When such as I enter the heat o'th' day,  
And I'll do't cheerfully.   Bran. 

I perceive Sir  
You're not gone yet, I have good hope you'll stay now.   Lean. 
Farewell, I must not.  Bran. 

Come, come, pray return  
Tomorrow; adding but a little care more,  
Will dispatch all as well; believe me 'twill Sir.   Lean. 

I could well wish myself where you would have me;  
But love that's wanton, must be ruled a while  
By that that's careful, or all goes to ruin,  
As fitting is a Government in Love,  
As in a Kingdom; where 'tis all mere Lust,  
'Tis like an insurrection in the people  
That raised in self-will, wars against all Reason:  
But Love that is respective for increase,  
Is like a good King, that keeps all in peace.  
Once more farewell.   Bran. 
But this one night I prithee.  Lean. 

Alas I'm in for twenty, if I stay,  
And then for forty more, I have such luck to flesh:  
I never bought a horse, but he bore double  
If I stay any longer, I shall turn  
An everlasting spendthrift; as you love  
To be maintained well, do not call me again,  
For then I shall not care which end goes forward:  
Again farewell to thee.   Exit. Bran. 
Since it must, farewell too.  Moth. 

'Faith daughter, you're too blame, you take the course  
To make him an ill husband, troth you do,  
And that disease is catching, I can tell you,  
I, and soon taken by a youngman's blood,  
And that with little urging: Nay fie, see now,  
What cause have you to weep? would I had no more,  
That have lived threescore years; there were a cause  
And 'twere well thought on; trust me you're too blame,  
His absence cannot last five days at utmost.  
Why should those tears be fetched forth? cannot love  
Be e'en as well expressed in a good look,  
But it must see her face still in a Fountain,  
It shows like a Country Maid dressing her head  
By a dish of water: Come 'tis an old custom  
To weep for love.   Enter two or three Boys, and a Citizen or two, with an Apprentice. Boys 
Now they come, now they come.  2. 
The Duke.  3. 
The State.  Cit. 
How near Boy?  1 Boy. 
I'th' next street Sir, hard at hand.  Cit. 

You sirrah, get a standing for your Mistress,  
The best in all the City.   Apprent. 

I have't for her Sir,  
'Twas a thing I provided for her over night,  
'Tis ready at her pleasure.   Cit. 
Fetch her to't then, away Sir.  Bran. 

What's the meaning of this hurry,  
Can you tell Mother.   Moth. 

What a memory  
Have I! I see by that years come upon me.  
Why 'tis a yearly custom and solemnity,  
Religiously observed by th'Duke and State  
To St. Marks Temple, the fifteenth of April.  
See if my dull brains had not quite forgot it,  
'Twas happily questioned of thee, I had gone down else,  
Sat like a drone below, and never thought on't.  
I would not to be ten years younger again,  
That you had lost the sight; now you shall see  
Our Duke, a goodly Gentleman of his years.   Bran. 
Is he old then?  Moth. 
About some fifty five.  Bran. 

That's no great age in man, he's then at best  
For wisdom, and for judgement.   Moth. 

The Lord Cardinal  
His noble Brother, there's a comely Gentleman,  
And greater in devotion then in blood.   Bran. 
He's worthy to be marked.  Moth. 

You shall behold  
All our chief states of Florence, you came fortunately  
Against this solemn day.   Bran. 
I hope so always:  Music. Moth. 
I hear 'em near us now, do you stand easily?  Bran. 
Exceeding well, good Mother.  Moth. 
Take this stool.  Bran. 
I need it not I thank you.  Moth. 
Use your will then.  Enter in great solemnity six Knights bareheaded, then two Cardinals, and then the Lord Cardinal, then the Duke; after him the States of Florence by two and two, with variety of Music and Song. Exit. Moth. 
How like you Daughter?  Bran. 

'Tis a Noble State.  
Methinks my soul could dwell upon the reverence  
Of such a solemn and most worthy custom.  
Did not the Duke look up? methought he saw us.   Moth. 

That's every one's conceit that sees a Duke,  
If he look steadfastly, he looks straight at them,  
When he perhaps, good careful Gentleman,  
Never minds any; but the look he casts,  
Is at his own intentions, and his object  
Only the public good.   Bran. 
Most likely so.  Moth. 
Come, come, we'll end this Argument below.  Exeunt.   

Act. 2.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Hippolito, and Lady Livia the Widow. Liv. 

A Strange affection (Brother) when I think on't!  
I wonder how thou cam'st by't.   Hip. 

e'en as easily,  
As man comes by destruction, which ofttimes  
He wears in his own bosom.   Liv. 

Is the world  
So populous in Women, and Creation,  
So prodigal in Beauty, and so various?  
Yet does love turn thy point to thine own blood?  
'Tis somewhat too unkindly; must thy eye  
Dwell evilly on the fairness of thy kindred,  
And seek not where it should? it is confined  
Now in a narrower prison then was made for't?  
It is allowed a stranger, and where bounty  
Is made the great man's honour, 'tis ill husbandry  
To spare, and servants shall have small thanks for't.  
So he heaven's bounty seems to scorn and mock,  
That spares free means, and spends of his own stock.   Hip. 

Never was man's misery so soon sowed up,  
Counting how truly.   Liv. 

Nay, I love you so,  
That I shall venture much to keep a change from you  
So fearful as this grief will bring upon you.  
Faith it even kills me, when I see you faint  
Under a reprehension, and I'll leave it,  
Though I know nothing can be better for you:  
Prithee (sweet Brother) let not passion waste  
The goodness of thy time, and of thy fortune:  
Thou keep'st the treasure of that life I love,  
As dearly as mine own; and if you think  
My former words too bitter, which were ministered  
By truth and zeal; 'tis but a hazarding  
Of grace and virtue, and I can bring forth  
As pleasant Fruits, as Sensuality wishes  
In all her teeming longings: This I can do.   Hip. 
Oh nothing that can make my wishes perfect!  Liv. 

I would that love of yours were pawned to't Brother,  
And as soon lost that way, as I could win.  
Sir I could give as shrewd a lift to Chastity,  
As any she that wears a tongue in Florence.  
she'd need be a good horse-woman, and sit fast,  
Whom my strong argument could not fling at last.  
Prithee take courage man; though I should counsel  
Another to despair, yet I am pitiful  
To thy afflictions, and will venture hard;  
I will not name for what, 'tis not handsome;  
Find you the proof, and praise me.   Hip. 

Then I fear me,  
I shall not praise you in haste.   Liv. 

This is the comfort,  
You are not the first (Brother) has attempted  
Things more forbidden, than this seems to be:  
I'll minister all Cordials now to you,  
Because I'll cheer you up Sir.   Hip. 
I am past hope.  Liv. 

Love, thou shalt see me do a strange cure then,  
As e'er was wrought on a disease so mortal,  
And near akin to shame; when shall you see her?   Hip. 
Never in comfort more.  Liv. 
You're so impatient too.  Hip. 

Will you believe death, sh'has forsworn my company,  
And sealed it with a blush.   Liv. 

So, I perceive  
All lies upon my hands then; well, the more glory  
When the works finished— How now Sir, the news!   Enter Servant. Serv. 

Madam, your Niece, the virtuous Isabela,  
Is lighted now to see you.   Liv. 

That's great fortune  
Sir, your Stars bless; you simple, lead her in.   Exit Servant. Hip. 
What's this to me?  Liv. 

Your absence gentle Brother,  
I must bestir my wits for you.   Hip. 
ay, to great purpose.  Exit Hippolito. Liv. 

Beshrew you, would I loved you not so well:  
I'll go to Bed, and leave this deed undone:  
I am the fondest where I once affect;  
The carefullest of their healths, and of their ease forsooth,  
That I look still but slenderly to mine own.  
I take a course to pity him so much now,  
That I have none left for modesty and myself.  
This 'tis to grow so liberal; you've few sisters  
That love their Brother's ease 'bove their own honesties:  
But if you question my affections,  
That will be found my fault. Niece, your love's welcome.  
Alas what draws that paleness to thy cheeks,  
This enforced marriage towards?   Enter Isabella the Niece. Isab. 

It helps good Aunt  
Amongst some other griefs; but those I'll keep  
Locked up in modest silence; for they're sorrows  
Would shame the Tongue, more than they grieve the thought:   Liv. 
Indeed the Ward is simple.  Isab. 

Simple! that were well:  
Why one might make good shift with such a husband.  
But he's a fool entailed, he halts downright in't:   Liv. 

And knowing this, I hope 'tis at your choice  
To take or refuse Niece.   Isab. 

You see it is not.  
I loathe him more than beauty can hate death  
Or age her spiteful neighbour.   Liv. 
Let's appear then.  Isab. 

How can I being born with that obedience,  
That must submit unto a father's will?  
If he command, I must of force consent.   Liv. 

Alas poor soul! be not offended prithee,  
If I set by the name of Niece a while,  
And bring in pity in a stranger fashion:  
It lies here in this Breast, would cross this match.   Isab. 
How, cross it Aunt?  Liv. 

ay, and give thee more liberty  
Than thou hast reason yet to apprehend.   Isab. 

Sweet Aunt, in goodness keep not hid from me  
What may befriend my life.   Liv. 

Yes, yes, I must,  
When I return to reputation,  
And think upon the solemn Vow I made  
To your dead Mother, my most loving Sister;  
As long as I have her memory twixt mine eye lids,  
Look for no pity now.   Isab. 
Kind, sweet, dear Aunt.  Liv. 

No, 'twas a secret, I have took special care of,  
Delivered by your Mother on her death bed,  
That's nine years now, and I'll not part from't yet,  
Though ne'er was fitter time, nor greater cause for't.   Isab. 
As you desire the praises of a Virgin:  Liv. 

Good sorrow! I would do thee any kindness,  
Not wronging Secrecy, or Reputation.   Isab. 

Neither of which (as I have hope of frûitness)  
Shall receive wrong from me.   Liv. 

Nay 'twould be your own wrong,  
As much as any's, should it come to that once.   Isab. 
I need no better means to work persuasion then.  Liv. 

Let it suffice, you may refuse this fool,  
Or you may take him, as you see occasion  
For your advantage; the best wits will do't;  
You've liberty enough in your own will,  
You cannot be enforced; there grows the flower  
If you could pick it out, makes whole life sweet to you.  
That which you call your Father's command's nothing;  
Than your obedience must needs be as little.  
If you can make shift here to taste your happiness,  
Or pick out aught that likes you, much good do you:  
You see your cheer, I'll make you no set dinner.   Isab. 

And trust me, I may starve for all the good  
I can find yet in this: Sweet Aunt, deal plainlier.   Liv. 

Say I should trust you now upon an oath,  
And give you in a secret that would start you,  
How am I sure of you, in faith and silence?   Isab. 

Equal assurance may I find in mercy,  
As you for that in me.   Liv. 

It shall suffice.  
Then know, however custom h'as made good  
For reputation's sake, the names of Niece  
And Aunt, twixt you and I, we're nothing less.   Isab. 
How's that?  Liv. 

I told you I should start your blood.  
You are no more allied to any of us,  
Save what the courtesy of opinion casts  
Upon your Mother's memory, and your name,  
Than the merest stranger is, or one begot  
At Naples, when the husband lies at Rome;  
There's so much odds betwixt us. Since your knowledge  
Wished more instruction, and I have your oath  
In pledge for silence; it makes me talk the freelier.  
Did never the report of that famed Spaniard,  
Marquess of Coria, since your time was ripe  
For understanding, fill your ear with wonder?   Isab. 

Yes, what of him? I have heard his deeds of honour  
Often related when we lived in Naples.   Liv. 
You heard the praises of your Father then.  Isab. 
My Father!  Liv. 

That was he: But all the business  
So carefully and so discreetly carried,  
That Fame received no spot by't, not a blemish;  
Your Mother was so wary to her end,  
None knew it, but her Conscience, and her friend,  
Till penitent confession made it mine,  
And now my pity, yours: It had been long else,  
And I hope care and love alike in you,  
Made good by oath, will see it take no wrong now:  
How weak his commands now, whom you call Father?  
How vain all his enforcements, your obedience?  
And what a largeness in your will and liberty,  
To take, or to reject, or to do both?  
For fools will serve to father wisemans' children:  
All this you've time to think on. O my Wench!  
Nothing o'erthrows our Sex but indiscretion,  
We might do well else of a brittle people,  
As any under the great Canopy:  
I pray forget not but to call me Aunt still;  
Take heed of that, it may be marked in time else,  
But keep your thoughts to yourself, from all the world,  
Kindred, or dearest friend, nay, I entreat you,  
From him that all this while you have called Uncle;  
And though you love him dearly, as I know  
His deserts claim as much even from a stranger,  
Yet let not him know this, I prithee do not,  
As ever thou hast hope of second pity,  
If thou shouldst stand in need on't, do not do't.   Isab. 
Believe my oath, I will not.  Liv. 

Why well said:  
Who shows more craft t'undo a Maidenhead,  
I'll resign my part to her; she's thine own, go.   Exit. Enter Hippolito. Hip. 
Alas, fair flattery cannot cure my sorrows:  Isab. 

Have I passed so much time in ignorance,  
And never had the means to know myself  
Till this blessed hour? Thanks to her virtuous pity  
That brought it now to light; would I had known it  
But one day sooner, he had then received  
In favours, what (poor Gentleman) he took  
In bitter words; a slight and harsh reward  
For one of his deserts.   Hip. 

There seems to me now  
More anger and distraction in her looks.  
I'm gone, I'll not endure a second storm;  
The memory of the first, is not passed yet.   Isab. 

Are you returned, you comforts of my life?  
In this man's presence, I will keep you fast now,  
And sooner part eternally from the world,  
Than my good joys in you: Pret he forgive me,  
I did but chide in jest; the best loves use it  
Sometimes, it sets an edge upon affection.  
When we invite our best friends to a feast,  
'Tis not all sweetmeats that we set before them,  
There's somewhat sharp and salt, both to whet Appetite,  
And make 'em taste their Wine well: So methinks  
After a friendly, sharp and savoury chiding,  
A kiss tastes wondrous well; and full o'th' Grape.  
How think'st thou, dost not?   Hip. 

'Tis so excellent,  
I know not how to praise it, what to say too't:   Isab. 
This marriage shall go forward.  Hip. 

With the Ward,  
Are you in earnest?   Isab. 
'Twould be ill for us else  Hip. 
For us? how means she that?  Isab. 

Troth I begin  
To be so well methinks, within this hour,  
For all this match able to kill one's heart.  
Nothing can pull me down now; should my Father  
Provide a worse fool yet (which I should think  
Were a hard thing to compass) I'd have him either;  
The worse the better, none can come amiss now,  
If he want wit enough: So Discretion love me,  
Desert and Judgement, I have content sufficient.  
She that comes once to be a housekeeper,  
Must not look every day to fare well Sir,  
Like a young waiting Gentlewoman in service,  
For she feeds commonly as her Lady does;  
No good bit passes her, but she gets a taste on't;  
But when she comes to keep house for herself,  
She's glad of some choice Cates then once a week,  
Or twice at most, and glad if she can get 'em:  
So must Affection learn to fare with thankfulness.  
Pray make your Love no stranger Sir; that's all,  
Though you be, one yourself, and know not on't,  
And I have sworn you must not.   Exit. Hip. 

This is beyond me!  
Never came joys so unexpectedly  
To meet desires in man; how came she thus?  
What has she done to her can any tell?  
'Tis beyond Sorcery this, Drugs, or Love-powders;  
Some Art that has no name sure, strange to me  
Of all the wonders I ere met withal  
Throughout my ten years' travels, but I'm thankful for't.  
This marriage now must of necessity forward;  
It is the only veil Wit can devise  
To keep our acts hid from sin-piercing eyes.   Exit.  

Scaen. 2.  Enter Guardiano and Livia. Liv. 

How Sir, a Gentlewoman, so young, so fair,  
As you set forth, spied from the widow's window!   Guard. 
she!  Liv. 
Our Sunday-dinner woman?  Guard. 

And thursday Supper-woman, the same still.  
I know not how she came by her, but I'll swear  
She's the prime gallant for a face, in Florence;  
And no doubt other parts follow their Leader:  
The Duke himself first spied her at the window;  
Then in a rapture, as if admiration  
Were poor when it were single, beckoned me,  
And pointed to the wonder warily,  
As one that feared she would draw in her splendour  
Too soon, if too much gazed at: I ne'er knew him  
So infinitely taken with a woman,  
Nor can I blame his Appetite, or tax  
His Raptures of slight folly; she's a Creature  
Able to draw a State from serious business,  
And make it their best piece to do her service:  
What course shall we devise? h'as spoke twice now.   Liv: 
Twice?  Guard. 

'Tis beyond your apprehension.  
How strangely that one look has catched his heart!  
'Twould prove but too much worth in wealth and savour  
To those should work his peace.   Liv. 

And if I do't not,  
Or at least come as near it, (if your Art  
Will take a little pains, and second me)  
As any wench in Florence of my standing.  
I'll quite give o'er, and shut up shop in cunning.   Guard: 

'Tis for the Duke, and if I fail your purpose,  
All means to come, by riches or advancement,  
Miss me, and skip me over.   Liv: 

Let the old woman then  
Be sent for with all speed, then I'll begin.   Guard. 

A good conclusion follow, and a sweet one  
After this stale beginning with old ware. Within there!   Enter Servant. Serv. 
Sir, do you call?  Guard. 
Come near, list hither.  Liv. 

I long myself to see this absolute Creature.  
That wins the heart of love, and praise so much.   Guard. 
Go Sir, make haste.  Liv. 

Say I entreat her company;  
Do you hear Sir?   Serv. 
Yes Madam.  Exit. Liv. 
That brings her quickly.  Guard. 

I would 'twere done, the Duke waits the good hour,  
And I wait the good Fortune that may spring form't.  
I have had a lucky hand these fifteen year  
At such Court Passage with there Dice in a Dish. signior Fabritio!   Enter Fabritio. Fab. 
Oh Sir, I bring an alteration in my mouth now.  Guard. 

An alteration! no wise Speech I hope;  
He means not to talk wisely, does he trow?  
Good! what's the change I pray Sir?   Fab. 
A new change.  Guard. 
Another yet! faith there's enough already.  Fab. 
My daughter loves him now.  Guard. 
What does she Sir?  Fab. 

Affects him beyond thought, who but the Ward forsooth!  
No talk but of the Ward; she would have him  
To choose 'bove all the men she ever saw.  
My Will goes not so fast, as her consent now;  
Her duty gets before my command still.   Guard: 

Why then Sir, if you'll have me speak my thoughts,  
I smell 'twill be a match.   Fab. 

ay, and a sweet young couple,  
If I have any judgement.   Guard. 

Faith that's little:  
Let her be sent tomorrow before noon,  
And handsomely tricked up; for 'bout that time  
I mean to bring her in, and tender her to him.   Fab. 

I warrant you for handsome, I will see  
Her things laid ready, every one in order,  
And have some part of her tricked up tonight.   Guard. 
Why well said.  Fab. 

'Twas a use her Mother had,  
When she was invited to an early wedding;  
She'd dress her head o'er night, sponge up herself,  
And give her neck three lathers.   Guard. 
ne'er a halter?  Fab. 

On with her chain of Pearl, her ruby Bracelets,  
Lay ready all her tricks, and Jiggam-bobs.   Guard 
So must your daughter.  Fab. 
I'll about it straight Sir.  Exit Fabritio. Liv. 

How he sweats in the foolish zeal of Fatherhood,  
After six ounces an hour, and seems  
To toil as much as if his cares were wise ones!   Guard. 
You've let his folly blood in the right vein, Lady.  Liv. 

And here comes his sweet Son-in-law that shall be;  
They're both allied in wit before the marriage;  
What will they be hereafter, when they are nearer?  
Yet they can go no further than the Fool:  
There's the world's end in both of 'em.   Enter Ward and Sordido, one with a Shuttlecock the other a Battledoor. Guard. 
Now young heir!  Ward. 
What's the next business after Shuttlecock now?  Guard. 

Tomorrow you shall see the Gentlewoman  
Must be your wife.   Ward. 

There's e'en another thing too  
Must be kept up with a pair of Battledoors.  
My wife! what can she do?   Guard. 

Nay that's a question you should ask yourself, Ward,  
When you're alone together.   Ward. 
That's as I list.  
A wife's to be ask anywhere I hope;  
I'll ask her in a Congregation, if I have a mind to't, and so save a Licence: My gardener has no more wit than an Herb-woman that sells away all her sweet Herbs and Nosegays, and keeps a stinking breath for her own Pottage:  Sord. 

Let me be at the chusing of your beloved,  
If you desire a woman of good parts.   Ward. 
Thou shalt sweet Sordido.  Sord. 
I have a plaguy guess, let me alone to see what she is; if I but look upon her— way, I know all the faults to a hair, that you may refuse her for.  Ward. 
Dost thou! I prithee let me hear 'em Sordido:  Sord. 

Well, mark 'em then; I have 'em all in rhyme.  
The wife your gardener ought to tender,  
Should be pretty, straight and slender;  
Heir hair not short, her foot not long,  
Her hand not huge, nor too too loud her tongue:  
No pearl in eye, nor ruby in her nose,  
No burn or cut, but what the Catalogue shows.  
She must have teeth, and that no black ones,  
And kiss most sweet when she does smack once:  
Her skin must be both white and plump,  
Her body straight, not hopper rumpt,  
Or wriggle side-ways like a Crab;  
She must be neither Slut nor Drab,  
Nor go too splay-foot with her shoes,  
To make her Smock lick up the dews.  
And two things more, which I forgot to tell ye  
She neither must have bump in back, nor belly:  
These are the faults that will not make her pass.   Ward. 
And if I spy not these, I am a rank Ass.  Sord. 

Nay more; by right Sir, you should see her naked,  
For that's the ancient order.   Ward. 

See her naked?  
That were good sport i'faith: I'll have the Books turned over;  
And if I find her naked on Record,  
She shall not have a rag on: But stay, stay,  
How if she should desire to see me so too,  
I were in a sweet case then, such a fowl skin:   Sord. 
But you've a clean shirt, and that makes amends Sir.  Ward. 
I will not see her naked for that trick though.  Exit. Sord. 

Then take her with all faults, with her clothes on!  
And they may hide a number with a bum-roll.  
Faith choosing of a Wench in a huge Farthingale,  
Is like the buying of ware under a great Penthouse,  
What with the deceit of one,  
And the false light of th'other, mark my Speeches,  
He may have a diseased Wench in's Bed,  
And rotten stuff in's Breeches.   Exit. Guard. 
It may take handsomely:  Liv. 

I see small hindrance:  
How now, so soon returned?   Enter Mother. Guard. 
She's come.  Liv. 

That's well.  
Widow, come, come, I have a great quarrel to you,  
Faith I must chide you, that you must be sent for!  
You make yourself so strange, never come at us;  
And yet so near a neighbour, and so unkind;  
Troth you're too blame, you cannot be more welcome  
To any house in Florence, that I'll tell you.   Moth. 
My thanks must needs acknowledge so much Madam:  Liv. 

How can you be so strange then? I sit here  
Sometime whole days together without company,  
When business draws this Gentleman from home,  
And should be happy in society,  
Which I so well affect, as that of yours.  
I know you're alone too; why should not we  
Like two kind neighbours, then supply the wants  
Of one another, having tongue discourse,  
Experience in the world, and such kind helps  
To laugh down time, and meet age merely?   Moth. 

Age (Madam) you speak mirth; 'tis at my door,  
But a long journey from your Ladyship yet.   Liv. 

My faith I'm nine and thirty, every stroke Wench,  
And 'tis a general observation  
'mongst Knights, Wives, or Widows, we account  
ourselves then old, when young men's eyes leave looking at's:  
'Tis a true rule amongst us, and ne'er failed yet  
In any but in one, that I remember;  
Indeed she had a friend at nine and forty;  
Marry she paid well for him, and in th'end  
He kept a Quean or two with her own money,  
That robbed her of her plate, and cut her throat.   Moth. 

She had her punishment in this world (Madam)  
And a fair warning to all other women,  
That they live chaste at fifty.   Liv. 

ay, or never Wench:  
Come, now I have thy company I'll not part with't  
Till after supper.   Moth. 
Yes, I must crave pardon (Madam)  Liv. 

I swear you shall stay supper; we have no strangers, woman,  
None but my sojourners and I; this Gentleman  
And the young heir his Ward; you know our company.   Moth. 
Some other time, I will make bold with you Madam.  Guard. 
Nay pray stay Widow,  Liv. 

'Faith, she shall not go;  
Do you think I'll be forsworn?   Table and— Chess. Moth. 

'Tis a great while  
Till supper time; I'll take my leave then now (Madam)  
And come again i'th' evening! since your Ladyship  
Will have it so.   Liv. 

I'th' evening by my troth Wench,  
I'll keep you while I have you; you have great business sure,  
To sit alone at home; I wonder strangely  
What pleasure you take in't! were't to me now  
I should be ever at one neighbour's house  
Or other all day long; having no charge.  
Or none to chide you, if you go, or stay,  
Who may live merrier, ay, or more at hearts-ease?  
Come, we'll to Chess, or Draughts; there are an hundred tricks  
To drive out time till Supper, never fear't Wench.   Moth. 
I'll but make one step home, and return straight (Madam)  Liv. 

Come, I'll not trust you; you use more excuses  
To your kind friends then ever I knew any.  
What business can you have, if you be sure  
You've locked the doors? and that being all you have  
I know you're careful on't: one afternoon  
So much to spend here! say I should entreat you now  
To lie a night or two, or a week with me,  
Or leave your own house for a month together,  
It were a kindness that long Neighbourhood  
And friendship might well hope to prevail in:  
Would you deny such a request? i'faith,  
Speak truth, and freely:   Moth. 
I were then uncivil Madam.  Liv. 

Go too then, set your men; we'll have whole nights  
Of mirth together, ere we be much older, Wench.   Moth. 

As good now tell her then, for she will know't;  
I have always found her a most friendly Lady.   Liv. 
Why Widow, where's your mind?  Moth. 

Troth e'en at home Madam.  
To tell you truth, I left a Gentlewoman  
e'en sitting all alone, which is uncomfortable,  
Especially to young bloods.   Liv. 
Another excuse!  Moth. 

No, as I hope for health, Madam, that's a truth;  
Please you to send and see:   Liv. 
What Gentlewoman? pish.  Moth. 

Wife to my son indeed, but not known (Madam)  
To any but yourself.   Liv. 

Now I beshrew you;  
Could you be so unkind to her and me,  
To come and not bring her? Faith 'tis not friendly.   Moth. 
I feared to be too bold.  Liv. 

Too bold? Oh what's become  
Of the true hearty love was wont to be  
'Mongst Neighbours in old time?   Moth. 
And she's a stranger (Madam).  Liv. 

The more should be her welcome; when is courtesy  
In better practice, then when 'tis employed  
In entertaining strangers? I could chide i'faith.  
Leave her behind, poor Gentlewoman, alone too!  
Make some amends, and send for her betimes, go.   Moth. 
Please you command one of your servant's Madam.  Liv. 
Within there.  Enter Servant. Serv. 
Madam.  Liv. 
Attend the Gentlewoman.  Moth. 

It must be carried wondrous privately  
From my son's knowledge, he'll break out in storms else.  
Hark you Sir.   Liv. 
Now comes in the heat of your part.  Guard. 

True, I know it (Lady) and if I be out,  
May the Duke banish me from all employments,  
Wanton, or serious.   Liv. 
So, have you sent Widow?  Moth. 
Yes (Madam) he's almost at home by this.  Liv. 

And 'faith let me entreat you, that hence forward,  
All such unkind faults may be swept from friendship,  
Which does but dim the lustre; and think thus much  
It is a wrong to me, that have ability  
To bid friends welcome, when you keep 'em from me,  
You cannot set greater dishonour near me;  
For Bounty is the credit and the glory  
Of those that have enough: I see you're sorry,  
And the good mends is made by't.   Moth. 
Here she's Madam:  Enter Brancha, and Servant. Bran: 
I wonder how she comes to send for me now?  Liv. 

Gentlewoman, you're most welcome, trust me you're,  
As courtesy can make one, or respect  
Due to the presence of you.   Bran. 
I give you thanks, Lady.  Liv. 

I heard you were alone, and 't had appeared  
An ill condition in me, though I knew you not,  
Nor ever saw you, (yet humanity  
Thinks every case her own) to have kept your company  
Here from you, and left you all solitary:  
I rather ventured upon boldness then  
As the least fault, and wished your presence here;  
A thing most happily motioned of that Gentleman,  
Whom I request you, for his care and pity  
To honour and reward with your acquaintance,  
A Gentleman that ladies' rights stands for,  
That's his profession.   Bran. 
'Tis a noble one, and honours my acquaintance.  Guard. 
All my intentions are servants to such Mistresses.  Bran 

'Tis your modesty  
It seems, that makes your deserts speak so low Sir.   Liv. 

Come Widow, look you Lady, here's our business;  
Are we not well employed think you! an old quarrel  
Between us, that will never be at an end.   Bran. 
No, and methinks there's men enough to part you (Lady):  Liv. 

Ho! but they set us on, let us come off  
As well as we can, poor souls, men care no farther.  
I pray sit down forsooth, if you have the patience  
To look upon two weak and tedious Gamesters.   Guard. 

Faith Madam, set these by till evening,  
You'll have enough on't then; the Gentlewoman  
Being a stranger, would take more delight  
To see your rooms and pictures:   Liv. 

Marry, good Sir,  
And well remembered, I beseech you show 'em her;  
That will beguile time well; pray heartily do Sir,  
I'll do as much for you; here take these keys,  
Show her the Monument too, and that's a thing  
Every one sees not; you can witness that Widow.   Moth. 
And that's worth sight indeed, Madam.  Bran. 

Kind Lady,  
I fear I came to be a trouble to you.   Liv. 
Oh nothing less forsooth.  Bran. 

And to this courteous Gentleman,  
That wears a kindness in his Breast so noble  
And bounteous to the welcome of a stranger.   Guard. 

If you but give acceptance to my service,  
You do the greatest grace and honour to me  
That courtesy can merit.   Bran. 

I were too blame else,  
And out of fashion much. I pray you lead Sir.   Liv. 
After a game or two, we're for you Gentle folks:  Guard. 

We wish no better seconds in Society  
Than your discourses, Madam, and your partners there.   Moth. 

I thank your praise, I listened to you Sir;  
Though when you spoke, there came a paltry Rook  
Full in my way, and chokes up all my game:   Exit Guardiano & Brancha. Liv. 
Alas poor Widow, I shall be too hard for thee.  Moth. 
You're cunning at the game, I'll be sworn (Madam).  Liv. 

It will be found so, ere I give you over:  
She that can place her man well,   Moth. 
As you do (Madam):  Liv. 

As I shall (Wench) can never lose her game;  
Nay, nay, the black King's mine.   Moth. 
Cry you mercy (Madam).  Liv. 
And this my Queen.  Moth. 
I see't now.  Liv. 

Here's a Duke  
Will strike a sure stroke for the game anon;  
Your pawn cannot come back to relieve itself.   Moth. 
I know that (Madam.)  Liv. 

You play well the whilst;  
How she belies her skill! I hold two ducats,  
I give you Check and Mate to your white King:  
Simplicity itself, your Saintish King there.   Moth. 

Well, ere now Lady  
I have seen the fall of Subtlety: Jest on.   Liv. 
ay but Simplicity receives two for one.  Moth. 
What remedy but patience!  Enter above Guardiano and Brancha. Bran. 

Trust me Sir,  
Mine eye ne'er met with fairer Ornaments.   Guard. 

Nay, livelier, I'm persuaded, neither Florence  
Nor Venice can produce.   Bran. 

Sir, my opinion  
Takes your part highly.   Guard. 

There's a better piece  
Yet then all these:   — Duke above Bran. 
Not possible Sir!  Guard. 

Believe it  
You'll say so when you see't: Turn but your eye now  
You're upon't presently.   Exit. Bran. 
Oh Sir.  Duke. 

He's gone Beauty!  
Pish, look not after him: He's but a vapour,  
That when the Sun appears, is seen no more.   Bran. 
Oh treachery to honour!  Duke. 

Prithee tremble not;  
I feel thy breast shake like a Turtle panting  
Under a loving hand that makes much on't;  
Why art so fearful? as I'm friend to brightness,  
There's nothing but respect and honour near thee:  
You know me, you have seen me; here's a heart  
Can witness I have seen thee:   Bran. 
The more's my danger.  Duke. 

The more's thy happiness: Pish strive not Sweet;  
This strength were excellent employed in love now,  
But here's 'tis spent amiss; strive not to seek  
Thy liberty, and keep me still in prison.  
' i'faith you shall not out, till I'm released now;  
We'll be both freed together, or stay still by't;  
So is captivity pleasant.   Bran. 
Oh my Lord.  Duke. 

I am not here in vain; have but the leisure  
To think on that, and thou'lt be soon resolved:  
The lifting of thy voice, is but like one  
That does exalt his enemy, who proving high,  
Lays all the plots to confound him that raised him.  
Take warning I beseech thee; thou seem'st to me  
A creature so composed of gentleness,  
And delicate meekness; such as bless the faces  
Of figures that are drawn for Goddesses,  
And makes Art proud to look upon her work:  
I should be sorry the least force should lay  
An unkind touch upon thee.   Bran. 

Oh my extremity!  
My Lord, what seek you?   Duke. 
Love.  Bran. 

'Tis gone already,  
I have a husband.   Duke. 

That's a single comfort,  
Take a friend to him.   Bran. 

That's a double mischief,  
Or else there's no Religion.   Duke. 

Do not tremble  
At fears of thine own making.   Bran. 

Nor great Lord,  
Make me not bold with death and deeds of ruin  
Because they fear not you; me they must fright;  
Then am I best in health: Should thunder speak,  
And none regard it, it had lost the name,  
And were as good be still. I'm not like those  
That take their soundest sleeps in greatest tempests,  
Then wake I most, the weather fearfullest,  
And call for strength to virtue.   Duke. 

Sure I think  
Thou know'st the way to please me. I affect  
A passionate pleading, 'bove an easy yielding,  
But never pitied any, they deserve none  
That will not pity me: I can command,  
Think upon that; yet if thou truly knewest  
The infinite pleasure my affection takes  
In gentle, fair entreatings, when love's businesses  
Are carried courteously twixt heart and heart,  
You'd make more haste to please me.   Bran. 

Why should you seek Sir,  
To take away that you can never give?   Duke. 

But I give better in exchange; wealth, honour:  
She that is fortunate in a Duke's favour,  
Lights on a Tree that bears all women's wishes:  
If your own Mother saw you pluck fruit there,  
She would commend your wit, and praise the time  
Of your Nativity, take hold of glory.  
Do not I know you've cast away your life  
Upon necessities, means merely doubtful  
To keep you in indifferent health and fashion.  
(A thing I heard too lately, and soon pitied)  
And can you be so much your Beauty's enemy,  
To kiss away a month or two in wedlock,  
And weep whole years in wants for ever after?  
Come play the wife wench, and provide for ever;  
Let storms come when they list, they find thee sheltered:  
Should any doubt arise, let nothing trouble thee;  
Put trust in our love for the managing  
Of all to thy heart's peace. We'll walk together,  
And show a thankful joy for both our fortunes.   Exit above. Liv. 
Did not I say my Duke would fetch you over (Widow)?  Moth. 
I think you spoke in earnest when you said it (Madam).  Liv. 
And my black King makes all the haste he can too.  Moth. 
Well (Madam) we may meet with him in time yet.  Liv. 
I have given thee blind mate twice.  Moth. 

You may see (Madam)  
My eyes begin to fail.   Liv. 
I'll swear they do, Wench.  Enter Guardiano. Guard. 

I can but smile as often as I think on't,  
How prettily the poor fool was beguiled:  
How unexpectedly; it's a witty age,  
Never were finer snares for women's honesties  
Then are devised in these days; no spider's web  
Made of a daintier thread, then are now practised  
To catch loves flesh-fly by the silver wing:  
Yet to prepare her stomach by degrees  
To Cupid's feast, because I saw 'twas queasy,  
I showed her naked pictures by the way;  
A bit to stay the appetite. Well, Advancement!  
I venture hard to find thee; if thou com'st  
With a greater title set upon thy Crest,  
I'll take that first cross patiently, and wait  
Until some other comes greater than that.  
I'll endure all.   Liv. 

The game's e'en at the best now; you may see Widow  
How all things draw to an end.   Moth. 
e'en so do I Madam.  Liv. 
I pray take some of your neighbours along with you.  Moth. 

They must be those are almost twice your years then,  
If they be chose fit matches for my time, Madam.   Liv. 
Has not my Duke bestirred himself?  Moth. 
Yes faith Madam; h'as done me all the mischief in this Game.  Liv. 
H'as showed himself in's kind.  Moth. 

In's kind, call you it?  
I may swear that.   Liv. 
Yes faith, and keep your oath.  Guard. 
Hark, list, there's somebody coming down; 'tis she.  Enter Brancha. Bran. 

Now bless me from a blasting; I saw that now,  
Fearful for any woman's eye to look on:  
Infectious mists, and mildews hang at's eyes:  
The weather of a doomsday dwells upon him.  
Yet since mine honour's Leprous, who should I  
Preserve that fair that caused the Leprosy?  
Come poison all at once: Thou in whose baseness  
The bane of Virtue broods, I'm bound in Soul  
Eternally to curse thy smooth browed treachery,  
That wore the fair veil of a friendly welcome,  
And I a stranger; think upon't, 'tis worth it.  
Murders piled up upon a guilty spirit,  
At his last breath will not lie heavier  
Than this betraying Act upon thy Conscience:  
Beware of offering the first-fruits to sin;  
His weight is deadly, who commits with strumpets,  
After they have been abased, and made for use;  
If they offend to th'death, as wise men know,  
How much more they then that first make 'em so?  
I give thee that to feed on; I'm made bold now,  
I thank thy treachery; sin and I'm acquainted,  
No couple greater; and I'm like that great one,  
Who making politic use of a base villain,  
He likes the Treason well, but hates the Traitor;  
So I hate thee slave.   Guard. 

Well, so the Duke love me,  
I fare not much amiss then; two great Feasts  
Do seldom come together in one day;  
We must not look for 'em.   Bran. 
What at it still Mother?  Moth. 
You see we sit by't; are you so soon returned?  Liv. 
So lively, and so cheerful, a good sign that.  Moth. 
You have not seen all since sure?  Bran. 

That have I Mother,  
The Monument and all: I'm so beholding  
To this kind, honest, courteous Gentleman,  
You'd little think it (Mother) showed me all,  
Had me from place to place, so fashionably;  
The kindness of some people, how't exceeds?  
'Faith, I have seen that I little thought to see,  
I'th' morning when I rose.   Moth. 

Nay, so I told you  
Before you saw't, it would prove worth your sight.  
I give you great thanks for my daughter Sir,  
And all your kindness towards her.   Guard. 

O good Widow!  
Much good may do her; forty weeks hence, i'faith.   Enter Servant. Liv. 
Now Sir.  Serv. 

May't please you Madam to walk in,  
Supper's upon the Table?   Liv. 

Yes, we come;  
willit please you Gentlewoman?   Bran. 

Thanks virtuous Lady,  
(You're a damned bawd) I'll follow you forsooth,  
Pray take my Mother in, an old Ass go with you;  
This Gentleman and I vow not to part.   Liv. 
Then get you both before.  Bran. 
There lies his art.  Exeunt. Liv. 

Widow I'll follow you; is't so, Damned bawd?  
Are you so bitter? 'Tis but want of use;  
Her tender modesty is Sea-sick a little,  
Being not accustomed to the breaking billow  
Of Woman's wavering Faith, blown with temptations.  
'Tis but a qualm of honour, 'twill away,  
A little bitter for the time, but lasts not.  
Sin tastes at the first draught like Wormwood Water,  
But drunk again, 'tis Nectar ever after.   Exit.   

Act. 3.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Mother. Moth. 

I Would my Son would either keep at home,  
Or I were in my grave; she was but one day abroad, but ever since  
She's grown so cutted, there's no speaking to her:  
Whether the sight of great cheer at my Ladies,  
And such mean fare at home, work discontent in her,  
I know not; but I'm sure she's strangely altered.  
I'll ne'er keep daughter-in-law i'th' house with me  
Again, if I had an hundred: When read I of any  
That agreed long together, but she and her mother  
Fell out in the first quarter! nay, sometime  
A grudging of a scolding the first week by'r Lady;  
So takes the new disease methinks in my house;  
I'm weary of my part, there's nothing likes her;  
I know not how to please her, here o'late;  
And here she comes.   Enter Brancha: Bran: 

This is the strangest house  
For all defects, as ever Gentlewoman  
Made shift withal, to pass away her love in:  
Why is there not a Cushion-cloth of Drawn work,  
Or some fair Cutwork pined up in my Bedchamber.  
A silver and gilt-casting Bottle hung by't?  
Nay, since I am content to be so kind to you,  
To spare you for a silver Bason and ewer,  
Which one of my fashion looks for of duty;  
She's never offered under, where she sleeps:   Moth. 
She talks of things here my whole state's not worth.  Bran. 

Never a green silk quilt is there i'th' house Mother,  
To cast upon my Bed?   Moth. 

No by troth is there,  
Nor orange tawny neither.   Bran. 

Here's a house  
For a young Gentlewoman to be got with child in.   Moth. 

Yes, simple though you make it, there has been three  
Got in a year in't, since you move me to't;  
And all as sweet faced children, and as lovely,  
As you'll be Mother of; I will not spare you:  
What cannot children be begot think you,  
Without gilt casting Bottles? Yes, and as sweet ones.  
The miller's daughter brings forth as white boys,  
As she that baths herself with Milk and Bean flower.  
'Tis an old saying, One may keep good cheer  
In a mean house; so may true love affect  
After the rate of Princes in a Cottage.   Bran. 

Troth you speak wondrous well for your old house here;  
'Twill shortly fall down at your feet to thank you,  
Or stoop when you go to Bed, like a good child  
To ask you blessing. Must I live in want,  
Because my fortune matched me with your Son?  
wife's do not give away themselves to husbands,  
To the end to be quite cast away; they look  
To be the better used, and tendered rather,  
Highlier respected, and maintained the richer;  
They're well rewarded else for the free gift  
Of their whole life to a husband. I ask less now  
Then what I had at home when I was a Maid,  
And at my Father's house, kept short of that  
Which a wife knows she must have, nay, and will;  
Will Mother, if she be not a fool born;  
And report went of me, that I could wrangle  
For what I wanted when I was two hours old,  
And by that copy, this Land still I hold.  
You hear me Mother.   Exit. Moth. 

I too plain methinks;  
And were I somewhat deafer when you spoke,  
'Twere ne'er awhit the worse for my quietness:  
'Tis the most suddenest, strangest alteration,  
And the most subtlest that e'er wit at threescore  
Was puzzled to find out: I know no cause for't; but  
She's no more like the Gentlewoman at first,  
Than I am like her that ne'er lay with man yet,  
And she's a very young thing where ere she be;  
When she first lighted here, I told her then  
How mean she should find all things; she was pleased forsooth,  
None better: I laid open all defects to her,  
She was contented still; but the Devil's in her,  
Nothing contents her now: tonight my Son  
Promised to be at home, would he were come once,  
For I'm weary of my charge, and life too:  
She'd be served all in silver by her good will,  
By night and day; she hates the name of Pewterer,  
More than sickmen the noise, or diseased bones  
That quake at fall o'th' Hammer, seeming to have  
A fellow-feeling with't at every blow:  
What course shall I think on? she frets me so.   Enter Leantio. Lean. 

How near am I now to a happiness,  
That Earth exceeds not? not another like it;  
The treasures of the deep are not so precious,  
As are the concealed comforts of a man,  
Locked up in woman's love. I sent the air  
Of Blessings when I come but near the house;  
What a delicious breath Marriage sends forth!  
The Violet-beds not sweeter. Honest wedlock  
Is like a Banqueting-house built in a Garden,  
On which the Springs chaste flowers take delight  
To cast their modest odours; when base Lust  
With all her powders, paintings, and best pride,  
Is but a fair house built by a Ditch side.  
When I behold a glorious dangerous Strumpet,  
Sparkling in Beauty and Destruction too,  
Both at a twinkling, I do liken straight  
Her beautified body to a goodly Temple  
That's built on Vaults where Carcases lie rotting,  
And so by little and little I shrink back again,  
And quench desire with a cool Meditation,  
And I'm as well methinks: Now for a welcome  
Able to draw men's envies upon man:  
A kiss now that will hang upon my lip,  
As sweet as morning due upon a Rose,  
And full as long; after a five days fast  
She'll be so greedy now, and cling about me;  
I take care how I shall be rid of her,  
And here't begins.   Bran. 
Oh Sir, you're welcome home.  Moth. 
Oh is he come, I am glad on't.  Lean, 

Is that all?  
Why this? as dreadful now as sudden death  
To some rich man, that flatters all his sins  
With promise of Repentance, when he's old,  
And dies in the midway before he comes to't.  
Sure you're not well, Brancha! How dost prithee?   Bran. 
I have been better than I am at this time.  Lean. 
Alas, I thought so.  Bran. 

Nay, I have been worse too,  
Then now you see me Sir.   Lean. 

I'm glad thou mend'st yet,  
I feel my heart mend too: How came it to thee?  
Has any thing disliked thee in my absence?   Bran. 

No certain, I have had the best content  
That Florence can afford.   Lean. 

Thou makest the best on't,  
Speak Mother, what's the cause? you must needs know.   Moth. 

Troth I know none Son, let her speak herself;  
Unless it be the same 'gave Lucifer a tumbling cast; that's pride.   Bran. 

Methinks this house stands nothing to my mind;  
I'd have some pleasant lodging i'th' high street Sir,  
Or if 'twere near the Court Sir, that were much better;  
'Tis a sweet recreation for a Gentlewoman,  
To stand in a Bay-window, and see gallants.   Lean. 

Now I have another temper, a mere stranger  
To that of yours, it seems; I should delight  
To see none but yourself.   Bran. 

I praise not that:  
Too fond is as unseemly as too churlish;  
I would not have a husband of that proneness,  
To kiss me before company, for a world:  
Beside 'tis tedious to see one thing still (Sir)  
Be it the best that ever heart affected;  
Nay, were't yourself, whose love had power you know  
To bring me from my friends, I would not stand thus,  
And gaze upon you always: Troth I could not Sir;  
As good be blind, and have no use of sight  
As look on one thing still: What's the eyes treasure,  
But change of objects? You are learned Sir,  
And know I speak not ill; till full as virtuous  
For woman's eye to look on several men,  
As for her heart (Sir) to be fixed on one.   Lean. 
Now thou com'st home to me; a kiss for that word.  Bran. 

No matter for a kiss Sir, let it pass,  
'Tis but a toy, we'll not so much as mind it,  
Let's talk of other business, and forget it.  
What news now of the Pirates, any stirring?  
Prithee discourse a little:   Moth. 

I am glad he's here yet  
To see her tricks himself; I had lied monst'rously,  
If I had told 'em first.   Lean. 

Speak what's the humour (Sweet)  
You make your lip so strange? this was not wont.   Bran. 

Is there no kindness betwixt man and wife,  
Unless they make a Pigeon-house of friendship,  
And be still billing; 'tis the idlest fondness.  
That ever was invented, and 'tis pity  
It's grown a fashion for poor Gentlewomen;  
There's many a disease kissed in a year by't,  
And a French curtsy made to't: Alas Sir,  
Think of the world, how we shall live, grow serious;  
We have been married a whole fortnight now.   Lean. 
How? a whole fortnight! why is that so long?  Bran. 

'Tis time to leave off dalliance; 'tis a doctrine  
Of your own teaching, if you be remembered,  
And I was bound to obey it.   Moth. 

Here's one fits him;  
This was well catched i'faith Son, like a fellow  
That rids another Country of a Plague,  
And brings it home with him to his own house Knock within.  
Who knocks?   Lean. 

Who's there now? withdraw you Brancha,  
Thou art a gem no stranger's eye must see,  
howe'er thou pleased now to look dull on me. Exit. Enter Messenger.  
You're welcome Sir; to whom your business, pray?   Mess. 
To one I see not here now.  Lean. 
Who should that be Sir?  Mess. 
A young Gentlewoman, I was sent to.  Lean. 
A young Gentlewoman?  Mess. 
I Sir, about sixteen; why look you wildly Sir?  Lean. 

At your strange error: You've mistook the house Sir.  
There's none such here, I assure you.   Mess. 

I assure you too.  
The man that sent me, cannot be mistook.   Lean. 
Why, who is't sent you Sir?  Mess. 
The Duke.  Lean. 
The Duke?  Mess. 

Yes, he entreats her company at a Banquet  
At Lady Livia's house.   Lean. 

Troth shall I tell you Sir,  
It is the most erroneous business  
That ere your honest pains was abused with;  
I pray forgive me, if I smile a little,  
I cannot choose i'faith Sir, at an error  
So Comical as this (I mean no harm though)  
His grace has been most wondrous ill informed,  
Pray so return it (Sir). What should her name be?   Mess. 
That I shall tell you straight too, Brancha Capella.  Lean. 
How Sir, Brancha? What do you call th'other.  Mess. 
Capella; Sir, it seems you know no such then?  Lean. 
Who should this be? I never heard o'th' name.  Mess. 
Then 'tis a sure mistake.  Lean. 

What if you enquired  
In the next street Sir? I saw Gallants there  
In the new houses that are built of late.  
Ten to one, there you find her.   Mess. 

Nay no matter,  
I will return the mistake, and seek no further.   Lean. 
Use your own will and pleasure Sir, you're welcome.  Exit Messenger. 

What shall I think of first? Come forth Brancha,  
Thou art betrayed I fear me.   Enter Brancha. Bran. 
Betrayed, how Sir?  Lean. 
The Duke knows thee:  Bran. 
Knows me! how know you that Sir?  Lean. 
Has got thy name.  Bran. 

ay, and my good name too,  
That's worse o'th' twain.   Lean. 
How comes this work about?  Bran. 
How should the Duke know me? can you guess Mother?  Moth. 
Not I with all my wits, sure we kept house close.  Lean. 

Kept close! not all the Locks in Italy  
Can keep you women so; you have been gadding,  
And ventured out at twilight, to th' Court-green yonder,  
And met the gallant Bowlers coming home;  
Without your Masks too, both of you, I'll be hanged else;  
Thou hast been seen Brancha by some stranger;  
Never excuse it.   Bran. 

I'll not seek the way Sir;  
Do you think you've married me to mew me up  
Not to be seen; what would you make of me?   Lean. 
A good wife, nothing else:  Bran. 

Why, so are some  
That are seen every day, else the Devil take 'em.   Lean. 

No more than I believe all virtuous in thee,  
Without an argument; 'twas but thy hard chance  
To be seen somewhere, there lies all the mischief;  
But I have devised a rid dance.   Moth. 

Now I can tell you Son,  
The time and place.   Lean. 
When, where?  Moth. 

What wits have I?  
When you last took your leave, if you remember,  
You left us both at Window.   Lean. 
Right, I know that.  Moth. 

And not the third part of an hour after,  
The Duke passed by in a great solemnity,  
To St. Marks Temple, and to my apprehension  
He looked up twice to th' Window.   Lean. 

Oh there quickened  
The mischief of this hour!   Bran. 

If you call't mischief,  
It is a thing I fear I am conceived with:   Lean. 
Looked he up twice, and could you take no warning!  Moth. 

Why once may do as much harm Son, as a thousand;  
Do not you know one spark has fired an house,  
As well as a whole Furnace?   Lean. 

My heart flames for't,  
Yet let's be wise, and keep all smothered closely;  
I have bethought a means; is the door fast?   Moth. 
I locked it myself after him.  Lean. 

You know Mother,  
At the end of the dark Parlour there's a place  
So artificially contrived for a Conveyance,  
No search could ever find it: When my Father  
Kept in for manslaughter, it was his Sanctuary;  
There will I lock my life's best treasure up.  
Brancha?   Bran. 

Would you keep me closer yet?  
Have you the conscience? you're best e'en choke me up Sir?  
You make me fearful of your health and wits,  
You cleave to such wild courses, what's the matter?   Lean. 

Why, are you so insensible of your danger  
To ask that now? the Duke himself has sent for you  
To Lady Livia's, to a Banquet forsooth.   Bran. 

Now I beshrew you heartily, has he so!  
And you the man would never yet vouchsafe  
To tell me on't till now: You show your loyalty  
And honesty at once, and so farewell Sir.   Lean. 
Brancha, whether now?  Bran. 

Why to the Duke Sir.  
You say he sent for me.   Lean. 
But thou dost not mean to go, I hope.  Bran. 

No? I shall prove unmannerly,  
Rude, and uncivil, mad, and imitate you.  
Come Mother come, follow his humour no longer,  
We shall be all executed for treason shortly.   Moth. 

Not I i'faith; I'll first obey the Duke,  
And taste of a good Banquet, I'm of thy mind.  
I'll step but up, and fetch two handkerchiefs  
To pocket up some Sweetmeats, and o'er take thee;   Exit. Bran. 

Why here's an old Wench would trot into a bawd now,  
For some dry Sucket, or a Colt in marchpane.   Exit. Lean. 

Oh thou the ripe time of man's misery, wedlock;  
When all his thoughts like over laden Trees,  
Crack with the Fruits they bear, in cares, in jealousies.  
Oh that's a fruit that ripens hastily,  
After 'tis knit to marriage; it begins  
As soon as the Sun shines upon the Bride  
A little to show colour. Blessed Powers!  
Whence comes this alteration! the distractions,  
The fears and doubts it brings are numberless,  
And yet the cause I know not: What a peace  
Has he that never marries! if he knew  
The benefit he enjoyed, or had the fortune  
To come and speak with me, he should know then  
The infinite wealth he had, and discern rightly  
The greatness of his treasure by my loss:  
Nay, what a quietness has he 'bove mine,  
That wears his youth out in a strumpet's arms,  
And never spends more care upon a woman,  
Then at the time of Lust; but walks away,  
And if he find her dead at his return,  
His pity is soon done, he breaks a sigh  
In many parts, and gives her but a piece on't!  
But all the fears, shames, jealousies, costs and troubles,  
And still renewed cares of a marriage Bed,  
Live in the issue, when the wife is dead.   Enter Messenger. Mess. 
A good perfection to your thoughts.  Lean. 
The news Sir?  Mess. 

Though you were pleased of late to pin an error on me,  
You must not shift another in your stead too:  
The Duke has sent me for you.   Lean. 

How for me Sir?  
I see then 'tis my theft; we're both betrayed:  
Well, I'm not the first h'as stolen away a Maid,  
My Countrymen have used it: I'll along with you Sir.   Exeunt.  

Scaen 2.  A Banquet prepared: Enter Guardiano and Ward. Guard. 

Take you especial note of such a Gentlewoman,  
She's here on purpose, I have invited her,  
Her Father, and her Uncle, to this Banquet;  
Mark her behaviour well, it does concern you;  
And what her good parts are, as far as time  
And place can modestly require a knowledge of,  
Shall be laid open to your understanding.  
You know I'm both your Guardian, and your Uncle,  
My care of you is double, Ward and Nephew,  
And I'll express it here.   Ward. 

Faith, I should know her  
Now by her mark among a thousand women:  
A little pretty deft and tidy thing you say:   Guard. 
Right.  Ward. 
With a lusty sprouting sprig in her hair.  Guard: 

Thou goest the right way still; take one mark more,  
Thou shalt ne'er find her hand out of her Uncles,  
Or else his out of hers, if she be near him:  
The love of kindred, never yet stuck closer  
Than theirs to one another; he that weds her,  
Marries her Uncle's heart too.   Cornets. Ward. 

Say you so Sir,  
Then I'll be asked i'th' Church to both of them:   Guard. 
Fall back, here comes the Duke.  Ward. 

He brings a Gentlewoman,  
I should fall forward rather.   Enter Duke, Brancha, Fabritio, Hippolito, Livia, Mother, Isabella, and Attendants. Duke. 

Come Brancha,  
Of purpose sent into the world to show  
Perfection once in woman; I'll believe  
Hence forward they have every one a Soul too  
'Gainst all the uncourteous opinions  
That man's uncivil rudeness ever held of 'em:  
Glory of Florence light into mine arms!   Enter Leantio. Bran. 

Yond comes a grudging man will chide you Sir;  
The storm is now in's heart, and would get nearer,  
And fall here if it durst, it powers down yonder,   Duke. 

If that be he, the weather shall soon clear.  
List, and I'll tell thee how.   Lean. 

A kissing too?  
I see 'tis plain Lust now; Adultery boldened;  
What will it prove anon, when 'tis stuffed full  
Of Wine and Sweetmeats, being so impudent Fasting?   Duke. 

We have heard of your good parts Sir, which we honour  
With our embrace and love; is not the Captainship  
Of Rovans Citadel, since the late deceased,  
Suppli 'by any yet?   Gentlem. 
By none my Lord.  Duke. 

Take it, the place is yours then, and as faithfulness  
And desert grows, our favour shall grow with't:  
Rise now the Captain of our Fort at Rovans.   Lean. 
The service of whole life give your Grace thanks.  Duke. 
Come sit Brancha.  Lean. 

This is some good yet,  
And more than e'er I looked for, a fine bit  
To stay a Cuckold's stomach: All preferment  
That springs from sin and lust, it shoots up quickly,  
As gardiner's crops do in the rotten'st grounds;  
So is all means raised from base prostitution,  
e'en like a Salad growing upon a dunghill:  
I'm like a thing that never was yet heard of,  
Half merry, and half mad, much like a fellow  
That eats his meat with a good appetite,  
And wears a plague-sore that would fright a Country;  
Or rather like the barren hardened Ass,  
That feeds on Thistles till he bleeds again;  
And such is the condition of my misery.   Liv. 
Is that your Son widow?  Moth. 
Yes, did your Ladyship never know that till now?  Liv. 

No trust me did I,  
Nor ever truly felt the power of love,  
And pity to a man, till now I knew him;  
I have enough to buy me my desires,  
And yet to spare; that's one good comfort. Hark you?  
Pray let me speak with you Sir, before you go.   Lean. 

With me Lady? you shall, I am at your service:  
What will she say now trow, more goodness yet?   Ward. 

I see her now I'm sure; the Ape's so little,  
I shall scarce feel her; I have seen almost  
As tall as she, sold in the Fair for ten pence.  
See how she simpers it, as if marmalade  
Would not melt in her mouth; she might have the kindness i'faith  
To send me a guilded Bull from her own Trencher,  
A Ram, a Goat, or somewhat to be nibbling.  
These women when they come to sweet things once,  
They forget all their friends, they grow so greedy;  
Nay, oftentimes their husbands.   Duke. 

Here's a health now Gallants,  
To the best beauty at this day in Florence.   Bran. 
Who ere she be, she shall not go unpledged Sir.  Duke. 
Nay, you're excused for this.  Bran. 
Who I my Lord?  Duke. 

Yes by the Law of Bacchus; plead your benefit,  
You are not bound to pledge your own health Lady.   Bran. 
That's a good way my Lord to keep me dry.  Duke. 

Nay, than I will not offend Venus so much,  
Let Bacchus seek his mends in another Court,  
Here's to thyself Brancha.   Bran. 

Nothing comes  
More welcome to that name then your Grace.   Lean. 

So, so;  
Here stands the poor thief now that stole the treasure,  
And he's not thought on, ours is near kin now  
To a twin-misery born into the world.  
First the hard-conscienced conscienc'd worldling, he hoards wealth up,  
Then comes the next, and he feasts all upon't;  
One's damned for getting, th'other for spending on't.  
Oh equal Justice, thou hast met my sin  
With a full weight, I'm rightly now oppressed,  
All her friends heavy hearts lie in my Breast.   Duke. 

Methinks there is no spirit amongst us Gallants,  
But what divinely sparkles from the eyes  
Of bright Brancha; we sat all in darkness,  
But for that Splendour: Who was't told us lately  
Of a match making right, a marriage tender?   Guard. 
'Twas I my Lord.  Duke. 
'Twas you indeed: Where is she?  Guard. 
This is the Gentlewoman.  Fab: 
My Lord, my Daughter.  Duke. 
Why here's some stirring yet.  Fab. 
She's a dear child to me.  Duke. 
That must needs be; you say she is your Daughter.  Fab. 

Nay, my good Lord, dear to my purse I mean  
Beside my person, I ne'er reckoned that.  
She has the full qualities of a Gentlewoman;  
I have brought her up to Music, Dancing, what not,  
That may commend her Sex, and stir her husband?   Duke. 
And which is he now?  Guard. 
This young Heir, my Lord.  Duke. 
What is he brought up too?  Hip. 
To Cat and Trap.  Guard. 

My Lord, he's a great Ward, wealthy, but simple;  
His parts consist in Acres.   Duke. 
Oh Wiseacres.  Guard. 
You've spoke him in a word Sir:  Bran. 

'las poor Gentlewoman,  
She's ill bestead, unless sh'as dealt the wiselier,  
And laid in more provision for her youth:  
Fools will not keep in Summer.   Lean. 

No, nor such wives  
From whores in winter.   Duke. 
Yea, the voice too Sir!  Fab. 

ay, and a sweet Breast too my Lord, I hope,  
Or I have cast away my money wisely;  
She took her pricksong earlier, my Lord,  
Than any of her kindred ever did:  
A rare child, though I say't, but I'd not have  
The Baggage hear so much, 'twould make her swell straight:  
And Maids of all things must not be puffed up.   Duke. 

Let's turn us to a better Banquet then,  
For Music bids the soul of a man to a Feast,  
And that's indeed, a noble entertainment,  
Worthy Brancha's self; you shall perceive Beauty,  
Our Florentine Damsels are not brought up idly.   Bran. 

theyare wiser of themselves, it seems my Lord,  
And can take gifts, when goodness offers 'em.   Music. Lean. 

True, and damnation has taught you that wisdom,  
You can take gifts too. Oh that Music mocks me!   Liv. 

I am as dumb to any language now▪  
But Loves, as one that never learned to speak:  
I am not yet so old, but he may think of me;  
My own fault, I have been idle a long time;  
But I'll begin the week, and paint tomorrow,  
So follow my true labour day by day.  
I never thrived so well, as when I used it.   

SONG.  
WHat harder chance can fall to woman,  
Who was born to cleave to some-man;  
Then to bestow her time, youth, beauty,  
Life's observance, honour, duty,  
On a thing for no use good,  
But to make Physic work, or blood force fresh  
In an old lady's cheek, she that would be  
Mother of fools, let her compound with me.   Ward. 
Here's a tune indeed; Pish I had rather hear one Ballad sung i'th' Nose now, of the lamentable drowning of fat Sheep and Oxen, than all these simpering tunes played upon catsguts, and sung by little Kitlings.  Fab. 
How like you her Breast now my Lord?  Bran. 

Her Breast?  
He talks as if his daughter had given suck  
Before she were married, as her betters have;  
The next he praises sure, will be her Nipples.   Duke. 

Methinks now, such a voice to such a husband,  
Is like a Jewel of unvalued worth,  
Hung at a fool's ear   Fab. 

May it please your Grace  
To give her leave to show another Quality.   Duke. 

Marry as many good ones as you will Sir,  
The more the better welcome.   Lean. 

But the less  
The better practised: That soul's black indeed  
That cannot commend Virtue; but who keeps it!  
The Extortioner will say to a sick beggar,  
Heaven comfort thee, though he give none himself:  
This good is common.   Fab. 

Will it please you now Sir,  
To entreat your Ward to take her by the hand,  
And lead her in a dance before the Duke?   Guard. 
That will I Sir, 'tis needful; hark you Nephew:  Fab. 

Nay, you shall see young heir, what you've for your money,  
Without fraud or imposture.   Ward. 

Dance with her!  
Not I sweet Gardener, do not urge my heart to't,  
'Tis clean against my Blood; dance with a stranger!  
Let who's will do't, I'll not begin first with her.   Hip. 
No fear't not fool, sh'as took a better order.  Guard. 
Why who shall take her then?  Ward. 

Some other Gentleman;  
Look, there's her Uncle, a fine timbered Reveller,  
Perhaps he knows the manner of her dancing too,  
I'll have him do't before me, I have sworn Gardener,  
Then may I learn the better.   Guard. 
Thou'lt be an ass still.  Ward. 

ay, all that Uncle, shall not fool me out.  
Pish, I stick closer to myself then so.   Guard. 

I must entreat you Sir, to take your Niece  
And dance with her; my Ward's a little wilful,  
He would have you show him the way.   Hip. 

Me Sir?  
He shall command it at all hours, pray tell him so.   Guard. 
I thank you for him, he has not wit himself Sir.  Hip. 

Come my life's peace, I have a strange office on't here,  
'Tis some man's luck to keep the joys he likes  
Concealed for his own bosom; but my fortune  
To set 'em out now, for another's liking,  
Like the mad misery of necessitous man,  
That parts from his good horse with many praises,  
And goes on foot himself; need must be obeyed  
In every action, it mars man and maid.   Music. A dance, making Honours to the D. and curtsy to themselves, both before and after. Duke. 

Signior Fabritio, you're a happy Father,  
Your cares and pains are fortunate you see,  
Your cost bears noble fruits. Hippolito thanks.   Fab. 
Here's some amends for all my charges yet. She wins both prick and praise, where ere she comes.  Duke. 
How lik'st Brancha?  Bran. 

All things well, my Lord:  
But this poor Gentlewoman's fortune, that's the worst.   Duke. 

There is no doubt Brancha, she'll find leisure  
To make that good enough; he's rich and simple.   Bran. 

She has the better hope o'th' upper hand indeed,  
Which women strive for most.   Guard. 
Do't when I bid you Sir.  Ward. 

I'll venture but a Hornpipe with her Gardener,  
Or some such married man's dance.   Guard. 
We'll venture something Sir.  Ward. 
I have time for what I do.  Guard. 
But little reason, I think.  Ward. 

Plain men dance the Measures, the cinquepace, the Gay:  
Cuckolds dance the Hornpipe; and Farmers dance the Hay:  
Your Soldiers dance the Round, and Maidens that grow big:  
You Drunkards, the Canaries; you Whore and bawd, the Jig.  
Here's your eight kind of Dancers, he that finds the ninth, let him  
Pay the Minstrels.   Duke. 

Oh here he appears once in his own person;  
I thought he would have married her by Attorney,  
And lain with her so too.   Bran. 

Nay, my kind Lord,  
There's very seldom any found so foolish  
To give away his part there.   Lean. 

Bitter scoff;  
Yet I must do't; with what a cruel pride! Music  
The glory of her sin strikes by my afflictions.   Ward and Isabella dance, he ridiculously imitates Hippolito. Duke. 

This thing will make shift (Sirs) to make a husband,  
For aught I see in him; how thinkest Brancha?   Bran. 

'Faith an ill-favoured shift my Lord, methinks;  
If he would take some voyage when he's married,  
Dangerous, or long enough, and scarce be seen  
Once in nine year together, a wife then  
Might make indifferent shift to be content with him.   Duke. 

A kiss; that wit deserves to be made much on:  
Come, our caroche.   Guard. 
Stands ready for your Grace.  Duke. 

My thanks to all your loves: Come fair Brancha,  
We have took special care of you, and provided  
Your lodging near us now.   Bran. 
Your love is great, my Lord.  Duke. 
Once more our thanks to all.  Omnes. 
All blessed Honours guard you.  Exe. all but Leantio and Livia; Cornets flourish. Lean. 

Oh hast thou left me then Brancha, utterly!  
Brancha! now I miss thee; Oh return!  
And save the faith of woman; I ne'er felt  
The loss of thee till now; 'tis an affliction  
Of greater weight, than youth was made to bear;  
As if a punishment of afterlife  
Were fallen upon man here; so new it is  
To flesh and blood, so strange, so insupportable  
A torment, e'en mistook, as if a body  
Whose death were drowning, must needs therefore suffer it in scalding oil.   Liv. 
Sweet Sir!  Lean. 

As long as mine eye saw thee,  
I half enjoyed thee.   Liv. 
Sir?  Lean 

Canst thou forget  
The dear pains my love took, how it has watched  
Whole nights together, in all weathers for thee,  
Yet stood in heart more merry than the tempests  
That sung about mine ears, like dangerous flatterers  
That can set all their mischief to sweet tunes;  
And then received thee from thy father's window,  
Into these arms at midnight, when we embraced  
As if we had been Statues only made for't,  
To show arts life, so silent were our comforts,  
And kissed as if our lips had grown together!   Liv. 
This makes me madder to enjoy him now.  Lean. 

Canst thou forget all this? And better joys  
That we met after this, which then new kisses  
Took pride to praise.   Liv. 
I shall grow madder yet, Sir:  Lean. 

This cannot be but of some close Bawds working:  
Cry mercy Lady. What would you say to me?  
My sorrow makes me so unmannerly,  
So comfort bless me, I had quite forgot you.   Liv. 

Nothing but e'en in pity too, that passion  
Would give your grief good counsel.   Lean. 

Marry, and welcome Lady,  
It never could come better.   Liv. 

Then first Sir,  
To make away all your good thoughts at once of her,  
Know most assuredly, she is a strumpet.   Lean. 

Ha: Most assuredly! Speak not a thing  
So vild so certainly, leave it more doubtful.   Liv. 

Then I must leave all truth, and spare my knowledge,  
A sin which I too lately found and wept for.   Lean. 
Found you it?  Liv. 
I with wet eyes.  Lean. 
Oh perjurious friendship!  Liv. 

You missed your fortunes when you met with her Sir.  
Young Gentlemen, that only love for beauty,  
They love not wisely; such a marriage rather  
Proves the destruction of affection;  
It brings on want, and wants the Key of whoredom.  
I think you'd small means with her.   Lean. 
Oh not any Lady.  Liv. 

Alas poor Gentleman, what meant'st thou Sir,  
Quite to undo thyself with thine own kind heart?  
Thou art too good and pitiful to woman:  
Marry Sir, thank thy Stars for this blessed fortune  
That rids the Summer of thy youth so well  
From many Beggars that had lain a sunning  
In thy beams only else, till thou hadst wasted  
The whole days of thy life in heat and labour.  
What would you say now to a Creature found  
As pitiful to you, and as it were  
e'en sent on purpose from the whole Sex general,  
To requite all that kindness you have shown to't?   Lean. 
What's that Madam?  Liv. 

Nay, a Gentlewoman, and one able  
To reward good things, ay, and bears a conscience to't;  
Couldst thou love such a one, that (blow all fortunes)  
Would never see thee want?  
Nay more, maintain thee to thine enemy's envy,  
And shalt not spend a care for't, stir a thought,  
Nor break a sleep, unless love's music waked thee;  
No storm of fortune should look upon me,  
And know that woman:   Lean. 
Oh my life's wealth Brancha!  Liv. 

Still with her name? will nothing wear it out?  
That deep sigh went but for a strumpet Sir.   Lean. 
It can go for no other that loves me.  Liv. 

He's vexed in mind; I came too soon to him;  
Where's my discretion now, my skill, my judgement?  
I'm cunning in all arts but my own, love:  
'Tis as unseasonable to tempt him now  
So soon, as a widow to be courted  
Following her husbands corpse, or to make bargain  
By the grave side, and take a young man there:  
Her strange departure stands like a hearse yet  
Before his eyes; which time will take down shortly:   Exit. Lean. 

Is she my wife till death? yet no more mine;  
That's a hard measure; then what's marriage good for?  
methinks by right, I should not now be living,  
And then 'twere all well: What a happiness  
Had I been made of, had I never seen her;  
For nothing makes man's loss grievous to him,  
But knowledge of the worth of what he loses;  
For what he never had, he never misses:  
She's gone for ever; utterly there is  
As much redemption of a soul from Hell,  
As a fair woman's body from his palace.  
Why should my love last longer than her truth?  
What is there good in woman to be loved,  
When only that which makes her so, has left her?  
I cannot love her now, but I must like  
Her sin, and my own shame too, and be guilty  
Of Laws breach with her, and mine own abusing;  
All which were monstrous: Then my safest course  
For health of mind and body, is to turn  
My heart, and hate her, most extremely hate her;  
I have no other way: Those virtuous powers  
Which were chaste witnesses of both our troths,  
Can witness she breaks first, and I'm rewarded  
With Captainship o'th' Fort; a place of credit  
I must confess, but poor; my Factorship  
Shall not exchange means with't: He that died last in't,  
He was no drunkard, yet he died a beggar  
For all his thrift; besides the place not fits me;  
It suits my resolution, not my breeding:   Enter Livia. Liv. 

I have tried all ways I can, and have not power  
To keep from sight of him: How are you now Sir?   Lean. 
I feel a better ease Madam.  Liv. 

Thanks to blessedness.  
You will do well I warrant you, fear it not Sir;  
Join but your own good will to't; he's not wise  
That loves his pain or sickness, or grows fond  
Of a disease, whose property is to vex him,  
And spitefully drink his blood up: Out upon't Sir,  
Youth knows no greater loss; I pray let's walk Sir.  
You never saw the beauty of my house yet,  
Nor how abundantly Fortune has blessed me  
In worldly treasure; trust me I have enough Sir  
To make my friend a rich man in my life,  
A great man at my death; yourself will say so  
If you want any thing, and spare to speak,  
Troth I'll condemn you for a wilful man Sir.   Lean. 
Why sure this can be but the flattery of some dream.  Liv. 

Now by this kiss, my love, my soul and riches,  
'Tis all true substance.  
Come you shall see my wealth, take what you list,  
The gallanter you go, the more you please me:  
I will allow you too, your Page and Footman,  
Your race horses, or any various pleasure  
Exercised youth delights in; but to me  
Only Sir wear your heart of constant stuff:  
Do but you love enough, I'll give enough.   Lean. 
Troth then, I'll love enough, and take enough.  Liv. 
Then we are both pleased enough.  Exeunt.  

Scaen 3.  Enter Guardiano and Isabella at one door, and the Ward and Sordido at another Guard. 
Now Nephew, here's the Gentlewoman again.  Ward. 
Mass here she's come again; mark her now Sordido.  Guard. 

This is the Maid, my love and care has chose  
Out for your wife, and so I tender her to you;  
yourself has been eye witness of some qualities  
That speak a courtly breeding, and are costly.  
I bring you both to talk together now,  
'Tis time you grew familiar in your tongues;  
Tomorrow you join hands, and one Ring ties you,  
And one Bed holds you (if you like the choice)  
Her Father and her friends are i'th' next room,  
And stay to see the contract ere they part;  
Therefore dispatch good Ward, be sweet and short;  
Like her, or like her not, there's but two ways;  
And one your body, th'other your purse pays.   Ward. 

I warrant you Gardener, I'll not stand all day thrumming,  
But quickly shoot my bolt at your next coming.   Guard. 
Well said: Good fortune to your birding then.  Ward. 
I never missed mark yet.  Sord. 

Troth I think Master, if the truth were known,  
You never shot at any but the kitchenwench,  
And that was a she-woodcock, a mere innocent,  
That was oft lost, and cried at eight and twenty.   Ward. 

No more of that meat Sordido, here's Eggs o'th' spit now,  
We must turn gingerly, draw out the Catalogue  
Of all the faults of women.   Sord. 
How, all the faults! have you so little reason to think so much Paper will lie in my breeches? why ten carts will not carry it, if you set down but the Bawds; all the faults? pray let's be content with a few of 'em; and if they were less, you would find 'em enough I warrant you: Look you Sir.  Isab. 

But that I have th'advantage of the fool,  
As much as woman's heart can wish and joy at,  
What an infernal torment 'twere to be  
Thus bought and sold, and turned and pried into; when alas  
The worst bit is too good for him? and the comfort is  
H'as but a Cater's place on't, and provides  
All for another's table; yet how curious  
The Ass is, like some nice professor on't,  
That buys up all the daintiest food i'th' Markets,  
And seldom licks his lips after a taste on't!   Sord. 
Now to her, now you've scanned all her parts over.  Ward. 
But at end shall I begin now Sordido?  Sord. 
Oh ever at a woman's lip, while you live Sir, do you ask that question?  Ward. 
Methinks Sordido, sh'as but a crabbed face to begin with.  Sord. 
A crabbed face? that will save money.  Ward. 
How! save money Sordido?  Sord. 
I Sir: For having a crabbed face of her own, she'll eat the less Verjuice with her Mutton; 'twill save Verjuice at years end Sir.  Ward. 

Nay and your jests begin to be saucy once,  
I'll make you eat your meat without Mustard.   Sord. 
And that in some kind is a punishment.  Ward. 
Gentlewoman, they say 'tis your pleasure to be my wife, and you shall know shortly whether it be mine or no, to be your husband; and thereupon thus I first enter upon you. Oh most delicious scent! Methinks it tasted as if a man had stepped into a comfit-maker's shop to let a Cart go by; all the while I kissed her: It is reported Gentlewoman you'll run mad for me, if you have me not.  Isab. 

I should be in great danger of my wit's Sir,  
For being so forward, should this Ass kick backward now.   Ward. 
Alas poor Soul! And is that hair your own?  Isab. 
Mine own, yes sure Sir, I owe nothing for't.  Ward. 
'Tis a good hearing, I shall have the less to pay when I have married you: Look, does her eyes stand well.  Sord. 

They cannot stand better  
Than in her head, I think, where would you have them?  
And for her Nose, 'tis of a very good last.   Ward. 
I have known as good as that has not lasted a year though.  Sord. 
That's in the using of a thing; will not any strong bridge fall down in time, if we do nothing but beat at the bottom: A Nose of Buff would not last always Sir, especially if it came in to th'Camp once.  Ward. 
But Sordido, how shall we do to make her laugh, that I may see what Teeth she has; for I'll not bate her a tooth, nor take a black one into th' bargain:  Sord. 
Why do but you fall in talk with her, you cannot choose but one time or other, make her laugh Sir.  Ward. 
It shall go hard, but I will: Pray what qualities have you beside singing and dancing, can you play at Shuttlecock forsooth?  Isab. 
ay, and at Stoolball too Sir; I have great luck at it:  Ward. 
Why can you catch a Ball well?  Isab. 
I have catched two in my lap at one game.  Ward. 

What have you woman? I must have you learn  
To play at trap too, then you're full and whole:   Isab. 

Any thing that you please to bring me up too,  
I shall take pains to practise.   Ward. 
'Twill not do Sordido, we shall never get her mouth opened wide enough.  Sord. 

No Sir; that's strange! then here's a trick for your learning. He yawns.  
Look now, look now; quick, quick there.   Ward. 

Pox of that scurvy mannerly trick with Handkerchief,  
It hindered me a little, but I am satisfied.  
When a fair woman gapes, and stops her mouth so,  
It shows like a Cloth-stopple in a Cream-pot,  
I have fair hope of her Teeth now Sordido.   Sord. 

Why then you've all well Sir, for aught I see  
She's right and straight enough, now as she stands;  
They'll commonly lie crooked, that's no matter: Wise Gamesters  
Never find fault with that, let 'em lie still so.   Ward. 
I'd fain mark how she goes, and then I have all: For of all creatures I cannot abide a splay-footed Woman, she's an unlucky thing to meet in a morning; her heels keep together so, as if she were beginning an Irish dance still; and he wriggling of her Bum, playing the tune to't: But I have bethought a cleanly shift to find it; dab down as you see me, and peep of one side, when her back's toward you; I'll show you the way.  Sord. 

And you shall find me apt enough to peeping,  
I have been one of them has seen mad sights  
Under your Scaffolds.   Ward. 

Will it please you walk forsooth,  
A turn or two by yourself? you are so pleasing to me,  
I take delight to view you on both sides.   Isab. 

I shall be glad to fetch a walk to your love Sir;  
'Twill get Affection, a good stomach Sir,  
Which I had need have, to fall to such course victuals.   Ward. 

Now go thy ways for a clean treading Wench,  
As ever man in modesty peep't under:   Sord. 

I see the sweetest sight to please my Master.  
Never went Frenchman righter upon ropes  
Than she on Florentine rushes.   Ward. 
'Tis enough forsooth.  Isab. 
And how do you like me now Sir?  Ward. 

Faith so well, I never mean to part with thee Sweetheart,  
Under some sixteen children, and all Boys.   Isab. 

You'll be at simple pains, if you prove kind,  
And breed 'em all in your teeth.   Ward. 
Nay by my Faith, what serves your belly for? 'twould make my cheeks look like blown Bagpipes.  Enter Guardiano: Guard. 

How now Ward and Nephew,  
Gentlewoman and Niece! speak, is it so or not?   Ward. 
'Tis so, we are both agreed Sir.  Guard: 

Into your kindred then;  
There's friends, and Wine, and Music waits to welcome you.   Ward. 
Then I'll be drunk for joy.  Sord. 

And I for company,  
I cannot break my Nose in a better action.   Exeunt.   

Act. 4.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Brancha attended by two Ladies. Bran. 
HOw goes your Watches Ladies? what's o'clock now?  1 Lady. 
By mine full nine.  2 Lady. 
By mine a quarter past:  1 Lady. 
I set mine by St. Marks.  2 Lady. 
St. Anthony's they say goes truer.  1 Lady. 

That's but your opinion Madam,  
Because you love a Gentleman o'th' name.   2 Lady. 
He's a true Gentleman then.  1 Lady. 

So may he be  
That comes to me tonight, for aught you know:   Bran. 

I'll end this strife straight: I set mine by the Sun,  
I love to set by th'best, one shall not then  
Be troubled to set often:   2 Lady 
You do wisely in't.  Bran. 

If I should set my Watch as some Girls do  
By every clock i'th' Town, 'twould ne'er go true;  
And too much turning of the dial's point,  
Or tampering with the Spring, might in small time  
Spoil the whole work too, here it wants of nine now.   1 Lady. 
It does indeed forsooth; mine's nearest truth yet.  2 Lady. 

Yet I have found her lying with an Advocate, which showed  
Like two false clocks together in one Parish.   Bran. 

So now I thank you Ladies, I desire  
A while to be alone.   1 Lady. 

And I am nobody,  
Methinks, unless I have one or other with me.  
Faith my desire and hers, will ne'er be sisters.   Exit Ladies Bran. 

How strangely woman's fortune comes about,  
This was the farthest way to come to me,  
All would have judged, that knew me born in Venice  
And there with many jealous eyes brought up,  
That never thought they had me sure enough;  
But when they were upon me, yet my hap  
To meet it here, so far off from my birthplace,  
My friends, or kindred, 'tis not good in sadness,  
To keep a maid so strict in her young days,  
Restraint breeds wand'ring thoughts, as many fasting days  
A great desire to see flesh stirring again:  
I'll ne'er use any Girl of mine so strictly,  
howe'er they're kept, their fortunes find 'em out,  
I see't in me, if they be got in Court,  
I'll never forbid 'em the Country, nor the Court,  
Though they be born i'th' Country, they will come to't,  
And fetch their falls a thousand mile about,  
Where one would little think on't.   Enter Leantio. Lean. 

I long to see how my despiser looks,  
Now she's come here to Court; these are her lodgings,  
She's simply now advanced: I took her out  
Of no such window, I remember first,  
That was a great deal lower, and less carved.   Bran. 

How now? What Silk worm's this, i'th' name of pride,  
What, is it he?   Lean. 

A bow i'th' ham to your greatness;  
You must have now three legs, I take it, must you not?   Bran. 

Then I must take another, I shall want else  
The service I should have; you have but two there.   Lean. 
You're richly placed.  Bran. 
Methinks you're wondrous brave Sir.  Lean. 
A sumptuous lodging.  Bran. 
Y'ave an excellent Suit there.  Lean. 
A Chair of Velvet.  Bran. 
Is your cloak lined through Sir.  Lean. 
You're very stately here.  Bran. 
Faith something proud Sir.  Lean. 
Stay, stay, let's see your Cloth of silver Slippers?  Bran. 
Who's your Shoemaker, h'as made you a neat Boot.  Lean. 

Will you have a pair,  
The Duke will lend you Spurs.   Bran. 
Yes, when I ride.  Lean. 
'Tis a brave life you lead.  Bran. 

I could ne'er see you  
In such good clothes in my time.   Lean. 
In your time?  Bran. 

Sure I think Sir  
We both thrive best asunder.   Lean. 
You're a whore.  Bran. 
Fear nothing Sir.  Lean. 
An impudent spiteful strumpet.  Bran. 

Oh Sir, you give me thanks for your Captainship;  
I thought you had forgot all your good manners.   Lean. 

And to spite thee as much, look there, there read,  
Vex, gnaw, thou shalt find there I am not lovestarved.  
The world was never yet so cold, or pitiless,  
But there was ever still more charity found out,  
Then at one proud fools door; and 'twere hard 'faith,  
If I could not pass that: Read to thy shame there;  
A cheerful and a beauteous Benefactor too,  
As e'er erected the good works of love.   Bran. 

Lady Livia!  
Is't possible? Her worship was my Pandress,  
She dote, and send and give, and all to him!  
Why here's a bawd plagued home; you're simply happy Sir,  
Yet I'll not envy you.   Lean. 

No Court-Saint, not thou!  
You keep some friend of a new fashion;  
There's no harm in your Devil, he's a suckling,  
But he will breed teeth shortly, will he not?   Bran. 
Take heed you play not then too long with him.  Lean. 

Yes, and the great one too: I shall find time  
To play a hot religious bout with some of you,  
And perhaps drive you and your course of sins  
To their eternal Kennels; I speak softly now,  
'Tis manners in a noble Woman's lodgings,  
And I well knew all my degrees of duty.  
But come I to your everlasting parting once,  
Thunder shall seem soft music to that tempest.   Bran 

'Twas said last week there would be change of weather,  
When the Moon hung so, and belike you heard it?   Lean. 

Why here's sin made, and ne'er a conscience put to't;  
A Monster with all Forehead, and no Eyes.  
Why do I talk to thee of Sense or Virtue,  
That art as dark as death? and as much madness  
To set light before thee, as to lead blind folks  
To see the Monuments, which they may smell as soon  
As they behold; Marry ofttimes their heads  
For want of light, may feel the hardness of 'em.  
So shall thy blind pride my revenge and anger,  
That canst not see it now; and it may fall  
At such an hour, when thou least seest of all;  
So to an ignorance darker than thy womb,  
I leave thy perjured soul: A plague will come.   Exit: Bran. 

Get you gone first, and then I fear no greater,  
Nor thee will I fear long; I'll have this sauciness  
Soon banished from these lodgings, and the rooms  
Perfumed well after the corrupt air it leaves:  
His breath has made me almost sick in troth,  
A poor base start up! Life! because has got  
Fair clothes by foul means, comes to rail, and show 'em.   Enter the Duke: Duke. 
Who's that?  Bran. 
Cry you mercy Sir.  Duke. 
Prithee who's that?  Bran. 

The former thing my Lord, to whom you gave  
The Captainship; he eats his meat with grudging still.   Duke. 
Still!  Bran. 

He comes vaunting here of his new love,  
And the new clothes she gave him; Lady Livia.  
Who but she now his Mistress?   Duke. 

Lady Livia?  
Be sure of what you say.   Bran. 

He showed me her name Sir,  
In perfumed Paper, her Vows, her Letter,  
With an intent to spite me; so his heart said,  
And his threats made it good; they were as spiteful  
As ever malice uttered, and as dangerous,  
Should his hand follow the copy.   Duke. 

But that must not;  
Do not you vex your mind, prithee to Bed, go  
All shall be well and quiet.   Bran. 
I love peace Sir.  Exit. Duke. 

And so do all that love; take you no care for't,  
It shall be still provided to your hand: Who's near us there.   Enter Messenger. Mess. 
My Lord.  Duke. 

Seek out Hippolito,  
Brother to Lady Livia, with all speed.   Mess. 
He was the last man I saw, my Lord.  Exit. Duke. 

Make haste.  
He is a blood soon stirred, and as he's quick  
To apprehend a wrong, he's bold, and sudden  
In bringing forth a ruin: I know likewise  
The reputation of his sister's honour:  
As dear to him as life-blood to his heart;  
Beside I'll flatter him with a goodness to her,  
Which I now thought on, but ne'er meant to practise.  
(Because I know her base) and that wind drives him.  
The ulcerous reputation feels the poise,  
If lightest wrongs, as sores are vexed with flies:  
He comes, Hippolito welcome.   Enter Hippolito. Hip. 
My loved Lord.  Duke. 

How does that lusty Widow, thy kind Sister?  
Is she not sped yet of a second husband?  
A bedfellow she has, I ask not that,  
I know she's sped of him.   Hip. 
Of him my Lord:  Duke. 
Yes of a bedfellow; is the news so strange to you?  Hip. 
I hope 'tis so to all.  Duke. 

I wish it were Sir;  
But 'tis confessed too fast, her ignorant pleasures  
Only by Lust instructed, have received  
Into their services, an impudent Boaster,  
One that does raise his glory from her shame,  
And tells the midday Sun, what's done in darkness;  
Yet blinded with her appetite, wastes her wealth,  
Buys her disgraces at a dearer rate,  
Then bounteous housekeepers purchase their honour.  
Nothing sads me so much, as that in love  
To thee, and to thy blood, I had picked out  
A worthy match for her, the great Vincentio,  
High in our favour, and in all men's thoughts.   Hip. 

Oh thou destruction of all happy fortunes,  
Unsated blood! know you the name my Lord  
Of her abuser?   Duke. 
One Leantio.  Hip. 
He's a Factor.  Duke. 
He ne'er made so brave a voyage by his own talk.  Hip. 

The poor old widows son;  
I humbly take my leave.   Duke. 

I see 'tis done:  
Give her good counsel, make her see her error,  
I know she'll harken to you.   Hip. 

Yes my Lord,  
I make no doubt, as I shall take the course,  
Which she shall never know till it be acted;  
And when she wakes to honour, then she'll thank me for't.  
I'll imitate the pities of old Surgeons.  
To this lost limb, who ere they show their art,  
Cast one asleep, then cut the diseased part.  
So out of love to her I pity most,  
She shall not feel him going till he's lost,  
Then she'll commend the cure.   Exit. Duke. 

The great cure's past;  
I count this done already; his wrath's sure,  
And speaks an injury deep; farewell Leantio.  
This place will never hear thee murmur more.  
Our noble Brother welcome!   Enter Lord Cardinal attended. Card. 

Set those lights down:  
Depart till you be called.   Duke. 

There's serious business  
Fixed in his look, nay, it inclines a little  
To the dark colour of a discontentment.  
Brother, what is't commands your eye so powerfully?  
Speak, you seem lost.   Card. 

The thing I look on seems so  
To my eyes lost for ever.   Duke. 
You look on me.  Card. 

What a grief 'tis to a religious feeling,  
To think a man should have a friend so goodly,  
So wise, so noble, nay, a Duke, a Brother,  
And all this certainly damned?   Duke. 
How!  Card. 

'Tis no wonder,  
If your great sin can do't; dare you look up  
For thinking of a vengeance? dare you sleep  
For fear of never waking, but to death,  
And dedicate unto a strumpet's love  
The strength of your affections, zeal and health?  
Here you stand now; can you assure your pleasures,  
You shall once more enjoy her, but once more?  
Alas you cannot; what a misery 'tis then  
To be more certain of eternal death,  
Then of a next embrace? nay, shall I show you  
How more unfortunate you stand in sin,  
Than the love private man; all his offences,  
Like enclosed grounds, keep but about himself,  
And seldom stretch beyond his own souls bounds;  
And when a man grows miserable, 'tis some comfort  
When he's no further charged, then with himself;  
'Tis a sweet ease to wretchedness: But great man,  
Every sin thou committest, shows like a flame  
Upon a Mountain, 'tis seen far about,  
And with a big wind made of popular breath,  
The sparkles fly through Cities: Here one takes,  
Another catches there, and in short time  
Waste all to cinders: But remember still  
What burned the Valleys first, came from the Hill;  
Every offence draws his particular pain,  
But 'tis example proves the great man's bane.  
The sins of mean men, lie like scattered parcels  
Of an unperfect bill; but when such fall,  
Then comes example, and that sums up all:  
And this your reason grants, if men of good lives,  
Who by their virtuous actions stir up others  
To noble and religious imitation,  
Receive the greater glory after death,  
As sin must needs confess; what may they feel  
In height of torments, and in weight of vengeance,  
Not only they themselves, not doing well,  
But sets a light up to show men to Hell?   Duke. 
If you have done, I have, no more sweet Brother.  Card. 

I know time spent in goodness, is too tedious;  
This had not been a moment's space in Lust now;  
How dare you venture on eternal pain,  
That cannot bear a minute's reprehension?  
Methinks you should endure to hear that talked of  
Which you so strive to suffer. Oh my Brother!  
What were you, if you were taken now,  
My heart weeps blood to think on't, 'tis a work  
Of infinite mercy, (you can never merit)  
That yet you are not death-struck, no not yet:  
I dare not stay you long, for fear you should not  
Have time enough allowed you to repent in.  
There's but this Wall betwixt you and destruction,  
When you're at strongest, and but poor thin clay.  
Think upon't Brother, can you come so near it,  
For a fair strumpet's love, and fall into  
A torment that knows neither end nor bottom  
For beauty; but the deepness of a skin,  
And that not of their own neither: Is she a thing  
Whom sickness dare not visit, or age look on,  
Or death resist, does the worm shun her grave?  
If not (as your soul knows it) why should Lust  
Bring man to lasting pain, for rotten dust?   Duke. 

Brother of spotless honour, let me weep  
The first of my repentance in thy bosom,  
And show the blessed fruits of a thankful spirit;  
And if I ere keep woman more unlawfully,  
May I want penitence, at my greatest need.  
And wisemen know there is no barren place,  
Threatens more famine, than a dearth in grace.   Card. 

Why here's a conversion, is at this time Brother  
Sung for a hymn in Heaven; and at this instant  
The powers of darkness groan, makes all Hell sorry.  
First, I praise Heaven, then in my work I glory.  
Who's there attends without?   Enter Servants. Serv. 
My Lord:  Card. 

Take up those lights; there was a thicker darkness,  
When they came first: The peace of a fair Soul  
Keep with my noble Brother.   Exit Cardinal, etc. Duke. 

Joys be with you Sir:  
She lies alone tonight for't, and must still,  
Though it be hard to conquer, but I have vowed  
Never to know her as a strumpet more,  
And I must save my oath; if Fury fail not,  
Her husband dies tonight, or at the most,  
Lives not to see the morning spent tomorrow;  
Then will I make her lawfully mine own,  
Without this sin and horror. Now I'm chidden,  
For what I shall enjoy then unforbidden,  
And I'll not freeze in Stoves; 'tis but a while,  
Live like a hopeful Bridegroom, chaste from flesh;  
And pleasure then will seem new, fair and fresh.   Exit.  

Scaen 2.  Enter Hippolito. Hip: 

The morning so far wasted, yet his baseness  
So impudent? See if the very Sun do not blush at him!  
Dare he do thus much, and know me alive!  
Put case one must be vicious, as I know myself  
Monstrously guilty, there's a blind time made for't,  
He might use only that, 'twere conscionable:  
Art, silence, closeness, subtlety, and darkness,  
Are fit for such a business; but there's no pity  
To be bestowed on an apparent sinner,  
An impudent daylight lecher; the great zeal  
I bear to her advancement in this match  
With Lord Vincentio, as the Duke has wrought it,  
To the perpetual honour of our house,  
Puts fire into my blood, to purge the air  
Of this corruption, fear it spread too far,  
And poison the whole hopes of this fair fortune.  
I love her good so dearly, that no Brother  
Shall venture farther for a sister's glory,  
Than I for her preferment.   Enter Leantio, and a Page. Lean. 

Once again  
I'll see that glistering Whore, shines like a Serpent,  
Now the Court Sun's upon her: Page!   Page. 

Anon Sir!  
I'll go in state too; see the Coach be ready.   Lean. 
I'll hurry away presently.  Hip. 

Yes you shall hurry,  
And the Devil after you; take that at setting forth.  
Now, and you'll draw, we are upon equal terms Sir.  
Thou took'st advantage of my name in honour,  
Upon my Sister; I ne'er saw the stroke  
Come, till I found my reputation bleeding;  
And therefore count it I no sin to valour  
To serve thy lust so: Now we are of even hand,  
Take your best course against me. You must die.   Lean. 

How close sticks Envy to man's happiness?  
When I was poor, and little cared for life,  
I had no such means offered me to die,  
No man's wrath minded me: Slave, I turn this to thee,  
To call thee to account, for a wound lately  
Of a base stamp upon me.   Hip. 

'T was most fit  
For a base mettle. Come and fetch one now  
More noble then, for I will use thee fairer  
Than thou hast done thine soul, or our honour;  
And there I think 'tis for thee.   Within. 
Help, help, Oh part 'em.  Lean. 

False wife! I feel now thouhast prayed heartily for me;  
Rise Strumpet by my fall, thy Lust may reign now;  
My heartstring, and the marriage knot that tied thee,  
Breaks both together.   Hip. 

There I heard the sound on't,  
And never liked string better.   Enter Guardiano, Livia, Isabella, Ward, and Sordido: Liv. 

'Tis my Brother,  
Are you hurt Sir?   Hip. 
Not any thing.  Liv. 

Blessed fortune,  
Shift for thyself; what is he thou hast killed?   Hip. 
Our honour's enemy.  Guard. 
Know you this man Lady?  Liv. 

Leantio? My love's joy? wounds stick upon thee  
As deadly as thy sins; art thou not hurt?  
The Devil take that fortune, and he dead,  
Drop plagues into thy bowels without voice,  
Secret, and fearful: Run for Officers,  
Let him be apprehended with all speed,  
For fear he scape away; lay hands on him.  
We cannot be too sure, 'tis wilful murder;  
You do heaven's vengeance, and the Law just service.  
You know him not as I do, he's a villain,  
As monstrous as a prodigy, and as dreadful:   Hip. 

Will you but entertain a noble patience,  
Till you but hear the reason worthy Sister!   Liv. 

The reason! that's a jest Hell falls a laughing at:  
Is there a reason found for the destruction  
Of our more lawful loves? and was there none  
To kill the black Lust twixt thy Niece and thee,  
That has kept close so long?   Guard. 
How's that good Madam?  Liv. 

Too true Sir, there she stands, let her deny't;  
The deed cries shortly in the Midwife's arms,  
Unless the parents sins strike it still-born;  
And if you be not deaf, and ignorant,  
You'll hear strange notes ere long: Look upon me Wench!  
'Twas I betrayed thy honour subtly to him  
Under a false tale; it lights upon me now;  
His arm has paid me home upon thy breast,  
My sweet beloved Leantio!   Guard. 

Was my judgement  
And care in choice, so devilishly abused,  
So beyond shamefully— All the world will grin at me.   Ward. 
Oh Sordido, Sordido, I'm damned, I'm damned!  Sord. 
damned, why Sir!  Ward. 
One of the wicked; dost not see't, a Cuckold, a plain rebrobate Cuckold.  Sord. 

Nay; and you be damned for that! be of good cheer Sir,  
You've gallant company of all professions; I'll have a wife  
Next Sunday too, because I'll along with you myself.   Ward. 
That will be some comfort yet.  Liv. 

You Sir, that bear your load of injuries,  
As I of sorrows, lend me your grieved strength  
To this sad burden; who in life wore actions,  
Flames were not nimbler: We will talk of things  
May have the luck to break our hearts together.   Guard. 

I'll list to nothing, but revenge and anger,  
Whose counsels I will follow.   Exeunt Livia and Guardiano. Sord. 

A wife quotha!  
Here's a sweet Plumb-tree of your gardener's graffing!   Ward. 
Nay there's a worse name belongs to this fruit yet, and you could hit on't, a more open one: For he that marries a whore, looks like a fellow bound all his life time to a Meddler-tree, and that's good stuff; 'tis no sooner ripe, but it looks rotten; and so do some Queans at nineteen. A pox on't, I thought there was some knavery abroach, for something stirred in her belly, the first night I lay with her.  Sord. 
What, what Sir!  Ward. 
This is she brought up so courtly, can sing, and dance, and tumble too, methinks, I'll never marry wife again, that has so many qualities.  Sord. 
Indeed they are seldom good Master; for likely when they are taught so many, they will have one trick more of their own finding out. Well, give me a wench but with one good quality, to lie with none but her husband, and that's bringing up enough for any woman breathing.  Ward. 
This was the fault, when she was tendered to me; you never looked to this.  Sord. 
Alas, how would you have me see through a great Farthingale Sir! I cannot peep through a Millstone, or in the going, to see what's done i'th' bottom.  Ward. 

Her father praised her Breast, she'd the voice forsooth;  
I marvelled she sung so small indeed, being no Maid.  
Now I perceive there's a young chorister in her Belly:  
This breeds a singing in my head I'm sure.   Sord. 
'Tis but the tune of your wife's cinquepace, Danced in a Featherbed; Faith, go lie down Master— but take heed your Horns do not make holes in the pillow-bere.— I would not batter brows with him for a Hogshead of Angels, he would prick my skull as full of holes as a scrivener's sandbox.  Exeunt Ward and Sordido. Isab. 

Was ever Maid so cruelly beguiled  
To the confusion of life, soul, and honour,  
All of one woman's murdering! I'd fain bring  
Her name no nearer to my blood. then woman,  
And 'tis too much of that; Oh shame and horror!  
In that small distance from you man to me,  
Lies sin enough to make a whole world perish.  
'Tis time we parted Sir, and left the sight  
Of one another, nothing can be worse  
To hurt repentance; for our very eyes  
Are far more poisonous to Religion,  
Than Basilisks to them; if any goodness  
Rest in you, hope of comforts, fear of judgements,  
My request is, I ne'er may see you more;  
And so I turn me from you everlastingly,  
So is my hope to miss you; but for her,  
That durst so dally with a sin so dangerous,  
And lay a snare so spitefully for my youth,  
If the least means but favour my revenge,  
That I may practise the like cruel cunning  
Upon her life, as she has on mine honour,  
I'll act it without pity.   Hip. 

Here's a care  
Of reputation, and a sister's fortune  
Sweetly rewarded by her: Would a silence,  
As great as that which keeps among the graves,  
Had everlastingly chained up her tongue;  
My love to her has made mine miserable.   Enter Guardiano and Livia. Guard. 

If you can but dissemble your hearts griefs now,  
Be but a woman so far.   Liv. 
Peace! I'll strive Sir:  Guard. 

As I can wear my injuries in a smile;  
Here's an occasion offered, that gives anger  
Both liberty and safety to perform  
Things worth the fire it holds, without the fear  
Of danger, or of Law; for mischief's acted  
Under the privilege of a marriage-triumph  
At the Duke's hasty nuptials, will be thought  
Things merely accidental; all's by chance,  
Not got of their own natures.   Liv. 

I conceive you Sir,  
Even to a longing for performance on't;  
And here behold some fruits. Forgive me both,  
What I am now returned to Sense and Judgement.  
Is not the same Rage and distraction  
Presented lately to you? that rude form  
Is gone for ever. I am now myself,  
That speaks all peace, and friendship; and these tears  
Are the true springs of hearty penitent sorrow▪  
For those foul wrongs, which my forgetful fury  
Slandered your virtues with: This Gentleman  
Is well resolved now.   Guard. 

I was never otherways,  
I knew (alas) 'twas but your anger spoke it,  
And I ne'er thought on't more.   Hip. 
Pray rise good Sister.  Isab. 

Here's even as sweet amends made for a wrong now,  
As one that gives a wound, and pays the Surgeon;  
All the smart's nothing, the great loss of blood,  
Or time of hindrance: Well, I had a Mother,  
I can dissemble too: What wrongs have slipped  
Through anger's ignorance (Aunt) my heart forgives.   Guard. 
Why thus tuneful now!  Hip. 

And what I did Sister,  
Was all for honour's cause, which time to come  
Will approve to you.   Liv. 

Being awaked to goodness,  
I understand so much Sir, and praise now  
The fortune of your arm, and of your safety;  
For by his death you've rid me of a sin  
As costly as e'er woman doted on:  
'thas pleased the Duke so well too, that (behold Sir)  
Has sent you here your pardon, which I kissed  
With most affectionate comfort; when 'twas brought,  
Then was my fit just past, it came so well methought  
To glad my heart.   Hip. 
I see his Grace thinks on me.  Liv. 

There's no talk now but of the preparation  
For the great marriage.   Hip. 
Does he marry her then?  Liv. 

With all speed, suddenly, as fast as cost  
Can be laid on with many thousand hands.  
This Gentleman and I, had once a purpose  
To have honoured the first marriage of the Duke  
With an invention of his own; 'twas ready  
The pains well past, most of the charge bestowed on't;  
Then came the death of your good Mother (Niece)  
And turned the glory of it all to black:  
'Tis a device would fit these times so well too,  
Art's treasury not better; if you'll join  
It shall be done, the cost shall all be mine:   Hip. 

You've my voice first, 'twill well approve my thankfulness  
For the Duke's love and favour.   Liv. 
What say you Niece?  Isab. 
I am content to make one.  Guard. 

The plot's full then;  
Your page's Madam, will make shift for Cupid's.   Liv. 
That will they Sir.  Guard. 
You'll play your old part still.  Liv. 
What, is't good? troth I have e'en forgot it.  Guard. 
Why juno Pronuba, the Marriage-Goddess.  Liv. 
'Tis right indeed.  Guard. 

And you shall play the Nymph,  
That offers sacrifice to appease her wrath.   Isab. 
Sacrifice good Sir?  Liv. 
Must I be appeased then?  Guard. 
That's as you list yourself, as you see cause.  Liv. 

Methinks 'twould show the more state in her deity,  
To be Incensed.   Isab. 

'Twould, but my Sacrifice  
Shall take a course to appease you, or I'll fail in't,  
And teach a sinful bawd to play a Goddess.   Guard. 

For our parts, we'll not be ambitious Sir;  
Please you walk in, and see the project drawn,  
Then take your choice.   Hip. 
I weigh not, so I have one.  Exit. Liv. 

How much ado have I to restrain fury  
From breaking into curses! Oh how painful 'tis  
To keep great sorrow smothered! sure I think  
'Tis harder to dissemble Grief, than Love:  
Leantio, here the weight of thy loss lies,  
Which nothing but destruction can suffice.   Exeunt. Hoboys.  

Scaen 3.  Enter in great state the Duke and Brancha, richly attired, with Lords, Cardinals, Ladies, and other Attendants, they pass solemnly over: Enter L Cardinal in a rage, seeming to break off the Ceremony. L. Card. 

Cease, cease; Religious Honours done to sin,  
Disparage virtue's reverence, and will pull  
heaven's thunder upon Florence; holy Ceremonies  
Were made for sacred uses, not for sinful.  
Are these the fruits of your Repentance Brother?  
Better it had been you had never sorrowed,  
Then to abuse the benefit, and return  
To worse than where sin left you.  
Vowed you then never to keep Strumpet more,  
And are you now so swift in your desires,  
To knit your honours, and your life fast to her!  
Is not sin sure enough to wretched man,  
But he must bind himself in chains to't? Worse!  
Must marriage, that immaculate robe of honour,  
That renders Virtue glorious, fair, and fruitful  
To her great Master, be now made the Garment  
Of Leprosy and Foulness? is this Penitence  
To sanctify hot Lust? what is it otherways  
than worship done to Devils? is this the best  
Amends that sin can make after her riots?  
As if a Drunkard, to appease heaven's wrath,  
Should offer up his surfeit for a Sacrifice:  
If that be comely, then Lust's offerings are  
On Wedlock's sacred Altar.   Duke. 

Here you're bitter  
Without cause Brother: what I vowed I keep,  
As safe as you your Conscience, and this needs not;  
I taste more wrath in't, than I do Religion;  
And envy more than goodness; the path now  
I tread, is honest, leads to lawful love,  
Which virtue in her strictness would not check:  
I vowed no more to keep a sensual woman:  
'Tis done, I mean to make a lawful wife of her.   L. Card. 

He that taught you that craft,  
Call him not Master long, he will undo you.  
Grow not too cunning for your soul good Brother,  
Is it enough to use adulterous thefts,  
And then take sanctuary in marriage?  
I grant, so long as an offender keeps  
Close in a privileged Temple, his life's safe;  
But if he ever venture to come out,  
And so be taken, than he surely dies for't:  
So now you're safe; but when you leave this body,  
man's only privileged Temple upon Earth,  
In which the guilty soul takes sanctuary,  
Than you'll perceive what wrongs chaste vows endure,  
When Lust usurps the Bed that should be pure.   Bran. 

Sir, I have read you over all this while  
In silence, and I find great knowledge in you,  
And severe learning, yet 'mongst all your virtues  
I see not charity written, which some call  
The first-born of Religion, and I wonder  
I cannot see't in yours. Believe it Sir,  
There is no virtue can be sooner missed,  
Or later welcomed; it begins the rest,  
And sets 'em all in order; Heaven and Angels  
Take great delight in a converted sinner.  
Why should you then a Servant and Professor,  
Differ so much from them? If every woman  
That commits evil, should be therefore kept  
Back in desires of goodness, how should virtue  
Be known and honoured? From a man that's blind,  
To take a burning Taper, 'tis no wrong,  
He never misses it: But to take light  
From one that see's, that's injury and spite.  
Pray whether is Religion better served,  
When lives that are licentious are made honest,  
Then when they still run through a sinful blood.  
'Tis nothing virtue's Temples to deface;  
But build the ruins, there's a work of Grace.   Duke. 

I kiss thee for that spirit; thou hast praised thy wit  
A modest way: On, on there.   Hoboys. L. Card. 

Lust is bold,  
And will have vengeance speak, ere't be controlled.   Exeunt.   

Act. 5.  

Scaen. 1.  Enter Guardiano and Ward. Guard. 

SPeak, hast thou any sense of thy abuse?  
Dost thou know what wrong's done thee?   Ward. 

I wear an Ass else.  
I cannot wash my face, but I am feeling on't.   Guard. 

Here take this Caltrop, then convey it secretly  
Into the place I showed you; look you Sir,  
This is the trap-door to't.   Ward. 
I know't of old Uncle, since the last triumph; here rose up a Devil with one eye I remember, with a company of fireworks at's tail.  Guard. 
Prithee leave squibbing now, mark me, and fail not; but when thou hear'st me give a stamp, down with't: The villain's caught then.  Ward. 
If I miss you, hang me; I love to catch a villain, and your stamp shall go currant I warrant you: But how shall I rise up, and let him down too? All at one hole! that will be a horrible puzzle. You know I have a part in't, I play Slander.  Guard. 
True, but never make you ready for't.  Ward. 
No, my clothes are bought and all, and a foul Fiend's head with a long contumelious tongue i'th' chaps on't, a very fit shape for Slander i'th' out-parishes.  Guard. 
It shall not come so far, thou understandest it not.  Ward 
Oh, oh!  Guard. 

He shall lie deep enough ere that time,  
And stick first upon those:   Ward. 
Now I conceive you Gardener.  Guard. 
Away, list to the privy stamp, that's all thy part:  Ward. 
Stamp my Horns in a Mortar if I miss you, and give the powder in White-wine to sick Cuckolds, a very present remedy for the headache.  Exit Ward. Guard. 

If this should any way miscarry now,  
As if the fool be nimble enough, 'tis certain,  
The Pages that present the swift winged Cupids,  
Are taught to hit him with their shafts of love,  
Fitting his part, which I have cunningly poisoned;  
He cannot 'scape my fury; and those ills  
Will be laid all on Fortune, not our Wills,  
That's all the sport on't; for who will imagine,  
That at the celebration of this night  
Any mischance that haps, can flow from spite?   Exit. Flourish:  

Scaen 2.  Enter above, Duke, Brancha, L. Cardinal, Fabritio, and other Cardinals, Lords and Ladies in State. Duke. 

Now our fair Duchess, your delight shall witness,  
How you're beloved and honoured; all the glories  
Bestowed upon the gladness of this night,  
Are done for your bright sake.   Bran. 

I am the more  
In debt my Lord, to loves and courtesies,  
That offer up themselves so bounteously  
To do me honoured Grace, without my merit.   Duke. 

A goodness set in greatness; how it sparkles  
Afar off like pure Diamonds set in Gold!  
How perfect my desires were, might I witness  
But a fair noble peace, twixt your two spirits!  
The reconcilement would be more sweet to me,  
Then longer life to him that fears to die.  
Good Sir!   L. Card. 
I profess Peace, and am content:  Duke. 
I'll see the Seal upon't, and then 'tis firm.  L. Card. 
You shall have all you wish.  Duke. 
I have all indeed now.  Bran. 

But I have made surer work; this shall not blind me;  
He that begins so early to reprove,  
Quickly rid him, or look for little love;  
Beware a Brother's envy, he's next heir too.  
Cardinal you die this night, the plot's laid surely:  
In time of sport's Death may steal in securely; then 'tis least thought on:  
For he that's most religious, holy Friend,  
Does not at all hours think upon his end;  
He has his times of frailty, and his thoughts  
Their transportations too, through flesh and blood,  
For all his zeal, his learning, and his light,  
As well as we, poor soul, that sin by night.   Duke. 
What's this Fabritio?  Fab. 

Marry, my Lord, the model  
Of what's presented.   Duke. 

Oh we thank their loves;  
Sweet Duchess take your seat, list to the Argument. Reads.  
THere is a Nymph that haunts the Woods and Springs,  
In love with two at once, and they with her;  
Equal it runs; but to decide these things,  
The cause to mighty Juno they refer,  
She being the Marriage-Goddess; the two Lovers  
They offer sighs, the Nymph a Sacrifice,  
All to please Juno, who by signs discovers,  
How the event shall be, so that strife dies:  
Then springs a second; for the man refused  
Grows discontent, and out of love abused,  
He raises Slander up, like a black Fiend,  
To disgrace th'other, which pays him i'th' end.   Bran. 

In troth, my Lord, a pretty pleasing Argument,  
And fits th'occasion well; Envy and Slander  
Are things soon raised against two faithful Lovers;  
But comfort is, they are not long unrewarded.   Music. Duke. 
This music shows they're upon entrance now.  Bran. 
Then enter all my wishes:  Enter Hymen in Yellow, Ganymed in a Blue robe powdered with Stars, and Hebe in a White robe with golden Stars, with covered Cups in their hands: They dance a short dance, then bowing to the Duke, etc. Hymen speaks. Hym. 

To thee fair Bride Hymen offers up  
Of nuptial joys this the Celestial Cup.  
Taste it, and thou shalt ever find  
Love in thy Bed, peace in thy mind.   Bran. 

We'll taste you sure, 'twere pity to disgrace  
So pretty a beginning.   Duke. 
'Twas spoke nobly.  Gan. 

Two Cups of Nectar have we begged from Jove;  
Hebe give that to Innocence, I this to love.  
Take heed of stumbling more, look to your way;  
Remember still the Via Lactea.   Hebe. 

Well Ganymed, you have more faults, though not so known;  
I spilled one Cup, but you have filched many a one.   Hym. 

No more, forbear for Hymen's sake;  
In love we met, and so let's part:   Exeunt. Duke. 

But soft! here's no such persons in the Argument,  
As these three, Hymen, Hebe, Ganymed.  
The Actors that this model here discovers,  
Are only four, Juno, a Nymph, two Lovers.   Bran. 

This is some antimasque belike, my Lord,  
To entertain time; now my peace is perfect.  
Let sports come on apace, now is their time, my Lord. Music.  
Hark you, you hear from 'em!   Duke. 
The Nymph indeed.  Enter two dressed like Nymphs, bearing two Tapers lighted; then Isabella dressed with flowers and Garlands, bearing a Censor with fire in it; they set the Censor and Tapers on Juno's Altar with much reverence; this Ditty being sung in parts. Ditty. 

Juno Nuptial-Goddess, thou that rul'st o'er coupled bodies,  
tie'st man to woman, never to forsake her, thou only powerful marriage-maker,  
Pity this amazed affection; I love both, and both love me,  
Nor know I where to give rejection, my heart likes so equally,  
Till thou settest right my Peace of life,  
And with thy power conclude this strife.   Isab. 

Now with my thanks depart you to the Springs;  
I to these Wells of Love: Thou sacred Goddess,  
And Queen of Nuptials, Daughter to great Saturn,  
Sister and Wife to Jove, Imperial Juno,  
Pity this passionate conflict in my Breast,  
This tedious War, twixt two Affections;  
Crown me with victory, and my heart's at peace.   Enter Hippolito and Guardiano, like Shepherds. Hip. 
Make me that happy man, thou mighty Goddess.  Guard. 

But I live most in hope, if truest love  
Merit the greatest comfort.   Isab. 

I love both  
With such an even and fair affection,  
I know not which to speak for, which to wish for,  
Till thou great Arbitress, twixt lovers hearts,  
By thy auspicious Grace, design the man;  
Which pity I implore.   Both. 
We all implore it.  Isab. 

And after sighs, contritions, truest odours, Livia descends like Juno.  
I offer to thy powerful Deity,  
This precious Incense, may it ascend peacefully;  
And if it keep true touch, my good Aunt Juno,  
'Twill try your immortality ere't be long:  
I fear you'll never get so nigh Heaven again,  
When you're once down.   Liv. 

Though you and your affections  
Seem all as dark to our illustrious brightness  
As night's inheritance Hell, we pity you,  
And your requests are granted: You ask signs;  
They shall be given you, we'll be gracious to you.  
He of those twain which we determine for you,  
Loves Arrows shall wound twice, the later wound  
Betokens love in age; for so are all  
Whose love continues firmly all their life time,  
Twice wounded at their marriage; else affection  
Dies when youth ends: This favour overcomes me.  
Now for a sign of wealth and golden days,  
Bright-eyed Prosperity, which all couples love,  
ay, and makes love take that: Our Brother Jove  
Never denies us of his burning treasure,  
T'express bounty.   Duke. 

She falls down upon't,  
What's the conceit of that?   Fab. 

As overjoyed be like:  
Too much prosperity overjoys us all,  
And she has her lapful, it seems my Lord.   Duke. 
This swerves a little from the Argument though: Look you my Lords.  Guard. 

All's fast; now comes my part to toll him hither;  
Then with a stamp given, he's dispatched as cunningly.   Hip. 
Stark dead: Oh treachery! cruelly made away! how's that?  Fab. 
Look, there's one of the Lovers dropped away too.  Duke. 
Why sure this plot's drawn false, here's no such thing.  Liv. 

Oh I am sick to th' death, let me down quickly;  
This fume is deadly: Oh 't'has poisoned me!  
My subtlety is sped, her art h'as quitted me;  
My own ambition pulls me down to ruin.   Hip. 

Nay, than I kiss thy cold lips, and applaud  
This thy revenge in death.   Fab. 

Look, Juno's down too: Cupid's shoot:  
What makes she there? her pride should keep aloft.  
She was wont to scorn the Earth in other shows:  
Methinks her peacock's Feathers are much pulled:   Hip. 

Oh death runs through my blood; in a wild flame too:  
Plague of those Cupids; some lay hold on 'em.  
Let 'em not 'scape, they have spoiled me; the shaft's deadly.   Duke. 
I have lost myself in this quite.  Hip. 
My great Lords, we are all confounded.  Duke. 
How?  Hip. 
Dead; and I worse.  Fab. 

Dead? my Girl dead? I hope  
My Sister Juno has not served me so.   Hip. 

Lust, and forgetfulness has been amongst us,  
And we are brought to nothing: Some blessed Charity  
Lend me the speeding Pity of his Sword  
To quench this fire in blood. Leantio's death  
Has brought all this upon us; now I taste it,  
And made us lay plots to confound each other;  
The event so proves it, and man's understanding  
Is riper at his fall, than all his life time.  
She in a madness for her lover's death,  
Revealed a fearful Lust in our near bloods,  
For which I am punished dreadfully and unlooked for;  
Proved her own ruin too, Vengeance met Vengeance,  
Like a set match; as if the plague of sin  
Had been agreed to meet here altogether.  
But how her fawning partner fell, I reach not,  
Unless caught by some spring of his own setting:  
(For on my pain, he never dreamed of dying)  
The plot was all his own, and he had cunning  
Enough to save himself; but 'tis the property  
Of guilty deeds to draw your wisemen downward.  
Therefore the wonder ceases.— Oh this torment!   Duke. 
Our Guard below there!  Enter a Lord with a Guard. Lord. 
My Lord:  Hip. 

Run and meet death then,  
And cut off time and pain.   Lord. 
Behold my Lord, h'as run his Breast upon a weapon's point.  Duke. 

Upon the first night of our nuptial honours,  
Destruction play her triumph, and great mischiefs  
Mask in expected pleasures, 'tis prodigious!  
They're things most fearfully ominous: I like 'em not.  
Remove these ruined bodies from our eyes.   Bran. 
Not yet, no change? when falls he to the Earth?  Lord. 

Please but your Excellence to peruse that Paper,  
Which is a brief confession from the heart  
Of him that fell first, ere his soul departed;  
And there the darkness of these deeds speaks plainly.  
'Tis the full scope, the manner, and intent;  
His Ward, that ignorantly let him down,  
Fear put to present flight at the voice of him.   Bran. 
Nor yet?  Duke. 
Read, read; for I am lost in sight and strength.  L. Card. 
My noble Brother!  Bran. 

Oh the curse of wretchedness!  
My deadly hand is fallen upon my Lord:  
Destruction take me to thee, give me way;  
The pains and plagues of a lost soul upon him,  
That hinders me a moment.   Duke. 

My heart swells bigger yet; help here, break't ope,  
My breast flies open next.   Bran. 

Oh with the poison,  
That was prepared for thee, thee, Cardinal!  
'Twas meant for thee.   L. Card. 
Poor Prince!  Bran. 

Accursed Error!  
Give me thy last breath, thou infected bosom,  
And wrap two spirits, in one poisoned vapour.  
Thus, thus, reward thy murderer, and turn death  
Into a parting kiss: My soul stands ready at my lips,  
e'en vexed to stay one minute after thee.   L. Card. 

The greatest sorrow and astonishment  
That ever struck the general peace of Florence;  
Dwells in this hour.   Bran. 

So my desires are satisfied,  
I feel death's power within me.  
Thou hast prevailed in something (cursed poison)  
Though thy chief force was spent in my Lord's bosom;  
But my deformity in spirit's more foul;  
A blemished face best fits a leprous soul.  
What make I here? these are all strangers to me,  
Not known but by their malice; now thouart gone;  
Nor do I seek their pities.   Card. 

O restrain  
Her ignorant wilful hand!   Bran. 
Now do; 'tis done.  Leantio. 

Now I feel the breach of marriage  
At my heart-breaking: Oh the deadly snares  
That Women set for Women, without pity  
Either to soul or honour! Learn by me  
To know your foes: In this belief I die;  
Like our own Sex, we have no Enemy, no Enemy!   Lord. 

See my Lord  
What shift sh'as made to be her own destruction.   Bran. 

Pride, Greatness, Honours, Beauty, Youth, Ambition,  
You must all down together, there's no help for't:  
Yet this my gladness is, that I remove,  
Tasting the same death in a cup of love.   L. Card. 

Sin, what thou art, these ruins show too piteously.  
Two Kings on one Throne cannot sit together,  
But one must needs down, for his Titles wrong;  
So where lust reigns, that Prince cannot reign long.   Exeunt.   
FINIS.   

Courteous Reader, these Books following are printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the PRINCE's Arms in St. Paul's Churchyard.  

Various Histories, with curious Discourses in humane Learning, etc.  
1 Historical relations of the united Provinces of Flanders, by Cardinal Bentivoglio: Englished by the Right Honourable Henry Earl of Monmouth. Fol.  
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109. The Card of Courtship or the Language of love fitted to the humours of all degrees, sexes and Conditions.   

Incomparable Comedies and Tragedies written by several Ingenious Authors.  
110. COmedies and Tragedies written by Francis Beaumont, and John Fletcher, never printed before, and now published by the author's Originals Copies, containing 34 plays, and a Masque, Fol.  
111. The Elder Brother by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
112. The Scornful Lady by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
113. The Woman Hater by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
114. Thierry and Theodoret by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
115. Cupid's Revenge by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
116. Monsieur Thomas by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
117. The two Noble kinsmen by Francis Beaumont. and john Fletcher.  
118. The Country Captain and the Variety, two Comedies written by a person of Honour. 12o.  
119. The Sophy, a Tragedy written by Mr. john Denham Esq, Fol.  
120. Brennoralt, or the discontented Colonel, a Tragedy written by Sir john Suckling Knight. 4o.  
121. The deserving Favourite by Mr. Lod. Carlel.  
122. Albovine King of Lombardy by Sir William Davenant.  
123. The Just Italian by Sir William Davenant.  
124. The Cruel Brother by Sir William Davenant.  
125. The Unfortunate Lovers by Sir William Davenant.  
126. Love and Honour by Sir William Davenant.  
127. The Sophister by Dr. Z.  
128. Revenge of Bussy D Ambois George Chapman  
129. Byron's Conspiracy George Chapman  
130. Byron's Tragedy. George Chapman  
131. Contention for Honour and riches J. Shirley  
132. Triumph of Peace in 4 J. Shirley  
133. The Duchess of Malfi by john Webster.  
134. The Northern lass by Richard Broome.  
135. The Cid, a Tragicomedy translated out of French by joseph Rutter Gent. 12o.  
136. The Wild Goose Chase a Comedy written by Fr. Beaumont and john Fletcher. Fol.  
137. The Widow, a Comedy by Ben: johnson, john Fletcher, and T: Middleton.  
138. The Changeling by T Middleton and Rowley. 4o.  
239. Six new plays. 1. The Brothers. 2. The Sisters. 3. The Doubtful Heir. 4. The Imposture. 5. The Cardinal. 6. The Court-Secret, by I. Shirley.  
140. Five new plays. 1. A mad couple well matched. 2. The Novella. 3. The Court Beggar. 4. The City Wit. 5. The Damoiselle, by Richard Broome  
141. The Tragedy of Alphonsus Emperor of Germany, by George Chapman 4o.  
142. Two Tragedies. viz: Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, and Agrippina Empress of Rome, by Thomas May Esq.   

Plays lately Printed.  
143. THe Gentleman of Venice, A tragicomedy by James Shirley.  
144. The Politician, a Tragedy by James Shirley.  
145. The Passionate Lovers in two parts, by Mr. Lodowick Carlel  
146. Mirza, A Tragedy, really acted in Perfia with Annotations by Robert Barren Esq.  
147. Three new plays, viz. 1 The Bashful Lover. 2 The Guardian. 3 The very woman, by Philip Massinger, Gent   

New and Excellent Romances.  
148. CAssandra the Famed Romance, the whole work in five parts, written in French, and now Elegantly rendered into English by a person of quality, Fol.  
149. Ibrahim or the Illustrious Bassa, an excellent new Romance, the whole work in four parts, written in French by Monsieur de Scudery, and now Englished by Henry Cogan Gent. Fol.  
150. Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, an excellent new Romance, written by that famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery Governor of Notre Dame, and now Englished by F. G. Esq. Fol.  
151. The continuation of Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, that excellent new Romance, being the third and fourth parts, written by that Famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery Governor of Notre Dame, and now Englished by F. G. Esq. Fol.  
152. The third Volume of Artamenes or the Grand Cyrus, that excellent new Romance, being the fift and fixed parts, written by that famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery Governor of Notre Dame, and now Englished by F. G. Esq. Fol.  
153. The fourth Volume of Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, that Excellent new Romance, being the seventh and eighth parts, written by that famous Wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery Governor of Notre Dame, and now englished by F. G. Esq. Fol.  
154. The History of Polexander, a Romance, Englished by William brown Gent. Fol.  
155. The History of the Banished Virgin, a Romance translated by I. H. Esq. Fol.  
156. Casandra the famed Romance, the three first books, Elegantly rendered into English by the Right Honourable the Lord George Digby. 8o.  
157. The History of Philoxipes and Policrite, a Romance, made English by an honourable person. 8o.  
158. The History of Don Fenise, a new Romance, written in Spanish by Francisco de 'las Coveras, Englished by a Person of Honour. 8o.  
159. Aurora Ismenia, and the Prince, with Oronta the Cyprian Virgin, translated by Thomas Stanley Esq.  
160. Cleopatra, a new Romance, Englished by a Gent. of the Inner Temple, in 8o.  
161. La Stratonica or the unfortunate queen, a new Romance, translated into English.  
162. Choice Novels, and Amorous Tales written by the most refined wits of Italy, newly translated into English by a person of quality. in 8o.  
163. Nissena, a new Romance, Englished by an Honourable person, in 8o.  
164. Dianea, a new Romance, written in Italian by Gio Francisco Loredano, a Noble Venetian, Englished by Sir Aston Cockaine, in 8o.   

Books lately printed for Humphrey Mojeley.  
165. A German Diet, or the Balance of Europe, wherein the power and weakness, glory, and reproach, Virtues and Vices, Plenty and Wants, Advantages and Defects, Antiquity and Moderns of all the Kingdoms and states of Christendom are Impartially poised by James Howel Esq. Fol.  
166. Renatus des Cartes', excellent compendium of Music with necessary and judicious Animadversions thereupon, by a person of Honour, Illustrated with divers figures in 4o.  
167. The Scarlet Gown, or the History of the lives of all the present Cardinals of Rome, written in Italian and Englished by Henry Cogan, Gent. 8o.  
168. A discourse of constancy, by Justus Lipsius, faithfully Englished by R. G. sometimes of Ch. Ch. Oxon. containing many sweet consolations for all that are afflicted in body, or in mind. 12o.  
169. Le Chemin abrege, or a compendious Method for the attaining of Sciences in a short time, with the Statutes of the Academy of Cardinal Richelieu, Englished by R. G. Gent.  
170. The Academy of Eloquence, containing a complete English Rhetoric, with common places and forms to speak and write fluently according to the present mode, together with letters amorous and moral, by Thomas Blunt. Gent. 12o.  
171. The Secretary in fashion, or a compendious and refined way of expression in all manner of letters, with instructions how to write letters of all sorts, composed in French by P. St de la Serre, in 8o.  
172. Curia Politiae, or the Apologies of several Princes justifying to the World their most eminent actions by the strength of Reason, and the most exact rules of Policy, by the accurate pen of Monsieur de Scudery, governor of Notre Dame, and now Englished with the figures of many Emperors and Kings.  
173. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, or observations on the present manners of the English, briefly anatomising the living by the dead, with an useful detection of the Mountebanks of both sexes by Richard Whitlock M. D. late fellow of all Souls College in Oxon 8o.  
174. Scholae Wintoniensis Phrases Latinae The Latin Phrases of Winchester School, corrected and much augmented with poeticals added, and four Tracts. 1. Of words not to be used by elegant Latinists. 2. The difference of words like one another in sound or signification. 3. Some words governing a subjunctive mood not mentioned in Lilies Grammar. 4. Concerning {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} & {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} for entering children upon making of Themes, by H. Robinson D. D. sometimes schoolmaster of Winchester College, published for the common use and benefit of Grammar schools.  
175. Atheismus Vapulans, or a Treatise against Atheism rationally confuting the Atheists of these times by William Towers, late student of Ch. Ch. Oxon.  
176. De Juramenti Obligatione promissorij Praelectiones Septem. Of the Obligation of Promissory Oaths, seven Lectures read in the Divinity Schools at Oxford by Robert Sanderson D. D. and englished by his late Majesty's appointment. 8o.  
177. Politic Maxims and observations written by the most learned Hugo Grotius, translated for the ease and benefit of the English statesmen by H. C. S. T. B.  
178. The perfect Horseman or the experienced secrets of Mr. markham's fifty years' practice, showing how a man may come to be a General Horse— man by the knowledge of these seven Offices, Viz. The Breeder Feeder Ambler Rider Keeper Buyer Farrier. Published with some Additions by Lancelot Thetford Practitioner in the same Art. 4o. years.  
179. Divine Poems written by Tho. Washborn. B. D.  
180. Buxtorf's Epitome of his Hebrew Grammar, Englished by john Davis Mr. of Arts.  
181. Fasciculus Poematum & Epigrammatûm Miscelaneorum Authore Johan Donne. D. D.  
182. Poemata Graeca & Latina, à Gulielmo Cartwright, C. C. Oxon.  
183. The Marrow of Compliments, containing Amorous Epistles, complemental entertainments, Dialogues, songs, and Sonnets, presentations of gifts, instructions for wooers, with other pleasant passages.   

Books newly Printed for Humphrey Moseley.  
184. THe fifth Volume of Artamenes, or the Grand Cyrus, that excellent new Romance; being the ninth and tenth Parts: Written by that famous wit of France, Monsieur de Scudery, Governor of Notre Dame and now englished by F. G. Esq.  
185 Elise, or, Innocency guilty; a new Romance, translated into English by John Jennings Gent.  
186 Clelia, an excellent new Romance, written in French, by the exquisite pen of Monsieur de Scudery, Governor of Notre Dame de la Guard.  
187 Coralbo, a new Romance in three Books; written in Italian by Cavalier Gio Francesco Biondi, and now faithfully rendered into English.  
188 The Lusiad, or, portugall's Historical Poem; translated into English by Richard Fanshaw, Esq.  
189 The History of Philosophy, the first Part; by Tho. Stanley, Esq.  
190 The History of the Kingdom of Naples, with the lives of all their Kings; written by that famous Antiquary, Scipio Mazzella, with an Addition of what happened during the Rebellion of Massaniello; and continued to this present year, by I. H. Esq.  
191 Mr. Howel's fourth Volume of familiar Letters, never published before.  
192 Manziny, his most exquisite Academical Discourses upon several choice Subjects; turned into French by that famous Wit, Monsieur de Scudery, and into English by an Honourable Lady.  
193 The English Treasury of Wit and Language, digested into common places, by johnCotg rave, Gent.  
194 Lusus Serius, a Philosophical Discourse, of the superiority of the Creatures, by Michael Mayerus.  
195 The Aphorisms of Hippocrates, with a short Comment on them; taken out of Galen, Heurnius, Fuchsius, etc.  
196 Euphrates, or, the waters of the East, by Eugenius Philalethes.  
197. Hermetical Physic, or the way to preserve and restore health, by Henry nollius' Chemist, and Englished by Henry Vaughan, Gent.  
198 Dr Valentine's private Devotions in Welsh.  
199 Mantuan's Eclogues, Englished by Tho. Harvey.  
200 Medici Catholicon; or, a Catholic Medicine for the Diseases of Charity; by John Collop, Dr. of Physic.  
201 Poesis Rediviva, or, Poetry revived, by John Collop, M. D.  
202 The saint's Expectation and Reward; A Sermon at the Funeral of Mr. Thomas Wiborow, by Michael Thomas Minister of Stockden in Shropshire.  
203 A Sermon against Murder, occasioned by the Massacre of the Protestants in the Dukedom of Savoy; by William Towers B. D.   

Books Printed this Term.  
204. RAgguagli di Parnasso; or, Advertisements from Parnassus: Written in Italian by that famous Roman Trajano Bocalini, and put into English by the right Honourable, Henry Earl of Monmouth.  
205 A complete History of the Lives and Reigns of Mary Queen of Scotland, and of her Son and Successor, James the Sixth, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, by William Sanderson.  
206 The Destruction of Troy, an Essay upon the second Book of Virgil's Aeneis, by John Denham, Esq.  
207 Poems, viz. 1 Miscellanies. 2. The Mistress, or Love-Verses. 3. Pindaric Odes: 4. Davideis, or, a sacred Poem of the Troubles of David; by A. Cowley.  
208 God Incarnate, showing that Jesus Christ is the Only, and the most high God. In four Books, containing Animadversions on Dr. lushington's Commentary upon the Epistle to the Hebrews, by Edmund Porter, late of St. john's Coll. Camb. Prebend of Norwich.  
209 Ducis Buckinghami in Ream Insulam Expeditio: Authore Edovardo Domino Herbert, Barone de Cherbury. Quam publici Juris fecit Timotheus Balduinus, L. L. Doctor è Coll. Omn. Anim. apud Oxonienses Socius.  
210. The Siege of Antwerp, written in Latin by Famianus Strada, Englished by Tho. Lancaster, Gent.  
211 The History of Philosophy, the second Part, by Tho. Stanley Esq.  
212 Clelia, an excellent new Romance, the second Volume: Written in French by the exquisite Pen of Monsieur de Scudery, Governor of Notre Dame.  
213 Argalus and Parthenia, written by Francis Quarles, and Illustrated with 30 Figures, cut in Copper relating to the Story.  
214 Practical Arithmetic, in whole Numbers, Fractions, and Decimals; fitted to the several uses of Gentlemen, Merchants, or Tradesmen; by Richard Rawlins, Professor thereof, in Great Yarmouth.   

These Books are now in the Press.  
215. GLossographia, or a Dictionary interpreting all such hard words, whether Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, etc. as are now used in our Refined English tongue: Also the Terms of Divinity, Law, Physic, Mathematics, Heraldry, Anatomy, War, Music, Architecture, explained by Thomas Blount of the Inner Temple, barrister.  
216. Astrea, A Romance written in French by Messire Honore D'Vrfe, and now Translated into English.  
217. An Introduction into the Greek Tongue most plainly delivering the principal matters of the Grammar thereof, composed for their sakes which understand not Latin; and yet are desirous to have competent Knowledge in that language, by Edmund Reeve. B. D. instructor of all the Original Tongues.  
218 The Rules of the Latin Grammar construed, which were omitted in the Book called Lilies Rules, and the Syntaxis construed by Edmund Reeve. B. D. instructor in all the Original Tongues.  
219. Politic Discourses written in Italian by Paul Peruta, Gent. of Venice, Englished by the Right Honourable Henry Earl of Monmouth.  
221. Of the Passion of the Soul, and contentment of mind, by Peter du Moulin, the Son. D. D.   

These Books I do purpose to Print very speedily.  
222 HEsperides, or The muse's Garden, stored with variety of the choicest flowers of Language and Learning, wherein grave and serious minds may be refreshed with the solid fruits of Philosophy, History, & Cosmography, intermixed with the sweets of Poetry; And the ceremonious Courtier, The Passionate Amourist, with his admired Lady, may gather Rarities Suitable to their Fancies, by john Evans, Gent.  
223. Mosaical Philosophy, written in Latin by Robert Fludd, Esq and Dr in Physic, and by himself afterwards translated into English.  
224. Disquisitions upon the Nativity of our Saviour Jesus Christ, by the Honourable Sir Isaac Wake.  
225 The Expedition of the Duke of Buckingham into the Isle of Ree, written in Latin by the Right Honourable Edward Lord Herbert of Cherbury, etc. and now rendered into English.  
226. The Life of A Satirical Puppy, Called Nim, who worrieth all those Satirists he knows, and barks at the rest by W. D.  
227. The Anatomy of Profane Love, written in Italian, and Englished by I. S.  
228. Nicholas Flammell his Exposition of his hieroglyphical Figures, with the secret Book of Artephius and the Epistle of john Pontanus concerning the philosopher's Stone. ☞ With an Addition upon the same Subject written by Synetius that most Learned and Famous Grecian Abbot, never Printed before.  
229. Brittain's Ida written by that Renowned Poet Edmund Spencer.  
230. A Discovery of the Hollanders trade of Fishing, and their Circumventing us therein, with the means how to make profit of the fishing, by which they have made and yet do reap so great a benefit, by Sir W. Munson Knight sometimes vice-admiral of England.  
231. Sir, Charles Cornwallis his Negotiation as leaguer Ambassador for Spain.  
232. A Discovery of the State of Christendom, containing many secret passages and hidden Mysteries of the times both past and present with historical and Political Observations thereon by a person of Honour.  
233. A Grammar Lecture with Elegies, written by Francis Beaumont Gent.  
234. A Discourse touching peace with Spain and retaining the Netherlands in Protection written by Sir Walter Raleigh Knight; presented to his Majesty.  
235. A Discourse of the War of Germany with the Lord Chancellor Bacon's Petition and Submission to the House of Peers.  
236. Andrea Palladio his four Books of Architecture treating of private Buildings, Highways, Piazzas exercising places and Temples, Translated out of Italion, by, H. L. Esq  
237: The Distresses. By Sir W. Davenant  
238. The fair Favourite. By Sir W. Davenant  
239. News from Plymouth. By Sir W. Davenant  
240. The Siege. By Sir W. Davenant  
241. The Spartan Ladies. By Lodowick Carlell Gent.  
242. The Discreet Lover or the Fool would be a Favourite By Lodowick Carlell Gent.  
243. Osman the Great Turk or the Noble Servant. By Lodowick Carlell Gent.  
244. More Dissemblers than Women. By Tho. Midleton, Gent.  
245. Women beware Women. By Tho. Midleton, Gent.  
246. No Wit Help like a Woman's. By Tho. Midleton, Gent.