The Virgin Widow. A comedy.  
Written by FRA: QUARLES.  CLAUDIAN. 
Virginis & viduae sunt rara trophaea pudicae,  
Nec miranda satis spectantibus—  
LONDON, Printed for R. ROYSTON, at the Angel in Ivy-lane. M DC XLIX.   

The Stationer to the Reader.  
THis interlude, to sweeten the brackish distempers of a deluded age, is here( Courteous Reader) to thy judicious view freely offered: having been sometimes at Chelsie privately Acted( by a company of young Gentlemen) with good approvement. The Author, whose Divine work have sufficiently proclaimed his Abilities, may give thee assurance of finding in it, wit, worth, and well-seasoned mirth. Invention to quicken conceit; Disposition to beautify Art.  
It is confessed, that this dramatic Poem was Mr Quarles his very first Assay in that kind: yet shalt thou collect by this Piece, that He knew as well to be delightfully facetious, as divinely serious.  
Thy Friend to serve thee, R,. R,.   


The actor's Names.  EVALDUS 
The King.  AUGUSTA 
The Queen.  BELLARMO PALLADIUS MUSEUS 
The Kings three sons.  ARTESIO 
A Doctor of physic.  ROSIA KETTREENA MARINA 
Artesio's three daughters.  PERTENAX FORMIDON COMODUS 
Husband to 

Kettreena.  
Rosia.  
Marina.    LACTUSIA 
A Nurse.  QUACK 
Artesio's apothecary.  QUISQUILLA 
Quacks Wife.  QUIBBLE 
Quacks Man.  PHONILLA TRIPPIT 
The Queen's Maids.  MADGE CIS 
Chambermaids.  FRANK 
A falconer.  ANTONY 
A head Drawer.  clysterpipe 
Artesio's Boy.  
Two Pages, and Officers.    

The Virgin Widow.  
ACT. I. SCEN. I.  Formidon. Comodus. For. 
Comodus, What eye did e'er till now behold  
Folly and madness acted to the life?  Co. 
I wonder Formidon, the King could bear  
Such saucy passion with so clear a brow.  For. 
His wisdom knew that Pertenax was far  
Too mean a subject for his discontent.  
And rather looked upon his crack-brained words  
With princely eyes of pity then revenge.  Com. 
Such frantic terms without the privilege  
Of fool or madman would have easily raised  
Billows of fury in the calmest breast,  
And heaved a well-hanged patience off her hinge.  For. 
Nay, to be basely rude in such a place,  
Artesio's house, whose roof the King was pleased  
To honour with his presence—  Com. 
Nay worse, at such a time when he was pleased to lend  
Free reins to mirth, and to suspend those cares  
That claim such interest in th' imperial brow.  For. 
Nay, when his fair acceptance crowned the Feast  
Of glad Artesio, with his princely thanks;  
Nay, when his royal hand had newly laid  
The Sword upon his shoulders, and received him  
Into the glorious Order of a Knight,  
Then to break out into such baseness thus—  Com. 
What moved him to't?  For. 
Nay, he were wise could tell:  
I saw no cause at all  Com. 
Unless it were  
Some jealous qualm arising from a kiss  
Too hardly printed on Kettreena's lip  
By way of welcome to her Ladyship.  For. 
That might well be, for 'twas no sooner done  
But he( not far to seek for passion  
Or terms to vent it) broke into this fury,  
And being choked with choler left the room:  
Whereat his new-made Lady pale as death  
( No stranger to his passion) winked me out  
To follow him.  Com. 
I marked that passage well,  
And reading the dumb message in her eye  
Writ in pale characters, I quit the room  
To feel his pulse; whom if I chance to spy  
I'll read a lecture to him:  For. 
So will I.  Exeunt. Sir Pertenax. Pert. 
Were he as many Kings as he has Subjects to abuse, I'd not endure it. Come, the plain truth is, I don't like it, so I don't, nor should I spare him had he been a King of Gold: What? should I stood like a fool to be his shoeing-horn to draw a pair of horns upon my head, and turn Pander to his liquorish kisses, while he wipes my mouth with a codpiece Knighthood? I'll hang first. Let him bestow his honour with a vengeance upon those that hold it a good pen'worth on such terms: For my part I like it not. Have I lived these thrice thirty years, to be caught with chaff? Kettreena must be a Lady forsooth, to be more capable of his princely lust. And Pertenax must be dubbed, and gain the glorious attribute of a right worshipful Cuckold. Come, these are baits to catch young birds with, and honourable mists to blind ambitious fools with. His politic Majesty has taken a wrong Sow by th'ear. I'm none of those that for a smile can play the royal Pander, nor like a temporising Wittold can help my wanton Prince into the Saddle, or hold his stirrup. Did I not mark the lustful progress of his lascivious glances? And how his ugly rolling eyes shot firebrands at Kettreena's face? How every word was garnished with a wanton smile, and still presented to Kettreena's ear! His antic gestures, croutches, congees, cringes, compliments, and all directed to Kettreena! While she like a well-disciplined courtesan could counterfeit a modesty, against her conscience, to whet his lust into an appetite; and like a coy dissembling Bride, could sit and mince it, and inwardly rejoice to think of future times.— But see they come; I'll stand aside and watch.  Evaldus leading Kettreena, Artesio, Formidon, Comodus, Rosia, Marina. Evald. 
Artesio, we shall study to requite  
Thy bounteous entertainment, and whilst we  
Possess th'imperial Crown, be confident  
Thou hast a friend at Court. Come Kettreena,  
Cheer up: W''re pleased to set thy husband's rudeness  
Upon the score of Age the Advocate  
Of all infirmity.  Kett. 
Most gracious Prince,  
The strength of your known wisdom does appear  
More eminent in his weakness.  Pert. 
A courtly Whore!  Kett. 
And his extreme defects  
Are by your goodness graciously supplied.  Pert. 
An ignominious Whore!  Kett. 
For which Kettreena,  
As duty binds, shall with a grateful heart  
Lie prostrate at your feet.  Pert. 
A prostrate Whore!  Kett. 
And always active to discharge that score  
Of your high favours.  Pert. 
hay! an active Whore!  Evald. 
Enough Kettreena; thy fair merits give  
Breath to our favours, and make virtue live.  Exeunt Manent Roscia, & Marina. Ros. 
Ay, let them go: Sister, we are too course  
For their respects.  Ma. 
Methinks we merely serve  
Like worthless ciphers to increase a number.  Ros. 
Or like odd money in a tailor's Bill  
Only to be abated: Let them go.  Ma. 
But yet methinks 'tis odd, that all the trumpets  
Should lie in fair Kettreena's hand, and none  
In ours.  Ros. 
Come, kissing goes by favour; Let her go  
With her fair Game.  Ma. 
But that which vexed me most,  
The foolish King had nothing else to say  
But I was like my Father, when he knows  
Comparisons are odious.  Ros. 
Nay worse,  
His compliment to me was this, That I  
Bore my years well; As good he'd called me old,  
A word far more injurious than Whore.  
Bear my years well? What is there in this face  
To merit such a compliment?  [ looks in her. Glass. Ma. 
I like my Father? though I say't,  
I scorn't:  [ looks in her glass. Ros. 
My brow's not wrinkled.  Ma. 
These my father's eyes?  Ros. 
My teeth all sound.  Ma. 
My father's lips like these?  Ros. 
Cheeks plump enough.  Ma. 
Is this my father's hair?  Ros. 
Eyes quick and clear.  Ma. 
Was h'ever half so fair?  Ros. 
A double chin! What Symptons' can he gather  
Of Age?  Ma. 
Or what resemblance of my Father?  Ros. 
What secret beauty lurks there in Kettreena  
That is eclipsed in Rosia?  Ma. 
Or Marina?  Ros. 
True, She's snout fair; yet by her favour I  
Would scarce turn tables with her, though I say't.  Ma. 
She has a courtly tongue, to breed delight.  
She has a Husband too; that is a Knight.  Ros. 
Had he not been the King, he should have known  
That I was sensible of his affront.  Ma. 
King, or no King, my ready fingers itched  
To scratch revenge on's face: I like my Father!  Ros. 
And yet our valiant Husbands could stand by  
And hear all this, and yet make no reply.  
When Pertenax impatient of disgrace  
Could nose the King, and beard him to his face.  Ma. 
Husbands! Husbands of Clouts.  Ros. 
But, as for mine,  
I'll ring his ears a peal of discipline:  Ma. 
I'll act my part; and if Marina fails,  
Let me want fingers, or these finger's nails.  [ Exeunt. Artesio. Quack. Art. 
Then let everlasting health be entailed upon the sons of men, and let the curse of a strong constitution fall upon mankind, if I discard thee not: Away, avoid my sight; must I thus squander out my precious hours, and wast my wakeful night, to turn bawd to a hundred Marks, and connive at these your avaricious murders? Away, thine eyes are Basilisks, and dart venom at me too strong for Antidotes to resist.  Quack. 
It was but once or twice six months, good Doctor be appeased.  Art. 
Appeased! My fury hath no ears; my boiling gall breathes up such fumes of bitterness into my crazy brains, that there is left no place for patience to repose.  Quack. 
I thought so faithful a servant as I might have deserved one life among so many Patients, to put me into a new Suit of apparel, against Easter, without so much ado.  Art. 
Slave! shall you be first served or I? who gave you leave to send my Patients to the shades of death without my licence! How durst you be so bold to snatch my wel-dealt Cards out of my skilful hand, whilst I was studious to contrive and make the best advantage to myself?  Quack. 
He could not by nature have lived much longer, Sir, I did but save neighbouring death a labour.  Art. 
What tellest thou me of nature? Is not the Patent mine? Have not I power to produce the twine of frail mortality, in spite of death, or nature? Cannot I lengthen out the groaning days of transitory flesh, or cut them short according to my pleasure and advantage?  Quack. 
Good Sir, All this I know.  Art. 
Why, varlet, then durst you presume to stop the gainful practices which I intended? When as the sapless Stock could thrust no further Branches forth, worthy our notice, you might have then by permission, done your will upon him for your best advantage: When we had taken the first crop of his exuberous bags, you might have then made bold to eat the Rowens; Till than your insolence exceeded our Commission. Had he been born to swim against the stream of fortune, or tortured in the stubborn schools of daring Resolution: Or had his hidebound purse preferred his sacred wealth before the lingering hopes of costly health— But thus, to ravish from our thriving hand a man of Fortunes, one that desired to take up life at Interest, nay to buy his languishment at so profuse a Rate, denies all thought of Patience. Away, Avaunt, begone,  

No more Artesio's Servant now.  
Bad be those Drivers that unhorse the Plough.   Exit. Quack. 
Is it even so? Quack's thread is fairly spun,  
Quack may go home again, his market's done.  Sir Pertenax. Formidon. Pert. 
Is there never a Statute throughout the Volumes of the Law, that tolerates a man to hang himself?  For. 
If there were, it was repealed in the next King's reign, for a great inconvenience that grew upon't.  Pert. 
The more's the pity: To my thinking it were a very fine harmless exercise.  For. 
Why? there's a custom for't, for those that will seek the Rolls, and have such Wives as I with Cornelius his motion in her mouth.  Pert. 
Come, you are happy, the disease lies at that end; I would my Baggage would speak till her heart ache so she did less.  For. 
Fie Pertenax, wrong not sweet innocence so much. Had but the Stars been pleased, would our Wives had been like our Indentures made interchangeable: Comodus and I picked out both the vices, and left the virtue for you. Never could any but Artesio that by art can alter his constitution as he lists, been Father to three such different Daughters. Marma vents her spirit by the nails, my Rosia, hers by Tongue; and Kettreena hers by Tears: which like fluent Orators, plead a soft heart, a sweet nature, and a high spirit qualified with a mild discretion, and a harsh Husband.  Pert. 
Every one knows best where his shoe wrings him: She's mild enough, and that the King knows, I fear to my cost.  For. 
And though I say't before thy face, she's fit for a King than such a testy fool. But who comes here? Comodus?  Ent. 
Comodus with a nightcap, and a scratched face.  Com. 
From Harpies nails, from Furies whips,  
From all sharp noses, and thin lips;  
From two-legged Cats with thrice nine lives,  
From scalding wort, from scolding Wives,  
From full-mouthed blasts, from female blows,  
From smooth-faced Sluts, from sharp-nailed shrews;  
From wounds t'inflict, from plagues t'inflict me,  
My Genius bless, my Stars protect me.  For. 
Now Comodus, what means this desperation?  
What Fury has possessed thee? What strange fit  
Usurps thy patience, and beclouds thy brow?  
What means this strange Militia in thine eyes?  
Who raised this storm? Has Age or Wedlock lent thee  
This sickly nightcap? Tell us what's the cause  
Of this dull change?  Com. 
I have a Reason for' 〈…〉  For. 
I fear, I fear, some Oeconomick fire  
Hath late been kindled: Tell us what's the cause  
Of these sad looks?  Com. 
I have a Reason for't.  For. 
Disclose it then: Come, if the boil be ripe  
'Tis best to lance it: A revealed grief  
Invites to cure, lies open to relief.  Com. 
He that can still the Thunder, or assuage  
The flames of sulphurous Aetna, or command  
The hideous powers of infernal Spirits  
Resolve for vengeance, he, and only he  
Can cure my grief: Marinas louder tongue  
Out-rores the Thunder, and her flaming eyes  
Out-scorches Aetna: Her impetuous rage  
Out-devils the whole Academe of Hell.  Pert. 
Blows the wind there away?  
What ails thy face?  Com. 
'Twas lately harrowed with her Harpy nails.  Pert. 
Why didst not pare them then?  
Why didst not stop her viperous mouth?  
Why didst not drive those troops of Devils  
From her stormy tongue?  Com. 
Bid me go snatch a daring thunderbolt,  
Or twi-forkt lightning from the hand of Jove:  
Bid me go stop the flowing Tides, or stay  
A singing Bullet in her middle way:  
Bid me go tame a Dragon; or restrain  
The arms of Furies bent to high revenge,  
This were an easy task; nay, easier far  
To slack hell's flames, then quench Marina's rage.  For. 
Nay, than thy case is desperate, farewell.  Exit. Com. 
Who finds a Shrew, need fear no other Hell.  Exit. Pert. 
Such devil's 〈◊〉 be tamed; But when the Ram  
Begins to butt, o there's both Devil, and Dam.  Exit. Augusta, Phonilla, Trippit. Aug. 
But Trippit is this certain?  Trip. 
Yes as sure  
Madam, as fame can make it: 'Tis the voice  
Of the whole Court, whispered from ear to ear.  Pho. 
Madam, let not your easy faith rely  
Too much upon the voice of babbling fame;  
The Court is grown so vain, that it beholds  
All in extremes, and in owns nothing good  
But what it censures evil.  Aug. 
There's no smoke  
Without some fire: Report must have some ground.  Trip. 
Nay Madam, it is gone so far, that they  
Stick not to style her by the name of Queen.  Aug. 
That's far enough a conscience, but I hope  
The fair Kettreena will be pleased to stay  
Till we resign, ordie.  Pho. 
Madam, believe it not,  
The Court is too censorious, and will tax  
The innocency of a very smile:  
They weigh our reputations with the scales  
Of their own loose conceits, and our good Names,  
Though ne'er so fair, must be allowed by them,  
Or given for light.  Aug. 
But is she styled Queen?  Pho. 
Yes, by that frantic fool, old Pertenax  
Her jealous Husband, whose malignant eye  
Reads rank Adultery in a harmless smile,  
And construes friendly mirth, and fair deportment  
No less than whoredom, and a crime that's fit  
To suffer an Aspect more grim than death.  Trip. 
Such looks as his are sour enough to fright  
Diana from her chastity: And who  
E'er canonised Kettreena for a Saint?  
Or took the King for more than flesh and blood?  Aug. 
There's something in the wind, that here of late  
The King is more estranged in his behaviour  
Then he was wont; His language more reserved;  
His thoughts so various, that an easy eye  
May read some alteration in his breast,  
I fear, I'm wronged.  Pho. 
Madam, let not such thoughts  
Possess your fancy, or disturb your peace:  
Evaldus is a Prince too noble, and too just  
To be surprised by any eyes, but yours,  
The only stars whereby his fortunes fail.  Aug. 
But has he Knighted Pertenax?  Trip. 
Yes Madam,  
And whispering joy in his new Lady's ear,  
He fealed it with a kiss, which Pertenax  
Could not digest, but straight broke out in flames  
At old Artesio's House, where he was late  
Received as a self-invited Guest.  Aug. 
'Twas kindly done: Evaldus has his end;  
Fire will want heat when beauty lacks a friend.  Exeunt. Eval: Bellar: Pallad: Museus, Artesio, Formidon, Comodus, Kettreena. Evald. 
Let's hear no more on't.  
Come, sheathe up your swords,  
And as ye love my quiet and your own,  
Let's hear no more on't. What? have I three sons,  
And ne'er a wife one? Ye are both too blame  
To raise such Tumults, and to sow these seeds  
Of factious discords in our settled State.  
Away! Each one to his Command: For you  
Bellario, and Palladius, we shall find  
A speedy way to let you understand  
Whose is the birthright; and since the pleased Fates  
Have made so little difference betwixt you  
By your twin-birth, in your Aspects and marks  
Do you the like in your united hearts  
Till time and our best care shall bring to light  
Our true successor in our doubtful throne  
Stand both contented, And let your contentions  
Find out no object, but obedience.  
And you Museus, whose unrivalled thoughts  
Have pitched their Territories, far more safe  
Where you enjoy more happiness, more rest  
Than he that wept for want of Worlds to win,  
Whose boundless limits, and more vast confines  
Extend from th' Arctic to th' Antarctic Pole,  
And in the Closet of thy Contemplation,  
Canst sit and blow new Worlds like bubbles; then  
Demolish and dissolve them at thy pleasure,  
Advise thy factious Brothers: Let them know  
That birthright which they strive for can but make  
A king at best, and fill their arms with air;  
Their Lives with dangers, and their crown with care.  Mus. 
Sir,  
I'll do my best t' advise.  Bel. & Pal. 
And we t' obey.  Bel. 
Crowns are too great,  Pal. 
For breath to blow away.  Exeunt Bell. & Pal. Evald. 
Artesio, say, what discontents have raised  
These clouds, that overcast thy cheerful brow,  
And make sad weather in Kettreena's face?  Art. 
My age, most gracious sovereign can expect  
Small sunshine in this world: My wasted years  
Find little relish in these worldly toys.  Evald. 
Cheer up Artesio, If our favours can  
Quicken thy joys, and make thy times more sweet  
Thou shalt not want them; We shall bend our care  
For thy advancement, and thy children's good.  
But say, Artesio, what disastrous evil  
Hath stamped thy looks with these late sad impressions?  
Kettreena, tell me, for thine eye appears  
An equal sharer in his silent tears?  Ket. 
Most excellent Prince, my father's tender care  
And dear affection, looking on my merits  
With multiplying Glasses, and conceiving  
All happiness too little for my heart,  
Thinks( though perchance without just ground) that I  
Receive not those sweet comforts, that should spring  
From the blessed bounty of conjugal love:  
But I less conscious of my own deserts.  
Complain not of my fortunes; but joy, rather  
To find the sweet indulgence of a Father.  Art. 
O that these cursed fingers had been struck  
With a dead palsy when I tied that knot,  
And these gold-blinded eyes when they surveyed  
His vast possessions, had been strucken blind:  
Poor girl!  Eval. 
But how can Pertenax devise  
To wrong such patience? On what just ground  
Can he pretend to build the least distaste?  For. 
Upon her noted virtue, by which light  
His ugly vices do appear more bright.  Com. 
Which then reflecting on his conscious soul  
Affrights him into madness, who, enraged  
Flies in the very face of all desert.  Evald. 
Well, good Artesio, what's not past our help  
Shall be redressed, We'll palliate the disease  
We cannot cure, and with our favours strive  
To hide the wrinkles of cursed fortune's brow.  
In which respects, Artesio, we are pleased  
To make thee our chief Doctor to attend  
On our own person; likewise for the trust  
Reposed in thy fidelity, we make,  
And choose thee here a counsellor of State.  
Thee Formidon for thy sweet Rosias' sake  
Artesio's Daughter, we appoint and choose  
Attorney-general for our royal Causes:  
Thee Comodus the Master of our Mint.  Omnes, 
Long live Evaldus our most gracious Lord  
And Master.  Exeunt. Evald. 
Go Museus, see them sworn.  
Kettreena, stay, we have a word t' exchange:  
Sit down Kettreena: Here's an empty chair  
Invites thy presence; Come, why com'st thou not?  Kett. 
Most gracious sovereign, That's a seat not fit  
For Subjects; Sir, be pleased to lay commands  
My duty may not blush to-execute.  Evald. 
Lay by your compliments, Kettreena, Come  
Repose by us; We'll warrant our Commands.  Kett. 
Excuse me Sir, and let this bended knee  
( A posture far more fit) attend your pleasure.  Evald. 
Nay, rise Kettreena: Something tells my heart  
Thou art too blame: Sit here;  
We'll have it so.  Sits down. 
So, now Kettreena, time and place conspire  
To give advantage to my long desire.  
Shall I not seem too curious to propound  
A harmless question, to thy private ear?  Kett. 
In confidence, your grace will not command  
Beyond my power and honour, I obey.  Evald. 
Then tell me sweet Kettreena, and tell true,  
Had peevish Pertenax the maidenhead  
Of thy Affection; did thy heart ne'er flame  
Until his amorous bellows blue the fire?  Kett. 
Sir, were it not too high presumption to inquire  
The cause of your Command—  Evald. 
Nay, blush not Lady. 'Tis nor sin nor shame  
To tell the secrets of so sweet a flame.  
That blush has half resolved me; what remains  
To clear my doubt, let thy fair words produce.  Kett. 
Sir, were't a Sin, my Sin would not despair  
That have my sovereign to my confessor:  
Sir, I was ne'er so wise above my Sex  
To blast Affections blossom in her spring,  
Nor yet so nicely foolish to deny  
That passion which has conquered more than I.  Evald. 
Lived there a soul subjected to our crown,  
So blessed in his deservings, as to find  
So great a favour at Kettreenas' eyes?  Kett. 
Sir, may your Subjects flourish with desert  
To merit such a Prince, but—  Evald. 
But? but what? Speak on Kettreena.  Kett. 
Let your Grace  
Excuse my blunt abruption.  Evald. 
Come, speak out,  
Thy full perfection can no way admit  
Imperfect languages. Say on; but what?  Kett. 
But, 'twas no subject, gracious Prince of yours  
That first enthralled my heart.  Evald. 
What was he then?  
Was he some foreign Prince in a disguise  
That came to rob our land of such a prize?  
Tell me Ketreena, if thou darest repose  
So great a secret in Evaldus breast.  
What was he for a man? Of what condition?  
From whence? What were his fortunes? his allies?  Kett. 
Most gracious sovereign, what, or whence he was  
I cannot well relate: So many years  
Have passed since then, that my remembrance may  
Well plead her frailty: whatsoever he was,  
A Pilgrims weed eclipsed him.  Evald. 
Could thy heart make a sad Pilgrim  
Th' object of thy love?  Kett. 
Sir, I was then but young, and my affection  
Could find no Tutor but her own desires  
Which kerbed my nonaged reason, with a hand  
Too too severe for council to withstand.  Evald. 
I wonder how a Pilgrim durst attempt  
So strong a task! upon what hopeful grounds  
Could he presume to build his vain desire?  Kett. 
The ground of Love is love: And the direction  
Which mere affection takes, is mere affection.  Evald. 
How long Kettreena since thy soft desire  
Relented first at thy bold pilgrim's fire?  Kett. 
Fates bless the token: Even that very year  
Your highness' first set happy footing here  
To tie that blessed, that royal knot between  
Your sacred self, and our as sacred Queen.  Evald. 
But did that Pilgrim never since appear  
Discovered to thine eye?  Kett. 
Great Sir, mine ear  
Was never since made happy with the news  
That he is living, for whose sake I wear  
These weeds of mourning: True, the great desire  
Of my well-being urged my father's heart  
To match me to a wealthy discontent,  
But my Obedience thwarted my Affection,  
And made me prisoner to a secret vow,  
Which I have kept as spotless as my name.  Evald. 
Has not thy marriagebed dissolved that vow.  Kett. 
Although I live sad Pertenax his Wife,  
Yet shall I prove his Virgin when I die.  Evald. 
Tell me Kettreena, dost thou know this Ring?  
Why dost thou start Kettreena? dost thou know't?  
What means these tears?  
What means this change of weather?  
Tell me, Kettreena, dost thou know this Ring?  Kett. 
Sir, too too well, And in this Ring I read  
The secret story of my pilgrim's death:  
Heavens rest and all my joys be with him; Sir,  
He was too good to live, and wretched I  
A slave to life, not good enough to die.  Evald. 
Come, come, Kettreena, let those precious drops  
Forbear to trickle: Come, thy Pilgrim lives  
And fares no worse than I: I am the man.  Kett. 
Abuse me not great Prince: O punish not  
My rude( but yet obedient) boldness thus:  
Deride not her whom fortune hath depressed,  
And hath a loyal, though a troubled breast.  Evald. 
'Tis I that was that Pilgrim, and disguised  
Wandered this land( whose crown I was foretold  
By our Chaldean Prophet should be set  
Upon my Temples) and directed to  
Artesio's house; I found that very face  
His glass presented to my wand'ring eyes  
In viewing thee, whom he mistook as Queen,  
And read my regal fortunes in thy love;  
Adding this prophecy, as yet untold,  
She that gives thee the first Ring  
Shall crown thy head, and make thee King.  
This is that Ring, which given thou drop'dst a tear,  
And whisperedest thus: This Ring is Cupid s Sphere.  
'Twas I, to whose safe trust thou didst repose  
A secret, which this tongue shall ne'er disclose;  
These were the lips which gave thee that advise,  
My judgement thought most fit, and thine approved.  Kett. 
I am convinced dread sovereign, and amazed,  
My trembling heart's surprised 'twixt joy and fear.  Evald. 
Fear not Kettreena, I am still the same,  
And so art thou, excepting this alone:  
Thou found'st a cross, and I have gained a Crown,  
Which I'll renounce, and call no longer mine  
When it shall cease t' advance both thee and thine:  
And for a Pledge, we tender on our part  
Our royal hand; with it a real heart.  Kett. 
Your hand's enough great Prince; as for the rest  
I'm not ambitious now.  Evald. 
Be not deceived  
My sweet Kettreena, there's no dregs of lust  
Defiles that bosom thou so fear'st to trust:  
'Tis fair and spotless, and contrives no end  
But what may merit so divine a friend.  Kett. 
I question not; And for that heart, return  
A heart( though far unequal, yet) shall burn  
With equal fires.  Evald. 
And let Kettreena know  
Nor time, nor fortunes shall have power to show  
The shadow of a change: And mark how long  
time's hourglass shall measure out my days.  Ent. Augusta, Phonilla, Trippit. 
Till then—  
But hold! The Queen prevents the rest.  
How now my dear Augusta? Art thou come  
To give's a visit? Love, 'tis kindly done.  Aug. 
I fear my Lord the King, my blunt access  
Hath given the privacies of your discourse  
Too quick a period.  Evald. 
No, no my dear,  
At thy approach, all business does appear  
Like pale-faced stars before the rising Sun.  Aug. 
Madam Kettreena, I must give you joy.  Kett. 
Me joy, most excellent Princess!  
Pray, for what?  Aug. 
Nay, never blush: I say, I wish you joy.  Kett. 
I thank your Grace, Be pleased to say, wherein.  Aug. 
Of your new ladyship: Come, now you know.  
What ails my Lord the King? Are you not well?  Evald. 
Why? dear Augusta.  Aug. 
Cause ye look so pale,  
Your colour's gone into Kettreenas' cheeks;  
But are you well indeed? I wish you joy, too.  Evald. 
Thanks sweet Augusta: Tell me dear of what?  Aug. 
Of your new Servants that you made to day.  
But I transgress: My Lord, the King, Farewell.  Evald. 
What haste Augusta? We'll together hence.  Aug. 
Madam Kettreena—  Offers the place Kett. 
Lord! what means your Grace?  Aug. 
Excuse me Madam— pray—  Kett. 
Your highness now  
Make me ridiculous.  Aug. 
You'll wrong yourself—  Exeunt.  

ACT. II. SCEN. I.  
Quack, reading a Bill.  


Mistress Penelope Trippits Bill, April 20.  For 2 ounces of syrup of Savin, and keeping her counsels 
0-- 13s-4d  Item for one ounce and a half of surfling Water 
0-- 7-- 6  Item for a glass of the best Mercury-water, and a box of Pomatum— 
0-- 6-- 8  Item for 2 ounces of Talk 
0-- 2--- 2   

Master Lustyblood's Bill, June 9  For a sweeting chair 
0-- 10-- 0.  For a Purge 
0-3-- 4.  Item for the same again 
0-- 5--- 4.  Item for Turpentine Pills 
0-- 3--- 2.  Item for a Diet drink 
0-- 10-- 0.  Item for a sering 
0-- 2-- 6.  Item for fluxing his body 
0-12-- 0.  Item for 2 pennyworth of Diascordium 
0-- 1--- 1.    
summ. tot.  
A pretty reckoning!  
As I am a virtuous 'Pothecary, I know not how to subsist. Here's all that's coming to me, and that's not to be expected till Christmas, if paid then. Gentlemen, I am in a very scurvy case. Artesio has turned me out of his service, and I must break. What shall I do? I must play the good Fellow abroad, and then my Wife plays the devil at home. How can the one be maintained? or the other endured? I have pawned already her Tuftaffaty petticoat and all her childbed linen, besides two tiffiny Aprons, and her bearing-cloth, for which I have had already two curtame Lectures, and a black and blue eye. But stay! my satin doublet had yet a good gloss, and her silk mohaire petticoat and waistcoat will make a good show in a Country Church. Nay, my credit will yet pass in Bucklers berry for five pounds worth of Commodity, which with the help of a gold nightcap, a few conjuring words and a large conscience will go far, and set me up in a Market town, where I may pass for a Padua Doctor: 'Tis but Italianating my name, garb, language, and habit, and then signior Quackquinto may practise as safely, kill as ignorantly and innocently as Artesio himself, or any Doctor in the King's Dominions. And when my Name is once but raised upon the wings of popularity, the better sort will hold it disparagement to their judgments not to magnify Quackquinto, and rather not be sick at all, then to be counselled by Quackquinto; Every disease will call upon Quackquinto. If any foolish Lord be sick of a pleurisy of Gold, who must be sent for but the Italian Doctor, signior Quackquinto? If any love-sick Lady would take a Pill to purge melancholy, who must be sought to but the Italian Doctor, signior Quackquinto? And then so honourable will the Name of the Italian Doctor be, that he's not fashionably sick that will not advise with signior Quackquinto. But the way to proceed is not to stay here.  Exit. Museus. 
So,  
Let their ambition's clime and shake the tree,  
When the fruit falls it may chance to fall to me:  
I'll stand below and watch; They seldom fall  
That keep their Stations, and not climb at all:  
Low fortunes find most rest, abide most sure,  
When lofty Cedars shake, Shrubs stand secure:  
Bellarmo will be Prince: Palladius, he  
Assumes the selfsame Title: Both will be  
Evaldus heirs, both Kings; both jointly scorn  
The stile of Subject: Both will be firstborn:  
I, let them jar; And let the golden Apple  
Remain still doubtful; Let them grasp and grapple:  
Museus, stand thou Neuter: Oft 'tis known,  
When two Dogs fight, the third does catch the bone.  Exit. Rosia, Marina, Quisquilla. Ros. 
Had I imagined Kettreenas' ladyship had been no worse, I should have made bold to owe her this visit a day longer.  Ma. 
For any thing I see, she may live till all her friends be weary of her. Quisquilla, what brought thee thither? Did her ladyship send for thee to watch?  Quis. 
Truly, I heard she was very ill, and when I came, I found her very ill.  Ma. 
Some Qualm! May be she's breeding of a young Prince.  Ros. 
Or sick of an old Knight: Methought she looked very peevishly: If he'd but drop out of the way a little, she'd be well enough.  Quis. 
Nay, indeed, they say, if Ladies, be not( as it were) sick once a fortnight, they forfeit their Honour.  Ma. 
Why, then Quisquilla, thou thinks she's but a little sick of course.  Ros. 
Introth then, our visit is suitable to her disease.  Ma. 
For my part, if her ladyship had been sick to the heart I should ha visited her with a better heart; But sirrah, I believe our welcome was as hearty as our visit.  Quis. 
Truly, I believe you had been more welcome, if you had stayed two minutes longer.  Ros. 
Prithee, why Sirrah?  Quis. 
Nothing, but only her Maid could not find the perfuming Pan, to take away the smell of the—  Ma. 
Of the what? Prithee Quis. what was the matter? I know by thy simpering, thou hast some Roguery at thy tongue's end.  Ros. 
Prithee Quis. out with it.  Quis. 
Shall I? but as I live, ye must say nothing. When she first heard of your coming, her ladyship was heartily tugging a piece of sod Bacon, and fearing ye would come up a little too soon, as in truth ye did, her Maid for haste hiding it under the bed, it slipped into the chamber-pot.  Ma. 
The best that ever I heard, She should ha thrown a few oynions after't, and stewed it for the old Knight,  Quis. 
It had been good enough for such an old miserable hound, to allow a sick Lady so course a diet.  Ros. 
Sirrah, we have Husbands bad enough, but not so bad.  Ma. 
Gramercy good Wives, that won't be such fools to endure it. Quisquilla, I think thy Husband is no Saint neither. Is he?  Quis. 
Yes, of the devil's canonising, Would I had been hanged the first hour he saw me.  Ros. 
Why? what's the matter, Quis?  Quis. 
What? All that he gets he spends, and all he can find he pawns: Yesterday, he broke open my chest and pawned all my childbed linen, and to day my taffeta petticoat, and my best purld Gorget, and to make up the matter, he hath played such pranks that the Doctor has turned him out of his service.  Ma. 
Why dost not discipline him?  Quis. 
Discipline him? If I counsel him, he stands like an ass and casts up his ugly grey eyes: If I ring him a peal he slights me with his silence, and that which vexes me to the heart, stands and whistles. But if I live till to morrow, for I know he'll come in drunk to night, I'll whistle him, i'faith I will; I'll make him know what 'tis to whistle a Wife, the longest hour he has to live, i'faith I will.  Ros. 
A Girl worth Gold.  Mar. 
Come, lead away, let's go.  Quis. 
She's a mere fool, that sometimes is no shrew.  Exeunt. Quack, Lactusia. Quack. 
As I live and hope to be a Doctor, 'twas for nothing in the universal world but for killing a rich Patient of his a little before his time.  Lact. 
That was a poor thing to turn away an old Servant for, especially a man of your profession.  Quack. 
'Twas nothing else as I am virtuous. Nay more, He was a slow paymaster too, and took physic upon the Ticket. Ah Madam, had he connived a little, I had clearly gained a hundred Marks by his death.  Lact. 
How?  Quack. 
His younger Brother, a fine Gentleman, laid me a hundred Marks he would live till our Lady-day. Alas! I did no more for a considerable sum than my Doctor has done a hundred times for nothing; I'm sure I have been a gainful Servant to him, and that he knows right well. But the truth is, he has no more conscience with him then the dog has: How often have I left out the chief Ingredient out of his receipts to prolong the Cure for his profit? How often dropped in a Dram of a malignant quality into his Dose to make a Cure for his gain! Nay, as I am an honest man, out of my rank affection to him, at my own cost and charges kept a brace of hot Creatures in Ordinary to help young Gentlemen to their Diseases for his sweet sake: Had I been a knave, his Daughters had wanted many a satin petticoat. And thus my honest dealing is requited: But 'tis no matter, There's more ways to the wood then one. I have corruption enough in me to make a Country Doctor. And 'tis no new thing to build up a new physician upon the ruins of an old broken' Apothecary.  Lact. 
Quack, you have a voluble tongue, and can easily work upon the ignorant multitude, I could rather wish you to turn Mountebank, What think'st thou of that Quack?  Quack. 
Madam, I doubt not but I could cheat the King's liege people as plausibly as another, if the King, or any of his mad Sons would give me a licence.  Lact. 
As for the King, Artesio is in too great favour with him. But Prince Bellarmo will do't if you make the means.  Quack. 
Your ladyship's word in my behalf will soon be heard, for which, I shall present you with a New-years-gift a hundred Marks thick.  Lact. 
I'll move his highness in't. Go get a licence drawn for him to sign.  Quack. 
I humbly thank your Ladyship.  Exeunt. Pertenax. 
So they are fat enough, And there let 'em starve and rot, and let their Children pick their bones. I'll not abate one single penny. Tell me of mercy? If their Wives breasts want milk, let their Children suck blood. Their Bonds are forfeit, and I'll have every farthing ere they quit those Grates. Ho, there within, ho, Kettreena.  [ knocks. Ent. Kettreena. Ket. 
Sir, did you call?  Pert. 
O are ye come, Hussif, go fetch my Box of Obligations down, Make haste, away. [ Exit Kettreena. Compound quoth her, I'll no compounding, Though they are beggars, they have able friends. I wonder there's no Statute to brand all Bankrupts in the forehead with a hot iron, that men may know 'em. Nature had been very provident if she had ordained that their flesh might ha' risen and fallen with their fortunes, that we Monymasters might have traded without broken slumbers, and ha' known a rascal from a fat deer.  Enter Kett. with a Box. Pert. 
O are ye come, give me, give me, quickly, quickly?  [ looks among the Papers. Kett. 
O that his virtues were enclosed there,  
And that his honour were but half so dear!  Pert. 
John Havelands bond.. 300l to pay 150 the sixt of June next: Good.  
What's here? Henry Thrift, 400l to pay 200 the 23 of March next: and Good.  
Humphrey Rich his bond to pay the double Interest of 500l for 10 years, and lose the principal: Good.  
Quack's Bill of Sale of a Tuftaffaty petticoat, and a chest of fine linen, at 6d per Month in the pound, That's as good as mine own already.  Kett. 
Ah poor Quack, Art thou come into his clutches?  Pert. 
O here 'tis, here 'tis, here 'tis, They are both come together. Thomas Badluck, 10l to pay 5. and George ●aile 6l to pay 3. both forfeit, and fast enough. There's 16l good besides cost and charges, or there let 'em rot.  Kett. 
Dear Sir, let me be a suitor for mercy upon these two.  Pert. 
Mercy! then let me never find mercy, if I show 'em any.  Kett. 
I prithee, be good to 'em. They have 15 Children between 'em, and 9 of them are motherless. If they remain in prison, they must all starve.  Pert. 
hay, tittle tattle, tittle tattle, tittle tattle, Pray go to your favourite the King; he'll redeem 'em for the t'other kiss, or if your kisses are grown cheap, for a night's lodging. Now your Father's a privy counsellor you'll have a glorious Pander.  Kett. 
Sir, you wrong three at once, and yourself that's four, and I have a conscience that's a thousand will justify it: but I forgive ye.  Pert. 
Forgive me, ye Court monkey! They say you're breeding and keep your Chamber, and puke a mornings, and eat caudles and Cordials in a corner to cherish you after your journey, And my purse must pay for all, But I'll keep you short.  Kett. 
Heaven and my Innocence comfort me: What I breed I fear you'll justly father; even that Child will make us both happy.  Pert. 
I father your Bastard! you extract of Court Impudence!  
O that my hand were turned to lion's paws that I may tear thee to bits.  Kicks her and falls. 
Murder, murder, murder!  Kett. 
Sir, let my arm assist ye.  helps him up. Pert. 
O I am murdered! O my bonds, my bonds, my bonds! O let me once embrace ye more my dear bonds!  Takes up his Box. 
O my dear bonds.  Kett. 
Fear not, My arm shall hold you up.  Pert. 
O my leg, my leg! O my bonds, my bonds, my sweet bonds!  [ leads him out. Exeunt Bellarmo. Quack, with a paper in his hand, at one door. Bel. 
Quack, But I fear 'twill do Artesio wrong.  Quack 
No wrong at all, my Lord: My practice lies  
Among the fools, He deals with none but wise.  Bel. 
Ay, but you promise cure to their disease.  Quack 
Their money loads 'em, and we give 'em ease.  Bel. 
Why then you rob them for your own relief.  Quack 
Who takes what's freely offered, is no Thief.  Bel. 
But they expect Recovery of their health.  Quack 
And we accept what's much inferior, wealth.  Bel. 
They heal your wants, you fail to help their grief.  Quack 
'Tis true, our sense exceeds their dull belief.  Bel. 
Can then belief give help to their disease?  Quack 
Faith in the Doctor gives the Patient, ease.  Bel. 
If these be pennyworths, he's a fool that buys.  Qu. 
If they be fools, our pennyworths make them wise.  Bel. 
But Quack, I know that Mountebanks are bold, ignorant, and covetous; and when these three qualities meet and present themselves to the vulgar, who are naturally confident, simple, and admirers of Novelties, like Files, they'll buzz about the flame till they have burnt their wings, nay sometimes scorch their bodies too, and that must not be suffered.  Quack 
My Lord, we Mountebanks are in that kind very circumspect: What we prescribe, if it do no good, we are confident can do no harm. For most of what we give, carries the bare name of physic, but is none.  Bel. 
Why do ye give it then?  Quack 
To cure our own diseases, and with the help of a little foolish Faith, theirs too.  Bel. 
But methinks your knavery should quickly be discovered Quack, what do ye then?  Quack 
Why, then we flee to the next good town, and there we meet with fresh fools, where if one among a hundred hap to be cured, he more cries up our credit, than the ninety nine can disparage it. Every Prize hath his Trumpet when thousands of Blanks are swallowed up in silence, that others may be fooled as well as they. Howsoever, they depart all satisfied, and I dare say, repent no more of their Sixpences, than they do of their sins.  Bel. 
Well Quack, give me thy paper. Once for old Lactusia's sake, I'll be accessary to a piece of knavery.  [ signs the licence, & Exit. Qu. 
Thanks noble Lord, you're principal in my esteem.  
Now Quack, screw up thy brains: Provide thee  
A fit Man, and him a fit Habit,  
And oil thy tongue; that it may neatly cozen  
Poor Country-fools as they draw doves, by th'dozen.  Augusta, Lactusia, Trippit. 
Lactusia, I'd have it made up into a Potion, and so conveyed to her. Canst-a make a Composition?  Lact. 
An't please your Grace, I'll do my best, but dare not warrant the present working of it. I ha' poisoned many a Rat, but my practice lies no further.  Aug. 
Art acquainted with no apothecary, that will take an annuity of a hundred Mark to do the feat?  Lact. 
Now I think on't, I have one fit for the purpose, a man of a desperate fortune, that will bite at such a bait. Cornelius' Quack, lately apothecary to Artesio, who is about to get a licence to be a Mountebank.  Aug. 
I'll grant it him, But will he be secret? Where is he?  Lact. 
I met him just now.  Aug. 
Go find him, And if he entertain the motion, bring him hither.  Lact. 
I know no fit man.  Exit. Aug. 
But Trippit, In whose name shall we send it to her?  Trip. 
No better then in her Fathers, He being a Doctor, and the( as I hear) at this time not well, may send it as physic to be taken presently.  Aug. 
Had Quack contemned her father's apothecary it would ha' done well, but having left his service, it will breed suspicion.  Trip. 
What if it should be sent in a Bottle of Greekwine, as a token from one of her Sisters?  Aug. 
I believe there's no such correspondency between 'em, And besides, Wine of that nature will break the glass; and make discovery. [ Ent. Lact. & Quack whispering. What think'st thou of counterfeiting a kind Letter from Evaldus, which shall intimate his notice of her sickness, and that he hath sent her one of his own Cordials, wishher for his sake; to drink it fasting?  Trip. 
Your highness has hit it. And he may add, that he hath drunk her health in the same, which may the better endure her to pledge it. It will be a way beyond all exception.  Aug. 
Look, here's a Letter penned to the same purpose, read softly.  Quack. 
Madam, teach a Miller to be a Thief; If I do not like a workman, let my wages be thereafter.  Lact. 
Madam, here's the man I recommended to your highness.  Aug. 
Bring him near, [ kisses her hand. You are acquainted with the business?  Quack. 
Yes an't please your Grace, and am ready to perform it.  Aug. 
Let the cordial be made of sudden execution, And convey it to her with this Letter.  Lact. 
Will your highness be pleased to sign this his licence to practice physic and Chirurgery in your majesty's Dominions.  Aug. 
Trippit, keep both the licence and the Letter, and put us in mind to sign the one, and seal the other, Let's away. Fellow, be silent, sudden and circumspect.  Quack. 
Your Grace will bear me out in't.  Aug. 
Doubt it not.  [ Exeunt. manet Quack. Quack. 
So, now my licence will have Authority enough.  
A hundred Marks a year besides, and the Queen's Servant?  
I'll venture a hanging upon these terms at any time.  Enter Quisquilla. Quis. 
Come,  
Art thou there? Ha!  
Must my fury await your pleasure!  
Must my sweet revenge attend your leisure?  
Have I nothing else to do, but to fig from place, from tavern to tavern, from corner to corner? Must I be still yawling, and calling, and bawling for you whilst you're rambling, and roving, and roaming, and potting, and piping, and drivelling and snivelling! Am I born to troth after you? to wait upon your tail? or else like a fool, sit moping at home, with neither clothes to my back nor meat for my belly, nor a penny in my purse?  Quack. 
So now the Game begins.  Quisq. 
Must I be thus slighted, and scorned, and contemned, and undone by a runagate, a Sneap-nose, a thin-gut? Must I dance attendance after such a shotten herring as you? be a slave to such a Sot as you? such a Bul-pated milksop as you? You a Citizen! you a tradesman! you a Husband! you a Companion for Gentlemen! marry, come up! You must be pranked up in your satin Doublet, when I ha' scarce a Smock to my back, nor a Shoe to my foot, nor a Tatter to my tail, nor a hot bit to put into my belly, from Sunday to Sunday.  Quack. 
Heyday, heyday, heyday!  Quisq. 
And heyday, and heyday, and heyday too; Go heyday your base Trulls, your three-half-peny draggle-tailed queans, that can endure your heydayes, and your mocks, and your mows, and your taunts for an ounce of coventry-blue.  Quack 
As I went to Walsingham.  [ whistles Quisq. 
Go, ye weasel-snouted, addle-pated, buzzleheaded, splatter-footed mooncalf. Go whistle your Dogs, and your flap-mouthed Whores, that ye carried to the taphouse, and then ran away and left them to pay for the reckoning, when they followed ye, and rung ye by th' ears, till they made ye roar like your Mother, when she was delivered of such a coxcombly Booby as you.  Quack 
So, is all out now?  Quisq. 
Go, go ye Sycophant, the dregs of the suburbs, that can murder a Patient for the hopes of a hundred Marks, and then be turned out of service for your pains. O how my finger's itch, to set their marks upon those meager Cheeks of thine! But you Sir know, I have all your villainies upon the score, [ claps here hands and at the next offence,  
I'll call ye to account, and if ye balk me, than  
I ransack ye out, and make ye understand  
The sharp-nailed language of Quisquilla's hand.  Exit Quack 
It is some comfort yet  
I find a warning ere I feel the fit.  Exit Palladius, Bellarmo, Museus. Pal. 
I scorn your words, Bellarmo; My spirit flies  
As high a pitch as yours, have every whit  
As good blood in my veins as you.  Mus. 
Nay good Bellario.  Bel. 
Ay, to keep for wanton Ladies.  Pal. 
No, to spend in a just cause.  Mus. 
Nay good Palladius.  Bel. 
Come, come, ye dare not.  Pal. 
Provoke me not.  Bel. 
I dare thee to thy face.  Mus. 
Nay, what d'ye mean?  Pal. 
Meet me with your Horse and Sword.  Bel. 
I will: To morrow expect to hear from me the time and place.  Exeunt. Mus. 
So, now it works like wax: Whilst they prepare  
To beat the bush, my hound may catch the Hare.   

ACT. III. SCEN. I.  Phonilla. 
THere's old whispering between them. Pray heaven they be not hatching of a cockatrice's egg. Look where they come.  Ent. Aug. Lact. Trippit, Aug. 
Where's Phonilla all this day?  whispering. Pho. 
Here Madam.  Aug. 
O are ye there? My heart's much oppressed with melancholy! Come Phonilla; Sing the Song, the King likes so well.  

Song.  
How blessed are they that wast their weary hours  
In solemn Groves, and solitary Bowers,  
Where neither eye, nor ear,  
Can see, or hear,  
The frantic mirth,  
And false delights of frolic earth;  
Where they may sit, and pant,  
And breathe their pursy souls,  
Where neither Grief consumes, nor griping want  
Afflicts, nor sullen Care controls.  
Away false joys, ye murder where ye kiss:  
There is no heaven to that; No life to this.   Aug. 
Truth, sweetly sung. Come let's away. Exeunt Pertenax with a Letter, and Cup. murder will out: A Letter, and a silver Cup! To the fair hands of the most honourable Lady, the Lady Kettreena these. Good. So much for the preface, Now to the business. [ opens the Letter and reads. The ill Construction of our loves, enforces me to whisper my Affection in the sympathy of thy sufferings: cheer up, and let thy courage for a while bear what present time cannot remedy. Receive this cordial, as a dear pledge of my love, and a certain means of thy health: It will restore thy wasted spirits, and wind up the plummets of thy weakened Constitution, It will fill thy heart with mirth, and bones with marrow, whose welfare is the studious care of Thy Evaldus. Evaldus? So now 'tis out. Ha! does the Jade begin to tire? Must her Plummets be wound up? Nay, It shall ha' my Blessing too, I had a dose of arsenic [ feels in's packet But 'tis gone. Well, if I cannot make it fit for her, the King has made it fit for me: Let me see [ peruses the Letter 'Twill fill thy heart with mirth, and bones with marrow. Good! Muth and Marrow, and a silver Cup, three good Commodities! First I'll up with this. So— Now I'll up with that [ drinks. puts up the cup in's pocket Evaldus, we thank ye. Kettreena, we thank ye, Health and wealth's a double purchase.  Enter Kettreena. Kett. 
Sir, if mine eyes may not be made partakers of the King's Message, make my ears happy with your Relation.  Pert. 
D'ye want Restority? Are the plummets of your soul downer? Does your heart want mirth? or your bones marrow?  Kett. 
Sir, What mean ye?  Pert. 
Most honourable Lady, to cut your throat: Away ye Strumpet.  Kett. 
Sir, will you be pleased—  Pert. 
To slit your nose; Avoid my sight [ Exit Kett. O what ail I! In the name of Gold what ail my bowels thus to gripe? Oh! Her very breath's a Purge; Her eyes are Granadoes, and have set my blood on fire. I burn like Hell: My liver scorches; My heart is in a furnace, O water, water, water! O, for a Crust of Ice, that I may gnaw and cool my flaming tongue! Oh, my legs begin to fail, I faint, I faint, I faint! Oh that this earth were snow that I might roll, and roll, and roll! Where are ye o my bags, my blessed bags! help me, o help me my dear bags. Oh, will ye suffer me to be thus tormented! What are ye deaf now? are ye dumb? Take, take away the Witch; she comes, she comes, she comes to pinch me with hot Irons, & fills my veins with boiling lead. O the Witch, the Witch, the Witch, the Witch.  Languishes. dies. Enter Kettreena. Kett. 
What? fall'n asleep! How miserable is poor Kettreena that has no happiness but then! How well quietness becomes him! He lies very still; He was wont to snort, that th' whole house was witness of his slumbers, I'm loath to wake him.  
I'm afraid he's dead. Sir, Sir, Sir. [ jogs him Oh, he's dead! He's dead! He's dead! [ Ent. Comodus utterly dead, dead for ever.  Com. 
Dear Sister, what's the matter?  Kett. 
O he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!  Com. 
Nay, sweet Sister, have patience.  Kett. 
Oh, woe is me, that I have lived to see this heavy hour!  Com. 
Pray Sister be patient, you wrong yourself too much.  Kett. 
I care not, so long as I never wronged him. Oh my dear Husband is dead, and I am undone, undone for ever!  Com. 
Come, pray Sister leave the room, and take some comfort; Your tears cannot recall him.  Kett. 
No, no, I'll never leave him, I'll never leave him thus.  Com. 
Come, come, let me persuade ye. Nay come, good Sister.  Kett. 
Then let me take my last farewell: Deny me not that good Brother. kisses him. I hope he's happier far than I.  Exeunt Ent. Quack. Quibble, at one door. Quack 
Conscience! What tellest thou me of Conscience? Conscience, and Commodity, are two several Trades: If thou keep the one, the other will scarce keep thee. Conscience, quoth her? I cry my stars mercy. There's a word indeed! You a Mountebanks man! You a hangman as soon. Tell me of Conscience?  Quib. 
I beseech you, Sir, excuse me. 'Twas but a hasty word let slip, before I was aware.  Quack 
He that's my servant must forget to blush,  
Must teach his ready lips to mouth an oath,  
Must have a daring brow, hatched o'er with brass;  
Must have a smooth-faced tongue, that has the Art  
To clothe a naked Lie with robes of Truth;  
And learn to work upon the easy faith  
Of the believing Multitude: He must be bold  
And plausible, and captivate the ear  
With lines of wit; And with some bugbear words  
Of seeming Art, must fright their understandings  
Into an Admiration.  
Which, like a nightly Lowbell, may entice  
Th' amazed plebeians to his Batfoule net.  
Quibble, what sayst to this?  Quib. 
Sir, if you'd be pleased to excuse me a little for swearing, I should do well enough for lying. For indeed, I must confess, swearing goes a little against my conscience.  Quack 
More conscience yet? Come, come, ye must not  
Stand upon such Niceties: He that will thrive  
Must fear to act no profitable Crime:  
Almighty Gold hath power to absolve  
The evils of poverty: He may be bold  
To sin in want, that may repent in Gold.  Quib. 
Well Sir, I am resolved. Conscience, farewell. And now that Blocks removed, Quibble shall undertake your fair Instructions, and approve himself a Scholar worthy of so sage a Master.  Quack 
But one thing more;  
When you shall mount my Stage  
Be sure, your lavish tongue reflect upon  
The honour of my Name: let all your words  
Aim at my merits, and enhance my fame,  
Advance my Cures, And let thy tongue relate  
The greatness of my Patients, and rewards  
Of foreign Princes, and those powers above.  
'Tis easier to believe, then to disprove.  Quib. 
It is enough: If Quibble undertake,  
And fail, trust neither fool nor knave for Quibble's sake.  Exeunt, several doors. Lactusia, Trippit. Lact. 
The Queen's extremely discontent, that her designs have fallen so cross.  Trip. 
Who can help it?  Lact. 
This is the fruit of jealousy; had not that peevish fool been jealous of Kettreena, My conscience tells me this had never been.  Trip. 
Nay, to see the old fool must needs run upon his own death, and not suffer her to die, whose death he so desired!  Lact. 
Well, 'twas the first time that I was e'er engaged in such a business, and shall be the last.  Trip. 
Nay, to see the luck on't, The counterfeited Letter was found in Pertenax his pocket, and may discover all.  Lact. 
But my fear is, that Quack will be examined, and then all will out.  Trip. 
No, Quack did wisely deliver his Message in a disguise; can he but keep his own counsel, all may be well. In the mean while, I have given out that Kettreena had a hand in the business, which perchance may prove an aftergame, and strengthened with report may leave her to the Law.  Exeunt Evald. Artesio, Formid: Comodus. Evald. 
I send a Letter and a cordial! I'm abused.  Art. 
It appears, the mischief was meant to Kettreena, Sir.  Evald. 
But heaven protected her: Who brought the Letter and the Potion?  For. 
The Messenger was a Stranger, Sir.  Evald. 
How habited?  Com. 
Sir, like a Cavalier, in a slashed Suit, a black Lock, And a gilt Rapier, down to his heels.  Evald. 
We'll make a strict enquiry; Such murder will not long lie smothered. But how does poor Kettreena take it?  Com. 
Exceeding heavily Sir, And the worse, that some base tongues would make her accessary.  Evald. 
My soul acquits her. Artesio, let her know, we'll visit her to morrow. Bid her from me cheer up; Upon my honour I'll not rest, till she be righted.  Art. 
Heaven bless your highness.  Evald. 
'Tis certain, there's a challenge passed betwixt Bellarmo, and Palladius: I fear the unhappy difference concerning the Birthright, will never be composed but by the Oracle. On Wednesday is their birthday, and most fit for such solemnity: Formidon, let proclamation be issued forth, that all the Court, upon the pain of our displeasure that day await the Oracle, where we in person will attend it. Artesio send you warrant out in our name to the Pythian Priests to make their Preparations.  Comodus. Museus. 
So now Museus, If the plot hit right  
There's but a hair 'twixt Monarchy and thee:  
The Gap stands fair; If thy auspicious stars  
Light thee the way, and prosperous Fortune breathe  
Success upon thy high contrived designs,  
Thy sole-commanding hand, shall grasp and sway  
The glorious sceptre, and thy gracious brows  
Shall be encompassed with th' imperial crown.  
But stay! What if Palladius should advise  
With his soft Pillow? what if pleading tears  
Softly distilling from the amorous eyes  
Of his fair idol should prevail and turn  
His martial flames into a love-sick fire?  
What if the blaze of our Bellarmo's rage  
( Not having solid fuel to maintain  
The wasteful bounty of his lavish flames)  
Should slake and languish, and consume itself  
To the warm ashes of a soft accord?  
Here, here, Museus, thou must act thy part  
With Care and judgement, and ingenious Art.  
Be circumspect; Be studious to increase  
Those Fires: Their wars produce thy Peace.  
Be thou the bellows to advance their flame:  
And having wisely dealt, play thus thy Game.  
First bait thy hook with deep dissembled love,  
Keep close thy Serpent, and show them thy Dove:  
Seem Friend to both; Who ever failed his End,  
That hammered treason with the hands of Friend?  
Feel both their pulses: If they chance to beat  
Active and sprightly, wish, advise, entreat  
To Peace: persuaded fury, and stopped streams  
When most resisted, run to most extremes:  
But if their tilted spirits run too low,  
Urge Reputation, and the faith they owe  
To sacred Honour in a Prince's name:  
The whetstone of abated Valour's shame.  [ Ent. Palla. softly, reading 2. letters. 
But see, how pat Palladius presence gives  
A fair advantage to my new desires!  
I'll stand aside, until his serious eyes  
Have given free welcome to his paper-guests.  Pall. 
I stand betwixt two minds! what's best to do?  
This bids me stay; This spurs me on to go.  
Once more let our impartial eyes peruse  
Both t'one and tother: Both may not prevail.  
My Lord,  
PRize not your honour so much as to disprize her that honours you, in choosing rather to meet Death in the field, than Pulchrella in her desires. Give my affection leave once more to dissuade you from trying Conquest with so unequal a Foe: Or if a combat must be tried, make a Bed of Roses the Field, and me your enemy. The Interest I claim in you is sufficient warrant to my desires, which according to the place they find in your Respects, confirm me either the happiest of all Ladies, or make me the most unfortunate of all women.  
Pull CHRELLA.  
A charm too strong for Honour to repress.  Mus. 
A heart too poor for Honour to possess.  Pall. 
Honour must stoop to Vows. But what says this?  [ Reads the other Letter. 
My Lord,  
THe hand that guides this Pen, being guided by the ambition of your honour, and my own affection, presents you with the wishes of a faithful servant, who desires not to buy your safety with the hazard of your Reputation. Go on with courage, and know, Panthea shall partake with you in either fortune: If conquered, my heart shall be your Monument, to preserve and glorify your honoured ashes; If a Conqueror, my tongue shall be your herald to proclaim you the Champion of our Sex, and the Phoenix of your own, honoured by all, equalled by few, beloved by none more dearly than  
Your own Panthea.  
I sail betwixt two Rocks! What shall I do?  
What Marble melts not if Pulchrella woo?  
Or what hard-hearted ear can be so dead,  
As to be deaf, if fair Panthea plead?  
Whom shall I please? Or which shall I refuse?  
Pulchrella sues, and fair Panthea sues:  
Pulchrella melts me with her love-sick tears,  
But brave Panthea batters down my ears  
With Love's Pettarre: Pulchrellas breast encloses  
A soft Affection wrapped in Beds of Roses.  
But in the rare Panthea's noble lines,  
True Worth and Honour, with Affection joins.  
I stand even-balanced, doubtfully oppressed,  
beneath the burden of a bivious breast.  
When I peruse my sweet Pulchrellas tears,  
My blood grows wanton, and I plunge in fears:  
But when I read divine Panthea's charms,  
I turn all fiery, and I grasp for arms.  
Who ever saw, when a rude blast out-braves,  
And thwarts the swelling Tide, how the proud waves  
Rock the drenched pinnace on the seagreen breast  
Of frowning Ahimptrite, who oppressed  
Betwixt two Lords,( not knowing which t'obey)  
Remains a Neuter in a doubtful way.  
So tossed am I, bound to such strair confines,  
Betwixt Pulchrella's and Panthea's lines.  
Both cannot speed: But one that must prevail.  
I stand even poised: an atom turns the scale.  Mus. 
Dar'st thou be doubtful? Fie, Palladius, fie.  Pall. 
How now? What, is Museus care so nigh!  
Lend me thy grave advice: Peruse these lines,  
My choice shall fix on what thy judgement sings.  Reads the Letters softly. 
Read both. Compare and judge.  Mus. 
Weigh Heaven with Hell:  
Compare harsh owls to warbling Philomela:  
Weigh Froth with Honour, or dejected Shame  
With the down-weight of an illustrious Name.  
Pulchrella woos thee with a Siren's song;  
But brave Panthea's more heroic tongue  
Chants strains of honour: False Pulchrella sheds  
The tears of Crocodiles: Panthea treads  
High steps to triumph, where thy growing Name.  
Shall stand recorded in the Rolls of Fame.  
But take thy course: Th'advice is only mine:  
Thine is the interest, as the choice is thine.  Restores the Letters. 
This only know, Bellarmo's tongue proclaims  
Palladius dares not fight, but with his dames.  Pall. 
The scales are turned. Panthea lodge thou here  
Next to my heart, Pulchrella, lie thou there.  Puts that in his bosom, tears the other. 
Farewell my soft embraces: Sports stand by:  
Bellarmo, if Palladius lives, shall die.  Ex. Mus. 
So, now it works: If either hap to fall,  
I the sole-second to both parties shall  
With my breathed sword do justice on the other:  
Crowns weigh no friends: Ambition knows no brother.  
Then, then, Museus, shall th' imperial crown  
Adorn thy sacred Temples; and the Throne  
Of Earth's unrivalled Majesty shall be  
Thy purchased Prize, possessed alone by Thee.  
Then shall those golden, those forgotten days  
Return to earth: Then shall the learned bays  
That wants deservers, in this trifling Age,  
Immortalize the Sophoclean Stage:  
Unbroken Faith shall then forget to start,  
And be entailed upon the single heart.  
Unblemished loyalty shall crown the loves  
Of twined souls, more innocent than Doves.  
But stay, Museus! Thou forgettest to play  
The t'other part with thy Bellarm', Away:  
Go feel his humour: If his rage be down,  
Go switch it up: Thou labourest for a crown.  Ex.  

ACT. IV. SCEN. I.  Quibble mounting his Bank. Quib. 
BE it known to all men by these presents, that I Jeffery Quibble, am the trusty and right well-beloved servant and kinsman to the renowned, famous, skilful, learned, able, admirable, incomparable Master of Phisgigge, Cornelius Quack, a man of rare Qualcoms, and singular imperfections, who by his studies abroad, and travels at home, through France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Denmark, Poland, Finderland, Freezeland, hath marvellously unbefitted himself with all manner of oils, Waters, Powders, Drugs, Spirits, balsams, syrups, Salves, Sere-cloathes; bountifully unstored with all sorts of Preservatives, Conservatives, Restoritives, Antidotes, for all manner of Temperatures, Constitutions, Complexions; Richly unfurnished with all kind of Prescripts, Deceits, and all other rare Impediments belonging to a man of his Defunction, who to the great dimolishment of this town, and benefice of this Incorruption, hath redressed himself to you, and here sets up his bank, offering health to the imperfermity of your bodies, soundness to the impudency of your limbs, and present cure to your outward mallenders, and inward exturbances. And for your farther satisfaction of his deficiency in this kind, Behold his Licence under the hands of her most Excellent majesty, and Bellarmo her illustrious son; which, when occasion shall require it, shall be shown, to the honour of my renowned Master, Cornelius Quack, and his pragmatical servant Jeffery Quibble.  
But to the purpose, Gentlemen: It may be you will think me more knave than fool, And may be so I am: And now perchance you'll say I'm both by my own confession: And may be I am so too. Artesio my old Master made me a knave, and my new Master hath made me a fool: And so he'll do ye all before h'as done with ye. Which that he may the better do, have patience a while.  Draws a curtain, and discovers his shop furnished. 
Gentlemen, Here's that will do the deed. Here's physic of all kinds, for all diseases: Salves of all natures for all sores: Medicines of all compositions, for all constitutions, colours, of all sorts, for all complexions.  [ Takes a box and reads. 
The costly powder in this box  
Cures him that's powdered with the Pox.  
This helps the back, and cures the reins;  Reads another. 
Makes her weight that wants two grains.  
The Ointment that this glass encloses,  Reads another. 
Palliats' blue cheeks, and purple noses.  
This cures the colic, Stone, or Wind,  Reads another. 
Makes crazed bodies belch behind.  
This cures the careful married life  Reads another. 
Of that disease men call a Wife.  
This clears complexion when it fades;  Reads another. 
Cures Falling-sicknesses in maids.  
This cures the twattles, and the flouts;  Takes a wand. 
Grumbles, sullens, and the pouts.  
This helps all gouts both old and young,  Reads another. 
And cures the palsy in the tongue.  
This makes nightwalkers keep their beds;  Reads another. 
Cures heavy hearts, and giddy heads.  
If Jack love Joan, and Joan fly back,  Reads another. 
This powder will make Joan love Jack.  
If Joan love Jack, and Jack will none,  Reads another. 
This powder will make Jack love Joan.  
This first and last if ye apply,  Reads another. 
You'll ne'er be sick but when ye die.  
But this rare Quintessence such strength does give,  Anoth. 
You'll never die so long as ere ye live.  
Gentlemen, This is a rare man,( though I say't) and hath a thousand secrets more, which next market day you shall have from his own plentiful mouth. He hath done rare cures by natural magic, Sympathies, and Antipathies; But this is Heathen Greek to you: Who would have conceived that Sir Walter Raleigh's blood should have cured Goudomors Fistula in ano? But this is likewise Greek to you: we'll leave these mysteries to the wise, and tell ye things according to the measure of our apprehensions.  
My Master had for taking a corn out of the great moguls toe,— 100.1. sterling. For strengthening the Pr: of Orenge's back, 1000 Gilders. For curing the Emperor of a dropsy, 4000 Rx dollars. For taking a black Cataract out of his holiness his left eye,— 600. Checkeens. For curing Card: Richelieu of the King's evil, 800. French crowns.  
Well Gentlemen, to be short, My Master loves money woundly well, and so does my Master's man. If therefore ye want any thing, grease my fist with a Tester or two, and ye shall find it in your pennyworths. And why should not I cheat him with as good a conscience, as he you?  
But stay! We must have a parting song, before ye go. Sirrah, Jack, Rogue, Boy, ho Jack!  Enter Boy. 
O are you come, Sirrah! Sing these Gentlemen a song. Come, be nimble, 'Twill be your own another day.  Boy. 

Song.  
IS any sick? Is any sore  
Oppressed with qualms and fainting fits?  
Or bound behind? Or loose before?  
Has any Lover lost his wits?  
Let him draw near,  
And make his griefs appear,  
we'll cure them all from top to toe,  
Before, behind, above, below.   

II.  
Is any heart oppressed with dolour?  
Sullen, sad, or melancholy?  
O'erflown with blood? inflamed with choler?  
Or surcharged with phlegm or folly?  
Let him draw near,  
And make his griefs appear,  
we'll ease ye all, what ere ye feel,  
Within, without, from head to heel.   

III.  
Is any foul that would be fair?  
Would rau'ns appear as white as Lambs?  
Has any Courtier lost his hair?  
Or finds a crickling in his hams?  
Let him draw near,  
And make his griefs appear,  
we'll cure all their wants throughout,  
Above, below, within, without.   

IV.  
Has any Morpheus, Freckles, stains,  
Warts, or Wounds, or Wens, or Scar's?  
Blisters, Botches, Biles, or Blanes,  
Coughs, Consumptions, Colds, catarrhs?  
Let them draw near,  
And make their griefs appear,  
we'll make them sound from bone to skin,  
Above, below, without, within.   

V.  
colics, Fevers, palsies, Flux,  
Cancers, Dropsies, nauseous Fumes?  
Migraines, Skirvies, Cramps, or Cricks,  
Jaundice, Rickets, Piles, or rheums?  
Let them draw near,  
And make their griefs appear,  
we'll give them ease, and health restore,  
Within, without, behind, before.   Quibble. 
'tis a good Boy!  
Now Gentlemen, you've heard the truth both sung and said, confirmed by fools and children, who ye know speak truth. If after all this ye cannot believe, we have lost our breath, and you the benefit.  
But to confirm your Confidence, and to magnific the excellence of our skill, I will present such visible demonstrations to your eye, that Doubt shall find no ground to question, and Unbelief shall blush at her own infidelity. And first,  
Here is a sovereign balsam, that in the space of one minute and three quarters, shall cure the deepest wound that dagger can inflict, whereof behold sufficient proof.  Stabs himself. 
Gentlemen, this wound which I have made, shall by the virtue of this balsam be as quickly cured.  anoints. 
So, now the blood retires unto his wont veins, I feel the Orifice, which even just now had room enough to lodge my finger, now closed, and smooth, and flesh delivered from the sense of pain.  
Secondly, here is an excellent Antidote, which taken, shall preserve the taker from the injury of poison, hot or cold. As for example—  
This ugly Spider here contains the rankest of all venom.  
Now Gentlemen, I take my Antidote.  
And now my Spider.  Eats it. 
'tis gone! Fight Dog, fight bear. Him!  
Poison do thy worst. Ha! Dost thou rejounce?  
Thy power's kerbed, and cannot work her end.  
Needs fear no Foe, that hath so true a friend.  
Thirdly, here's a sovereign Restoritive which shall correct the deadlyest poison in the height of operation. See ye this swelling Toad, whose poison taken shall swell ye till ye burst, And from the very Porch of Death this rare Preservative shall soon redeem ye. Gentlemen, mark how I squeeze this mortal bit into this bowl. Now Gallants, a Health to my Mistress.  Drinks. 
Now pledge it that dare. Mark the operation, him! Him! Him! Now it begins to work, O I am sick, my bowels gripe, I sweat, I burn, I burst—  Takes the Restorative. 
O what a Julip breathes into my veins!  
And how these strong Convulsions of my soul  
Begin to loosen! How the loathsome qualms  
Of my obstructed stomach turns to ease  
And appetite! O sovereign drop  
How, how hast thou restored my dying life  
With thy unvalued excellence, and lent  
My tongue new power to call thee excellent!  
Now, my Masters, you that delight in Chimestry, know also, my Master can show you many rare Experiments. He says he can make the philosopher's Stone, but saving his Reverence I think he lies, else he'd be hanged ere he'd thus Quack for Testers.  
But this upon my knowledge: he can bring an artificial Resurrection, and Vivification to Mercury, which being mortified into a thousand shapes, assumes again its own Body, and returns to its numerical self. He can likewise from the Ashes of a Plant, revive the Plant, and from its Cinders recall it to the Stalk and Leaves again. Lastly, by the virtue of a thing called Wit, he can do such wonders at cribbage, or Newcut, that the experience thereof shall teach ye more wisdom in an hour, than all the Volume of Thomas Aquinas can afford you in ten days: Wherein if you please the next market day he shall give you a plenary satisfaction, if you repair hither with purses to be handled, and minds to be instructed.  Exit. Madge, Cis. Cis. 
Well Madge, though I pawn my Poppingay Petticoat for't, I'll ha' some of that powder next market day.  Madge. 
What powder Cis?  Cis. 
That powder that will make Jack love Jone.  Madge. 
P'sh, I don't think 'twill work any such effect.  Cis. 
Yes Madge, as sure as I live. Doll our Dairy-maid gave some on't to Nick the butler's boy, and within an hour after the boy was so mad of her: He would never let her alone, but dogged her from corner to corner, and would so tumble her and so touse her: And when company was by her would so gloit and cast sheep's eyes at her, as past. She could go nowhere but the boy would make one. Sometimes he would bring her May-bushes, sometimes mellow-Apples, sometimes a Busk-point, sometimes a Silk-lace. And if she spoke but a kind word to him, Lord, he would so simper, and so jemper, and so lick his lips, and so scratch his elbow, as 'twas admirable.  Madge. 
Is't possible?  Cis. 
I tell thee Madge, I saw it with my own eyes, and thought the next time the Mountebank came I'd buy some on't to see what mettle our Frank the falconer was made on.  Madge. 
Why sirrah, he loves thee well enough without it: Would I know who loved me half so well.  Cis. 
Yes verily, I confess I think he loves me dearly well, but yet not so dearly as I'd have him. He's such a maidenly man!—  Madge. 
Why? I'm sure I saw him kiss thee twenty times together, to be sure so often that my teeth watered soundly.  Cis. 
Twenty times? what's twenty times? what's that? 'Tis done before one can say What's this? Twenty times? 'tis a mighty piece of business. And then forsooth, he must stroke his hawk, And then forsooth he must feed his hawk, and then forsooth, he must bathe his hawk, And then forsooth, he must lie down by his hawk, and see his hawk pick herself, and prune herself, and there's such a deal of fiddling, and such a deal of fadling, And then forsooth, he must go abroad a hawking, and stay out all day, and then at night come home as weary as his dogs, and sit without life or soul, That one has as much comfort in him as comes to nothing.  Madge. 
Well Cis, would some body did but love me half so well, a that condition it cost me a fall.  Cis. 
Goodly, goodly, would Antony at George were here to draw his name out a your politic mouth, You are so close, and so wise now.  Madge. 
Why, I am not ashamed to name him, nor he of his name: Well, he has cost me many a bitter sigh in his days, Yet I dare take my oath he's as honest a young man as lives by bread.  Cis. 
Why dost thou sigh? He may leave his honesty when he will, and see ne'er a whit the worse for't.  Madge. 
I care not, so he left it with no but me; yet in the way of honesty too( I tell ye but so:) Well, no knows what I have endured for his sake; But I may thank my modesty for't, and my Mother for that. She gave my a Rule forsooth, once, which I ha' beshrewed her for a thousand times.  Cis. 
What Rule was that, Madge?  Madge. 
She charged me, that when any sued for my love, I should be coy, and say Noforsooth, and still Noforsooth, and Noforsooth, which I ha'done so long, that I have almost noforsoothed away all my fortunes. But sirrah,( here's none but Thee and I) I'll tell thee. This very day two months( well fare all good tokens) Antony at the George would needs ha'me down into his wine-cellar, and gave me a Pint of Brown-bastard; and being in a good humour, broke his mind to me, And taking a glass of Wine, wished it might be his poison if he did not love me with all his heart.  Cis. 
But did he drink it?  Madge. 
Every drop as I live; Nay more, would may ne'er store, if he offered not( I'll tell it to thee) to fetch a Licence instantly, and marry me forthwith, if I'd go with him; But I, like a puppinosed fool, followed my mother's directions, and cried Noforsooth, to make him the more eager, which he taking in earnest, flung away in a pet, and as I live, took me at my word, and never spoke kindly to me since: And this is the fruits of Noforsooth.  Cis. 
And wert thou not served in thy kind, to be such an ass, to refuse a good thing when 'twas offered?  Madge. 
Nay, Sirrah, See the luck on't; Had he but asked me once more, I had resolved to ha'taken him at his word: But if he, or any other hereafter take Madge a crying Noforsooth, I'll give him leave to bite off my tongue, and spit it in my face, I tell ye but so.  Cis. 
Dost thou think he has forsaken thee upon't?  Madge. 
I can't tell: I ha'made many a frivolous errand to the George since, And when he sees me, the Gentleman will bite his lip, and put off his hat, but as I live, neither kiss me, nor nothing else, That I came away with a flea in mine ear, and in a fustian Fret, and had such qualms, and such Swamps come over my stomach all night long—  Cis. 
But art not mightily troubled with him in thy dreams?  Madge. 
O, sirrah, abomination; There's ne'er a night escapes me, on my conscience: Sometimes, methinks I see him twirling up his pretty little black beard: sometimes stroking up his foretop: sometimes singing that heavenly tune of Walsingham to his cittern: sometimes crying Anon Anon Sir, and running up stairs: sometimes Very welcome Gentlemen, Is all paid i'th'Rose? which he fetches up with such a grace— As indeed every thing he does becomes him most sweetly. O how I could curse this peevish tongue of mine for saying that last Noforsooth. Ah! if he had asked me the Question but once more, verly I had been to morrow two months gone: But who can help it?  Cis. 
Well Madge, our conditions are much alike: we must even comfort one another as well as we can.  Madge. 
That's but cold comfort Cis: I but my case is thousand times worse than thine; Thou mayst see him thou lovest every day, and dine together, and sup together, and sleep together under the same roof; but I a poor forsaken creature must waste my disconsolate hours in thinking, & in sighing, and in [ Weeps] sobbing. Insomuch that I han't eaten a bit of bread that has done me any good these three days. But yet I can't choose but laugh to think— Ha, ha, ha, ha, how Frank the falconer — Ha, ha, ha, ha, was catched in's Roguery last night, Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Cis. 
How? Prithee tell me.  Madge. 
I think my heart will burst when I think on't. Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Cis. 
Prithee tell me the conceit.  Madge. 
Sirrah, yesternight when thou wert gone up with my Lady, Frank and I were raking Husbands and Wives in the Embers, And Frank hearing the stairs creak, and thinking thee hadst been coming down, catcht my Lady fast by the — Ha, ha, ha, ha, middle; but she lent him such a wherret upon the ear, that all the house rung on't: But 'twould make a Horse break his Halter to see how like an ass poor Frank looked and sneaked away with his tail clapped between his legs, Ha, ha, ha, ha, Did he not tell thee on't yet?  Cis. 
No verily, I see him not to day: Huds lifelykins, Alas poor heart, But 'tis no matter: Let him keep home adays then, that he may see what he does, and whom he embraces. But sirrah, now I think on't, I ha some a Dolls powder, which I stole from her, Till we get more, let's try conclusions with that.  Madge. 
With all my heart, let's: But how shall we give it them?  Cis. 
How? Leave that to me: Frank and I will go to the George, and drink a pint with Antony, and then we'll send for thee, And I warrant thee I'll spice their Cups, and then  
In spite of my mother, my grandam, my aunt,  
We'll drink off our cups, and make a night on't.  Madge. 
A match! Come, let's weigh; we shall be both hanged for staying so long.  Exeunt. Evald. Artesio, Formidon, Comodus. Evald. 
Artesio, Can you resolve us yet concerning the death of Pertenax?  Art. 
Sir, he was opened, and we apparently find that he was poisoned.  Evald. 
Go Artesio, and comfort thy poor afflicted daughter, Let her know, that we are partners in her sorrow, and will be a husband to the widow, and take her welfare into our protection.  Art. 
Heaven bless your highness.  Ex. Artes. Evald. 
Does there appear any new light by your Examination?  Formid. 
Sir, I find there was such a Letter counterfeited from your highness, and a silver Cup was delivered to Kettreena by a stranger, who after the delivery instantly departed. Likewise I find that Pertenax coming in the nick, snatched it from Kettreena's unwilling hand, and in a passion retired into a room, not suffering her to follow him, where he was found dead an hour after.  
Another Examinate faith, that he sent for a dram of arsenic the night before, but for what purpose the Examinate knoweth not.  
Another Examinate, being one of his servants, saith, that she harkening at the door, did hear him say, that he would put in a dose of arsenic into the Cup for? Kettreena, which she saw him search in his pockets for; but being suddenly called away by her Lady, stayed not to see the rest. And indeed it is generally believed, that he was chief Agent in his own death.  Evald. 
Comodus, what account can you give us of this business?  Com. 
Sir, we found in his pocket the Cup and the Letter, but no arsenic: Upon suspicion I examined Madam Lactusia, and one Cornelius Quack, once servant to Artesio, who falter something in their examination, but deny any knowledge of the proceedings: only they both hear that Pertenax counterfeited the Letter, to see with what Affection his Lady would receive it.  Evald. 
Even like enough, The just reward of a jealous brain.  Com. 
But this she added, That when time should serve, she would discover a secret of another nature, which will make such an alteration in the State, as Time could not example: whereupon I committed them both to Prison till a farther Examination.  Evald. 
'Twas wisely done.  Formidon, 
See a firm Conveyance made of all Pertenax his Estate to our use, which we freely give to Kettreena. And you Comodus, take a special care to call in her debts that are upon Book and Specialties.  Ex.  

ACT. V. SCEN. I.  Clysterpipe. 
THe devil a bit of meat have I gotten these nine days, but once a lean scrag end of a Neck of Mutton, which one of my Master's Patients loathed to eat: Else my whole diet hath been nothing but the overplus of thin physic-broth, and my drink, the heartless reversion of discurded Posset-Ale: Insomuch, I had rather be my Master's hangman, than his servingman; For then perchance I might get a Caft Suit, and a gratuity for a quick dispatch. Knocks at door. Who's at door there?  Opens it, and enter Page with an urinal. Page. 
Sir, Is Master Doctor within? I have brought him a Urine.  Glist. 
From whom?  Page. 
From my Lady Albion.  Glist. 
My Master is very busy, and cannot be spoken with these two hours.  Page. 
Good Sir, my business is upon life and death: I pray bring me to him, and I shall be very thankful.  Glist. 
How shall that appear?  Page. 
By this small carnest of a greater Reward.  Gives him a Fee. Glist. 
Well Sir, I shall make a trial. Opens the curtain. Sir, here is one would speak with you from my Lady Albion.  Artes. 
Bring him in. Now friend, what's your business?  Page. 
Sir, my Lady hath sent you her Urine, and desires your Advice.  Art. 
Clysterpipe.  Glist. 
Sir.  Pours it in a dish. Art. 
Go air it.  Glist. 
Now I'd as lief he had bid me gone to supper, but take him in that fault, & hang him. Stumbles, & spills the urine, and rises. So, now am I as sure of a cracked crown, as my Master is of a whole Angel: But I'll serve him a trick, and save myself some labour. I'll make it up again out of my own stock.  Exit. Art. 
Has your Lady made no use of any other Doctor formerly?  Page. 
Yes Sir, she took advice of a Scottish Doctor, but she is not much the better for him: He drew a great deal of money from her ladyship, who is now fain to give him money to be rid on him— Whisper.  Ent. clysterpipe. Glist. 
'tis all but piss, and 'tis not the first time my Master has had an eye to my water.  Page. 
Truly I cannot tell Sir.  Shakes the Urinal. Art. 
This water shows no great defect in her ladyship's stomach.  Glist. 
His Doctorship may swear it.  Art. 
Her ladyship accustoms herself to too thin a diet, eats too much broth, and too many Sillibubs.  Glist. 
Posset-Ale ye mean Sir, a halter stretch ye.  Art. 
And does not encourage her stomach with good substantial meat.  Glist. 
Thanks to your miserable purse Sir, he would if he could get it.  Art. 
Her ladyship's body is much out of order, and there's a Malignant hypochondriacal Flate within her, which fumes up, and disturbs her Head: Is she not much troubled with the headache?  Page. 
Yes Sir, exceedingly: She complains of it every day.  Art. 
She is likewise much troubled with inflammations, and obstructions in the liver, which causes an inordinate swimming in the brain, and giddiness. Is she not apt now and then to speak idly?  Page. 
O Sir, when the Fit takes her, she speaks never a word of sense: she talks of nothing but Bishops, and Petitions, and I can't tell what, and her tongue runs so wildly, and indeed I think she is scarce sensible sometimes of her own sickness.  Art. 
That proceeds altogether from the rude confluence of loose humours. I find by her water, she is much troubled with wind and choler, which occasions a great and frequent heartburning: Is she not much subject to unaccustomed sadness at times?  Page. 
Extremely Sir.  Art. 
I find she has a great imbeeility in her spirits natural, which causes in her a general faintness, and now and then inclined to the Cardiaca Passio. Is she not often possessed with sudden frights, and fears, and jealousies, and misunderstandings?  Page. 
Exceedingly Sir.  Art. 
I find likewise, that she is much troubled with the spleen, which occasions stupidity, melancholy, and at times distractions? Is she not often in a brown study?  Page. 
Very much Sir.  Art. 
Well, I fear we must be forced to draw some blood from her, which as the case stands now with her, I should be loathe to do. There is some bad blood in her veins; but if a vein be once opened, the best blood in her body may chance to pass too, which she can hardly spare, without palpable danger. Until I see her, I can prescribe little. To morrow I shall wait upon her ladyship, and what I shall then find fitting, shall be carefully administered. In the mean while, let her keep her head warm, and be very careful of her Temples: Let her forbear Salt and Usquebagh: Let her use Moderation in her Exercises, wherein she might not be forced to lift her arms too near her head: And for the relieving of her drooping spirits let her recreate herself now and then with a game at Irish: Let her forbear Noddy, and chess, as Games too serious. Farewell.  Page. 
Take this, clysterpipe, to drink my Lady's health.  Gives Glist a Fee, & Ex. Glist. 
How odoriserous is a very stool! how sweet,  
When full-crammed Purses, and crazed Bodies meet!  Knocks. 
What? more Fees yet? Who's at door?  Page. 
Pray is Mr. Doctor within? Ent. Page with an urinal. I have brought him a water.  Glist. 
From whom?  Page. 
From my Lady Temple.  Glist. 
He cannot be spoken with as yet, unless—  Page. 
I know your mind, Sir, let this quicken you.  Art. 
Clysterpipe?  Glist. 
Sir.  Art. 
Who's there?  Glist. 
One that would speak with your Honour from my Lady Temple.  Art. 
Bring him in: Now friend, what's your business?  Page. 
Sir, my Lady desires your Advice upon her Urine.  Art. 
clysterpipe, go chafe it.  Glist. 
So, there's a shilling more for clysterpipe.  Ex. Art. 
How long has your Lady been sick?  Page. 
These three years, Sir: she took a tedious journey to Canterbury, where she conceives she took a surfeit with too much Duck, which hath lain very heavy upon her ladyship's stomach ever since.  Enter Glist. with the urinal. Art. 
This water shows a great diftemper in her principal Parts, which indeed sets her whole Frame out of Order. Has she taken no Advice formerly?  Page. 
Sir, she has had many Advisers, but men of mean quality, and of no skill at all.  Art. 
What were they?  Page. 
Her poor neighbour's Sir, cobblers, Weavers, feltmakers, Coachmen, and brewer's Clerks, who pretend a great deal of slovenly skill.  Art. 
In good time! But what Doctors had she?  Page. 
Some Doctors of very good worth, but this Rabble jeers them, and laughs them out of doors.  Art. 
I find by her Water she has a foul Liver, & can digest no wholesome food: And her first digestion being bad, makes her second worse: Is she not apt to frights?  Page. 
Sir, her ladyship's stomach was prettily well purged of her Canterbury Duck, and being finely at ease, and laid to rest, a rude company of cock-brained Rascals in an humour beset her house, and broke down all her glass-windows, and put her into such a fright, that she has been the worse for't ever since.  Art. 
I find by her water, there has been too sudden Alterations in her constitution: Is she not sometimes very hot, and sometimes very cold?  Page. 
Yes Sir, sometimes as cold as Charity, sometimes as hot as zeal.  Art. 
I find obnoxious fumes rising from her stomach, and stupifying her brain: Is she not at times very drowsy?  Page. 
Yes Sir, Insomuch that the common people think she is troubled with a Liturgic.  Art. 
A lethargy you mean. It is a chronical disease, and time must cure it. But let her know, that so long as she entertains this rude Rabble of unsanctified mechanics, She can never prosper in her health. Till she banish them, there will be no room for me. Fare ye well.  
But hear ye. Let her Fasting be frequent, and her Prayers, Common.  Glist. 
Sir, I shall pray for your Lady's health.  Page. 
Fast too.  Ex. Glist. 
A fair Reward! 'tis Supper time: I'll hence. My Pater Nosters shall be like her Pence.  Ex. Evaldus, Augusta, Bellarm. Pallad: Museus, Artes. Form. Comod. Kettreena, Marina, Roscia, Phonilla, Tripit. All bow to the Oracle and take their places. Enter three Pythian Virgin Priests with Censers in their hands, in linen Robes, and crowned with Bayes. Thrice bow to the Oracle. 
1. Great Apollo, we adore thee.  
2. We importune, we implore thee.  
2. Thus we prostrate fall before thee.  All bow to the Oracle. 
1. Sacred Phoebus draw thee nigher.  
2. Grant the boon that we desire.  
3. And resent our. holy Fire.  Offer their Incense. 
1. Thou before whose open eye  
2. All unshadowed secrets lie,  
3. Clear our doubts, and make reply.  Bow, and stepping nearer to the Oracle, bow again, and retiring back, bow the 3. time. 
1. When Evaldus shall lay down,  
Shall Bellarmo wear the crown?  Oracle, No. Bell. 
Apollo lies: This is the Oracle I appeal to.  Lays hand on his sword. Evald. 
On pain of death, keep silence there. Proceed.  
2. When Evaldus shall lay down,  
Shall Palladius were the crown?  Oracle, No. Pall. 
Nay now Apollo ignorant or unjust.  Eva. 
Silence once more. The next disturberdies. Proceed.  
3. When Evaldus shall lay down,  
Shall Museus wear the crown?  Oracle, No. 
1 When Evaldus shall lay down,  
2 3 Whose head then shall wear the crown?  Oracle. 
The Babe unborn shall end the strife,  
Whose Mother is both Widow, Maid, and Wife.  Aug. 
The Oracle speaks Treason, and Apollo's Priests  
Are all Impostors—  A flash of fire from the Oracle; A cloud of smoke; which being vanished, Augusta is found dead in her chair of State, her Crown struck off, conveyed upon Kettreena's head: Bellarmo, Palladius, and Trippit, dead upon the ground, and the 3. Pythians kneeling upon the floor. Evald. 
Are we all safe? Are we not all consumed?  For. 
Bellarmo's stricken dead.  Kett. 
He's in a trance, O chafe his Temples!  Art. 
Ye stand too close, bear back, & give him air.  Com. 
Palladius.  Mar. 
Bend him, O bend him forwards.  For. 
He's past recovery.  Art. 
I feel no Pulse.  Pho. 
Her eyes are open.  Ros. 
Methinks I feel some breath.  Art. 
Stand by.  Evald. 
Are they all dead Artesio?  Art. 
All three as dead as earth.  Evald. 
O unexampled Justice! Who can stand  
Before the power of great Apollo's hand?  
Augusta, let's away; Our flight may scape  
Approaching afterclaps: Augusta, come.  
What, fallen asleep?  Art. 
The Queen is in a Trance.  Evald. 
Augusta.  Ket. 
Heaven bless the Queen.  Ros. 
She stirs not.  Ma. 
She breathes not.  Art. 
Make room, Stand farther off.  Evald. 
O she is dead, Is any hope of life?  Art. 
Sir none at all.  Evald. 
Augusta, dear Augusta, speak,  
Move but a finger: O she's past all cure!  Ros. 
But where's her crown?  Ma. 
Look here, upon Kettreena's head.  Mus. 
How came it thither?  Kett. 
Most royal Sir, How this Crown came here  
I cannot tell: Excuse me gracious Prince,  
Who humbly lay it at your sacred feet.  Evald. 
Kettreena, keep it for us; keep it safe,  
Till we require it, and dispose thereof.  
Apollo's will must be, who give us patience  
To bear his punishments: Take up the dead,  
And let us see them all bestowed, and laid  
In the sad Clofets of eternal rest.  Exeunt. Antony, Frank. Frank. 
Would may never swear if I had not rather ferve the great Turk in his galleys, than a Court Lady in her humours.  Ant. 
Sirrah, how the poor wenches trembled when we made them stay t'other pint. But is my Lady so strict Frank?  Frank. 
O she's a pestilent vixen when she's angry, and as proud as Lucifer. She has been to me knowledge a whole hour by the hourglass making Faces in a looking-glass. Sometimes putting out the nether lip, sometimes bridling in the chin; sometimes forming of a smile, sometimes figging up her cheeks, sometimes kissing of her white hand, sometimes practising a new French curtsy. And then Cis must be called, and then her ladyship's hair must be crisped, and then her ladyship's face must be complexioned, and then her ladyship's teeth must be scaled, and then her ladyship's brows must be mullited, and then her ladyship's turkey-egg must be eaten with a good grace. And then her ladyship's foisting dog must be combed, and then Cis must be sent for this dressing, and for that petticoat, and Madge must be employed for that plain handkerchief, and then for that purled Gorget which Cis was filling all last night. Then fault must be found, than Cis must be chidden, and Madge must be rated: And her sullen ladyship must keep her chamber all day, and at night her peevish ladyship must be sick and go to rest. Then at Midnight Cis must be called to kill the Flea that keeps her ladyship from sleeping forsooth. Then Cis must slip on her petticoat to see if the hall-door be shut, than down again to rate the dogs, than down again to fetch her ladyship some beer. Then Cis must look under the Bed; after that into the Closer, to see if there be ne'er a Cat to break her ladyship's Glasses. Insomuch that I hold it the greatest misery i'th' world, next being a Lady, to be a Chambermaid. But I must away. Tony, farewell.  Ant. 
Nay Frank, we'll have one sresh pint to drink Madge and Cis' Healths before we part. Knock within. Anon, anon, presently, presently.  Frank. 
But Tony, Tony, Tony, let it alone, for 'tis Hawking time; My Hawk has been empty panneled these three hours.  Knock within. Ant. 
I come, I come, presently, presently.  
Hang Hawks, we'll have one pint.  Knock within. 
By and by, By and by, I come I come.  Frank. 
Prithee Tony be nimble then.  Ex. 
Now had I as lief go a hanging as a-hawking— whatsoever the matter is, I ha'no mind to that sport. I'd rather ha' Cis in my arms, than a leash a Partridges in my pouch: 'tis a feat girl. O that this were my marriage day! on that condition I went barefoot to bed. Pretty Rogue! Well, I'm resolved, what ere come on't, I will marry and I must marry, and I will marry ere two days come to an end. Let my Lady get her a new falconer, or eat Mutton if she please. O Mutton, Mutton, Mutton! Well, I must marry, and I will marry; To day I receive my wages, and to morrow I'll buy a Licence, and next day Cis and I'll clap hands, And hay! then up go we.  Ent. Antony. Ant. 
Here Frank, a Health to Cis.  Drinks. Frank. 
Come, I'll pledgeed, were't a mile to the bottom. Pledges. Now Tony, fill me a cup: A Health to Madge.  Drinks. Ant. 
Come away: Madge shall never go unpledged whilst I am worth a Pint, nor never want while I am worth a penny.  Pledges. Frank. 
Thou art grown wondrous kind to day, Tony.  Ant. 
I think the moon's i'th' Hotti-totty, and all the loving Planicles are in Conjunction. Sirrah, I am so strangely taken within these two hours, that I ha'much ado to keep myself honest.  Frank. 
Hudds Wookers, I'm i'th' same Predicature Tony. My Stars lend me honesty enough to light me to bed, and keep Cis out of my way. But tell me, how likest thou Cis?  Ant. 
Hougely well I perrest. As I live, 'tis a dainty girl: She speaks so wisely and her words are so well placed, and she lisps so prettily, and so thweetely, And sirrah they say that lithping wenches are good to kith. Now tell me thy opinion of Madge.  Frank. 
I tell thee Tony, she's as good a creature as ever lived in a house, and as well beloved of the servants. Thou shalt have a dainty huswife, and an excellent Starcher, and one that my Master respects above all the rest. If his Band be to be pinned, no can please him but Madge; When his corns are to be cut, none must do't but Madge. If his Cuffe-strings are to be tied, none can tie 'em but Madge. When his Muskadine and eggs are to be prepared, none can please him but Madge: When his head aches, Madge must hold it: If his back itch, Madge must scratch it: And to her credit be it spoken, he swears, for a Foot, and a Leg, and a dainty black eye, and a white smooth skin, and a—  Ant. 
No more good Frank, thou mak'st me mad. My Stars lend me but honesty enough till I have opportunity to lose it.  Frank. 
And me but patience till Thursday.  Ant. 
Why Thursday?  Frank. 
If I breathe, Cis and I'll have a marriage day on't.  Ant. 
Sayst thou me so? Art in carnest? Give me thy hand.  Frank. 
Ay, as sure as this is flesh, and blood, & knuckles.  Ant. 
If Madge and I don't the like( if she be as willing as I) hang Tony. But shall's marry in our old clothes?  Frank. 
Huds diggers, I'd not stay till Friday for the King's Wardrobe.  Ant. 
A match then! Give me thy clutch, Bring them bither a Thursday morning, by break a day, and we'll dispatch the business before the Crow piss. Now Frank, here's a Health to the happy day.  ( drinks. Frank. 
Let it come, boy.  pledges. 
Here's another to the happy night.  drinks. Ant. 
Come away.  pledges. 
Anon, anon, presently, presently.  Knock within. 
Farewell Frank.  Frank. 
Tony farewell, and remember—  Exeunt. Ant. 
Very very welcome, Gentlemen.  Without. 
A pint a Canary in the lion, score!  Evald. Museus, Artesio, Form: Com: Kettreena, Rosia, Marina, Officers. Evald. 
I cannot rest, Artesio, till I purge  
This groaning Land of Pertenax his blood.  For. 
See, here the Prisoners.  Ent. Prisoners with Keepers Lact. 
Mercy, O mercy, gracious Prince.  Quack. 
Mercy, dread sovereign, mercy.  Evald. 
Wretches; The way to Mercy, is Confession.  
Speak truth, Are ye guilty of this murder?  Lact. 
Most gracious Prince, I was no Actor in it.  Quack. 
Nor I Contriver, may it please your grace.  For. 
No, She contrived, and He acted it.  Evald. 
Speak, is it so? Come speak the truth.  Lact. 
True gracious sovereign, but we hope for mercy from your gracious hands.  Evald. 
Say, what Confederates had ye?  Quack. 
May't please your Grace, Lactusia set me on.  Lact. 
Trippit first called me in.  Evald. 
She has her punishment: Who writ the Letter?  Lact. 
The Queen, most royal Sir.  Quack. 
Who promised on her royal faith to stand 'twixt me and danger. Sir, for her dear sake be gracious,  Evald. 
O marble hearts, to plot so vile a fact  
Against such dovelike Innocence as this.  Points to Kettreena. 
Well, take them hence, and see due Justice done  
According to our laws, whereof we charge  
A present Execution.  Prisoners. 
Mercy, O Mercy. 'tis the first offence.  
Be gracious to us. Mercy, mercy.  Evald. 
Officers, Away with them.  Exeunt. 
Since Heaven hath pleased to deprive us thus  
Of our dear Consort, our beloved Queen,  
We think it fit, to let our people know  
That we have made a second choice, to cafe  
The weighty burden of our careful crown.  
Kettreena, bring the crown.  Delivers it. 
And for thy pains,  
We here accept thee for our lawful Spouse,  
To be our Consort in Augusta's stead:  
In pledge whereof we crown thy royal head.  
Dost thou consent Kettreena?  Crowns ber. Ent. Lact. with Keepers. Lact. 
Be pleased most royal Sir to Give me leave to disburden my conscience of a secret that concerns the State.  Evald. 
Speak on.  Lact. 
Sir, Augusta was no lawful Queen.  Mus. 
The woman's mad.  For. 
Away with her.  Lact. 
Good Sir be pleased to hear me out.  Evald. 
Speak on, speak on.  Lact. 
Kettreena was the lawful Queen, whom newly borne, I then her Nurse, exchanged for Augusta your late wife, who was no other but Artesio's daughter.  
Enticed by him I did it, unto which  
He did corrupt me with a great reward.  
That this is truth, I seal it with my blood.  
Artesio, is't not so?  Evald. 
Artesio speak. What sayst to this?  Art. 
Sir I'm a dying man, if not by Law, by age.  
Ay, whom my frozen blood denies to blush,  
Must not be bold to lie.  Mus. 
I'm likely to have a fine pull of this.  Art. 
Lactusia speaks but truth: The Act's confessed.  Mus. 
Are my hopes come to this?  Art. 
My life or death lies in Kettreena's breast.  Evald. 
Officers conduct the prisoners back, and stay  
Their execution till you farther hear:  
If this be so, Evaldus must resign  
Both place and crown,  ( Leads up Kett. into the chair. 
And now an humble Subject join  Omnes. 
With all the rest, and say, LONG LIVE OUR Queen KETTREENA.  Mus. 
And now Museus may go hang himself.  Kett. 
Being thus ordained by heavenly powers to wear  
The sacred crown of unexpected Care;  
And well advising, what great danger waits  
Upon the sceptres of ungoverned States:  
Conscious of too much weakness to command  
So great a kingdom with a single hand:  
W''re pleased to choose a Consort, in whose care  
The realm hath prospered, and to whom we dare  
Commit ourself and it.  
Evaldus, to requite thy charge, we choose  
Thee our dear Husband, and with sacred vows  
We make thee partner in our unknown bed,  
And set this crown imperial on thy head.  Crowns him. 
And let the tongues of our good Subjects ring  
Loud peals of joy,  Omnes. 
LONG LIVE EVALDUS KING.  Evald. 
Two Crowns have blessed Evaldus in one hour.  
This crowns my heart with joy:  Embraces Kett. 
This crowns my head with power.  Touches the Crown. 
Fair Queen, Artesio's punishment we leave  
To thy dispose.  Kett. 
The personal offence we freely pardon;  
But for the public wrong, we must confine him.  Evald. 
And left that after-Ages  
Should interrupt the right of true succession,  
We charge Museus to the selfsame place:  
Where they shall want for nothing, but enjoy  
( Excepting freedom) their own hearts desires.  
Mean while, what Art, and Industry can do  
T'express our joys, and Subjects full content,  
Let not be wanting: Let us bend our care  
T'advance a public mirth, and to prepare  
Such Triumphs, whose bright Honour might display  
A panic joy, and glorify the day  
Of marriage-hill, solemnised between  
New-crowned Evaldus, and his royal Queen.  Exeunt. 
THE END.