MONSIEUR D'OLIVE A Comedy, as it was sundry times acted by her majesties children at the Blackfriars.  
By Geo. Chapman.  

VERITAS VIRESSIT VULNERE   
LONDON Printed by T. C. for William Holmes, and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dunston Church-yard in Fleet street, 1606.   

MONSIEUR D'OLIVE.  

ACTVS PRIMI.  

Scaena Prima.  VANDOME with servants and sailors laden, VAUMONT, another way walking. Vand. 

Convey your carriage to my brother in Laws,  
Th'Earl of Saint Anne, to whom and to my Sister,  
Commend my humble service, tell them both  
Of my arrival, and intent t'attend them:  
When in my way, I have performed fit duties,  
To Count Vaumont, and his most honoured Countess.   Ser. 
We will Sir, this way, follow honest Sailors.  Exeunt Servants. Uand. 

Our first observance, after any absence  
Must be presented ever to our Mistress:  
As at our parting she should still be last,  
Hinc Amor vt circulus, from hence 'tis said  
That love is like a circle, being th'efficient  
And end of all our actions; which excited  
By no worse abject than my matchless mistress  
Were worthy to employ us to that likeness;  
And be the only Ring our powers should beat,  
Noble she is by birth, made good by virtue,  
Exceeding fair, and her behaviour to it,  
Is like a singular physician  
To a sweet Instrument, or else as doctrine  
Is to the soul, that puts it into Act,  
And prints it full of admirable forms  
Without which 'twere an empty, idle flame  
Her eminent judgement to dispose these parts,  
Sits on her brow and holds a silver Sceptre,  
with which she keeps time to the several musics,  
Placed in the sacred consort of her beauties:  
loves complete armory is managed in her.  
To stir affection, and the discipline  
To check and to affright it from attempting  
Any attaint might disproportion her  
Or make her graces less than circular;  
Yet her even carriage, is as far from coyness  
As from Immodesty, in play, in dancing  
In suffering courtship: in requiting kindness.  
In use of places, hours, and companies  
Free as the Sun, and nothing more corrupted,  
As circumspect as Cynthia, in her vows,  
And constant as the Centre to observe them,  
Ruthful, and bounteous never fierce nor dull,  
In all her courses ever at the full  
These three years, I have travailed, and so long  
Have been in travail with her dearest sight,  
Which now shall beautify the enamoured light.  
This is her house, what? the gates shut and clear  
Of all attendants? Why, the house was wont  
To hold the usual concourse of a Court,  
And see, methinks through the encourtaind windows  
(In this high time of day) I see light Tapers,  
This is exceeding strange. Behold the Farl  
Walking in as strange sort before the door,  
I'll know this wonder sure: My honoured Lord?   Vau. 
Keep of Sir and beware whom you embrace,  Uand. 
Why flies your Lordship back?  Uau. 

You should be sure  
To know a man your friend ere you embraced him.   Uand. 

I hope my knowledge cannot be more sure  
Then of your Lordship's friendship.   Uau. 

No man's knowledge,  
Can make him sure of any thing without him  
Or not within his power to keep, or order.   Vand. 

I comprehend not this; and wonder much  
To see my most loved Lord so much estranged.   Vau. 

The truth is, I have done your known deserts  
More wrong, then with your right should let you greet me  
And in your absence, which makes worse the wrong,  
And in your honour, which still makes it worse.   Vand. 

If this be all my Lord, the discontent  
You seem to entertain, is merely causeless:  
Your free confession, and the manner of it,  
Doth liberally excuse what wrong soever,  
Your misconceit could make you lay on me,  
And therefore, good my Lord discover it,  
That we may take the spleen, and corsie from it.   Vau. 

Then hear a strange report and reason, why  
I did you this repent injury.  
You know my wife is by the rights of courtship,  
Your chosen Mistress, and she not disposed  
(As other Ladies are) to entertain  
Peculiar terms, with common acts of kindness:  
But (knowing in her, more than women's judgement,  
That she should nothing wrong her husbands right,  
To use a friend only for virtue, chosen  
With all the right; of friendship) took such care  
After the solemn parting to your travail,  
And spoke of you with such exceeding passion,  
That I grew jealous, and with rage excepted  
Against her kindness, utterly forgetting  
I should have weighed so rare a woman's words,  
As duties of a free and friendly justice:  
Not as the headstrong and incontinent vapours  
Of other ladies' bloods, inflamed with lust,  
Wherein I injured both your innocencies,  
Which I approve, not out of flexible dotage,  
By any cunning flatteries of my wife,  
But in impartial equity, made apparent  
Both by mine own well-weighed comparison  
Of all her other manifest perfections,  
With this one only doubtful levity,  
And likewise by her violent apprehension  
Of her deep wrong and yours, for she hath vowed,  
Never to let the common panderess light,  
(Or any doom as vulgar) censure her  
In any action she leaves subject to them,  
Never to fit the day with her attire,  
Nor grace it with her presence; Nourish in it,  
(Unless with sleep) nor stir out of her chamber:  
And so hath muffled and mewed up her beauties  
In never-ceasing darkness, Never sleeping,  
But in the day transformed by her tonight:  
With all Sun banished from her smothered graces:  
And thus my dear and most unmatched wife,  
That was a comfort and a grace to me,  
In every judgement, every company,  
ay, by false jealousy, have no less than lost,  
Murdered her living, and entombed her quick.   Vand. 

Conceit it not so deeply, good my Lord,  
Your wrong to me or her, was no fit ground  
To bear so weighty and resolved a vow,  
From her incensed and abused virtues.   Uau. 

There could not be a more important cause,  
To fill her with a ceaseless hate of light,  
To see it grace gross lightness with full beams,  
And frown on continence with her oblique glances.  
As nothing equals, right to virtue done,  
So is her wrong past all comparison.   Vand. 

Virtue is not malicious, wrong done her  
Is righted ever when men grant they Err,  
But doth my princely mistress so contemn  
The glory of her beauties, and the applause  
Given to the worth of her society,  
To let a voluntary vow obscure them;   Uau. 

See all her windows, and her doors made fast,  
And in her Chamber lights for night inflamed,  
Now others rise, she takes her to her bed.   Uand. 

This news is strange, heaven grant I be encountered  
With better tiding; of my other friends,  
Let me be bold my Lord t'inquire the state  
Of my dear sister, in whose self and me,  
Survives the whole hope of our family,  
Together with her dear and princely husband  
Th'Earl of Saint Anne.   Uau. 

Unhappy that I am,  
I would to heaven your most welcome steps  
Had brought you first upon some other friend,  
To be the sad Relator of the changes  
Chanced your three years most lamented absence,  
Your worthy sister, worthier far of heaven  
Then this unworthy hell of passionate Earth,  
Is taken up amongst her fellow Stars.   Uand. 

Unhappy man that ever I returned  
And perished not ere these news pierced mine ears.   Vau. 

Nay be not you that teach men comfort, grieved;  
I know your judgement will set willing shoulders  
To the known burdens of necessity:  
And teach your wilful brother patience,  
Who strives with death, and from his caves of rest  
Retains his wives dead Corpse amongst the living,  
For with the rich sweets of restoring Balms,  
He keeps her looks as fresh as if she lived,  
And in his chamber (as in life attired)  
She in a Chair sits leaning on her arm,  
As if she only slept: and at her feet  
He like a mortified hermit clad,  
Sits weeping out his life, as having lost  
All his life's comfort: And that she being dead  
(Who was his greatest part) he must consume,  
As in an Apoplexy struck with death.  
Nor can the Duke nor Duchess comfort him,  
Nor messengers with consolatory letters,  
From the kind King of France, who is allied  
To her and you. But to lift all his thoughts  
up to another world, where she expects him,  
He feeds his ears with soul-exciting music.  
Solemn and Tragical, and so Resolves  
In those sad accents to exhale his soul,   Uan. 

O what a second, Ruthless Sea of woes  
Wracks me within my Haven; and on the Shore?  
What shall I do? mourn, mourn, with them that mourn,  
And make my greater woes their less expel,  
This day I'll consecrate to sighs and tears  
And this Next Even, which is my mistress morning  
I'll greet her, wondering at her wilful humours,  
And with rebukes, breaking out of my Love,  
And duty to her honour, make her see  
How much her too much curious virtue wrongs her   Van. 

Said like the man the world hath ever held you,  
Welcome, as new lines to us, our good Now  
Shall wholly be ascribed and trust to you.   Exeunt. Enter Rhoderique and Mugeron. Mug. 
See, see, the virtuous Countess hath bidden our day Good night, her stars are now visible: when was any Lady seen to be so constant in her vow, and able to forbear the society of men so sincerely?  Rho. 
Never in this world, at least exceeding seldom. What shame it is for men to see women so far surpass them: for when was any man known (out of judgement) to perform so stayed an abstinence, from the society of women.  Mug. 
Never in this world.  Rhoderique. 
What an excellent Creature an honest woman is? I warrant you the Countess, and her Virgin sister, spend all their times in Contemplation, watching to see the sacred Spectacles of the night, when other Ladies lie drowned in sleep or sensuality, be't not so think'st?  Mug. 
No question.  Rhoderic. 
Come, come, let's forget we are Courtiers, and talk like honest men, tell truth, and shame all travailers and tradesmen: Thou believest all's natural beauty that shows fair, though the Painter enforce it, and sufferest in soul I know for the honourable Lady.  Mug. 
Can any heart of Adamant not yield in compassion to see spotless innocency suffer such bitter penance?  Rhoder. 
A very fit stock to graff on: Tush man think what she is, think where she lives, think on the villainous cunning of these times, Indeed did we live now in old Saturn's time: when women had no other art, than what Nature taught am (and yet there needs little Art I wiss to teach a woman to dissemble) when Luxury was unborn, at least untaught, the art to steal from a forbidden tree: when Coaches, when periwigs, and painting, when Masks, and Masking: in a word when Court and Courting was unknown, an easy mist might then perhaps have wrought upon my sense as it does now on the poor Countess and thine.  Mug. 
O world!  Rho. 
O flesh!  Mug. 
O Devil!  Rhod. 
I tell thee Mugeron, the Flesh is grown so great with the Devil, as there's but a little Honesty left i'th' world. That, that is, is in Lawyers, they engross all: 'Sfoot what gave the first fire to the Counts jealousy?  Mug. 
What but his misconstruction of her honourable affection to Vandome.  Rho. 
Honourable affection? first she's an ill housewife of her honour, that puts it upon construction: but the presumption was violent against her, no speech but of Vandome, no thought but of his memory, no mirth but in his company, besides the free intercourse of Letters, Favours, and other entertainments, too too manifest signs that her heart went hand in hand with her tongue.  Mug. 
Why, was she not his mistress?  Rhod. 
ay, ay, a Court term, for I wot what, slight Vandome the Stallion of the Court, her devoted Servant, and forsooth loves her honourably: Tush, he's a fool that believes it: for my part I love to offend in the better part still, and that is, to judge charitable: But now forsooth to redeem her Honour, she must by a laborious and violent kind of Purgation, Rub off the Skin, to wash out the spot, Turn her Chamber to a Cell, the Sun into a Taper, And (as if she lived in another world amongst the Antipodes,) make our night her day, and our day her night, that under this curtain, she may lay his jealousy asleep, whiles she turns poor Argus to Actaeon, and makes his Sheets common to her Servant Vandome.  Mug. 
Vandome? Why he was met i'th' street but even now, newly arrived after three years travail.  Rhod. 
Newly arrived? he has been arrived this twelvemonth, and has ever since line close in his mistress cunning darkness, at her service.  Mug. 
Fie o' the Devil, who will not envy slander? O the miserable condition of her Sex: born to live under all construction. If she be courteous, she's thought to be wanton: if she be kind, she's too willing: if coy, too wilful: if she be modest: she's a clown, if she be honest, she's a fool: And so is he.  Enter D'olive. Rhod. 
What Monsieur D'olive, the only admirer of wit and good words.  D'ol. 
Morrow wits, morrow good wits: my little parcel of wit, I have Rods in piss for you; how dost Jack, may I call thee Sir jack yet?  Mug. 
You may Sir: Sirs as commendable an addition as Jack, for aught I know.  D'ol. 
I know it Jack, and as common too.  Rho. 
Go too, you may cover; we have taken notice of your embroidered Beaver:  D'ol. 
Look you: by Heaven thouart one of the maddest bitter slaves in Europe, I do but wonder how I made shift to love thee all this while.  Rho. 
Go too what might such a parcel guilt cover be worth?  Mug. 
Perhaps more than the whole piece besides.  D'ol. 
Good i'faith, but bitter, O you mad slaves, I think you had satires, to your sires, yet I must love you, I must take pleasure in you, and i'faith tell me, how be't? live I see you do, but how? but how? wits?  Rho. 
Faith as you see, like poor younger Brothers.  D'ol. 
By your wits?  Mug. 
Nay not turned Poets neither.  D'ol. 
Good sooth: but indeed to say truth, Time was when the sons of the Muses had the privilege to live only by their wits, but times are altered, Monopolies are now called in, & wits become a free trade for all sorts to live by, Lawyers live by wit and they live worshipfully: Soldiers live by wit, and they live honourably: Panders live by wit, and they live honestly. In a word there are few trades but live by wit, only bawds and midwives live by Women's labours, as Fools and Fiddlers do by making mirth, Pages and Parasites by making legs: Painters and Players by making mouths and faces: have dost well wits?  Rho. 
Faith thou followest a figure in thy jests, as country Gentlemen follow fashions when they be worn threadbare.  D'ol. 
Well, well, let's leave these wit skirmishes, and say when shall we meet?  Mug. 
How think you, are we not met now?  D'ol. 
Tush man, I mean at my chamber, where we may take free use of ourselves, that is, drink Sack, and talk Satire, and let our wits run the wild Goose chase over Court and Country; I will have my chamber the Rendezvous of all good wits, the shop of good words, the Mint of good Jests, an Ordinary of fine discourse, Critics, Essayists, Linguists, Poets, and other professors of that faculty of wit, shall at certain hours i'th' day resort thither, it shall be a second Sorbonne, where all doubts or differences of Learning, Honour, duelism, Criticism, and Poetry shall be disputed: and how wits, do ye follow the Court still?  Rhod. 
Close at heels sir, and I can tell you, you have much to answer for your stars, that you do not so too.  D'ol. 
As why wits? as why?  Rhod. 
Why sir, the Court's as 'twere the stage: and they that have a good suit of parts and qualities, aught to press thither to grace them, and receive their due merit.  Dol. 
Tush, let the Court follow me: he that soars too near the sun, melts his wings many times: as I am, I possess myself, I enjoy my liberty, my learning, my wit, as for wealth and honour let am go, I'll not lose my learning to be a Lord, nor my wit to be an Alderman.  Mug. 
Admirable D'olive.  Dol. 
And what! you stand gazing at this Comet here, and admire it, I dare say.  Rhod. 
And do not you?  D'ol. 
Not I, I admire nothing but wit.  Rhod. 
But I wonder how she entertains time in that solitary Cell: does she not take Tobacco think you?  D'ol. 
She does, she does: others make it their Physic, she makes it her food: her sister and she take it my turn, first one, than the other, and Vandome ministers to them both.  Mug. 
How sayest thou by that Helen of Greece, the countess's sister, there were a Paragon Monsieur D'olive, to admire and marry too.  D'ol. 
Not for me.  Rhod. 
No, what acceptions lies against the choice.  D'ol. 
Tush, tell me not of choice, if I stood affected that way, I would choose my wife as men do Valentine's, blindfold, or draw cuts for them, for so I shall be sure not to be deceived in choosing: for take this of me, there's ten times more deceit in women then in Horseflesh: and I say still, that a pretty well paced Chambermaid is the only fashion, if she grow full or full some, give her but six pence to buy her a hand-basket, and send her the way of all flesh, there's no more but so.  Mug. 
Indeed that's the saving'st way.  D'ol. 
O me! what a hell 'tis for a man to be tied to the continual charge of a Coach, with the appurtenances, horse, men, and so forth; and then to have a man's house pestered with a whole country of Guests, Grooms, Panders, waiting maids? etc. I careful to please my wife, she careless to displease me, shrewish if she be honest, intolerable if she be wise, imperious as an Empress, all she does must be law, all she says Gospel: O what a penance 'tis to endure her, I glad to forbear still, all to keep her loyal, and yet perhaps when all's done, my heir shall be like my Horse-keeper: Fie on't, the very thought of marriage were able to cool the hottest liver in France.  Rhod. 
Well, I durst venture twice the price of your guilt coneys wool, we shall have you change your copy ere a twelvemonth's day.  Mug. 
We must have you dubbed ath order there's no remedy, you that have unmarried, done such honourable service in the commonwealth, must needs receive the honour due t'o't in marriage.  Rho. 
That he may do, and never marry.  D'ol. 
As how wits, i'faith as how?  Rho. 
For if he can prove his father was free ath order, and that he was his father's son, then by the laudable custom of the City, he may be a cuckold by his father's copy, and never serve for't.  D'ol. 
Ever good i'faith:  Mug. 
Nay how can he plead that, when it 'tis as well known his father died a bachelor.  D'ol. 
Bitter, in verity, bitter. But good still in it kind.  Rho. 
Go too, we must have you follow the lantern of your forefathers.  Mug. 
His forefathers? S'body had he more fathers than one.  D'ol. 
Why this is right: here's wit canvased out ans coat, into's jacket: the string sounds ever well, that rubs not too much ath frets: I must love your Wits, I must take pleasure in you. Farewell good wits, you know my lodging, make an Errand thither now and than, and save your ordinary, do wits, do.  Mug. 
we shall be troublesome too.  D'ol. 
O God Sir, you wrong me, to think I can, be troubled with wit, I love a good wit, as I love myself, if you need a brace or two of Crowns at any time Address but your Sonnet, it shall be as sufficient as your bond at all times, I carry half a score birds in a cage, shall ever remain at your call: Farewell wits, farewell good wits.  Exits. Rho. 
Farewell the true map of a gull: by Heaven he shall tooth' Court: 'tis the perfect model of an impudent upstart: the compound of a Poet, and a Lawyer, he shall sure tooth' Court.  Mug. 
Nay for God's sake, let's have no fools at Court.  Rho. 
He shall too't that's certain, the Duke had a purpose to dispatch some one or other to the French King, to entreat him to send for the body of his Niece, which the melancholy Earl of Saint Anne, her husband hath kept so long unburied, as meaning one grave should entomb himself and her together.  Mug. 
A very worthy subject for an embassage, as D'olive is for an Ambassador Agent, and 'tis as suitable to his brain, as his parcel guilt Beaver to his fools head.  Rho. 
Well it shall go hard but he shall be employed, O 'tis a most accomplished ass, the mongrel of a Gull, and a villain, the very essence of his soul is pure villainy: The substance of his brain-foolery: one that believes nothing from the stars upward. A Pagan in belief, an Epicure beyond belief, Prodigious in lust, Prodigal in wasteful expense, in necessary most penurious, his wit is to admire and imitate, his grace is to censure, and detract; he shall toth' Court, i'faith he shall thither, I will shape such employment for him, as that he himself shall have no less contentment, in making mirth to the whole Court, than the Duke and the whole Court shall have pleasure in enjoying his presence. A knave if he be rich, is fit to make an Officer, As a Fool if he be a knave is fit to make an Intelligencer.  Exeunt.   

Actus secundi  

Scena prima.  Enter Digue, Licette, with Tapers. Dig. 
What an order is this? Eleven a clock at night is our Lady's morning, and her hour to rise at, as in the morning it is other ladies' hour: these Tapers are our Suns, with which we call her from her bed. But I pray thee Licette what makes the virgin Lady, my Lady's sister, break wind so continually, and sigh so tempestuously, I believe she's in love?  Lycet. 
With whom, can you tell?  Dig. 
Not very well, but certes that's her disease, a man may cast her water in her face: The truth is, 'tis no matter what she is, for there is little goodness in her, I could never yet finger one cardecue of her bounty: And indeed all bounty now adays is dead amongst Ladies. This same Bonitas is quite put down amongst am. But see, Now we shall discover the heaviness of this virgin Lady, I'll eavesdrop, and if it be possible, hear who is her Lover: For when this same amorous spirit possesses these young people, they have no other subject to talk of.  Enter Marcellina and Euryone. Eur. 
O sister, would that matchless Earl ever have wronged his wife with jealousy?  Mar. 
Never.  Eury. 
Good Lord what difference is in men? but such a man as this was ever seen to love his wife, even after death so dearly, to live with her in death? To leave the world and all his pleasures: all his friends and honours, as all were nothing, now his wife is gone, is it not strange?  MAR. 
Exceeding strange.  EURY: 
But sister should not the noble man be Chronicled if he had right, I pray you sister, should he not?  Mar: 
Yes, yes he should.  EURY: 
But did you ever hear of such a Noble gentleman: did you sister?  MAR: 
I tell you no:  EVRY: 
And do not you delight to hear him spoken of? and praised, and honoured?  
Do you not Madame?  MAR. 
What should I say? I do;  EVRY: 
Why very well and should not every woman that loves the Sovereign honour of her Sex, delight to hear him praised as well as we?  
Good Madam answer heartily?  MAR: 
Yet again whoever heard one talk so?  EURY: 

Talk so? Why should not every Lady talk so?  
You think belike I love the Noble man:  
Heaven is my judge if I indeed his love  
And honour to his Wife so after death:  
Would make a Fairy love him, yet nor love.  
But think the better of him, and sometimes,  
Talk of his love or so; But you know Madam:  
I called her sister, and if I love him,  
It is but as my Brother I protest.   another within. VAND 
Let me come in; Sir you mist not enter:  MAR. 
What rude disordered none is that within?  LYCIT 
I know not Madam,  DIQ. 
How now;  SIC: 
where's my Lady?  MAR 
What hast with you?  SIC: 
madam there's one at door that asks to speak with you, admits no answer but will enforce his passage to your honour.  MAR. 
what insolent guest is that?  EVRY. 

Who should he be;  
That is so ignorant of your worth and custom:   Enter another Servant. 2 LEC. 
Madam her sone hath drawn his rapier on us and will come in he says.  MAR. 

'tis is strange Rudeness,  
What is his name, do you not know the man?   SIG. 
No Madam, 'tis too dark.  MAR. 

Then take a light,  
See if you know him, if not raise the streets   Exit LYCITTE walks with a candle. EVRY. 
And keep the door safe: what nightwalker 'this, that hath not light enough to see his rudeness.  Enter LYCITTE in haste. LYCYT. 

O madam 'tis the Noble gentleman,  
Monsieur VANDOME your Servant.   EURY: 
Is it he? is he returned?  MAR: 
Hast commend me to him tell him I may not nor will not see him: for I have vowed the contrary to all.  LYCIT. 
Madam, we told him so a hundred times yet he will enter:  [within] 
Within: Hold, hold, keep him back there:  MAR: 
What rudeness what strange insolence is this:  Enter VANDOME. VAND: 

What hour is this? what fashion? what sad life:  
What superstition of unholy vow?  
What place is this? O shall it ere be said  
Such perfect judgement should be drowned in Humour?  
Such beauty consecrate to Bats and Owls:  
Here lies the weapon that enforced my passage,  
Sought in my love, sought in regard of you:  
For whom I will endure a thousand deaths,  
Rather than suffer you to perish thus  
And be the fable of the scornful world;  
if I offend you Lady kill me now,   MAR: 

What shall I say? alas my worthy Servant,  
I would to God I had not lived to be  
A fable to the world, a shame to thee.   VAND 
Dear mistress hear me & forbear these humours.  MAR 
Forbear your vain dissuasions  VAND. 
shall your judgement?  MAR. 
I will not hear a word.  EXIT MARD EXIT MARC. VAND: 

Strange will in women;  
What says my honourable virgin sister?  
How is it you can brook, this batlike life?  
And sit as one without life?   EURY: 

Would I were,  
If any man would kill me, I'd forgive him,   VAN. 

O true fit of a maiden Melancholy?  
Whence comes it, lovely sister?   EVR: 

In my mind:  
Yourself hath small occasion to be many:  
That are arrived on such a hapless Shore:  
As bears the dead weight of so dear a Sister:  
For whose decease being my dear Sister vowed.  
I shall for ever lead this desolate life.   VAN. 

Now heaven forbid; women in Love with women;  
Loves fire shines with too mutual a refraction,  
And both ways weakens his cold beams too much:  
To pierce so deeply 'tis not for her I know that you are thus impassioned.   EVR: 
For her I would be sworn and for her husband,  VAN: 

I mary Sir, a quick man may do much,  
In these kind of impressions.   EVR: 

See how idly.  
You understand me? these same travellers,  
That can live anywhere, make jests of any thing:  
And cast so far from home, for nothing else:  
But to learn how they may cast of their friends,  
She had a husband does not cast her of so:  
O 'tis a rare, a Noble gentleman.  
Well well, there is some other humour stirring,  
In your young blood than a dead woman's Love:   EVRY: 
No, i'll be sworn  VAND: 

Why is it possible?  
That you, whose frolic breast was ever filled,  
With all the spirits of a mirthful Lady:  
Should be with such a sorrow so transformed  
Your most sweet hand in touch of Instruments:  
Turned to pick straws, and fumble upon Rushes;  
Your heavenly voice, turned into heavy sighs,  
And your rare wit to in a manner tainted.  
This cannot be, I know some other cause,  
Fashions this strange effect, and that myself:  
Am borne to find it out and be your cure:  
In any wound it forceth whatsoever,  
But if you will not, tell me at your peril.   EURY: 
Brother.  VAND. 
Did you call?  EVRY: 
No 'tis no matter.  VAND: 
So then:  EURY: 

Do you hear?  
Assured you are my kind and honoured Brother,  
I'll tell you all:   VAND: 
O will you do so then?  EVRY. 
you will be secret?  VAND: 
Secret? be't a secret?  EURY: 

No 'tis a trifle that torments one thus:  
Did ever man ask such a question,  
When he had brought a woman to this pass?   VAND: 
What 'tis no Treason is it?  EURY: 
Treason quoth he?  VAND: 

Well if it be I will engage my quarters:  
With a fair Ladies oven, tell the secret.   EURY: 

Attending oftentimes the Duke & Duchess,  
To visit the most passionate Earl your Brother:  
That Noble Gentleman.   VAND: 
Well said put in that,  EVRY 

Put it in? why? in you're such a man,  
I'll tell no further, you are changed indeed.  
A travail quoth you?   VAND: 

Why what means this?  
Come Lady fourth, I would not lose the thanks  
The credit and the honour I shall have:  
For that most happy Good I know in Fate,  
I am to furnish thy desires withal:  
For all this house in Gold,   EVRY 

Thank you good Brother:  
Attending (as I say) the Duke and Duchess  
To the sad Earl.   VAND: 
That noble gentleman?  EURY: 
Why I he not?  VAND: 

Be shrew my heart else,  
The Earl quoth you, he cast not of his Wife.   EURY: 
Nay look you now,  VAND: 
Why does he pray?  EURY: 
Why no:  VAN. 
forth then I pray, you lovers are so captious  EVRY: 

When I observed his constance in Love:  
His honour of his dear wives memory,  
His woe for her, his life with her in death:  
I grew in love, even with his very mind.   VAND: 
O with his mind?  EVR: 
I by my soul no more,  VAND: 

A good mind certainly is a good thing:  
And a good thing you know.   EVR. 

That is the chief:  
The body without that, alas is nothing:  
And this his mind cast such a fire into me:  
That it hath half consumed me, since it loved  
His Wife so dearly that was dear to me  
And ever I am saying to myself:  
{non-Roman} {non-Roman} then happy should that woman be:  
That had her honoured place in his true love  
But as for me I know I have no reason.  
To hope for such a honour at his hands.   VAND: 

What at the Earls hands: I think so indeed,  
Heaven I beseech thee was your love so simple:  
T'inflame itself with him? why he's a husband:  
For any Princess any Queen or Empress:  
The Ladies of this land would tear him piece-meal:  
(As did the drunken Froes, the Thracian HARPER)  
To marry but a limb, a look of him,  
heavens my sweet comfort: Set your thoughts on him?   EVR. 

O cruel man, dissembling travailer,  
Even now you took upon you to be sure  
It was in you to satisfy my longings,  
And whatsoever 'twere, you would procure it,  
O you were borne to do me good, you know.  
You would not lose the credit and the honour.  
You should have by my satistaction?  
For all this house in Gold the very Fates,  
And you were all one in your power to help me.  
And now to come and wonder at my folly.  
Mock me? and make my Love impossible  
Wretch that I was, I did not keep it in,   VAN. 

Alas poor sister; when a grief is grown.  
Full home, and to the deepest then it breaks.  
And joy (sun like] out of a black cloud shineth.  
But couldst thou think i'faith I was in earnest:  
To esteem any man without the reach  
Of thy far-shooting beauties any name?  
Too Good to subscribe to EURIONE:  
Here is my hand, if ever I were thought  
A gentleman or would be still esteemed so  
I will so virtuously solicit for thee:  
And with such cunning wind into his heart,  
That I sustain no doubt I shall dissolve  
His settled Melancholy be it near so grounded.  
On rational love, and grave Philosophy,  
I know my sight will cheer him at the heart:  
In whom a quick form of my dear dead Sister  
Will fire his heavy spirits. And all this  
May work that change in him, that nothing else  
Hath hope to joy in, and so farewell Sister  
Some few days hence, i'll tell thee how I speed.   EVR, 

Thanks honoured Brother: but you shall not go before you dine with your best loved Mistress.  
Come in sweet Brother:   VAND: 

In to dinner now?  
Midnight would blush, at that farewell, farewell:   EVR: 

Dear Brother do but drink or taste a Banquet  
i'faith I have most excellent conserves  
You shall come in, in earnest, stay a little  
Or will you drink some Cordial stilled waters,  
After your travel, pray thee worthy brother  
Upon my love you shall stay? sweet now enter.   VAND: 

Not for the world, commend my humble service,  
And use all means to bring abroad my Mistress.   EVR: 
I will in sadness; farewell happy brother.  Exeunt. ¶ ENTER PHILLIP. GVEAQ. JERONNIME. & MUGERON. GVEAQ. & JERO sit down to work PHIL. 

Come MUGERON, where is this worthy state's man,  
That you and Roderique would persuade:  
To be our worthy Agent into France,  
The colour we shall lay on it t'inter,  
The body of the long deceased Countess,  
The French king's niece, whom her kind husband keeps  
With such great cost, and care from burial:  
Will show as probable as can be thought.  
Think you he can be gotten to perform it  
MUG: Fear not my Lo: The wizard is as forward,  
To usurp greatness, as all greatness is:  
To abuse virtue, or as riches honour.  
You cannot load the Ass with too much honour.  
He shall be yours my Lord Roderique and I,  
Will give him to your highness for your foot-cloth:   PHIL: 
How happens it, he lived concealed so long,  MVG: 

It is his humour sir, for he says still,  
His jocund mind loves pleasure above honour,  
His swinge of liberty above his life,  
It is not safe (says he] to build his nest  
So near the Eagle, his mind is his Kingdom  
His chamber is a Court of all good wits,  
And many such rare sparks of Resolution,  
He blesseth his most loved self withal,  
As presently, your excellence shall hear.  
But this is one thing I had half forgotten.  
With which your highness needs must be prepared,  
I have discoursed with him about the office:  
Of an Ambassador, and he stands on this.  
That when he once hath kissed your highness hand,  
And taken his dispatch he then presents:  
Your highness parson hath your place and power,  
Must put his hat on, use you, as you him:  
That you may see before he goes how well,  
He can assume your presence and your greatness   PHIL. 
And will he practise his new state before us?  MVG: 

I and upon you too, and kiss your Duchess,  
As you use at your parting.   PHIL: 
Out upon him, she will not let him kiss her  MVG: 
He will kiss her to do your parson right,  PHIL: 

It will be excellent:  
She shall not know this till he offer it:   MVG: 
See see, he comes,  Enter Rhod Mons: Dolive & Paque. RHO. 

Here is the gentleman  
Your highness doth desire to do you honour  
In the presenting of your princely parson  
And going Lord Ambassador toth' French King,   PHIL: 

Is this the gentleman whose worth so highly  
You recommend to our election?   AMBO: 
This is the man my Lord  PHIL: 

we understand Sir:  
We have been wronged, by being kept so long  
From notice of your honourable parts  
Wherein your country claims a deeper interest  
Than your mere private self; what makes wise Nature  
Fashion in men these excellent perfections  
Of haughty courage, great wit, wisdom incredible,   DOLI: 
It pleaseth your good excellence to say so  PHI: 

But that she aims therein at public good  
And you in duty thereto of yourself  
Ought to have made us render of your parts  
And nor entomb them tyrantlike alive   RHO: 

We for our parts, my Lord are not in fault,  
For we have spurned him forward evermore  
Letting him know how fit an instrument  
He was to play upon in stately Music,   MVG, 

And if he had been aught else but an Ass  
Your Grace ere this time long had made him great  
Did not we tell you this?   DOLI: 

Often times,  
But sure my honoured Lord the times before  
Were not as now they be thanks to our fortune  
That we enjoy so sweet and wise a prince  
As is your gracious self; for then it was policy  
To keep all with of hope still under hatches  
Far from the Court lest their exceeding parts  
Should over shine those that were then in place  
And 'twas our happiness, that we might live so  
For in that freely choosed obscurity  
we found our safety, which men most of Note  
Many times lost, and I alas for my part,  
Shrunk my despised head in my poor shell  
For your learned excellence, I know knows well  
Qui bene saturi, bene vixit, still.   PHI, 

'twas much you could contain yourself, that had  
So great means to have lived in greater place:   DOL: 

Faith Sir I had a poor roof or a paint house  
To shade me from the Sun, and three or four tiles  
To shroud me from the Rain, and thought myself  
As private as I had King Giris Ring  
And could have gone invisible, yet saw all  
That passed our states rough be a born near and far,  
There saw I our great Galleasses tossed  
Upon the wallowing waves, up with one billow  
And then down with another: Our great men  
Like to a Mass of clouds that now seem like  
An Elephant, and straight ways like an Ox  
And then a Mouse, or like those changeable creatures  
That live in the bordello, now in Satin  
Tomorrow next in stammel.  
When I sat all this while in my poor cell  
Secure of lightning, or the sudden Thunder  
Conversed with the poor Muses gave a scholar  
Forty or fifty crowns a year to teach me  
And prate to me about the predicables  
When indeed my thoughts flew a higher pitch  
Then Genus and Species as by this taste  
I hope your highness happily perceives  
And shall hereafter more at large approve  
If any worthy opportunity  
Make but her foretop subject to my hold  
And so I leave your Grace to the tuition  
Of him that made you.   RHO: 

Soft good Sir I pray:  
What says your Excellence to this gentleman?  
Have I not made my word good to your highness?   PHI: 

Well Sir, however Envious policy  
Hath robbed? my predecessors of your service  
You must not scape my hands, that have designed  
present employment for you; and 'tis this  
'tis not unknown unto you; with what grief  
we take the sorrow of the Earl Saint Anne  
For his deceased wife; with whose dead sight  
He feeds his passion, keeping her from right  
Of christian burial, to make his eyes  
Do penance by their everlasting tears  
For losing the dear sight of her quick beauties   DOL: 

Well spoke y-faith, your grace must give me leave  
To praise your wit, for faith 'tis rarely spoken   PHIL: 

The better for your good commendation  
But Sir your embassy to the French King  
Shall be to this effect; thus you shall say   DOL: 

Not so your Excellence shall pardon me  
I will not have my tale put in my mouth  
If you'll deliver me your mind in gross  
Why so I shall express it as I can  
I warrant you t'will be sufficient.   PHIL: 

'tis very good, than Sir my will in gross  
Is that in pity of the sad countess' case  
The King would ask the body of his Niece  
To give it Funeral fitting her high blood,  
Which (as yourself requires and reason wills)  
I leave to be enforced and amplified  
With all the Ornaments of Art and Nature  
Which flows I see in your sharp intellect   DOL: 

alas you cannot see't in this short time  
Burr there be, some not far hence that have seen  
And heard me too ere now: I could have wished  
Your highness presence in a private Conventicle  
At what time the high point of state was handled?   PHIL: 
What was the point?  DOL: 

It was my hap to make a number there  
myself (as every other Gentleman)  
Being interested in that grave affair  
Where I delivered my opinion: how well?   DOL: 

What was the matter pray  
The matter, Sir.  
Was of an ancient subject, and yet newly  
Called into question; And 'twas this in brief  
We sat as I remember all in row,  
All sorts of men together,  
A Squire and a Carpenter, a lawyer and a sawyer.  
A Merchant and a Broker, a justice and a peasant  
and so forth without all difference   PHIL: 
But what was the matter?  DOL. 

Faith a stale argument though newly handled  
And I am fearful I shall shame myself  
The subject is so thread bare   PHIL: 
'tis no matter be as it will go to y' point I pray,  DOL: 

Then thus it is: the question of estate  
(Or the state of the question) was in brief  
whether in an Aristocracy  
Or in a Democratical estate  
Tobacco might be brought to lawful use  
But had you heard the excellent speeches there  
Touching this part:   MVG: RHO: 
Pray thee to the point  DOL: 

First to the point then,  
upstart a weaver, blown up b'inspiration  
That had borne office in the congregation  
A little fellow and yet great in spirit  
I never shall forget him; for he was  
A most hot livered enemy to Tobacco  
His face was like the ten of Diamonds  
Pointed each where with pushes, and his Nose  
Was like the Ace of clubs (which I must tell you   
Was it that set him, and Tobacco first at such hot Enmity for that nose of his (according to the Puritanic cut] having a narrow bridge, and this Tobacco: being in drink durst not pass by and finding stopped his narrow passage fled back as it came and went away in Pett.  MVG: 
Just cause of quarrel  PHI: 
But pray thee briefly say what said the weaver  DOL: 

The weaver Sir much like a virginal jack  
Start nimbly up; the colour of his beard  
I scarce remember; but purblind he was  
With the GENEVA print, and wore one ear  
Shorter than tother for a difference   PHI: 
A man of very open note it seems  DOL: 

He was so Sir, and hotly he inveighed  
Against Tobacco (with a most strong breath  
For he had eaten garlic the same morning  
As 'twas his use partly against ill airs  
Partly to make his speeches savoury  
Said 'twas a pagan plant, a profane weed  
And a most sinful smoke, that had no warrant  
Out of the word; invented sure by Sathan  
In these our latter days, to cast a mist  
Before men's eyes, that they might not behold  
The grossness of old superstition  
Which is as 'twere derived into the church  
From the foul sink of Romish popery  
And that it was a judgement on our land  
That the substantial commodities.  
And mighty blessings of this Realm of France  
Bells, Rattles, hobby horses and such like  
Which had brought so much wealth into the Land  
Should now be changed into the smoke of vanity  
The smoke of superstition; for his own part  
He held a Garlic clove being sanctified  
Did edify more the body of a man  
Then a whole tin of this profane Tobacco  
Being ta'en without thanksgiving; in a word  
He said it was a rag of Popery?  
And none that were truly regenerate would  
Profane his Nostrils with the smoke thereof  
And speaking of your grace behind your back,  
He charged and conjured you to see the use,  
Of vain Tobacco banished from the land  
For fear lest for the great abuse thereof  
Or candle were put out; and there with all  
Taking his handkerchief to wipe his mouth  
As he had told a lie, he tuned his noise  
To the old strain as if he were preparing  
For a new exercise, But I myself  
[Angry to hear this generous Tobacco  
The Gentleman's Saint and the soldiers idol  
So ignorantly polluted] stood me up  
Took some Tobacco for a complement  
broke phlegm some twice or thrice, then shook mine ears  
And licked my lips, as if I begged attention  
and so directing me to your sweet Grace  
Thus I replied,   RHO: 
MUG: Rome for a speech there. Silence  DOL. 
I am amused, or I am in a quandary gentlemen [for in good faith I remember not well whether of them was my words]  PHI: 
'tis no matter either of them will serve the turn  DOL: 
Whether I should (as the Poet says) eloquar, an siliam? whether by answering a fool I should myself seem no less; or by giving way to his wind (for words are but wind) I might betray the cause; to the maintenance whereof, all true Troyans (from whose race we claim our decent] owe all their patrimonies; and if need be their dearest blood, and their sweetest breath. I would not be tedious to your highness:  PHI: 
You are not Sir: Proceed:  DOL: 
tobacco that excellent plant, the use whereof [as of fift Element] the world cannot want, is that little shop of Nature, wherein her whole workmanship is abridged, where you may see Earth-kindled into fire, the fire breath out an exhalation, which entering in at the mouth walks through the Regions of a man's brain, drives out all ill Vapours but itself, down all bad Humours by the the mouth which in time might breed a Scab over the whole body if already they have not; a plant of singular use, for on the one side, Nature being an Enemy to Vacuity and emptiness, and on the other, there being so many empty brains in the World as there are, how shall Nature's course be continued? How shall these empty brains be filled, but with air Nature's immediate instrument to that purpose? If with air, what so proper as your fume: what fume so healthful as your perfume? what perfume so sovereign as Tobacco? Besides the excellent edge it gives a man's wit, [as they can best judge that have been present at a feast of Tobacco where commonly all good wits are consorted] what variety of discourse it begets? What sparks of wit it yields, it is a world to hear as likewise to the courage of a man, for if it be true, that johannes de savo et savo et writes, that he that drinks Verjuice pisseth vinegar, Than it must needs follow to be as true, that hoe that eats smoke, farts fire; for Garlic I will not say because it is a plant of our own country? but it may cure the diseases of the country, but for the diseases of the Court, they are out of the Element of Garlic to medicine; to conclude as there is no enemy to Tobacco but Garlic, so there is no friend to Garlic, but a sheep's head and so I conclude.  PHIL: 

Well Sir, If this be but your Natural vain  
I must confess I knew you not indeed  
When I made offer to instruct your brain  
For the embassage, and will trust you now  
If 'twere to send you forth to the great Turk  
With an embassage   DOL: 

But Sir in conclusion  
'twas ordered for my speech, that since Tobacco  
Had so long been in use, it should thence forth  
Be brought to lawful use; but limited thus  
That none should dare to take it but a gentleman  
Or he that had some gentlemanly humour  
The Murr, the Headache, the catarrh, the bone ache  
Or other branches of the sharp salt rheum  
Fitting a gentleman.   RHO: 

Your grace has made choice  
Of a most simple Lo: Ambassador   PHI: 

Well Sir you need not look for a commission  
My hand shall well dispatch you for this business  
Take now the place and state of an Ambassador  
Present our parson and perform our charge  
And so farewell good Lord Ambassador   DOL: 
Farewell good Duke and Guequin to thee  GVE: 
How now you fool? out you presumptuous gull  D'OL: 

How now you baggage? 'Sfoot are you so coy  
To the Duke's parson, to his second self?  
are you to good dame to enlarge yourself  
Unto your proper object? slight 'twere a good deed   GVE: 
What means your grace to suffer me abused thus  PHI: 

Sweet Love be pleased; you do not know this Lord  
Give me thy hand my Lord:   DOL: 
And give me thine  PHIL: 
Farewell again  D'OL: 
Farewell again to thee  PHI: 
Now go thy ways for an ambassador  Exiunt Phillip Gueaque jero: DOL: 
Now go thy ways for a Duke  MVG: RHO: 
Most excellent Lord,  RHO. 

Why this was well performed and like a Duke  
Whose parson you most naturally present   D'OL: 

I told you I would do't, now i'll begin  
To make the world take notice I am noble  
The first thing I will do i'll swear to pay  
No debts upon my honour.   MVG: 
A good cheap proof of your Nobility  D'ol. 

But if I knew where I might pawn mine honour,  
For some odd thousand Crowns, it shallbe laid:  
I'll pay't again when I have done withal:  
Then 'twill be expected I shallbe of some Religion,  
I must think of some for fashion, or for faction's sake,  
As it becomes great personages to do:  
I'll think upon't betwixt this and the day.   Rho. 
Well said my Lord; this Lordship of yours will work a mighty alteration in you: do you not feel it begins to work already?  D'ol. 
faith only in this; it makes me think, how they that were my Companions before, shall now be my favourites: They that were my Friends before, shall now be my followers: They that were my Servants before, shall now be my knaves: But they that were my Creditors before, shall remain my Creditors still.  Mug. 
Excellent Lord: Come, will you show your Lordship in the Presence now?  D'ol. 
Faith I do not care, if I go and make a face or two there, or a few graceful legs; speak a little Italian, and away; there's all a Presence doth require.   
FINIS ACTVS SECUNDI.   

ACTVS TERTII.  

Saena prima.  Enter Uandome. and St. Anne. St. Anne. 

YOu have inclined me more to leave this life,  
Than I supposed it possible for an Angel;  
Nor is your judgement to suppress your passion:  
For so dear loved a Sister (being as well  
Your blood and flesh, as mine) the least enforcement  
Of your dissuasive arguments. And besides,  
Your true resemblance of her, much supplies  
Her want in my affections; with all which,  
I feel in these deep griefs, to which I yield  
A kind of false sluggish (and rotting sweetness,)  
Mixed with an humour where all things in life,  
Lie drowned in sour, wretched, and horrid thoughts:  
The way to cowardly desperation opened,  
And whatsoever urgeth souls accursed:  
To their destruction, and sometimes their plague,  
So violently gripes me, that I lie  
Whole days and nights bound at his tyrannous feet:  
So that my days are not like life or light,  
But bitterest death, and a continual night.   Uand. 

The ground of all is unsufficed Love,  
Which would be best cased with some other object:  
The general rule of Naso being authentic   Quod successore novo vincitur omnis Amor: 

For the affections of the mind drawn forth  
In many currents, are not so impulsive  
In any one; And so the Persian King  
Made the great River Ganges run distinctly  
In an innumerable sort of Channels;  
By which means, of a fierce and dangerous Flood,  
He turned it into many pleasing Rivers:  
So likewise is an Army disarrayed,  
Made penetrable for the assaulting foe:  
So huge Fierce being diffused, grow assuaged:  
Lastly, as all force being unite, increaseth;  
So being dispersed, it grows less sharp, and ceaseth.   S. Anne. 

alas, I know I cannot love another,  
My heart accustomed to love only her,  
My eyes accustomed to view only her,  
Will tell me whatsoever is not her, is foul and hateful.   Uand. 

Yet forbear to keep her  
Still in your sight: force not her breathless body  
Thus against Nature to survive, being dead:  
Let it consume, that it may reassume  
A form incorruptible; and refrain  
The places where you used to joy in her:   Heu fuge dilectas terras, fuge littus Amatum: 

For how can you be ever sound or safe,  
Where in so many red steps of your wounds,  
Gasp in your eyes? with change of place be sure,  
Like sick men mending, you shall find recure.   Enter the Duke, D'olive, Gueaquin, Ieronime, Muge, Rhod. to see the dead Countess that is kept in her attire unburied. D'ol. 
Faith Madam, my company may well be spared at so mournful a visitation: For, by my soul, to see Pygmalion dote upon a Marble Picture, a senseless Statue, I should laugh and spoil the Tragedy.  Gur. 
Oh, 'tis an object full of pity my Lord.  D'ol. 
'tis pity in deed, that any man should love a woman so constantly.  Duke. 
Bitterly turned my Lord: we must still admire you.  D'ol. 
Tush my Lord, true Manhood can neither mourn nor admire: It's fit for Women, they can weep at pleasure, even to admiration.  Gur. 
But men use to admire rare things, my Lord,  D'ol. 
But this is nothing rare; 'tis a virtue common for men to love their Wives after death: The value of a good Wife (as all good things else) are better known by their want, then by their fruition: for no man loves his Wife so well while she lines, but he loves her ten times better when she's dead.  Rho. 
This is sound Philosophy, my Lord.  D'ol. 
Faith, my Lord, I speak my thoughts; and for mine own part, I should so ill endure the loss of a Wife (always provided, I loved her) that if I lost her this week, I'd have another by the beginning a'th' next: And thus resolved, I leave your Highness to deal with Atropos, for cutting my ladies thread: I am for France; all my care is for Followers to Imp out my Train: I fear I must come to your Grace for a Press; for I will be followed as becomes an honourable Lord: and that is, like an honest Squire: for with our great Lords, followers abroad, and Hospitality at home, are out of date: The world's now grown thrifty: He that fills a whole Page in folio, with his Style; thinks it veriest Noble, to be manned with one bare Page and a pander; and yet Pandar in ancient time, was the name of an honest Courtier; what 'tis now, Viderit utilitas: Come Wits, let's to my Chamber.  Exeunt. Manent Vando. S. An. Uando. 

Well now my Lord, remember all the reasons  
And arguments I used at first to you,  
To draw you from your hurtful passions:  
And there withal, admit one further cause,  
Drawn from my love, and all the powers I have;  
Euryone, vowed sister to my sister,  
Whose virtues, beauties, and perfections,  
Adorn our Country, and do nearest match  
With her rich graces, that your love adores,  
Hath wounded my affections; and to her  
I would entreat your Lordship's graceful word:   S. Anne. 

But is it true? loves my dear brother now?  
It much delights me, for your choice is Noble:  
Yet need you not urge me to come abroad,  
Your own worth will suffice for your wished speed.   Uand. 

I know my Lord, no man alive can win  
Her resolved judgement from virginity,  
Unless you speak for him, whose word of all Dames  
Is held most sweet, and worthy to persuade them.   S. Anne. 

The world will think me too fantastical,  
To ope so suddenly my vowed obscureness.   Uand. 

My Lord, my love is sudden, and requires  
A sudden remedy: If I be delayed,  
Consider loves delay breeds desperation,  
By weighing how strongly Love works in yourself.   S. Anne. 

Dear Brother, nothing underneath the Stars,  
Makes me so willing to partake the air,  
And undergo the burden of the world,  
As your most worthy self, and you're wished good:  
And glad I am that by this means I may  
See your descent continued, and therein  
Behold some new born Image of my wife:  
Dear life, take knowledge that thy Brother's love,  
Makes me despair with my true zeal to thee:  
And if for his sake I admit the Earth  
To hide this treasure of thy precious beauties;  
And that thy part surviving, be not pleased,  
Let it appear to me ye just assisters  
Of all intentions bent to sovereign justice;  
And I will follow it into the Grave,  
Or dying with it; or preserve it thus,  
As long as any life is left betwixt us.   Exeunt. Enter Monsever, D'olive, Rhoderique. D'ol. 
But didst note what a presence I came of withal?  Rho. 

'sfoot, you drew the eyes of the whole presence upon you:  
There was one Lady a man might see her heart  
Ready to start out of her eyes to follow you.   D'ol. 

But Monsever Mustapha there kept state,  
When I accosted him; 'slight the Brazen head looked to be  
Worshipped I think: No I'll commit no Idolatry for the proudest Image of'am all, I.   Rho. 
Your Lordship has the right garb of an excellent Courtier, respects a Clown, supple jointed, courtesies a very peagoose; 'tis stiff hammed audacity that carries it; get once within their distance, and you are in their bosoms instantly.  D'ol. 
S'hart do they look? I should stand aloof, like a scholar's, & make legs at their greatness: No I'll none of that; come up close to him, give him a clap a'th' shoulder shall make him cry oh again: it's a tender place to deal withal, and say, Well encountered noble Brutus.  Rho. 
That's the only way indeed to be familiar.  D'ol. 
'Sfoot I'll make legs to none, unless it be to a justice of peace when he speaks in's Chair, or to a constable when he leans on's Staff, that's flat: softness and modesty savours of the Cart, 'tis boldness boldness does the deed in the Court: and as your Chameleon varies all colours a'th' Rainbow both white and red, so must your true Courtier be able to vary his countenance through all humours; State, Strangeness, Scorn, Mirth, Melancholy, Flattery, and so forth: some colours likewise his face may change upon occasion, Black or blue it may, Tawny it may; but Red and White at no hand, avoid that like a Sergeant: keep your colour stiff, unguilty of passion or disgrace, not changing White at sight of your Mercer, nor Red at sight of your Surgeon: above all sins, heaven shield me from the sin of blushing; it does ill in a young waiting-woman, but monstrous monstrous, in an old Courtier.  Rho. 
Well, all this while your Lordship forgets your embassage; you have given out, you will be gone within this month, and yet nothing is ready.  D'ol. 
It's no matter, let the Moon keep her course: and yet to say truth, 'twere more than time I were gone, for by heaven I am so haunted with Followers, every day new offers of Followers: But heaven shield me from any more Followers.  
How now, what's the news?  Enter Muge, and two others. Mug. 
My Lord, here's two of my special Friends, whom I would gladly commend to follow you in the honourable action.  D'ol. 
'Sfoot, my ears are double locked against Followers, you know my number's full, all places under me are bestowed: I'll out of town this night that's infallible; I'll no more Followers, a mine honour.  Mug. 
'Slight Lord, you must entertain them, they have paid me their income, and I have undertaken your Lordship shall grace them.  D'ol. 
Well my Masters, you might have come at a time when your entertainment would have proved better than now it is like: but such as it is, upon the commendation of my Steward here  Mug. 
A pox a your Lor. Steward?  D'ol. 
You're welcome in a word: deserve and spy out.  Ambo. 
we humbly thank your Lordship.  D'ol. 
Mugeron, let'em be entered.  Mug. 
In what rank my Lord, Gentlemen or Yeomen?  D'ol. 
Gentlemen, Their bearing bewrays no less, it goes not always by apparel: I do allow you to suit yourselves anew in my colours at your own charges.  Amb. 
Thank your good Lordship.  D'ol. 
Thy name first, I pray thee?  Cor. 
Cornelius, My Lord.  D'ol. 
What profession?  Cor. 
A Surgeon an't please your Lordship.  D'ol. 
I had rather thou'dst been a Barber, for I think there will be little bloodshed amongst my Followers, unless it be of thy letting: I'll see their nails pared before they go. And yet now I bethink myself, our embassage is into France, there may be employment for thee: hast thou a Tub?  Cor. 
I would be loath, my Lord, to be dislocated or unfurnished of any of my properties.  D'ol. 
Thou speak'st like thyself Cornelius: book him down Gentleman.  Mug. 
Very well Sir.  D'ol. 
Now your profession, I pray?  Frip. 
Frippery, my Lord, or as some term it, Petty Prokery.  D'ol. 
An honest man I'll warrant thee, I never knew other of thy trade.  Frip. 

Truly a richer your Lordship might have,  
An honester I hope not.   D'ol. 
I believe thee Petty Broker: canst burn Goldlace?  Frip. 
I can do any thing, my Lord, belonging to my trade.  D'ol. 
Book him down Gentleman, he'll do good upon the voyage I warrant him: provide thee a Nag Petty Broker, thou'lt find employment for him doubt not: keep thyself an honest man, and by our return I do not doubt but to see thee a rich Knave: Farewell Petty Broker, prepare yourselves against the day; this Gentleman shall acquaint you with my colours: Farewell Fripper, Farewell Petty Broker: Deserve and spy out is my Motto.  Exeunt. Amb. 
God continue your Lordship.  Rho. 

A very seasonable prayer,  
For unknown to him, it lies now upon his deathbed.   D'ol. 
And how like you my Chamber good Wits?  Rho. 
Excellent well Sir.  D'ol. 
Nay believe it, it shall do well (as you will say) when you see't set forth suitable to my project:  
Here shall stand my Court Cupboard, with it furniture of Plate: Here shall run a Wind Instrument: Here shall hang my base Vial: Here my Theorbo: and here will I hang myself.  Amb. 
'twill do admirable well.  D'ol. 

But how will I hang myself good wits?  
Not in person, but in Picture; I will be drawn.   Rho. 
What hanged and drawn too?  D'ol. 
Good again: I say I willbe drawn, all in complete Satin of some Courtly colour, like a Knight of Cupid's band; On this side shallbe ranked Chairs and Stools, and other such compliments of a Chamber: This corner will be a convenient room for my Close stool: I acquaint you with all my privities, you see.  Mug. 
I Sir, we smell your meaning.  D'ol. 
Here shallbe a perch for my parrot, while I remain unmarried, I shall have the less miss of my Wife: Here a Hoop for my monkey when I am married, my wife will have the less miss of me: Here will I have the statue of some excellent Poet, and I will have his Nose go with a Vice (as I have seen the experience) And that (as if t'had taken cold i'th' head,)  Rho. 
For want of a guilt Nightcap.  D'ol. 
Bitter still, shall like a Spout run pure Wit all day long; and it shallbe fed with a Pipe brought at my charge, from Helicon, over the Alpes, and under the Sea by the brain of some great Engineer; and I think 'twill do excellent.  Mug. 
No question of that, my Lord.  D'ol. 
Well, now Wits about your several charges touching my embassage: Roderique, is my Speech put out to making?  Rho. 
It's almost done.  D'ol. 
'tis well, tell him he shall have forty Crowns; promiss, promiss; want for no promising: And well remembered, have I ere a Gentleman Usher yet; a strange thing, amongst all my followers, not one has wit enough to be a Gentleman Usher, I must have one there's no remedy; farewell: have a care of my Followers, all but my petty Broker, he'll shift for himself.  Rho. 
Well, let us alone for your followers.  Exeunt. Manet D'olive. D'ol. 
Well said, deserve and spy out  Amb. 
Me thank your Lordship.  D'ol. 
Heaven I beseech thee, what an abominable sort of Followers have I put upon me: These Courtiers feed on'am with my countenance: I can not look into the City, but one or other makes tender of his good parts to me, either his Language, his Travail, his Intelligence, or something: Gentlemen send me their younger Sons furnished in complete, to learn fashions forsooth; as if the riding of five hundred miles, & spending 1000. crowns would make'em wiser than God meant to make'em. Others with-child with the travailing humour, as if an Ass for going to Paris, could come home a Courser of Naples: Others are possessed with the humour of Gallantry, fancy it to be the only happiness in this world, to be enabled by such a colour to carry a Feather in his Crest, wear Goldlace, guilt Spurs, & so sets his fortunes on't: Turns two or three Tenements into Trunks, and creeps home again with less than a Snail, not a House to hide his head in: Three hundred of these Goldfinches I have entertained for my Followers; I can go in no corner, but I meet with some of my Wifflers in their accoutrements; you may hear'em half a mile ere they come at you, and smell'em half an hour after they are past you; six or seven make a perfect morris-dance; they need no Bells, their Spurs serve their turn: I am ashamed to train'em abroad, they'll say I carry a whole Forest of Feathers with me, and I should plod afore'am in plain stuff, like a writing Schoolmaster before his Boys when they go a feasting: I am afraid of nothing but I shall be Ballasted, I and all my Wifflers: But it's no matter, I'll fashion'em, I'll show'em fashions: By heaven I'll give three parts of'am the slip, let'em look sort: and yet to say truth, I shall not need, for if I can but linger my journey another month, I am sure I shall mute half my Feathers; I feel'em begin to wear thin already: There's not ten Crowns in twenty o' their purses: And by this light, I was told at Court, that my greasy Host of the Porcupine last Holiday, was got up to the ears in one of my follower's Satin suits; And Vandome went so far, that he swore he saw two of them hanged: myself indeed passing yesterday by the Frippery, spied two of them hang out at a stall with a gambrel thrust from shoulder to shoulder, like a Sheep that were new flayed: 'tis not for nothing that this Petty Broker follows me; The Vulture smells a prey; not the Carcases, but the Cases of some of my deceased Followers; 'Slight, I think it were my wisest course, to put ten pounds in stock with him, and turn petty Broker; certainly there's good to be done upon't; if we be but a day or two out of town heel be able to load every day a fresh Horse with Satin suits, and send them back hither: indeed 'tis like to be hot travail, and therefore t'will be an case to my Followers to have their clothes at home afore'am; They'll on, get off how they can: Little know they what Pikes their Feathers must pass: Before they go the Sergeants, when they come home the Surgeons: but choose them, I'll wash my hands on'am.  Exit.  
FINIS ACTVS TERTII.   

ACTVS QVARTI.  

Saena prima.  Uandome solus. 

MY sister's Exequies are now performed  
With such pomp as expressed the excellence  
Of her Lords love to her: And fired the envy  
Of our great Duke, who would have no man equal  
The honour he does t'his adored wife:  
And now the Earl (as he hath promised me)  
Is in this sad Cell of my honoured Mistress,  
Urging my love to fair Euryone,  
Which I framed, only to bring him abroad,  
And (if it might succeed) make his affects  
With change of objects, change his helpless sorrow  
To helpful love. I stood where I observed  
Their words and looks, and all that passed betwixt them:  
And she hath with such cunning borne herself,  
In fitting his affection, with pretending  
Her mortified desires: her only love  
To Virtue and her lovers: and, in brief,  
Hath figured with such life my dear dead Sister,  
Enchasing all this, with her heightened Beauty,  
That I believe she hath entangled him,  
And won success to our industrious plot.  
If he be touched, I know it grieves his soul,  
That having undertaken to speak for me,  
(Imagining my love was as I feigned)  
His own love to her, should enforce his tongue  
To court her for himself, and deceive me:  
By this time, we have tried his passionate blood:  
If he be caught (as heaven vouchsafe he be)  
I'll play a little with his Fantasy.   Enter St. Anne. S. Anne. 

Am I alone? Is there no Eye nor Ear  
That doth observe me? Heaven how have I grasped,  
My Spirits in my heart, that would have burst  
To give wished issue to any violent love?  
Dead Wife excuse me, since I love thee still,  
That liv'st in her, whom I must love for thee:  
For he that is not moved with strongest passion  
In viewing her; that man did ne'er know thee:  
she's thy surviving Image: But woos me;  
Why am I thus transported past myself?   Uan. 

Oh, are your dull uxorious spirits raised?  
One madness doth beget still.   St. Anne. 

But stay, Advise me Soul; why didst thou light me over this threshold? was't to wrong my Brother?  
To wrong my Wife, in wronging of my Brother?  
I'll die a miserable man: No villain:  
Yet in this case of love, who is my Brother?  
Who is my Father? Who is any kin?  
I care not, I am nearest to myself:  
I will pursue my Passion; I will have her.   Uan. 

Traitor, I here arrest thee in the names  
Of Heaven, and Earth, and deepest Acheron:  
loves traitor, Brothers; traitor to thy Wife.   S. Anne. 

O Brother, stood you so near my dishonour?  
Had you forborn awhile, all had been changed:  
You know the variable thoughts of Love,  
You know the use of Honour, that will ever  
Retire into itself; and my just blood  
Shall rather flow with Honour then with Love:  
Be you a happy Lover, I a friend,  
For I will die for love of her and thee.   Uand. 

My Lord and brother, I'll not challenge more,  
In love and kindness then my love deserves,  
That you have found one whom your heart can like:  
And that One, whom we all sought to prefer,  
To make you happy in a life renewed:  
It is a heaven to me, by how much more  
My heart embraced you for my sister's love:  
'tis true, I did dissemble love t'everyone.  
To make you happy in her dear affection,  
Who more dotes on you, than you can on her:  
Enjoy Euryone, she is your own,  
The same that ever my dear Sister was:  
And heaven bless both your loves as I release  
All my feigned love, and interest to you.   S. Anne. 

How Nobly hath your love deluded me?  
How justly have you been unjust to me?  
Let me embrace the Oracle of my good,  
The Author and the Patron of my life.   Uand. 

Tush, betwixt us my Lord, what need these terms?  
As if we knew not one another yet?  
Make speed my Lord, and make your Nuptials short,  
As they are sudden blessed in your desires.   S Anne. 
Oh I wish nothing more than lightning haste.  Uan. 

Stay, one word first my Lord; You are a sweet brother  
To put in trust, and woo love for another?   S. Anne. 
Pray thee no more of that.  Vand. 
Well then be gone, my Lord, her brother comes.  Exit S. Anne. Enter Vaum. Vaum. 

Most happy Friend,  
How hath our plot succeeded?   Uand. 

he's our own.  
His blood was framed for every shade of virtue,  
To ravish into true inamourate fire:  
The Funeral of my Sister must be held  
With all solemnity, and then his Nuptials,  
With no less speed and pomp be celebrated.   Vaum. 

What wonders hath your fortunate spirit & virtues  
Wrought to our comforts? Could you crown th'enchantments  
Of your divine Wit with another Spell,  
Of power to bring my Wife out of her Cell,  
You should be our quick Hermes, our Alcides.   Uand. 

That's my next labour: come my Lord, yourself  
Shall stand unseen, and see by next morn's light  
(Which is her bedtime) how my brains-bold valour  
Will rouse her from her vows severity:  
No Will, nor power, can withstand Policy.   Exit. Enter D'olive, Pacque, Dique. D'ol. 

Welcome little Wits, are you he my Page Pacque here  
Makes choice of, to be his fellow coach-horse?   Diq. 
I am my Lord.  D'ol. 
What Country man?  Diq. 
Borne i'th' City.  Pac. 
But begot i'th' Court: I can tell your Lordship, he hath had as good Court breeding, as any Imp in a Country: If your Lordship please to examine him in any part of the Court Accidence, from a Noun to an Interjection, I'll undertake you shall find him sufficient.  D'ol. 
sayst thou so little Wit: Why then Sir, How many Pronouns be there?  Diq. 
Faith my Lord there are more, but I have learned but three sorts; the Goad, the Fulham, and the Stop-kater-tre; which are all demonstratives, for here they be: There are Relatives too, but they are nothing without their Antecedents.  D'ol. 
Well said, little Wit I'faith, How many Antecedents are there?  Diq. 
Faith my Lord, their number is uncertain; but they that are, are either Squires, or Gentlemen ushers.  D'ol. 
Very well said: when all is done, the Court is the only School of good education; especially for Pages and Weighting women; Paris, or Padua, or the famous School of England called Winchester, famous (I mean) for the Goose, Where Scholars wear Petticoats so long, till their pen and inkhorns knock against their knees: All these I say, are but Belfries to the Body or School of the Court: He that would have his Son proceed Doctor in three days, let him send him thither; there's the Porge to fashion all the parts of them: There they shall learn the true use of their good Parts indeed.  Pac. 
Well my Lord, you have said well for the Court, What says your Lordship now to us Courtiers, Shall we go the voyage?  D'ol. 
My little Hermaphrodites, I entertain you here into my Chamber; and if need be, nearer: your service you know. I will not promise Mountains, nor assure you Annuities of forty or fifty Crowns; in a word, I will promise nothing: but I will be your good Lord, do you not doubt.  Diq. 
We do not my Lord, but are sure you will show yourself Noble: and as you promise us nothing, so you will Honourably keep promise with us, and give us nothing.  D'ol. 
Pretty little Wit, i'faith, Can he verse?  Pac. 
I and set too, my Lord; he's both a Setter and a Verser.  D'ol. 
Pretty in faith; but I mean, has he a vain Natural?  Pac. 
O my Lord, it comes from him as easily,  Diq. 
As Suits from a Courtier, without money: or money from a Citizen without security, my Lord.  D'o. 
Well, I perceive nature has suited your Wits; & I'll suit you in Guarded coats, answerable to your Wits: for wit's as suitable to guarded coats, as Wisdom is to welted Gowns. My other follower's Horse themselves; myself will horse you. And now tell me (for I will take you into my bosom) What's the opinion of the many headed Best touching my new addition of Honour?  Diq. 
Some think, my Lord, it hath given you addition of pride, and outer evidence.  D'ol. 
They are deceived that think so: I must confess, it would make a Fool proud; but for me, I am semper idem.  Pac. 
We believe your Lordship.  D'ol. 
I find no alteration in myself in the world, for I am sure I am no wiser than I was, when I was no Lord, nor no more bountiful, nor no more honest; only in respect of my state, I assume a kind of State; to receive Suitors now, with the Nod of Nobility; not (as before) with the Cap of courtesy; the knee of Knighthood: And why knee of Knighthood, little Wit? there's another Question for your Court Accidence.  Diq. 
Because Gentlemen, or Yeomen, or peasants, or so, receive Knighthood on their knees.  Pac. 
The signification of the Knee of Knighthood in heraldy an't please your Lordship, is, that Knights are tied in honour to fight up to the knees in blood, for the defence of fair Ladies.  D'ol. 
Very good: but if it be so, what honour do they deserve, that purchase their Knighthood?  Diq. 
Purchase their Knighthood my Lord? Mary I think they come truly by't, for they pay well for't.  D'ol. 
You cut me off by the knees, little Wit: but I say, (if you will hear me) that if they deserve to be Knighted, that purchase their Knighthood with fighting up to the knee, What do they deserve, that purchase their Knighthood with fighting above the knee?  Pac. 
Mary my Lord, I say the purchase is good, if the conveyance will hold water.  D'ol. 
Why this is excellent: by heaven twenty pounds annuity shall not purchase you from my heels. But forth now: What is the opinion of the world touching this new Honour of mine? Do not Fools envy it?  Diq. 
No my Lord, but wise men wonder at it: you having so buried your wisdom heretofore in Taverns, and Vaultinghouses, that the world could never discover you to be capable of Honour.  D'ol. 
As though Achilles could hide himself under a Woman's clothes: was he not discovered at first? This Honour is like a Woman, or a Crocodile (choose you whether) it flies them that follow it; and follows them that fly it: For myself, however my worth, for the time kept his bed; yet did I ever prophecy to myself that it would rise, before the Sunset of my days: I did ever dream, that this head was borne to bear a breadth, this shoulder to support a State, this face to look bog, this body to bear a presence, these feet were borne to be revellers, and these Calves were borne to be Courtiers: In a word, I was borne Noble, and I will die Nobly: neither shall my Nobility perish with death; after ages shall resound the memory thereof, while the Sun sets in the East, or the Moon in the West.  Pac. 
Or the Seven Stars in the North.  D'ol. 
The Siege of Bullaine shall be no more a landmark for Times: Agincourt Battle, S. james his Field, the loss of Calice, & the winning of Cales, shall grow out of use: Men shall reckon their years, Women their marriages, from the day of our embassage: As, I was borne, or married two, three, or four years before the great embassage. farmer's shall count their Leases from this day, Gentlemen their Mortgages from this day: Saint Dennis shall be raced out of the calendar, and the day of our instalment entered in red letters: And as St. Valentine's day is fortunate to choose Lovers, St. Luke's to choose Husbands; So shall this day be to the choosing of Lords: It shall be a critical day, a day of Note: In that day it shall be good to quarrel, but not to sight: They that Marry on that day, shall not repent; marry the morrow after perhaps they may: It shall be wholesome to beat a Sergeant on that day: He that eats Garlic on that morning, shall be a rank Knave till night.  Diq. 
What a day will this be, if it hold?  D'ol. 
Hold? 'Sfoot it shall hold, and shall be held sacred to immortality: let all the Chroniclers, Ballet makers, and Almanacmungers, do what they dare.  Enter Rhoderique. Rhod. 
'Sfoot (my Lord) als dashed, your voyage is overthrown.  D'ol. 
What ails the frantic Tro?  Rhod. 
The Lady is entombed, that was the Subject of your embassage: and your embassage is bewrayed.  Pac. 
Dido is dead, and wrapped in lead.  Di. 
O heavy hearse!  Pac. 
Your Lordship's honour must wait upon her.  Dig. 
O scurvy verse! Your Lordship's welcome home: pray let's walk your horse my Lord.  D'ol. 
A pretty gullery. Why my little wits, do you believe this to be true?  Pac. 
For my part my Lord, I am of opinion you are gulled.  Dig. 
And I am of opinion that I am partly guilty of the same.  Enter Muge. Muge. 
Where's this Lord fool here? 'Slight you have made a pretty piece of service an't: raised up all the country in gold lace and feathers; and now with your long stay, there's no employment for them.  D'ol. 
Good still.  Mug. 
'Slight I ever took thee to be a hammer of the right feather: but I durst have laid my life, no man could ever have crammed such a Gudgeon as this down the throat of thee: To create thee a Christmas Lord, and make thee laughter for the whole Court: I am ashamed of myself that ever I choosed such a grossblock to whet my wits on.  D'ol. 
Good wit i'faith.  
I know all this is but a gullery now: But since you have presumed to go thus far with me, come what can come to the State, sink or swim, I'll be no more a father to it, nor the Duke; nor for the world wade one half step further in the action.  Pac. 
But now your Lordship is gone, what shall become of your followers?  D'ol. 
Followers? let them follow the Court as I have done: there let them raise their fortunes: if not, they know the way to the petty Brokers, there let them shift and hang. Exit cum suit.  Rhod. 
Here we may strike the Plaudite to our Play, my Lord fool's gone: all our audience will forsake us.  Mug. 
Page, after, and call him again.  Rho. 
Let him go: I'll take up some other fool for the Duke to employ: every Ordinary affords fools enough: and didst not see a pair of Gallants sit not far hence like a couple of Bough-pots to make the room smell?  Mug. 
Yes, they are gone: But what of them?  Rhod. 
I'll press them to the Court: or if need be, our Muse is not so barren, but she is able to devise one trick or other to retire D'olive to Court again.  Mug. 
Indeed thou toldst me how gloriously he apprehended the favour of a great Lady i'th' Presence, whose heart (he said) stood a tiptoe in her eye to look at him.  Rhod. 
'tis well remembered.  Mug. 
O, a Love-letter from that Lady would retrieve him as sure as death.  Rhod. 
It would of mine honour: we'll feign one from her instantly: Page, fetch pen and ink here.  Exit Pag. Mug. 
Now do you & your Muse engender: my barren sconce shall prompt something.  Rhod. 
Soft then: The Lady Jeronime, who I said viewed him so in the Presence, is the Venus that must enamour him: we'll go no further for that. But in what likeness must he come to the Court to her now? As a Lord he may not: in any other shape he will not.  Mug. 
Then let him come in his own shape like a gull.  Rhod. 
Well, disguised he shall be: That shall be his mistresses direction: this shall be my Helicon: and from this quiver will I draw the shaft that shall wound him.  Mug. 
Come on: how wilt thou begin?  Rhod. 
Faith thus: dearly Beloved.  Mug. 
Ware ho, that's profane.  Rhod. 
Go to then: Divine D'olive: I am sure that's not profane.  Mug. 
Well, forward:  Rhod. 
I see in the power of thy beauties.  Mug. 
Break of your period, and say, 'twas with a sigh.  Rhod. 
Content: here's a full prick stands for a tear too.  Mug. 
So, now take my brain.  Rhod. 
Pour it on.  Mug. 
I talk like a fool, but alas thou art wise and silent.  Rhod. 
Excellent: And the more wise, the more silent.  Mug. 
That's something common.  Rhod. 
So should his mistress be.  Mug. 
That's true indeed: Who breaks way next?  Rhod. 
That will I sir: But alas, why art not thou noble, that thou mightst match me in Blood?  Mug. 
I'll answer that for her.  Rhod. 
Come on.  Mug. 
But thou art noble, though not by birth, yet by creation.  Rhod. 
That's not amiss: forth now: Thy wit proves thee to be a Lord, thy presence shows it: O that word Presence, has cost me dear.  Mug. 
Well said, because she saw him i'th' Presence.  Rhod. 
O do but say thou lov'st me.  Mug. 
Soft, there's too many Os  Rhod. 
Not a whit: O's but the next door to P. And his mistress may use her O with with modesty: or if thou wilt, I'll stop it with another brackish tear.  Mug. 
No, no, let it run on.  Rhod. 
O do but say thou lov'st me, and yet do not neither, and yet do.  Mug. 
Well said, let that last stand, let him do in any case: now say thus, do not appear at Court.  Rhod. 
So.  Mug. 
At least in my company.  Rhod. 
Well.  Mug. 
At lest before folks.  Rhod. 
Why so?  Mug. 
For the flame will break forth.  Rhod. 
Go on: thou dost well.  Mug. 
Where there is fire i'th' hearth:  Rhod. 
What then?  Mug. 
There will be smoke i'th' chimney.  Rhod. 
Forth.  Mug. 
Warm, but burn me not: there's reason in all things.  Rhod. 
Well said, now do I vie it: Come to my chamber betwixt two and three.  Mug. 
A very good number.  Rho. 
But walk not under my window: if thou dost, come disguised: in any case we are not thy tuft taffeta cloak: if thou dost, thou killest me.  Mug. 
Well said, now to the l'envoy.  Rhod. 
Thine, if I were worth ought; and yet such, as it skills not whose I am if I be thine; jeronime: Now for a fit Pandar to transport it, and have at him.  Exeunt.  
Finis Actus quarti.   

ACTVS Quinti  

Scaena prima.  Enter Vaumont, and Vandome. Vand. 

COme my good Lord, now will I try my Brain,  
If it can forge another golden chain,  
To draw the poor Recluse, my honoured mistress  
From her dark Cell, and superstitious vow.  
I oft have heard there is a kind of cure  
To fright a lingering Fever from a man  
By an imaginous fear, which may be true,  
For one heat (all know) doth drive out another,  
One passion doth expel another still,  
And therefore I will use a feigned device  
To kindle fury in her frozen Breast,  
That rage may fire out grief, and so restore her  
To her most sociable self again.   Uau. 

juno Lucina far opem,  
And ease my labouring house of such a care.   Vand. 

Mark but my Midwifery: the day is now  
Some three hours old, and now her night begins:  
Stand close my Lord, if she and her sad meany  
Be toward sleep, or sleeping, I will wake them  
With orderly alarms; Page? Boy? sister?  
All tongue-tied? all asleep? page? sister?   Uau. 

Alas Vandome, do not disturb their rest  
For pity sake, 'tis young night yet with them.   Uand. 

My Lord, your only way to deal with women  
And Parrots, is to keep them waking still.  
Page? who's above? are you all dead here?   Dig. 
'Slight is hell broke loose? who's there?  He looks out with a light. Vand. 
A friend.  Dig. 

Then know this Castle is the house of woe,  
Here harbour none but two distressed Ladies  
Condemned to darkness, and this is their jail,  
And I the Giant set to guard the same:  
My name is Dildo.   Retrahitse. Vand. 
Sirrah leave your roguery, and hearken to me: what Page, I say.  Dig. 
Tempt not disasters: take thy life: Be gone.  Redit cum lumine. Uau. 
An excellent villainy.  Vand. 
Sirrah? I have business of weight to impart to your Lady.  Dig. 
If your business be of weight, let it wait till the afternoon, for by that time my Lady will be delivered of her first sleep: Be gone, for fear of watery meteors.  Vand. 
Go to sir, leave your villainy, and dispatch this news to your Lady.  Dig. 
Is your business from yourself, or from somebody besides?  Vand. 
From nobody besides myself.  Dig. 
Very good; then I'll tell her, here's one besides himself has business to her from nobody.  Retrahitse. Vau. 
A perfect young hempstring.  Van. 
Peace lest he over hear you.  Redit Dig. Dig. 
You are not the Constable sir, are you?  Vand. 
Will you dispatch sir? you know me well enough, I am Vandome.  Eury. 
What's the matter? who's there? Brother Vandome.  Vand. 
Sister?  Eury. 
What tempest drives you hither at such an hour?  Vand. 
Why I hope you are not going to bed, I see you are not yet unready: if ever you will deserve my love, let it be now, by calling forth my mistress, I have news for her, that touch her nearly.  Eur. 
What be't good brother?  Van. 
The worst of ills: would any tongue but mine had been the messenger.  Mar. 
What's that servant?  Van. 
O Mistress come down with all speed possible, and leave that mournful cell of yours, I'll show you another place worthy of your mourning.  Mar. 
Speak man, my heart is armed with a mourning habit of such proof, that there is none greater without it, to pierce it.  Vand. 
If you please to come down, I'll impart what I know: if not, I'll leave you.  Eury. 

Why stand you so at gaze sister? go down to him.  
Stay bother, she comes to you.   Vand. 

'twill take I doubt not, though her self be ice,  
There's one with her all fire, and to her spirit  
I must apply my counterfeit device:  
Stand close my Lord.   Uau. 
I warrant you, proceed.  Vand. 

Come silly mistress, where's your worthy Lord?  
I know you know not, but too well I know.   Mar. 
Now heaven grant all be well.  Vand. 

How can it be?  
While you poor Turtle sit and mourn at home,  
mewed in your cage, your mate he flies abroad,  
O heavens who would have thought him such a man?   Eury. 
Why what man brother? I believe my speeches will prove true of him.  Uand. 
To wrong such a beauty, to profane such virtue, and to prove disloyal.  Eury. 
Disloyal? nay nero gild him over with fine terms, Brother, he is a filthy Lord, and ever was, I did ever say so, I never knew any good ath hair, I do but wonder how you made shift to love him, or what you saw in him to entertain but so much as a piece of a good thought on him.  Mar. 
Good sister forbear.  Eury. 
Tush sister, bid me not forbear: a woman may bear, and bear, and be never the better thought on neither: I would you had never seen the eyes of him, for I know he never loved you in's life.  Mar. 

You wrong him sister, I am sure he loved me  
As I loved him, and happy I had been  
Had I then died, and shunned this hapless life.   Eury. 
Nay let him die, and all such as as he is, he lay a caterwauling not long since: O if it had been the will of heaven, what a dear blessing had the world had in his riddance?  Vand. 

But had the lecher none to single out  
For object of his light lascivious blood,  
But my poor cousin that attends the Duchess, Lady jeronime?   Eury. 
What, that blabber-lipped blouse?  Uand. 

Nay no blouse, sister, though I must confess  
She comes far short of your perfection.   Eury. 
Yes by my troth, if she were your cousin a thousand times, she's but a sallow freckled face piece when she is at the best.  Uand. 

Yet spare my cousin, sister, for my sake,  
She merits milder censure at your hands.  
And ever held your worth in noblest terms.   Eury. 
Faith the Gentlewoman is a sweet Gentlewoman of herself, I must needs give her her due.  Vand. 

But for my Lord your husband, honoured mistress,  
He made your beauties and your virtues too,  
But foils to grace my cousins, had you seen  
His amorous letters,   
But my cousin presently will tell you all, for she rejects his suit, yet I advised her to make a show she did not. But point to meet him when you might surprise him, and this is just the hour.  Eury. 
God's my life sister, lose not this advantage, it will be a good Trump to lay in his way upon any quarrel: Come, you shall got 'sbody will you suffer him to disgrace you in this sort? dispraise your beauty? And I do not think too, but he has been as bold with your Honour, which above all earthly things should be dearest to a woman.  Uand. 
Next to her Beauty.  Eury. 
True, next to her beauty: and I do not think sister, but he deviseth slanders against you, even in that high kind.  Vand. 
Infinite, infinite.  Eury. 
And I believe I take part with her too: would I knew that i'faith.  Vand. 
Make your account, your share's as deep as hers: when you see my cousin, she'll tell you all: we'll to her presently.  Eury. 
Has she told you, she would tell us?  Vand. 
assured me, on her oath.  Eury. 
'Slight I would but know what he can say I pray you brother tell me.  Vand. 
To what end? 'twill but stir your patience.  Eury. 
No I protest: when I know my carriage to be such, as no stain can obscure, his slanders shall never move me, yet would I fain know what he feigns.  Uan. 
It fits not me to play the gossip's part: to my cousin, she'll relate all.  Eury. 
'Slight what can she say? pray let's have a taste an't onward.  Vand. 
What can he not say, who being drunk with lust, and surfeiting with desire of change, regards not what he says: and briefly I will tell you thus much now; Let my melancholy Lady (says he) hold on this course till she waste herself, and consume my revenue in Tapers, yet this is certain, that as long as she has that sister of hers at her elbow.  Eury. 
Me? why me? I bid defiance to his foul throat.  Vaum. 
Hold there Vandome, now it begins to take.  Eury. 
What can his yellow jealousy surmise against me? if you love me, let me hear it: I protest it shall not move me.  Vand. 
Marry forsooth, you are the shoeing horn, he says, to draw on, to draw on sister.  Eury. 
The shoeing horn with a vengeance? what's his meaning in that?  Vand. 
Nay I have done, my cousin shall tell the rest: come shall we go?  Eury. 
Go? by heaven you bid me to a banquet: sister, resolve yourself, for you shall go; lose no more time, for you shall abroad on my life: his liquorice chaps are walking by this time: but for heavens sweet hope what means he by that shoeing horn? As I live it shall not move me.  Vand. 
Tell me but this, did you ever break betwixt my mistress and your sister here, and a certain Lord i'th' Court?  Eury. 
How? break?  Vand. 
Go to, you understand me: have not you a Petrarch in Italian?  Eury. 
Petrarch? yes, what of that?  Van. 
Well, he says you can your good, you may be waiting woman to any dame in Europe: that Petrarch does good offices.  Eury. 
Marry hang him, good offices? 'sfoot how understands he that?  Vand. 
As when any Lady is in private courtship with this or that gallant, your Petrarch helps to entertain time: you understand his meaning?  Eury. 
Sister if you resolve to go, so it is: for by heaven your stay shall be no bar to me, I'll go, that's infallible; it had been as good he had slandered the devil: shoeing horn? O that I were a man for's sake.  Vand. 
But to abuse your person and your beauty too: a grace wherein this part of the world is happy: but I shall offend too much.  Eury. 
Not me, it shall never move me.  Uand. 
But to say, ye had a dull eye, a sharp nose (the visible marks of a shrew) a dry hand, which is a sign of a bad liver, as he said you were, being toward a husband too: this was intolerable.  Uaum. 
This strikes it up to the head.  Uand. 
Indeed he said you dressed your head in a pretty strange fashion: but you would dress your husband's head in a far stranger; meaning the Count of saint Anne I think.  Eury. 
God's precious, did he touch mine honour with him?  Vand. 
Faith nothing but that he wears black, and says 'tis his mistress colours: and yet he protests that in his eye your face shows well enough by candle light, for the Count never saw it otherwise, unless 'twere under a mask, which indeed he says becomes you above all things.  Eury. 

Come Page, go along with me, I'll stay for nobody:  
'tis at your cousin's chamber, is it not?   Uand. 
Marry is it, there you shall find him at it.  Eury. 
That's enough: let my sister go waste his revenue in tapers, 'twill be her own another day.  Mar. 
Good sister, servant, if ever there were any love or respect to me in you both.  Eury. 
Sister? there is no love, nor respect, nor any conjuration, shall stay me: and yet by my part in heaven, I'll not be moved a whit with him: you may retire yourself to your old coll, and there waste your eyes in tears, your heart in sighs, I'll away certain.  Uan. 
But soft, let's agree first what course we shall take when we take him.  Eury. 
Marry even raise the streets on him, and bring him forth with a flock of boys about him, to hoot at him.  Vand. 
No, that were too great a dishonour: I'll put him out on's pain presently.  Stringit ensem. Pag. 
Nay good sir spare his life, cut of the offending part, and save the Count.  Mar. 

Is there no remedy? must I break my vow?  
Stay I'll abroad, though with another aim  
Not to procure, but to prevent his shame.   Uan. 

Go Page, march on, you know my cousin's chamber,  
My company may wrong you, I will cross  
The nearer way, and set the house afore you:  
But sister see you be not moved for God's sake.   Eury. 

Not I by heaven: Come sister, be not moved,  
But if you spare him, may heaven near spare you.   Exeunt. man. Van. & Vau. Vand. 
So now the solemn votary is reviv'd.  Uaum. 

Pray heaven you have not gone a step too far,  
And raised more sprites, than you can conjure down.   Vand. 

No my Lord, no, th'herculean labour's past,  
The vow is broke, which was the end we sweat for,  
The reconcilement will meet of itself:  
Come let's to Court, and watch the Lady's chamber,  
Where they are gone with hopeful spleen to see you.   Enter Roderique, Mugeron, D'olive in disguise towards the Lady's chamber. Rhod. 
See Mugeron, our counterfeit letter hath taken: who's yonder think'st?  Mug. 
'tis not Dolive:  Rhod. 

If't be not he, I am sure he's not far off:  
Those be his trestles that support the motion.   Mug. 
'tis he by heaven, wrapped in his careless cloak: See the Duke enters: Let him enjoy the benefit of the enchanted Ring, and stand a while invisible: at our best opportunity we'll discover him to the Duke.  Enter Duke, Duchess, Saint Anne, Vaumont, Uandome, to them Digue, whispering Vandome in the care, and speaks as on the other side. Dig. 
Monsieur Vandome, yonder's no Lord to be found: my Lady stays at hand and craves your speech.  Vand. 
Tell her she mistook the place, and conduct her hither: How will she look when she finds her expectation mocked now?  Exit. Dig. Vaum. 
What's that, Vandome?  Uand. 
Your wife and sister are coming hither, hoping to take you and my cousin together.  Uau. 
Alas, how shall we appease them, when they see themselves so deluded?  Van. 
Let me alone, and stand you off my Lord:  Enter Mar: and Eurione. 
Madame, you're welcome to the Court: do you see your Lord yonder? I have made him happy by training you forth: In a word, all I said was but a train to draw you from your vow: Nay, there's no going back: Come forward and keep your temper. Sister, cloud not you your forehead: yonder's a Sun will clear your beauties I am sure. Now you see the shooing-horn is expounded: all was but a shooing-horn to draw you hither: now show yourselves women, and say nothing.  Phil. 
Let him alone awhile Vandome: who's there? what whisper you?  Uand. 

Y'ave done? come forward:  
See here my Lord, my honourable mistress,  
And her fair sister, whom your Highness knows  
Could never be importuned from their vows  
By prayer, or th'earnest suits of any friends,  
Now hearing false report that your fair Duchess  
Was dangerously sick, to visit her  
Did that which no friend else could win her to,  
And broke her long kept vow with her repair.   Duke. 

Madam you do me an exceeding honour,  
In showing this true kindness to my Duchess,  
Which she with all her kindness will require.   Vand. 

Now my good Lord, the motion you have made, To S. An.  
With such kind importunity by yourself,  
And seconded with all persuasions  
On my poor part, for marriage of this Lady,  
herself now comes to tell you she embraces,  
And (with that promise made me) I present her.   Eury. 
Sister, we must forgive him.  S. An. 

Matchless Lady,  
Your beauties and your virtues have achieved  
An action that I thought impossible,  
For all the sweet attractions of your sex,  
In your conditions, so to life resembling  
The grace and fashion of my other wife:  
You have reviv'd her to my loving thoughts,  
And all the honours I have done to her,  
Shall be continued (with increase) to you.   Mug. 
Now let's discover our Ambassador, my Lord.  Duke. 
Do so.  Exiturus D'olive. Mug. 
My Lord? my Lord Ambassador?  D'ol. 
My Lord fool, am I not?  Mug. 
Go to, you are he: you cannot cloak your Lordship from our knowledge.  Rho. 
Come come: could Achilles hide himself under a woman's clothes? Greatness will shine through clouds of any disguise.  Phil. 
Who's that Roderique?  Rho. 
Monsieur D'olive, my Lord, stolen hither disguised, with what mind we know not.  Mug. 
Never strive to be gone sir: my Lord, his habit expounds his heart: 'twere good he were searched.  D'olive. 
Well rooks well, I'll be no longer a block to whet your dull wits on: My Lord, my Lord, you wrong not yourself only, but your whole state, to suffer such ulcers as these to gather head in your Court; never look to have any action sort to your honour, when you suffer such earwigs to creep into your ears thus.  Phil. 
What's the matter Roderique?  Rho. 
Alas my Lord, only the lightness of his brain, because his hopes are lost.  Mug. 
For our parts, we have been trusty and secret to him in the whole manage of his embassage.  D'ol. 
Trusty? a plague on you both, there's as much trust in a common whore as in one of you: and as for secrecy, there's no more in you then in a professed Scrivener.  Vand. 
Why a Scrivener, monsieur D'olive?  D'ol. 
Marry sir a man cannot trust him with borrowing so much as poor forty shillings, but he will have it Known to all men by these presents.  Vand. 
That's true indeed, but you employed these gentlemen very safely.  D'olive. 
Employed? I mary sir, they were the men that first kindled this humour of employment in me: a pox of employment I say: it has cost me, but what it has cost me, it skills not: they have thrust upon me a crew of threadbare, unbuttoned fellows, to be my followers: Tailors, Frippers, Brokers, cashiered Clerks, Pettifoggers, and I know not who I: 'Slight I think they have swept all the bowling allies i'th' city for them: and a crew of these, raked like old rags out of dunghills by candle light, have they presented to me in very good fashion, to be gentlemen of my train, and sold them hope of raising their fortunes by me: A plague on that phrase, Raising of fortunes, it has undone more men when ten dicing houses? Raise their fortunes with a vengeance? And a man will play the fool and be a Lord, or be a fool and play the Lord, he shall be sure to want no followers, so there be hope to raise their fortunes. A burning fever light on you, and all such followers. 'Sfoot they say followers are but shadows, that follow their Lords no longer than the sunshines on them: but I find it not so: the sun is set upon my employment, and yet I cannot shake off my shadows; my followers grow to my heels like kibes, I cannot stir out of doors for am. And your grace have any employment for followers, pray entertain my company: they'll spend their blood in your service, for they have little else to spend, you may soon raise their fortunes.  Phil. 

Well Monsieur D'olive, your forwardness  
In this intended service, shall well know  
What acceptation it hath won itself  
In our kind thoughts: nor let this sudden change  
Discourage the designments you have laid  
For our States good: reserve yourself I pray,  
Till fitter times: mean time will I secure you  
From all your followers: follow us to Court.  
And good my Lords, and you my honoured Ladies,  
Be all made happy in the worthy knowledge  
Of this our worthy friend Monsieur D'olive.   Omnes. 
Good Monsieur D'olive.  Exeunt.  
Finis Actus quinti & ultimi.    

ACTORS.  

Monsieur D'olive.  
Philip the Duke.  
S. Anne Count.  
Vaumont Count.  
Vandome.  
Roderique.  
Mugeron.  
Pacque, two pages.  
Dicque, two pages.  
Gueaquin the Duchess.  
Hieronym Lady.  
Marcellina Countess.  
Eurione her sister.