(SCENE 2.)

Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood.

Bel. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares But those I will not banish, were your busines More secret.

Tho. Lady, I come to free My worthy freind and your owne servant, Bonvill, From an uniust suspition your conceite Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me In the unlucky message that pronouncd you Empty of honor.

Bel. Has your worthles freind Hird you to sweare this?

Tho. I'me none that live By selling oathes.

Bel. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not With all his cunning policie regaine My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me: I do not love to heare of him.

Tho. Your pleasure rules me. [Exit.

Cla. Belisea, you did ill Not to heare out the Gent[leman].

Bel. Prethe why? His owne confession does appeach him one In the conspiracy against my honor. He sayes my mother was the originall Of Bonviles slaunder; and how impious Twere for a child to thinke so, filiall duty Instructs my knowlidge.

Cla. Be not confident; Your piety may misleade you. Though your mother, Shees passion like to us; we had it from her. Ile say no more; the event will testifie Whoes in the fault.[98]

Enter Sucket and Crackby.

Suc. Be not abashd; a little impudence is requisite; Observe me, with what a garbe and gesture martiall I will beseige their fortresses.

Bel. Who sent these fooles to trouble us?—Gent[lemen], We have some conference will admit no audience Besides ourselves. We must desire you to withdraw, or give us Leave to do soe.

Suc. Men of warr are not soe easily put to a retreat; it suites not with their repute.

Cla. Heele fight with us, sister: weed best procure him bound toth peace.

Crac. Ladies, I must no more endure repulse; I come to be a suiter.

Bel. For what?

Crac. Why, that you would with Judgment overlooke This lovely countenance.

Cla. The hangman shall doe't sooner.

Crac. If you knew How many bewtious gentlewomen have sued To have my picture—

Cla. To hang at their beds head for a memento mori—

Crac. You would regard it with more curiosity. There was a merchants daughter the other day Runn mad at sight of itt.

Cla. It scared her from her witts: she thought the divell had haunted her.

Suc. Valour deserves regard, myne shall propugne Your bewty gainst all opposers.

Bel. Alasse! mine is so meane, None will contend with it, it needs no champions.

Crac. Contemne me not, lady; I am—

Cla. A most egregious asse.

Crac. Most nobly propagatted; my father was a man Well fu[rnish'd] with white and yellow mettall.

Cla. I lay my life a Tinker.

Crac. And in his parish of account.

Cla. A Scavenger.

Bel. Is it a badge of your profession To be uncivell?

Suc. Uncivell! Noe; what is in other men uncivill In us is resolution; therefore yeild: I am invincible, flesh cannot stand Before me.

Bel. It must be drunke then.

Cla. I am not ith humour now To laugh, or else Ide not dismisse him yet. Good Mr. Crackby, does your wisdome thinke That I can love you?

Crac. My worth deserves it.

Cla. Well said, impudence. Goe, get you home toth Cittie; goe solicitt Some neighbors daughter; match with Nan your Schoolefellow With whome you usd to walk to Pimblicoe[99] To eate plumbe cakes and creame,—one of your parish, Good what-doe-you-lack.

Crac. This is offensive to My reputation.

Cla. You shall heare more on't: When thou art married, if the kind charity Of other men permitt thee to geet thee children That call thy wife mother, bring them up To people shopps and cheat for 18d, The pretious youth that fathers them. Walke, walke, you and your Captaine Huff to London, And tell thy mother how thou has't sped i'th country, And let her moane thee.

Crac. Captaine, we must give place; these girles are firebrands, And we as straw before them.

Suc. They may stand In neede of valour. [Exeunt Suc. and Crac.

Enter Thurston.

Cla. Have you oreheard us? these are the lads will do't, When 20 such as you will be cast off.

Thu. Like a bob'd[100] Hawke.—Mrs, if I mistake not, Your mother does inquire for you.

Bel. I will attend her pleasure. [Exit.

Cla. Doe not goe, wench; we shall scarce be honest.

Thu. Love, is it time, after the services I have perform'd, to have some salary? Noe labourer works without his hier; I would Be satisfied when you determine we Shall end our hopes in marriage.

Cla. I have lookt for this month in my Calender And find that marriage is prohibited.

Thu. It is not Lent nor Advent;[101] if it were The Court is not so strickt but 'twill dispense With freinds, and graunt a licence.

Cla. Whole be bound With you that theres no hindrance but we may Be lawfully espoused?

Thu. Ime not so barren Of freinds but I shall find security For what will nere be question'd.

Cla. It may be soe; but one who calculated My birth did warne me to abstaine from marriage Til I was twenty.

Thu. You're no Atlanta; if you be, Ile play Hippomanes and over runn you.

Cla. You'd scarce catch me, Though you had Venus apples to seduce My covetous eyes. Henceforth Ide have you leave Your love to me.

Thu. I must leave to live then. Why doe you say soe?

Cla. Cause it is [un]iust You should mispend affection on her Who is incapeable of it.

Thu. You'd faine wrest A new expence of complement from me: If you delight to heare your praise, Ile hire Some mercenary [poet][102] to comend In lofty verse your bewty.

Cla. You are merry: My humor is not specious; we must know A further distance.

Thu. Wherefore, pray? Our eyes are no more poysonous then they were.

Cla. Yes, they infect reciprocall.

Thu. This language Is not accustomd; pray, tell me how My presence is offensive, and Ile shun you[103] As I would doe my fate. You are not serious: My innocence assures me my deserts Can chalenge no such usage.

Cla. Tis confest; but we Are like thinne christall glasses that will crack By touching one another: I coniure thee By all our past love, from this parting minute Nere to behold me more. I dare not venter My frailty with thee.

Thu. What immodesty Has my demeaner uttred you should doubt Ravishing from me?

Cla. Thats not it, but cause I would not tempt my destinie: thy sight Would inflame marble, much more me whose heart Is prompt enough to fly into thy breast And leave mine empty. But 'tmust not remaine In that lone habitation, least a curse, A fearefull one, sease on mee.

Thu. Can there be Curses more horrid, incident to earth For its past Sinns, then would depend on you For such a bold presumption as your breatch Of faith would be.

Cla. Our tyrant fate has found Yet uninvented torments to expresse Our loyall soules. O, Thurston, thou wert never —Not when our mutuall freindships might have taught The constant turtles amity—more deare To me then now. I could, as well as then, Peruse love's dictats in thy amorous cheeks, Enioy the pressure of thy modest lipp; But Ime enioynd by powerfull menaces T'infring my wonted use and to disclaime My vowes to thee.

Thu. If this be possible, What will become of earth? men will no more Respect Society or strive to save Humanity alive: henceforth theyle seeke For lost fidelity on Caves or topps Of untrodd Rocks, and plight their trothes to beasts; Commix with them and generate a race Of creatures, though less rationall, yet more Indude with truth. O Clariana, can There be a motive able to convert This pretious Christall temple, built for purity And goodnes adoration, to a faine For Idoll falshoods worship? But I cannot Labour my wandring Judgment to beleife Thou speakst thy meaning. If I have not lovd With that essential perfectnes thy worth That man could doe, in charity declare My Ignorant defect, and Ile amend it With more then zealous industry.

Cla. Tis vaine: You may as easily penetrate the cloudes With a soft whisper, as my eares, then which Noe thunders deafer. Thurston, tis not cause I have in the intemperate heate of blood Given up my soule to a new choyce, that breeds This soddaine mutability: I will Preserve my affection as inviolate to you As Anchorites their vowes, and in my grave Interr my virgin glory. Teares will not Permitt more conference: fare you well; Ile keepe My passion up till I have none to weepe. [Exit.

Thu. Shees gon! What vapor which the flattring sunn Exhales to heaven as to create a starr, Yet throwst, a fading meteor, to the earth, Has falne like me? Divinity, that tells Us there are soules in women, Ile no more Credit thy dubious Theorems nor thinke Thy lawes astring us to preserve our faith. Let the nice Casuists, that dispute each clause Belongs to conscience with a[l]ternate sense, Dispense with breach of promise and prescribe Equivocacons to evade all oathes Without offending, or shees damnd.

Enter Lovell.

Lov. Well, Companion, at my friends Intreatie I am content to be reconsyld; but have a care, goe to, ha, oh ho, youle[104] … more; why, goe to then … pledge the companion … heeres to thee: what, what!

Thu. Heres one perchance will satisfie me. Sir, your habit speaks yer understanding: Please you resolve me one thing which disturbes The quiet of my conscience.

Lov. Revenge may slumber but can never sleep: He that lets slip an Injury thats done Takes the next course to draw a greater on.

Thu. You counsell well. I pray, in all the volumes Your learning has perusd, did you ere find Any conclusion that allowd it lawfull To breake an oath?

Lov. If she neglect and throw[105] disgrace on thee, Fly't thou as much and be thy scorne as free.

Thu. An Oracle speakes in him; but, pray, tell me Ist lawfull then to breake an oath?

Lov. Though time prolongs, we cannot style it sloath: My vowes are firme; hees damd that breaks an oath.

Thu. Good, good, agen: but the oath I treat on, Is of another kind: tis to a woman.

Lov. It could not be her fault; there's a mistake in't.

Thu. None o'my life, theres none.

Lov. Let me see, let me see: No, twas not hers, twas Grimeses knavery.

Thu. Ha, whether did wild fancy lead my apprehension. He minds me not but is in disputation With his owne thoughts.

Lov. Wilt thou pledge me ii cuppes? Why, goe to and goe to, then. Ha to thee, ha, sirra Grimes! —When man gainst man conspire to doe evill, For what Society is a fitt!

Thu. The Devill. [Claps him on the shoulder.

Lov. Oh helpe, helpe![106] [Exit.

Enter Lady.

Lady. I hope, sir, Noe occasion offerd in my house Breedes your distast; I should be sorry if It be soe, and conceald from me.

Thu. Your goodnes Is to nice ore me; Ime exceeding well; Only some erring cogitations Trouble my braine a little.

Lady. Tis much pitty Distraction should have roome in you; I would Not for the love you beare my daughter, have you Be discont[ent]ed here.

Thu. And your daughter Repayes me kindly fort.

Lady. Surely her breeding Affords her better manners then to iniure A gent[leman] of your deservings?

Thu. Alas, she has not: Twas but an unkindness triviall Mong freinds not worth the nameing.

Lady. It was to much Wert but an ill looke. If I may so far, Without immodesty, entreat the knowledge Of what it was Ile chide her for't. Pray, sir,— We women are bold suitors; by your looke It is no meane perplexity her folly Has cast upon your temper,—pray, disclose it; And ift be anything the obedience She owes to me may countermand, she shall Repent her error.

Thu. Your humanity Would wrest a secret from me, though my life Consisted ith concealment: she has abolishd Her protestations to me, murdred vowes Which like the blood of Innocents will pull Cloudes of black vengeance on her, for no cause I can imagine but her humor; banishd Me her society and sight for ever.[107]

Lady. Tis above wonder: could I as well rule Her will as her exterior actions, She should not thus reject you; but I cannot Limitt her mind, compell her to affect Against her liking. If perswations may Reduse her, Ile endevour it.

Thu. Twilbe needles; I am resolvd to meet her in revolt, Hug infidelity with as strong a faith As she can possible; and if mans mallice Can passe a womans, my dispight shall winne Preheminence. I will inquire out one By nature framd in scorne of bewty, and In your perfidious daughters presence give her That heart which she reiected.

Lady. Twere pitty Your passion should undoe you; you may find Matches of noble quality: my daughter In worth's inferior to you, yet I doubt not But my perswasive oratorie may gaine you Her forfeited affection.

Thu. Let her reserve it For them who sue to inioy it; Ile conferr My fancy on a Negro new reclaim'd From prostitution; sacrifice my youth To bedridd age, ere reinthrall my heart To her insulting bewty.

Lady. Twould be a maime to your discretion To abjure a certaine and a pleasing good For an uncertaine harme you would impose In malice on another. Yo'are a man In whome the glorious soule of goodnes moves With such a spacious posture that no woman, But such a squemish baby as my daughter, Would be most fortunate to enrich their choyse With one so much deserving.

Thu. He experience Your affirmation: could you love me?

Lady. What I spoake was a contingent supposition What others might doe, but not argument I meant to love you.

Thu. But I know you will; I see a pleasing augury in your looks Presages mercy; and those eyes, whose lustre The light (that scornes privation) cannot equall, Darts beames of comfort on me.

Lady. Twould be rare Could you perswade me to't, I can find No such propension in my selfe; beware Least in this wildnes you ingage your heart To one cannot accept it.

Thun. Pish! Ime sure you will: humanity forbids Refusall of my affection, which shall be As constant as insep[a]rable heate To elementall fire.—I'me soddaine, lady, In my resolve, but firme as fate.

Lady. Surely, You are not well.

Thu. You are deceivd; I am Exceeding well yett; all my faculties Retaine their wonted motion; but Ime like A new recoverd patient, whose relapse Admitts no helpe of phisick: in your love Consists my hope, futurity of health; And you have too much charity to suffer Perdition overwhelme me.

Lady. Your confidence Workes much uppon my lenity; but twould Occasion scandall; every one would judge I did supplant my daughter, should I yeild To your desines.

Thu. Let the censorious world Fright those with harelipd Calumnie whose guilt Merritts detraction; your pure innocence No feind dares vitiatt.

Lady. You have prevaild.

Thu. Ile take you at your word, a holy kisse Shall seale the contract. [kisse. Avaunt! stand of! she has poysond me, her lips Are sault as sulpher, and her breath infects, Noe scorpions like it.

Lady. What ayles you, Sir?

Thu. Ha, ha, ha! Those who imagine such prodigious mischiefes Should be more cunning then to be ore reacht By puisne[108] cosnage; Have you no more judgement Then to beleive I lov'd you.

Lady. Doe you not love me then?

Thu. Can a man Robd of a Jewell deare to him as breath Affect the theife, O murdresse?—for that title Best suites thy impious quality, since thy curse, Thy cruell curse, imposd uppon my love, Has massacred two of the faithfulst hearts Affection ere united. Though your lust Desir'd smooth youth to sate it, piety Might have reclamd you for attempting me, Your daughter's interest.—Ile not rayle Cause tis unman[ner]ly,[109] untill you find What 'tis to cause true lovers prove unkind. [Exit.

Enter Alexan.

Lady. Was I a sleepe? What transitory dreame Deceivd my sense? did I not here my love Protest affection? no, it was some feind Vested in his mortallity, whome hell Sent to abuse my weaknes.

Lov. She has bin sure tormented with that furie which cla[pt] me on my shoulder. She talkes of Hell, love and affection. Ha, goe to and goe to! the old Knight my Mrs. Goast, I hope does not haunt the house.

Lady. Twas he, Ime certaine on't; I felt his lips, And they were flesh; they breath'd on mine a warmth Temperate as westerne kisses which the morne Weaps liquid drops to purchase. This confirmes It was no apparition that contemnd My willingnes, but he, his reall selfe, Mockt my integrity: he must not passe soe, To blase abroad my infamy.

Lov. Madam, feare nothing, be not troubled; the Goast meant no harme to you, uppon my life he did not; Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt, he did not. He did appeare to me—your love, your husband, my old Mr.—here, clapt me on the shoulder, as his old custome was still when he usd to talke with me familiarly.

Lady. But, Sirrah, what familiarity Have you with any of my privasies? Sausie groome, practise your ancient duty.

Enter Young Mar.

Y. M. What meanes this fury, Madam?

Lady. O, deare boy, What haplesse fate exposd thee to the veiw Of this [sic] sad mothers sorrowes? but I charge thee, As thou respects thy duty, not to question The cause of my distemper; my iust feares Prohibits thee the knowledge of it.

Lov. Why, Sir, she has seene the Divell.

Lady. Ha!

Lov. Nay, Madam, I have don; they say the Divell has no power ore a Drunkard; once more Ile run the hazard.

Y. M. Whoe, what is he? speake, For heavens sake, speake: were he defensd with clouds Or circled with unsteadfast boggs, my rage Should cut a passage to him.

Lady. Thou strait will grow More passionate then I: goe to your chamber, Ile but dispatch these gentlemen. [Exit Mar.

_Enter Sir Geffery, Crackby, [Suc]ett [and Bun]ch.

Sir Gef. O here she is.—Lady, I and my Nephew, being your good neighbors and of the worshipfull, I of the Country, he of the Cittie, have long desird a match with your daughters, but they are coy, so childish, so unmannerly; I know not how to terme them: they dispise who worship offers them, they may[110] hereafter doe worse and have worse, madam.

Crac. My uncle tells your ladiship the truth: We are noe peasants[111] or unhonorable To be affronted with indignities.

Suc. Here are men that has seene service.

Bunch. At a mustring or ith Artillery[112] garden.

Lady. 'Twas past my pleasure, good Sir Geffery, you have had such harch entertainement from them: henceforth Ile lay my charge upon them to be more tractable.—Mr. Alexander, goe call my daughters hither.

Lov. She turnes againe.—I shall with all celerity wish them to approach. [Exit.

Sir Gef. Certainly, Madam, I can see no cause Wherefore at first you might not, without putting My Knighthood to this trouble, have matched with me Your selfe; it had been somewhat fitter.

Enter Belisea and Clariana.

Bel. Are these fooles here?

Lady. Minions you might have expresd more kindnes In your behaviour to these Gent[lemen] Whom my strict caire provided for your husbands.

Bel. I hope they cannot blame us, we have usd them With that respect our modesties allowd.

Lady. Your peevish nicenes settle your affections To a more fayre demeaner towards their worth, Or you shall seeke a Mother and a portion.

Crac. Nay, if you take away their portions, Ile Meddle no further with them.

Lady. You both heare My not to be revoaked intention Respect this knight and his nephew in the way Of marriage, or I shall take another order with you. [Exit.

Cla. Was it you, good knight of the ill favord Countenance, Who procurd us these loving admonitions?

Sir Gef. Nay, and you begin agen, Ile call your Ladie Mother.

Suc. I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady, You do not cast a favorable aspect.

Bel. I am no Plannet.

Crac. Captaine, you doe me palpable affront: She is the election of my understanding.

Sir Geff. Retort not so abstrusly.—Will you disdain The good of honour, condiscend to me And youthfull write me, lady, in your stile, And to each thread of thy sun-daseling h[air] Ile hang a pearle as orient as the gemmes The eastern Queenes doe boast of. When thou walk[st], The country lasses, crownd with gorgeous flo[w]res, Shall fill each path and dance their rural jigs In honour of this bewty.

Cla. Hey day, where did you borrow this? Sir, youle beg[one]: I feele the fitt a coming; I shall rayle instantly.

Crac. Baffeld before my Mrs? Death to fame! Captaine, good Captaine.

Suc. Pish, I doe but drill her For you, friend; you shall have her, say your Captaine Sayes it, whose words doe ventilate destruction To all who do oppugn what they designe.

Sir Gef. Come, you shall love me.

Cla. I cannot choose: goe, get you home, antiquity; thinke [of] heaven, say thy prayers often for thy old sinns and let [thy] maid diett thee with warme broathes least some cold appoplexis sease thee before thou art prepard.

Sir Gef. Madam! madam! shees in her old fitt!

Cla. Call her, I care not if she heare me, I councell better than your physician: every night drinke a good cup of muscadine,[113]—you will not have moysture left to ingender spitle to cleanse thy mouth ith morning. Goe, set thy feath[er] right, good mooncalfe[114]: you have your answeare.

Sir Gef, Contemne an old man and his feather, Bunch, Ile begon, B[unch].

[Exeunt Sir Gef. and Bunch.

Cla. Will you goe?—Sister, I have shakd mine off. What stayes this nifle[115] for?

Crac. Nay, call me what you will, she is my prise, And I will keepe her.—Captaine, to her Captaine.

Suc. You must not part thus, Mrs; here are men Has scapd—

Cla. The Gallowes.

Suc. Ile rigg you up; although you were a Carack I shall find tackling for you.

Bel. You are uncivill; pray, desist.

Crac. Not kisse a gentleman? a pretty ring this same: I have a mind to it and I must have it.

Bel. You will not robb me of it?

Suc. I will intreate this glove which shall adorne In fight my burgonett.

Cla. Some honest hostesse Ere this has made a chamber pot of it.

Crac. It is some rivalls ring and I will have it To weare in spight of him.

Bel. Helpe, Sister, helpe.

Enter Bonvill and Grimes.

Bon. She shall not neede. It is my ring the villaine desires soe importunatly: what untuterd slave art thou that darst inforce aught from this gentlewoman.

Crac. Whats that to you? you might have come before me.

Bel. What would you have don?

Crac. Entreated you againe to have come behind me.

Bel. O, my Bonvill, so happy a benefit no hand but thine could have administred. Thou save[d]st the Jewell I esteeme next to my honour,—the Ring thou gavest me.

Crac. Nay, if you have more right to her than I, takt I pray you:— would I were off with a faire broken pate.

Suc. Is your life hatefull to you?

Bon. Why doe you inquire, good puff past?

Suc. My blade Is of the Bilbo[116] mettle; at its splendor My foes does vanish.

Bon. Ile try that presently;—feare nothing, ladyes.

Suc. Death! now I thinke out, I did breake my blade this morning on foure that did waylay me: Ile goe fetch another, and then I am for you.

Crac. Take myne, Captaine.

Suc. Hold your peace, be wise: that fellow In the blew garment has a countenance Presages losse of limme if we encounter.— Ile meet you presently.

Bon. It shall not serve your turne yet: Ile not blunt My sword upon such stock fish. Grimes, bestow Thy timber on them.

Grimes. Come, sir. [beats them.

Suc. Take me without a weapon? this cudgell sure Is Crabb tree, it tasts so sourely. [Exeunt.

Bel. Oh, my Deare Bonvill.

Bon. Mistrisse, I sent an advocate to plead My guiltless cause: you, too[117] severe a Judge Forbad him audience; I am therefore come Once more to prove my innocence.

Cla. Come, without Ceremony Forgive you her and she shall pardon you Most willingly.

Bon. Can you have soe much mercy, You soe much goodnes?

Bel. Noe soule long tir'd with famine, whom kind death Has new enfranchisd from the loathed flesh, With happier expedition enters heaven Then mine thy bosome, Bonvill. Let our loves, Like plants that by their cutting downe shoot up, Straiter and taller flourish: we are now Inseperable.

Cla. Your good fates, though I Repine not at them, makes my unhappy fortunes Appeare farr more disastrous.

Bon. Whats thy misfortune?

Bel. Alas, my mother has crost her in her affection as she did us.

Bon. She shall Crosse ours no more. Belisia, if youle Be ruld by me you shall away with me; None but you sister shall be privy to it, And sheele keepe Councell.

Bel. Ile goe any whither To enjoy thy presence; theres no heaven without it.

Bon. You shalbe advertisd where she remaines, And certifie us how your mother takes it: When we are married we shall live to thanke you.

Cla. Will you leave me, then?

Bel. Prethee, poore heart, lament not; we shall meet, And all these stormes blowe over.

Cla. Your tempests past; mine now begins to rise But Ile allay its violence with my eyes.

Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quartus.