[SCENE 3.]

Enter Sir Francis and Ladie.

La. It is no honour, Sir, if arm'd with so Much eloquence you overcome a woman. I blush to say I love you now too much; I wish you would release what your sweet charmes Won from my tongue; I shall repent my promise.

Fra. Make me not miserable after so much blessing. Why, Madam, tis on honourable tearmes, Since not upon the first attempt but after A tedious seige in to your faire love you give up What shall enrich us both. It were a sinne To feare you can retract what both our lipps Have seal'd, and loose a happines so neare And so secure. Your husband holds his pleasure Of early hunting constant, and when he Pursues the tymerous hare to morrow morne, Cupid will waite to bring me to Elizium, Your bed, where every kisse shall new create us.

La. You must be wise in your excuse, to quit His importunitie.

Fra. Leave that to me: I weare not worth the name of him that serv'd you To loose my glorious hope for want of such A thinne device. In your thought wish me prosper, And I am fortifide against the power Of fate to seperate us; and when thou art Within the amorous circle of my armes, We will make lawes to love; teach him new motion Or chaine[247] him with the cordage of his haire, Like a tame thing, to walke, and watch our pillow And be our pleasures Centinell.

La. I see My husband; tis not safe he should observe us: Be wise and constant. [Exit Lady.

Fra. All that's sweet attend thee. So I am sailing now to my owne Indies, And see the happie Coast, too: How my wings Doe spread to catch the wind which comes to court 'em, And the green Sea, enamour'd on my barke, Doth leap to see how Cupid sitts at helme. And steeres my soule to his new world.

Enter Sir Richard and Engine.

Ri. A monopolie say you For Perriwigs?

En. Is't not a rare designe? and by such art And reasons I can name, most beneficiall To the common wealth, preventing the diseases Which some unwholsome haire breeds in mens heads, It will be worth our agitation, Sir; And you, after the rate of every thousand Per Annum milk'd out of the comon purse Into your owne, may easily defaulke To me a hundred for my first projection. Did I not love you, Sir, I could make choice Of other able men that would be glad To multiplie their money.

Ri. Sir, I thanke you, But have no mind to thrive upon abuse of My princes favour nor the peoples curse. Here is a gentleman, Sir Francis Courtwell, Perhapps will undertake it.

Fra. What, Sir Richard?

Ri. A Monopolie for composeing and selling of perriwiggs.

Fra. Excuse me, Sir, I dare not deale in 'em. If I be not mistaken, Sir, your name Is Engine?

En. Yes, Sir.

Fra. The proiector generall? If I may advise you, Sir, you should make your will, Take some convenient phisick and dye tymely To save your credit, and an execution: It is thought else—

En. Oh—

Fra. What aile you, Sir?

En. A Megrim in my head.

Ri. Whoes there?

Enter Thomas.

Looke to Mr. Engine heere, he faints, and send To your Ladie for some Cordiall waters presently.

Tho. There is a Soveraigne Well hard by has done Strange cures: please you, ile throw him into that. Ext. [Thomas; carrying away Engine.

Ri. Though I distast his busines I wod not He should miscarry here; you frighted him. But come, I thinke tis supper tyme, Sir Francis. I shall expect youle hunt with me i'th morning; I have a pack of Doggs sent me will make The Forrest ring.

Fra. Ile cheerefully attend you, I love the sport; as earlie as you please, Sir.

Ri. I wish wee had all pleasures to delight you, But no thing wants in my true love to serve you.

Fra.—Yet I must cuckold him; I cannot helpe it.

Act the Third.

Enter Thomas with Sir Richards bootes.

Tho. Sir.

Within Ri. Whoes that? Thomas?

Tho. The sun is up before you. Here be your bootes.

Ri. That's well.

Within La. I preethe donot rise yet; it is hardly day. Sirra, who bid you call him so earlie? Sir Richard wonot rise yet.

Tho. I cannot helpe it, it is none of my fault.

La. Wheres Doroty?

[Enter Doroty.

Do. Here, Madam; what make you up so soone, Thomas?

Tho. O Mistres Dority, tis e'ne long of you, for betweene sleepe and awake your remembrance came to me this morning, and Thomas was up presently.

Enter Sir Richard [& Lady].

Ri. You must excuse me, wife; I meane to kill a brace of hares before You thinke tis day. Come, on with my Bootes, Thomas; And Dorothy goe you to Sir Francis Chamber, Tell him the Day growes old and I am readie, Our horses and the merry hounds expect us.

La. Any excuse to leave me.

Ri. You may take Your ease a bed still, Madam. Ile not loose One morning that invites so pleasantly, To heare my Doggs, for a new Maidenhead, I. Twas for these sports and my excess of charge I left the towne: besides the Citty foggs And steame of Brick hills almost stifled me; This Aire is pure and all my owne.

Tho. My Ladie Meanes shee would have you gett another heire, Sir, for your lands; though it be against my Master The young Captaine, yet she speakes but reason. And now I talke o'th Captaine, Sir, Would you had given him Counsell.

Ri. To what?

Tho. Before he tooke this huffing[248] trade upon him, To have been a man of peace, I meane a Justice. Nature has made him fit for both alike. Hee's now at charge to keepe a Captaine Schoolemaster; He might have sav'd the qua[r]teridge of his Tutor If I had been his Clarke: and then the income That broken heads bring in, and new yeares guifts From soder'd virgins and their shee provintialls Whose warren must be licenc'd from our office!

Ri. Away you prating knave.—

[Enter Dorothy.

What? is he readie?

Do. Alas, hee's almost dead.

Ri. How? dead?

Do. He has been troubled with a fitt o'th stone, Sir, all this night. Sweet gentleman he groanes, And sweates, and cannot—

Ri. What?

Do. Make urine, Sir.

Tho. I heard my Ladie has an excellent Receit to cure the Stone; she is a peece Of a rare Surgeon.

Ri. Well, away and get the horses readie, sirra, For I shall ride you and your witt together.

Tho. Alas, any foole may ride me, but I would faine see any man ride Mistres Dorothy.

Do. How, sirra? [Exit Thomas.

Ri. I am sorry I must leave such a Companion. But more lament the cause. I wish him health; My presence cannot serve him. Morrow, wife: I cannot lose my sport. [Exit.

Do. Nor shee when you are gone. My Lady does expect another hunt's up.

La. Now I must trust thy secresie.

Do. You shall not doubt me, Madam, and t'assure you My faith, I have a suit to your Ladiship Whose grant, were there no other bonds upon me, Would tye me everlastinglie to silence.

La. What ist? but name, and I shall soone confirme thee.

Do. Our Captaine o'th traind band has been offring To chaffer Maidenheads with me. I must Confesse I can affect the foole upon Good tearmes, and could devise a plott to noose My amorous woodcock, if you privatlie Assist me and dare trust me with some Jewell Of price, that is not knowne, which shalbe faithfully Restor'd Madam.

La. I that dare trust my honour with thee sha'not Suspect thy faith in any treasure else. But prethe draw the Curtains close, while I Expect this friend: I needes must hide my blushes. Thou maist discover from the Gallory windowe When they are hors'd. I tremble to consider What I have promis'd.

Do. Tremble to meet a Ghost! You are more fearefull then a Virgin, Madam. Why this setts me a longing; but ile watch: This is the timerous world of flesh and blood. [Exit.

Enter Sir Richard.

La. within. Alas! What doe you meane? retire for heavens sake! My husband is not gone, I heare his voice yet; This rashnes will undoe my fame for ever Should he returne.

Ri. How's this? "Returne for heavens sake! my husband is not gone: I heard his voice; this will undoe my fame!" It was my wife, and this is sure my bed chamber.

La. (looking forth.) I have undone my selfe; it is my husband.

Ri. My forehead sweats: Where are you, Madam? Whome did you talke too or take me for? ha! Asleepe Alreadie, or doe I dreame? I am all wonder. Madam,—

La. You may kill him and please you, sweet heart; I cannot abide a Blackamore.

Ri. How's this, wife?

La. Helpe, helpe, deare husband, strangle him with one Of my Lute strings; doe, doe, doe.

Ri. If shee be a sleepe she was not us'd to talke thus: She has some hideous dreame. She spake to me, to; Whom should I strangle, sweet hart, with a lute string?

La. The King of Morocco, I thinke.

Ri. Tis so, she dreames. What strange Chimeras wee Doe fancie in our sleepe! I were best wake her. Madam, Madam!

La. O Murder, Murder!

Ri. Sweet heart, Madam, wake!

La. Whoes that?

Ri. Tis I.

La. Sir Richard? Oh you have delivered me From such a dreame I quake to thinke upon't.

Ri. I must confesse you frighted me at first.

Enter Dorothy.

Do.—My Master come back? if he had found the [sic] Sir Francis here!

Ri. How now? art thou frighted too?

Do. Frighted, quoth a! Oh, Madam, the key of the Closet quickly. I must have some Cordiall water for Sir Francis; I feare this fitt will kill him.

La. Alas, good gentleman! make hast.

Do.—His appearance would betray all: I thus prevent it.

La. Nay, sweet hart, you sha'not leave me till I ha told What a cruell Dreame I had. Methought a king Of Blackamores was in love with me, and haveing By flattering Courtship drawne me to his bed chamber, With my consent or force swore to enjoy mee. I knew not by what reasons to divert The Ravisher, but told him that I heard Thy voice, and bid him if he lov'd his life Retire, for thou wouldst deere revenge my honour. But he pursueing me, I cry'd out Murder! At which sad noise methought I saw thee enter, But, having nere a sword, I counselld thee To strangle him with a Lute string, for which cruelty Of mine, me thought he threw an Arrow at me, Which, if thou hadst not wak'd me as thou didst, Would as I slept with my strong feares ha killd me.

Ri. This was the King of Morocco: well, I'me glad I came to take away thy fright.

La. But, sweet, you left me with a resolution To hunt this morning. Have you done already?

Ri. The theeves prevented me. My Stable has been rob'd to night; two geldings And my roane Nagg are vanished.

La. How?

Ri. Nay, doe not thou vexe: I have sent hue and cry that may oretake 'em. But come, Ile leave thee to my glasse, And visit Sir Francis now shees return'd.—

[Enter Dorothy.

How does our Noble guest?

Do. Hees pretty well: he has voided one stone since And now finds ease.

Ri. Tis well: attend your Mistres. [Exit.

La. O, wench, I had almost undone my selfe, Come o'tother side, reach me that peticote; Ile tell the storie as I make me ready.

Ex[eun]t.