[SCENE 6.]

Sir Francis a sleepe; a table, inke, and paper. Enter Lady.

La. I am full of feares, and my owne motion frights me; This furious love is a strange pilot. Sir, Where are you? ha! asleepe! can any dulnes That is not Death possess a gentleman, So valiant in desires, when he expects To meete his Mistresse? How I blush to raise him! Was I not worth thy waking expectation? Farewell; yet something that [like?] a charme that's fastned To my poore hart restraines me. Inke and paper! Ile leave him a short monument of this shame And my neglected Love. [Writes. He knowes my hand: farwell, forgetfull Lover. [Exit.

Fra. What? have I slept? some witchcraft did betray My eyes to so much darkenes; yet my dreame Was full of rapture, such as I with all My wakeing sence would flie to meet. Me thought I saw a thousand Cupids slide from heaven, And landing here made this their scene of revells, Clapping their golden feathers which kept tyme While their owne feet strook musike to their dance, As they had trod and touched so many Lutes. This done, within a Cloud formd like a Throne, She to whom love had consecrate this night, My Mistresse, did descend and, comeing toward me, My soule that ever wakes, angrie to see My body made a prisoner and so mock'd, Shook of the chaines of sleepe, least I should loose Essentiall pleasure for a dreame. Tis happie; I will not trust my selfe with ease and silence, But walke and waite her comeing that must bless me. Forgive me, you bright starres, and do not frowne That I have not attended as became One that must live by your kind influence. Not yet appeard? She did comand I should With confidence expect her. Ha! what's here? This Character, was not visible before. That man's too much compos'd of phleame Will loose his Mistress for a Dreame. [Reades. Tis her's, I know't; she has been here, oh fatall! And finding me asleepe scorn'd to uncharme My dull and cursed silence. This distracts me: Have I so long, with so much Art and study, Labour'd this honour, and obtaind what my Ambition look'd at, her consent; and when The tree it selfe bowed downe its golden fruit And tempted me to gather, must I make My selfe uncapable and be guilty of So black, so base a forfeit? I could teare My eyelids of, that durst let in a Mist So darke and so destroying, must I sleepe At such a tyme that the Divell must be over Watche too! This houre hath blasted such a hope As the Earth never teemd with nor the spring Gave up in smileing blosomes to the breath Of those sweet windes that whisper from the West A tale of triumph to the yeere. I could Dissolve with curseing of my Lathargie. How shall I looke upon her face whose love And bold adventure I have thus rewarded? But passion cannot cure my wound; which must Bleed till I see her, and then either cease, Blest by her pardon, or dismiss a life (Though iust) too poore a Sacrifice for her anger. Where shall I hide my selfe and shame for ever!

[Exit.

The Fifth Act.

Enter Sister.

Sis. I cannot forgett my carelesse gentleman: his neglect and reproaches have wrought strangely upon me.—Hee's here.

Enter Courtwell.

Cou. Is there not a weesill crept into your Chamber, lady?

Sis. A weesill, sir?

Cou. A Mounsier sucklegge.

Sis. Do you take my Chamber for a henns neast?

Cou. There is a thing that calls himselfe Device, One that will break the hart of a post horse To continue a hand gallop with him; your Alamode, Your fighting faery feather'd footed servant,— When saw you him?

Sis. My fighting servant? has he beaten you, sir? Perhapps he thought you were his Rivall; surely I saw him not since yesterday.

Cou. Bu'y, Ladie.— How many mile ist to the next Cutlers? The rogue has pawn'd or sold my sword. [Offers to go forth.

Sis. Dee heare, sir? I can tell you now what Lady twas you did Abuse so.

Cou. I abuse a Ladie! tell me the slave Reported it. I hope twill prove this Mounsieur. If ere we meet agen! Who wast?

Sis. Upon condition, sir, you will requite me But with one gentle favour.

Cou. Any thing—

Sis. You must sitt downe and heare me then while I At a distance thus deliver—

Cou. Tis more state.

Sis. I am most unfortunate.

Cou. In what, deare Damsell?

Sis. And much wrongd by a gentleman I lov'd.

Cou. Can he be a gentleman that dares Wrong so much love and beauty? what's the offence?

Sis. He wo'not love agen.

Cou. And you would have The stubborne man corrected?

Sis. I would be Revengd if I knew how, and honour him Should do me Justice.

Cou. Name the man; Ile doot.

Sis. I cannot.

Cou. How?

Sis. Yet turne your face: alas, it is yourselfe. I have your word to punish him.

Cou. Sweet Ladie, I am well acquainted with the worthy gentleman, But will not kill nor strike him, for I know He has just reason not to love you—you Of all your sex; he told me so.

Sis. His reason?

Cou. Was in these wordes; suppose you hear him speak it; Now do you sit—Lady, when I consider you, The perfect frame of what we can call hansome, With all your attributes of soule and body, Where no addition or detraction can By Cupids nicer Crittick find a fault, Or Mercury with your eternall flame; And then consider what a thing I am To this high Character of you, so low, So lost to noble merits, I despaire To love a Mistresse cannot love agen.

Sis. This is a much dissembled Modesty.

Cou. Therefore give me the kinder Chambermaid, That will returne me love for my two peeces And give me back twelve pennyworth agen, Which is as much as I can well receave; So there is thirty and nyne shillings cleere Gotten in Love, and much good do her too't; I thinke it very well bestow'd.

Sis. But if I thinke you worthy, and accept Your service, it destroies this other reason For your despaire. Why, I can praise you, too.

Cou. No, lett it alone I have other reasons Lady Among my papers. But to love or to be in love Is to be guld; that's the plaine English of Cupids Latine. Beside, all reverence to the calling, I Have vowd never to marry, and you know Love may bring a Man toot at last, and therefore My fine Gewgaw do not abuse me.

Sis. How can I When you will neither Love nor marry me?

Cou. I was not made for a husband.

Sis. But I would make you.

Cou. I know what you would make me.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Mounsier Device, if you be alone, would present his service.

Cou. Is he come?

Sis. Sir, do me but one favour, ile recant My Love, I wonot have so much as one Good thought on you; I will neglect you, sir, Nay and abuse you, too, if you obscure But for three minutes.

Cou. Ile have patience so long.

Sis. Admitt him.—I wilbe reveng'd o' somebody.— Now, Sir.

Enter Device.

De. I ha brought you a weapon, Lady.

La. Mee, what to do, Sir?

De. Tis Justice I present it to your feete Whose love arm[e]d me to vindicate your honour.

Sis. My honour?

De. This is but the first of my valour in your cause; If you affect these Monuments ile make You up an Armorie; meane tyme receave My Service with this sword: if he provoke me To fight with him agen, Ile cut his hand of And bring that wo' me to present the next.

Sis. Whose hand, deare servant?

De. He is not worth the nameing; las, this does not Deserve your knowledge. Only thinke what I Dare do when your bright name is question[e]d, And I in tyme may merit to be cald The darling of your virgin thoughts.

Sis. I pray stay. My name traduc'd? who was so impudent? Do me the grace to let me know on whome Your valour had been exercis'd.

De. Why, the formall thing Courtwell; I would [not] call him Gentleman; but that I ha baffled him You need no other witnes but his sword With that fine holliday hilt, Ladie.

[She shutts the Doore.

Sis. Looke you, sir, I ha made fast the Doore, Because I meane before you goe to have A satisfaction for the base injury You ha done me.

De. I done you injurie!

Sis. Not that I value Courtwell, whome you would Pretend has been to saucy with my honour; But, cause I scorne to owne a goodnes should Depend upon your sword or vindication, Ile fight with you my selfe in this small vollume Against your bulke in folio.

Cou. Excellent wench!

De. I was your Champion, lady.

Sis. Ide rather have no fame then heare thee name it. Thou fight for a Ladies honour and disarme A gentleman, thou! fence before the pageants And make roome for the porters, when like Elephants They carry once a yeare the Citty Castles, Or goe a feasting with the Drum and foot boyes To the Bankeside and save the Beares a whipping That day thou art cudgeld for thy saucy challenging A sergeant with one eye, that was to much too. Come, Sir, I meane to have a bout with you.

De. At that weapon?

Sis. This, and no other.

De. Ile rather bleed to death then lift a sword In my defence, whose inconsiderate brightnes May fright the Roses from your cheeke and leave The Lillies to lament the rude divorce. But were a Man to dare me, and your enemy, My rage more nimble then [the] Median shaft Should flie into his bosome, and your eye Change anger into smiles to see me fight And cut him into a ragged staffe.

Enter Courtwell.

Cou. I can hold no longer. You have gott a stomack, Sir, with running; ile try how you can eate a sword.

De. Ha you an ambush, Lady? Ile cry out murder. Is two to one faire play?

Cou. Let me cut one legg of, to marre his running.

De. Hold, let me speake.

Cou. What canst thou say for thy baseness?

De. Some men loves wit, and can without dishonour Endure a jeast. Why, do you thinke I know not You were here, and but obscur'd to see my humour. I came to waite upon you with your sword, I.

Cou. How came you by'te? confesse before this Lady.

De. Dost thinke her witts so limber to believe I could compell it from thee. Twas a trick, A meere conceipt of mirth; thou sha't ha mine. Dost thinke I stand upon a sword? Ile gi' thee A case of Pistolls when we come to London; And shoot me when I love thee not. Pox ont, Thou apprehende'st me well enough.

Cou. But I am not Satisfied: do you affect this gentlewoman?

De. Hum.

Cou. You will resolve, sir?

De. As may become a stranger; ile not loose Thy friendship for all woman kind.

Cou. He dares not owne you.

Sis. I easilie forgive him; I should hate My selfe, if I depended on his pitty.

Cou. Th'art a noble wench. Shall we leave of These jigs and speake our harts in earnest? By These twin lips I love thee extreamely.

Sis. Sweare by your owne.

Cou. They shall bee mine. Mounsier, For your penance you shall along and witnes.

Sis. What, I pray?

Cou. The Priest shall tell you; come, we have both dissembled, We do love one another.

Sis. Tis not possible.

Cou. Unless you will denie me i'the church. I ha vou'd to lie with you to night: Device, Amble before and find the parson out; We will bee friends and thou shalt be her father.

De. I must maintaine my humour or be beaten. [Ex.

Cou. Come, weele have no more acquainted.

Sis. Very pretty. —I may deceave you yet for all your confidence.

Cou. If the skie fall weele have the larkes to supper.

[Exeunt.