Act 4 — SCENE V.

Phil. O yes, O yes, O yes! did any man hear tale Or tidings of three nurses, called Three Flanders Mares, with three sucking colts?— All Nurses. Hark, we are cried In the streets. Phil. And also six maiden ladies, that should Have been married to a certain Promising gentleman?— All Ladies. Devil! we are Cried too. Phil. Also a very lean gentleman, That must be fatter before he's married?— Lean-man. Hark, that is I? Phil. And the hugest loss of All is one Master Pinguister, a lovely Fat gentleman, whom all that knew him, doubt him To be dead upon some privy-house; because He purged every day for love, by reason Mistress Mirida would not marry him till A certain measure that she[75] has will come About his waist—

Ping. Crier, I am here, I am here. Phil. If any can bring news of the six aforesaid Virgin ladies, or of the three Flanders nurses And colts, to one Master Philidor, a very Conscientious young man— Omnes. A pox take him! Phil. They shall be extremely paid for their pains. Again, if any can bring tidings of this Master Pinguister to Mistress Mirida, She will be very bountiful in her Reward: the poor soul weeps most bitterly For him. Ping. Does she so, poor wretch? [Cries aloud.] Prythee, good Crier, go tell her I am not dead, though I have been buried a great while in the Vault. Mercy of my bum-gut, my purge again? Omnes. You nasty rogue, turn your breech out of the Gate then.

Mir. Philidor, I have broke a vein With laughing, to hear thy rogueries. I'll call To Pinguister. Master Pinguister? My Love, my dear, sure, I hear thy voice? Ping. Who's that, My dear female? Mir. The same, fat love. Ping. O, prythee raise me from the dead. Phil. Well, ladies and gentlewomen, how d'ye Like your crier now? Omnes. The devil take thee, was it you? Phil. The very same. 2d Lady. Well, won't you let us out? pray howsoever, Take away this fat gentleman from us; For he has such a coming looseness, and 'Tis so dark here, that he has Shit upon every one of us. Omnes. Well, but won't you let us out? Phil. Yes, if you ladies would set your hands To this paper, to quit me as to all promises, I will; and also, my reverend nurses, You must set your hands to this discharge, To quit me from all arrears of nursing: Else farewell t'ye— Omnes. Well, well, stay; we will. [Set their hands. Phil. So, now you may go take the air Again; there's the key to let yourselves out. Omnes. A cheating rogue! Phil. Come, Mirida, let's run away, for if They catch us, murder is the best we can Hope for. [Exit, with Mirida. 1st Nurse. They went this way; let's run after Them, some one way and some t'other. [Exeunt Women. Ping. So you may, but if I run away, then Hang me; I am glad of my resurrection Howsoever. On my conscience, no green Carcase ever stunk as I did; to my best Remembrance I went to stool some Threescore times in the vault, ergo I was beaten threescore times; the Unmerciful nurses, with their huge Palm'd hands, every time I went to't, Play'd at hot-cockles[76] all the while upon My buttocks. Well, I hope I shall ne'er be Buried again whilst I live, and so with That prayer I'll go to bed.

Mir. My dear fat love, little dost thou think how many Tears I have shed for all thy sufferings; that rogue Philidor put a trick upon us all. Ping. Well, and has physic, heats, burial, Nor resurrection, made me yet lean Enough to be thy husband? why, I have Lost as much grease as would furnish A whole city with candles for a twelvemonth And all for the love of thee, sweet Mirida. [Cries and sobs. Mir. Dear love, come sit thee in my lap, And let me try if I can enclose thy world Of fat and love within these arms: See, I cannot nigh encompass my Desires by a mile. Ping. How is my fat a rival to my joys! [Cries. Sure, I shall weep it all away. Mir. Lie still, my babe, lie still and sleep, It grieves me sore to see thee weep: Wer't thou but leaner, I were glad; Thy fatness makes thy dear love sad. What a lump of love have I in my arms! Ping. Nay, if I had not taken all these courses To dissolve myself into thy embraces, One would think my looking on thee Were enough; for I never see thee but I am like a fat piece of beef roasting At the fire, continually drop, drop, drop. There's ne'er a feature in thy face, or Part about thee, but has cost me many A pint of fat, with thinking on thee; And yet not to be lean enough for Thy husband—O fate! O fate! O fat! [She lets him fall. Mir. O Lord, sir, I have let you fall, How shall I do to get you up again! Ping. Nay, that is more than all the world can tell. Mir. I'll e'en lie down by thee then. Ping. Nay, But prythee lie near me; thou hadst As good lie a league off, as that distance. Mir. Were I thy wife, fat love, I would.

My lodging upon the cold floor is, And wonderful hard is my fare, But that which troubles me more, is The fatness of my dear. Yet still I do cry, O, melt, love, And I prythee now melt apace; For thou art the man I should long for, If 'twere not for thy grease.

Then prythee don't burden thy heart still, And be deaf to my pitiful moan; Since I do endure the smart still, And for my fat do groan; Then prythee now turn, my dear love, And I prythee now turn to me; For, alas! I am too fat still To roll so far to thee. Mir. That were not modesty in me to turn To you; but if you can roll to me within This hour, I'll marry you in spite of all Your fat. Ping. Agreed, then I shall gain thee yet; You must lie still then. Mir. Yes, yes. Ping. Sure, I am Sysiphus's stone, for as fast as I turn Over, I think I turn back again, else I Must needs have been come to my journey's end

By this time; for I am of such a breadth, That every roll I give I pass over An acre at least. Thou liest still, my love, Dost thou not? Mir. Yes, I long to have thee here. Ping. I doubt I shan't be with thee, though, This two hours. Mir. Then my heart will break. Ping. I'm sure mine will before I get to thee. O woman, O woman, O woman! They talk of woman in travail, I'm Sure I know a man in travail at This time, in more pain by half. [She rises and laughs at him. Mir. Why, my most extreme fat ass, dost Thou not find that I have fool'd thee All this while? Ping. Why, hast thou? Mir. Yes, indeed have I. Ping. O thou woman! may'st thou grow Fat, that thy breast and belly may Meet together, so that all the fat Hostesses in Christendom may appear But eels to thee. Mir. Farewell, my lowly love. Ping. Why, wilt thou not help me up, before You go? Mir. What to do? to run heats again for love? Ping. No, to fight with thee. Mir. Fight with me? by this light, would we Had two swords. I'd have one pass At all thy tripes.

Faith, and yonder's a fellow with two swords: Friend, lend me but thy swords one minute. Cut. I am going to carry them to two gentlemen. Mir. O, this will not hinder thee; thou shalt See rare sport. Go, help that gentleman Up that lies yonder, and give that sword Into his hand. Come, are ye ready, sir? Ping. Why, you dare fight then, it seems? Though thou art so ungodly a chit, as To say no prayers, before thou beginn'st, I will, I assure thee. Good—I pray and desire ye, if I Do miscarry in this duel, that I may Meet with no woman in the other World. Now, thou worst of females, Have at thee. Mir. Come, I'll let out all your fat and love at One thrust. [Fight, and she disarms him. Now ask thy life, and confess thou art an ass. Ping. I am an ass, and ask my life. Mir. Then I, thy conquering Cæsar, take my leave With this conclusion: veni, vidi, vici. And so farewell. O fate, O love, O fat! [Exit. Ping. After all my miseries, would I were Up again, else the next man that comes Will make a roller of me, for to roll Bowling-greens.

So, now I have a mile home at least, And every toilsome step I take, I will Curse women. [Exit.

Zor. Most bless'd of women, I must tell you truth; And yet I fear that truth will—— Amph. Will what? I doubt he loves me— [Aside. Speak it, sir, nothing from you can Be unwelcome. Zor. O yes, it will. Amph. I'll warrant you; out with it, sir. Zor. Then know, I——'Twill come no farther. Amph. Unhappy man! 'tis so, he loves me. [Aside. O sir, I have sadder truth to tell to you Than yours can be to me——I dare not Speak it. Zor. My fears are true; she loves me. [Aside. Pray tell me, what it is? Amph. Tell yours first, sir. Zor. Alas! you saw I tried, but could not get It past my lips. Amph. If I should try, mine would not come so far. Zor. Would I knew yours, I could tell it for you. Amph. So could I yours, [and] yet I can't my own. Zor. Alas! she loves me. [Aside. Amph. Poor Zoranzo! I see he loves me. [Aside. But, sir, consider we are going to die; Let us die undeceiv'd in one another. Zor. O, that some one that knows each of our hearts, Would hearken to our griefs, and bid An angel come and speak for both!

Jailor. Come, have you done your discourse? you must go To execution. Zor. A little patience, jailor: [To her] see, we are Called unto our deaths, pray tell me, what You mean. Amph. I cannot; first do you begin. Zor. Nor I. Amph. Let us tell both together then, that one May not blame the other. Zor. Agreed: are you ready now to speak! Amph. Yes—O no, I am not—well, now I am— Are you? Zor. Yes, I am; begin—O, stay, I cannot yet. Jailor. Come, come, I can give you no longer time. Amph. Nay, then we must tell. Zor. Poor Amphelia! 'tis Amarissa that I love. Amph. O Zoranzo, I love the duke! Zor. Then I am joy'd, I was afraid 'twas me You lov'd. Amph. And so was I that you lov'd me. Now we shall both die happy, never was Two such friends as you and I. Jailor. Come, come. Amph. Good jailor, we go most willingly now. [Exeunt.

Ama. Jailor, why didst thou let them stay so long? Jailor. They had so much to say to one another, That still they begged one minute, and then Another. Ama. D'ye hear, sir? pray let the jailor Be turn'd out of his place, for letting them speak to One another. Amph. See, Zoranzo, where they sit In triumph o'er our deaths. Ama. S'life, sir, they are Whispering, d'ye see Yonder? Executioner, why don't you Strike off their heads, and let them whisper then. Sir, you're melancholy. Duke. I am indeed. Zor. Now, Amphelia, to heaven and you I truly Vow, my love is still the same to cruel Amarissa. Amph. Heaven and you witness the same for me: My heart is still that undeserving duke's. Exec. Come, which of you will die first? Zor. Hast thou not Skill enough to strike our heads off together? Ama. Executioner, let them not have that Satisfaction; pray, sir, let that woman Die first, that damned Zoranzo may have Two deaths; it will be one to him to see Her die; shall it be so, sir? Duke. What you please. Exec. Come, lady, you must lay down your head First, the duke says. Amph. That word's the sharpest axe That I shall feel. Exec. Have you said all? [Both kneel as at prayers. Amph. To earth I have, But not to heaven. Farewell, dear friend, for one short minute. Zor. My soul Shall hasten after yours. Ama. S'life! jailor, will you Let them speak to one another again? Amph. Executioner, now I am ready. Duke. Hold, The prisoner shall die first. Zor. With all my Heart, I am ready. Duke. Nay, it is not you I mean, sir; rise; 'tis I that am the prisoner, I will make you a present, take your life, Your love; nay, and my dukedom too: and to Oblige you most of all, executioner, Strike off my head, for I am weary of it. Amph. Not for ten thousand worlds, sir, Whate'er you mean. Duke. Know then, I have lov'd you All this while, but seeing your hate so great to me, I have dissembled scorn to you. [She swoons. Why dost thou swoon, Amphelia? Amph. Did not I hear some voice just now, That said the duke does love me still? Duke. Thou didst; 'twas he himself that said so. Amph. If 'twere from heaven, good heaven, say it again! Duke. 'Twas I myself, I tell thee—and I will Ne'er speak another word, if that displease thee. Amph. O, I am in heaven then, it seems, and 'tis Some god that is telling me how the duke Loved me still. Duke. Dear Amphelia, 'tis I That loves thee, tells thee so. Amph. Hark, now there is a god that says he loves Me too; blest god, I'm sorry if you do. Since I have heard the duke does love me still, He must be your rival, indeed I cannot Help it. O, let me fly down to the earth Again, only to hear him say he loves me. I cannot promise when I shall return: That very word from him would keep me there. Duke. I must answer her no more: they say 'Twill keep 'em longer in a trance. [He rubs her. Ort. I am but in a scurvy condition now, if She comes to life again, for they will Examine one another, how the mistake Came between them, and then I am Sure it must come to light. [Aside. Amph. Who's that,—duke Archimedes? Duke. The same, sweet angel. Amph. O sir, I am come from heaven to see you, Since there I heard you love me still. Duke. Dear Amphelia, thou hast dream'd all this while; Heaven, 'tis true, is where thou art, but 'twas My voice that said I love thee. Amph. Was not my head struck off just now? Duke. Canst thou ask that, while I have A head and heart? Amph. Why, have you lov'd me still? Duke. With as much truth as ever lover did. Amph. So have I you with equal constancy. Ama. Well, sir, now you are satisfied, pray let Me be so too, and let Zoranzo's head Be struck off quickly, I see he's mean as well as false, to quit Me for a woman that does not love him. Amph. Hold, Amarissa, hear me speak, before Zoranzo dies; and be assur'd he loves You still. Ama. Would you deceive me too? Amph. Indeed I don't; when we were going to die, You may remember that we whispered, Then we called heaven and ourselves to witness, That both our loves were true, Mine to Archimedes, and his to you. Ama. You can forgive me, sir? [Kneels. Zor. I cannot answer yet; Thy civility has took away my speech. Duke. Dear Amphelia, how came this sad mistake 'Twixt you and I? Amph. I'll tell you, sir, in part; When you were in this last war, my woman Receiv'd a letter from one of the gentlemen Of your chamber, wherein he did assure Her that you had a new mistress in that Country, and therefore bid her tell me Of it, that I might by degrees wean my Affections from so false a man as you. Duke. Here has been some foul play; for this very man You spoke of, receiv'd a letter from your woman, Wherein she bid him assure me, that you Were prov'd false in my absence, and lov'd my Cousin Ortellus. Guard, go fetch them both Hither immediately; they shall die Without mercy. Ort. Nay, then, I had as good Discover, 'twill fall th' heavier on me else. Sir, let the guard stay, And I will tell you all. 'Tis I have sow'd the seeds of this mistake. I long have lov'd Amphelia, for which cause I tried this way to draw her heart from you. I knew this gentleman of your bed-chamber Was in love with Amphelia's woman, Therefore I brib'd her to write to him, To assure the duke that Amphelia lov'd me, And that she should also charge him, to write Another letter to her, wherein he Should complain of the duke's falling in love With another woman in that country. I knew your spirits both to be so great that Neither of you would stoop to one another, When you were both possess'd of either's falseness: And so it prov'd. For when the duke heard you lov'd me, he brought A fair new mistress over with him, to Let you see he did contemn you; and so Amphelia, sir, when she heard you lov'd Another, assur'd me then that she lov'd me, Which now I see was only to make you Think how much she scorn'd you, though still her heart Was true, and so was yours. Now, sir, I humbly beg your pardon. Duke. 'Twill be in vain, my lord; I cannot grant it. O Amphelia, how many hours of joy We two have lost! Amph. Base lord!

Art. O sir, I heard that people were to die To-day; let me be one, I pray. Amph. Not for The world, sweet innocent. Art. O madam, you are she The duke loves. Pray spare your pity, sir; can You have the heart to let me live, and see You married to another? Amph. Have patience, Sweet young maid, I will not marry him; you won't Blame me, if I love him, though? Art. No; For then I should condemn my fault in you. Duke. But sure, Amphelia, you did but jest, In telling her you would not marry me? Amph. Indeed, sir, I am in earnest; consider It is but justice; she loves you as well As I: her heart was quiet till you troubled It. Duke. All this is true; but how will your Love show, if you refuse to marry me? Amph. Not less at all, but make my pity more. Duke. If I would marry her, I can't believe, That she would be thus kind to you. Amph. Yes, I dare say she would; ask her and try. Duke. Well, Artabella, will you marry me? Art. You never hated me till now; can you Believe I'd wrong so blest a woman as Amphelia? Amph. See, sir, would it be justice now in me? She will not wound my heart; should I kill hers? Duke. But consider, 'tis you I love, not her. Amph. That's her misfortune, sir, yet she deserves. As much as I: I can but love you, so Does she. Duke. Dear Amphelia, marry me. Amph. I cannot Out of pity, sir. Duke. Talk not of pity, if Thou wilt show me none. Amph. My pity is her due: My love is yours. Duke. O Amphelia, this was A cruel way to make me happy. Thou'st Better still have kept my joys unknown, than let The knowing of it be my death. Once more, My dear Amphelia, marry me. Amph. Do not Petition her; you may command in any Thing but this. Duke. Monster of villains, thou hast caus'd All this! Executioner, immediately strike Off his head. Ort. I'm sure you will not let me die. Duke. Impudent villain, dispatch him straight. Ort. Hold, sir, 'tis only I can make you Three happy, which if you do not confess, When you have heard me speak, then let me die. Duke. Well, let's hear it. Ort. Promise me my life First, if I do. Duke. Well, you shall have it. Ort. Then know, the lady Artabella is Your sister. Duke. Ha! Ort. I say, your sister; You do remember that you had one once? Duke. Yes, I do, but she was lost at three years old. Ort. 'Tis true it was thought so; but thus it is:— When 'twas reported you were slain in th' battle, I straight convey'd away this lady, then A child, because she should not stand 'twixt me And the dukedom. I being then acquainted With the mother to Arbatus, I brought This lady, and gave her a sum of money, T' adopt her for her child. With willingness My offer she embrac'd, the more, because Her son Arbatus had been lost about Seven years, thought to have been cast away At sea, though afterwards returned home: I had enjoin'd her secrecy, which she Kept, therefore she told Arbatus 'twas his Sister.

Duke. And is she then my sister? O Arbatus, welcome, welcome! I've a crowd Of joys about my heart to tell thee. Arb. What! that you have broken my sister's heart? Duke. Thou hast no sister; 'tis I [that] possess that Blessing; Artabella is my sister. How blest a sound is sister to my ears! I'll give command no other word but sister Shall be spoke throughout my dukedom; I'll have it Taught to infants; so that when nature lends Their sucking tongues a means to speak one word, They shall all babble sister, 'stead of nurse. I'll have the name engrav'd in gold [up]on Every post and pillar in the streets, and passers- By shall worship it. Arb. I am amazed.

Duke. Welcome, Philidor. Phil. I am glad To see joy in your looks again, sir; The time is long since I have seen you smile. Duke. Philidor, all that is joy I have within This breast; it overflows And runs into my eyes. This is my sister! (O, what a word is sister!) and this my dear And true Amphelia. Come, Mirida shall be thine to-day too. [To Philidor. Mir. Hold, sir, I forbid that banns. Phil. Troth, so do I too; you always Take the words out of my mouth. You and I marry, quotha! Mir. No, faith, we'll be hang'd first. I'd Rather hear a long sermon, than Hear a parson ask me: Mirida, Will you have this man for your Wedded husband, to have and to hold, From this day forward, and so forth. Phil. Right, for better for worse, in Sickness or in health. Mir. Ay, and perhaps after we have been Married half a year, one's Husband falls into a deep consumption, And will not do one the favour to Die neither, then we must be Ever feeding him with caudles. O, from a husband in a consumption Deliver me! Phil. And think how weary I should be Of thee, Mirida, when once we were Chain'd together: the very name of Wife would be a vomit to me: then Nothing but, where's my wife? call My wife to dinner, call my wife to supper; And then at night, come, wife, will you Go to bed? Mir. Ay, and that would be so troublesome To be call'd by one's husband every night To go to bed. O, that dull, dull Name of husband! Duke. Indeed you two are well met, The world has not two more such, I am confident. Mir. The more the pity, sir. Phil. No, sir, if you please, never propose Marrying to us, till both of us have Committed such faults as are death By the law; then instead of Hanging us, marry us. Mir. And then you shall hear how Earnestly we shall petition your Highness to be hang'd rather than Married. Duke. No man can judge which is the Wildest of these two. Now, brave Arbatus, in all my dukedom There is but one gift worthy thy Receiving, and that's my sister; Here, sir, take her as freely as heaven Gave her me. Arb. D'ye forgive me, sir? Duke. Or not myself, Arbatus. This day Hymen shall light his torch for all. Phil. With your pardon, sir, not for me And my female? Mir. No, faith, I'll blow it out, If he does. Art. Sir, though in my own desires I should have chose the man that you have given me, Yet I beg we may not marry yet; we have Call'd brother and sister so long, that yet We needs must think we are so still. Arb. Pray, madam, Let's think so as little a while as we can, That fancy may not keep my joy in prison. Duke. Let's to the temple now, and there thank Heaven for these unexpected joys. Each day the gods shall lend me in this life, I'll thank them for a sister and a wife. [Exeunt.