SCENE III.

Tho. Keep you the back door there, and be sure None of her servants enter, or go out, If any Woman pass, she is lawful prize, Boys, Cut off all convoyes. Hyl. Who shall answer this? Tho. Why, I shall answer it, you fearful widgeon, I shall appear to th' action. Hyl. May we discourse too, On honourable terms? Tho. With any Gentlewoman That shall appear at window: ye may rehearse too By your commission safely, some sweet parcels Of Poetry to a Chamber-maid. Hyl. May we sing too? For there's my master-piece. Tho. By no means, no Boys, I am the man reserv'd for Air, 'tis my part, And if she be not rock, my voyce shall reach her: Ye may record a little, or ye may whistle, As time shall minister, but for main singing, Pray ye satisfie your selves: away, be careful. Hyl. But hark ye, one word Tom, we may be beaten. Tho. That's as ye think good your selves: if you deserve it, Why 'tis the easiest thing to compass: beaten? What Bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee? Hyl. She has men enough. Tho. Art not thou man enough too? Thou hast flesh enough about thee: if all that mass Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it, And dry it too for dogs-meat: get you gone; I have things of moment in my mind: that door, Keep it as thou would'st keep thy Wife from a Servingman. No more I say: away, Sam. Sam. At your will, Sir. [Exeunt Hylas and Sam.

Lan. I have him here, a rare Rogue, good sweet Master, Do something of some savour suddenly, That we may eat, and live: I am almost starv'd, No point manieur, no point devein, no Signieur, Not by the vertue of my languages, Nothing at my old masters to be hoped for, O Signieur du, nothing to line my life with, But cold Pyes with a cudgel, till you help us. Tho. Nothing but famine frights thee: come hither Fidler, What Ballads are you seen in best? be short Sir. Fidler. Under your masterships correction, I can sing The Duke of Norfolk, or the merry Ballad Of Diverus and Lazarus, the Rose of England, In Creet when Dedimus first began, Jonas his crying out against Coventry. Tho. Excellent, Rare matters all. Fid. Mawdlin the Merchants Daughter, The Devil, and ye dainty Dames. Tom. Rare still. Fid. The landing of the Spaniards at Bow, With the bloudy battel at Mile-end. Tho. All excellent: No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fidle Speak Welch, or any thing that's out of all tune, The vilder still the better, like thy self, For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance. Fid. Nay truly, ye shall have it ev'n as homely. Tho. Keep ye to that key, are they all abed trow? Lan. I hear no stirring any where, no light In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir. Tho. Come strike up then: and say the Merchants daughter, We'l bear the burthen: proceed to incision Fidler. [Song.

Ser. Who's there? what noise is this? what rogue At these hours? Thom. O what is that to you my fool? O what is that to you, Pluck in your face you bawling Ass, Or I will break your brow. hey down, down, down. A new Ballad, a new, a new. Fid. The twelfth of April, on May day, My house and goods were burnt away, &c. [Maid above. Maid. Why who is this? Lan. O damsel dear, Open the door, and it shall appear, Open the door. Maid. [O gentle squire.] I'le see thee hang'd first: farewel my dear, 'Tis master Thomas, there he stands.

Mary. 'Tis strange That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence, Or sing him out in's own way, any thing To be deliver'd of him. Maid. Then have at him: My man Thomas did me promise He would visit me this night. Tho. I am here Love, tell me dear Love, How I may obtain thy sight. Maid. Come up to my window love, come, come, come, Come to my window my dear, The wind, nor the rain shall trouble thee again, But thou shalt be lodged here. Thom. And art thou strong enough? Lan. Up, up, I warrant ye. Mary. What do'st thou mean to do? Maid. Good Mistress peace, I'le warrant ye we'l cool him: Madge. [Madge above. Madge. I am ready. Tho. The love of Greece, and it tickled him so, That he devised a way to goe. Now sing the Duke of Northumberland. Fidler. And climbing to promotion, He fell down suddenly.

Maid. Farewel Sir. Mary. What hast thou done? thou hast broke his neck. Maid. Not hurt him, He pitcht upon his legs like a Cat. Tho. O woman: O miserable woman, I am spoil'd, My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs! Mary. I told thee' what thou hadst done, mischief go with thee. Tho. O I am lam'd for ever: O my leg, Broken in twenty places: O take heed, Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon, A Surgeon, or I dye: oh my good people, No charitable people, all despightfull, Oh what a misery am I in! oh my leg. Lan. Be patient Sir, be patient: let me bind it.

Tho. Oh do not touch it rogue. Hyl. My head, my head, Oh my head's kill'd. Sam. You must be courting wenches Through key-holes, Captain Hylas, come and be comforted, The skin is scarce broke. Tho. O my leg. Sam. How do ye Sir? Tho. Oh maim'd for ever with a fall, he's spoil'd too, I see his brains. Hyl. Away with me for Gods sake, A Surgeon. Sam. Here's a night indeed. Hyl. A Surgeon. [Ex. all but Fidler.

Mary. Go run for help. Tho. Oh. Mary. Run all, and all too little, O cursed beast that hurt him, run, run, flye, He will be dead else. Tho. Oh. Mary. Good friend go you too. Fid. Who pays me for my Musick? Mary. Pox o' your Musick, There's twelve pence for ye. Fid. There's two groats again forsooth, I never take above, and rest ye merry. [Exit. Ma. A grease pot guild your fidle strings: how do you, How is my dear? Tom. Why well I thank ye sweet heart, Shall we walk in, for now there's none to trouble us? Ma. Are ye so crafty, Sir? I shall meet with ye, I knew your trick, and I was willing: my Tom, Mine own Tom, now to satisfie thee, welcom, welcom, Welcom my best friend to me, all my dearest. Tom. Now ye are my noble Mistress: we lose time sweet. Ma. I think they are all gone. Tom. All, ye did wisely. Ma. And you as craftily. Tom. We are well met Mistress. Ma. Come, let's goe in then lovingly: O my Skarf Tom. I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it As your poor Mistress favour. [Exit. Tom. I am made now, I see no venture is in no hand: I have it, How now? the door lock't, and she in before? Am I so trim'd? Ma. One parting word sweet Thomas, Though to save your credit, I discharg'd your Fidler, I must not satisfie your folly too Sir, Ye'are subtle, but believe it Fox, I'le find ye, The Surgeons will be here straight, roar again boy, And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else, Good night. Tom. She saies most true, I must not stay: she has bob'd me, Which if I live, I'le recompence, and shortly, Now for a Ballad to bring me off again. All young men be warn'd by me, how you do goe a wooing. Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall, thereby comes your undoing, &c.

Val. He cannot goe and take no farewel of me, Can he be so unkind? he's but retir'd Into the Garden or the Orchard: see Sirs. Ali. He would not ride there certain, those were planted Only for walks I take it. Val. Ride? nay then, Had he a horse out? Ser. So the Groom delivers Somewhat before the break of day. Val. He's gone, My best friend's gone Alice; I have lost the noblest, The truest, and the most man I e're found yet. Alice. Indeed Sir, he deserves all praise. Val. All Sister, All, all, and all too little: O that honesty, That ermine honesty, unspotted ever, That perfect goodness. Alice. Sure he will return Sir, He cannot be so harsh. Val. O never, never, Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lyes. Alice. He was the worthiest welcom. Val. He deserv'd it. Alice. Nor wanted, to our knowledge. Val. I will tell thee, Within this hour, things that shall startle thee, He never must return.

Mich. Good morrow Signieur. Val. Good morrow Master Michael. Mich. My good neighbour, Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel, You have learn'd the rule of health sir, where's your mistress? She keeps her warm I warrant ye, i' bed yet? Val. I think she does. Alice. 'Tis not her hour of waking. Mich. Did you lye with her, Lady? Alice. Not to night Sir, Nor any night this week else. Mich. When last saw ye her? Alice. Late yesternight. Mich. Was she 'bed then? Alice. No Sir, I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me? Mich. I have been strangely haunted with a dream All this long night, and after many wakings, The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide Just at S. Katherines gate the Nunnery. Val. Ha? Mic. Her face slubber'd o're with tears, and troubles, Me thought she cry'd unto the Lady Abbess, For charity receive me holy woman, A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections, Into thy virgin order: me thought she took her, Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her, And there I left her. Val. Dream? Mich. Good Mistress Alice Do me the favour (yet to satisfie me) To step but up, and see. Alice. I know she's there Sir, And all this but a dream. Mich. You know not my dreams, They are unhappy ones, and often truths, But this I hope, yet. Alice. I will satisfie ye. [Exit. Mich. Neighbours, how does the Gentleman? Val. I know not, Dream of a Nunnery? Mich. How found ye my words About the nature of his sickness Valentine? Val. Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too That forc'd her to this nunnery? did she not curse me? For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too, How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool, Tir'd with his joyes? Mich. Alas poor Gentleman, Ye promis'd me Sir to bear all these crosses. Val. I bear 'em till I break again. Mich. But nobly, Truly to weigh. Val. Good neighbours, no more of it, Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she?

Ali. Not yonder Sir, nor has not this night certain Been in her bed. Mich. It must be truth she tells ye, And now I'le shew ye why I came: this morning A man of mine being employed about business, Came early home, who at S. Katherines Nunnery, About day peep, told me he met your Mistress, And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled And so received by the Abbess, did he see her, The wonder made me rise, and hast unto ye To know the cause. Val. Farewel, I cannot speak it. [Exit Val. Alice. For Heaven sake leave him not. Mich. I will not Lady. Alice. Alas, he's much afflicted. Mich. We shall know shortly more, apply your own care At home good Alice, and trust him to my counsel, Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not. [Exeunt.