SCENE VIII.
Reading edition
Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice.
Mich. I have brought him back again. Val. You have done a friendship, Worthy the love you bear me. Mich. Would he had so too. Val. O he's a worthy young man. Mich. When all's try'd, I fear you'll change your faith: bring in the Gentleman.
Enter Francis, Servant, Abbess, and Cellide, severally.
Val. My happy Mistress too! now Fortune help me, And all you Stars that govern chast desires Shine fair, and lovely. Ab. But one hour, dear Daughter, To hear your Guardian, what he can deliver In Loves defence, and his: and then your pleasure. Cell. Though much unwilling, you have made me yield, More for his sake I see: how full of sorrow Sweet catching sorrow, he appears! O love, That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us. Mich. Be rul'd by me: I see her eye fast on him: And what ye heard, believe, for 'tis so certain He neither dar'd, nor must oppose my evidence; And be you wise, young Lady, and believe too, This man you love, Sir? Val. As I love my soul, Sir. Mich. This man you put into a free possession Of what his wants could ask: or your self render? Val. And shall do still. Mich. Nothing was barr'd his liberty But this fair Maid; that friendship first was broken, And you, and she abus'd; next, (to my sorrow So fair a form should hide so dark intentions) He hath himself confess'd (my purpose being Only to stop his journey, by that policy Of laying Felony to his charge, to fright the Sailers) Divers abuses done, Thefts often practis'd, Monyes, and Jewels too, and those no trifles. Cell. O where have I bestrew'd my faith! in neither! Let's in for ever now, there is vertue. Mich. Nay do not wonder at it, he shall say it: Are ye not guilty thus? Fran. Yes: O my Fortune! Mich. To give a proof I speak not enviously, Look here; do you know these Jewels? Cell. In, good Mother.
Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Mary: then Sebastian, and Launcelot.
Val. These Jewels I have known. Dor. You have made brave sport. Tho. I'le make more, if I live Wench, Nay do not look on me; I care not for ye. Lan. Do you see now plain? that's Mistris Dorothy, And that's his Mistris. Seb. Peace, let my joy work easily, Ha, boy! art there my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy, Home Lance, and strike a fresh piece of Wine, the Town's ours. Val. Sure, I have know[n] these Jewels. Alice. They are they, certain. Val. Good Heaven, that they were. Alice. I'le pawn my life on't, And this is he; come hither Mistris Dorothy, And Mistris Mary: who does that face look like; And view my Brother well? Dor. In truth like him. Ma. Upon my troth exceeding like. Mich. Beshrew me, But much, and main resemblance, both of face And lineaments of body: now Heaven grant it. Ali. My Brother's full of passion, I'le speak to him. Now, as you are a Gentleman, resolve me, Where did you get these Jewels? Fran. Now I'le tell ye, Because blind fortune yet may make me happy, Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet, But from my infancy, upon this arm I ever wore 'em. Ali. 'Tis Francisco, Brother, By Heaven I ty'd 'em on: a little more, Sir, A little, little more, what parents have ye? Fra. None, That I know yet: the more my stubborn fortune, But as I heard a Merchant say that bred me, Who, to my more affliction, dyed a poor man, When I reach'd eighteen years. Ali. What said that Merchant? Fra. He said, an infant, in the Genoway Galleys, But from what place he never could direct me, I was taken in a Sea-fight, and from a Mariner, Out of his manly pity he redeem'd me. He told me of a Nurse that waited on me, But she, poor soul, he said was killed. A Letter too I had enclos'd within me, To one Castruccio a Venetian Merchant, To bring me up: the man, when years allow'd me, And want of friends compell'd, I sought, but found him Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him. The Wars was my retreat then, and my travel In which I found this Gentlemans free bounty, For which Heaven recompenc'd him: now ye have all. Val. And all the worldly bliss that Heaven can send me, And all my prayers and thanks. Alice. Down o' your knees, Sir, For now you have found a Father, and that Father That will not venture ye again in Galleys. Mich. 'Tis true, believe her, Sir, and we all joy with ye. Val. My best friend still: my dearest: now Heaven bless thee, And make me worthy of this benefit. Now my best Mistress. Cel. Now Sir, I come to ye. Ab. No, no, let's in Wench. Cell. Not for the world, now, Mother, And thus, Sir, all my service I pay to you, And all my love to him. Val. And may it prosper, Take her Francisco: now no more young Callidon, And love her dearly, for thy Father does so. Fran. May all hate seek me else, and thus I seal it. Val. Nothing but mirth now, friends.
Enter Hylas and Sam.
Hyl. Nay, I will find him. Sam. What do all these here? Tho. You are a trusty Husband, And a hot lover too. Hyl. Nay then, good morrow, Now I perceive the Knavery. Sam. I still told ye. Tho. Stay, or I'le make ye stay: come hither, Sister. Val. Why how now Mistris Thomas? Tho. Peace a little, Thou would'st fain have a Wife? Hyl. Not I, by no means. Tho. Thou shalt have a wife, and a fruitful wife, for I find, Hylas, That I shall never be able to bring thee Children. Seb. A notable brave boy. Hyl. I am very well, Sir. Tho. Thou shalt be better, Hylas, thou hast 7 hundred pound a year, And thou shalt make her 3 hundred joynture. Hyl. No. Tho. Thou shalt boy, and shalt bestow Two hundred pound in Cloaths, look on her, A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred, And feasible: strike hands, or I'le strike first. Dor. You'l let me like? Mar. He's a good handsome fellow, Play not the fool. Tho. Strike, Brother Hylas, quickly. Hyl. If you can love me, well. Dor. If you can please me. Tho. Try that out soon, I say, my Brother Hylas. Sam. Take her, and use her well, she's a brave Gentlewoman. Hyl. You must allow me another Mistriss. Dor. Then you must allow me another Servant. Hyl. Well, let's together then, a lusty kindred. Seb. I'le give thee five hundred pound more for that word. Ma. Now Sir, for you and I to make the feast full. Tho. No, not a bit, you are a vertuous Lady, And love to live in contemplation. Ma. Come fool, I am friends now. Tho. The fool shall not ride ye, There lye my Woman, now my man again, And now for travel once more. Seb. I'le barr that first. Ma. And I next. Tho. Hold your self contented: for I say I will travel, And so long I will travel, till I find a Father That I never knew, and a Wife that I never look'd for, And a state without expectation, So rest you merry Gentlemen. Ma. You shall not, Upon my faith, I love you now extreamly, And now I'le kiss ye. Tho. This will not do it, Mistress. Ma. Why when we are married, we'l do more. Seb. There's all Boy, The keyes of all I have, come, let's be merry, For now I see thou art right. Tho. Shall we to Church straight? Val. Now presently, and there with nuptial The holy Priest shall make ye happy all. Tho. Away then, fair afore. [Exeunt.
TO THE NOBLE HONOURER OF THE Dead Author's Works and Memory, Master CHARLES COTTON.
SIR,
My directing of this piece unto you, renders me obvious to many censures, which I would willingly prevent by declaring mine own and your right thereto. Mine was the fortune to be made the unworthy preserver of it; yours is the worthy opinion you have of the Author and his Poems; neither can it easily be determined, whether your affection to them hath made you (by observing) more able to judge of them, than your ability to judge of them hath made you to affect them, deservedly, not partially. In this presumptuous act of mine, I express my twofold zeal; to him and your noble self, who have built him a more honourable monument in that fair opinion you have of him, than any inscription subject to the wearing of time can be. You will find him in this Poem as active as in others, to many of which, the dull apprehensions of former times gave but slender allowance, from malitious custom more than reason: yet they have since by your candid self and others, been clearly vindicated. You shall oblige by your acceptance of this acknowledgment (which is the best I can render you, mine own weak la[b]ours being too unworthy your judicious perusal) him that is ambitious to be known.
Your most humble Servant, Richard Brome.