THE LOVERS PROGRESS.

Mal. And as I told you, Sir. Leon. I understand you, Clarinda's still perverse. Mal. She's worse, obdurate, Flinty, relentless, my love-passions jeer'd at, My Presents scorn'd. Leon. 'Tis strange a waiting-woman, In her condition apt to yield, should hold out, A man of your place, reverend Beard and shape, Besieging her. Mal. You might add too my wealth, Which she contemns, five hundred Crowns per annum, For which I have ventur'd hard, my Conscience knows it, Not thought upon, though offer'd for a Joynture; This Chain which my Lords Pesants worship, flouted; My solemn hums and ha's, the servants quake at, No Rhetorick with her; every hour she hangs out Some new Flag of defiance to torment me; Last Lent, my Lady call'd me her Poor John, But now I am grown a walking Skeleton, You may see through, and through me. Leon. Indeed you are much faln away. Mal. I am a kind of nothing, As she hath made me; Love's a terrible Clyster, And if some Cordial of her favours help not, I shall like an Italian, dye backward, And breathe my last the wrong way. Leon. As I live, you have my pity; but this is cold comfort, And in a friend lip-physick; and now I think on't, I should do more, and will, so you deny not Your self the means of comfort. Mal. I'll be hang'd first; one dram of't I beseech you. Leon. You are not jealous of any mans access to her? Mal. I would not receive the Dor, but as a bosome friend You shall direct me, still provided that I understand who is the man, and what His purpose, that pleads for me. Leon. By all means: First, for the undertaker, I am he; The means that I will practise, thus— Mal. Pray you forward. Leon. You know your Lady, chaste Calista loves her. Mal. Too well, that makes her proud. Leon. Nay, give me leave, This beauteous Lady, I may stile her so, (Being the paragon of France for feature) Is not alone contented in her self To seem, and be good, but desires to make All such as have dependance on her, like her; For this Clarinda's liberty is restrain'd; And though her kinsman, the gate's shut against me; Now if you please to make your self the door, For my conveyance to her, though you run The hazard of a check for't, 'tis no matter. Mal. It being for mine own ends. Leon. I'll give it o'r, If that you make the least doubt otherwise: Study upon't: good morrow. Mal. Pray you stay, Sir; You are my friend; yet as the Proverb says, When love puts in, friendship is gone: suppose You should your self affect her? Leon. Do you think I'll commit incest? for it is no less, She being my Cousin German. Fare you well, Sir. Mal. I had forgot that, for this once forgive me. Only to ease the throbbing of my heart, (For I do feel strange pangs) instruct me what You will say for me. Leon. First, I'll tell her that She hath so far besotted you, that you have Almost forgot to cast accompt. Mal. Meer truth, Sir. Leon. That of a wise and provident Steward, You are turn'd stark Ass. Mal. Urge that point home, I am so. Leon. That you adore the ground she treads upon, And kiss her footsteps. Mal. As I do when I find their print in the snow. Leon. A loving fool I know it, By your bloudless frosty lips; then having related How much you suffer for her, and how well You do deserve it— Mal. How? to suffer? Leon. No, Sir, to have your love return'd. Mal. That's good, I thank you. Leon. I will deliver her an Inventory Of your good parts: as this, your precious nose Dropping affection; your high forehead reaching Almost to the Crown of your head; your slender waste, And a back not like a threshers, but a bending, And Court-like back, and so forth, for your Body. But when I touch your mind, for that must take her, (Since your out-side promises little) I'll enlarge it, (Though ne'r so narrow) as your arts to thrive, Your composition with the Cook and Butler For Cony-Skins and Chippings, and half a share With all the under Officers of the house, In strangers bounties, that she shall have all, And you as 'twere her Bailiff. Mal. As I will be. Leon. As you shall, so I'll promise. Then your qualities, As playing on a Gyttern, or a Jews-Trump. Mal. A little too on the Viol. Leon. Fear you nothing. Then singing her asleep with curious Catches Of your own making; for as I have heard, You are Poetical. Mal. Something given that way; Yet my works seldom thrive: and the main reason The Poets urge for't, is, because I am not As poor as they are. Leon. Very likely; fetch her While I am in the vein. Mal. 'Tis an apt time, my Lady being at her Prayers. Leon. Let her pray on. Nay go, and if upon my intercession She do you not some favour, I'll disclaim her; I'll ruminate on't the while. Mal. A hundred Crowns is your reward. Leon. Without 'em—nay no trifling. [Ex. Mal. That this dull clod of ignorance should know How to get money, yet want eyes to see How grosly he's abus'd, and wrought upon! When he should make his will, the Rogue's turn'd rampant, As he had renew'd his youth; a handsome wench, Love one a spittle-whore would run away from? Well, Master Steward, I will plead for you In such a method, as it shall appear You are fit to be a property.

Mal. Yonder he walks That knows my worth and value, though you scorn it. Clar. If my Lady know not this— Mal. I'll answer it: If you were a Nun I hope your Cousin German Might talk with you through a grate, but you are none, And therefore may come closer; ne'r hang off, As I live you shall bill; ye may salute as strangers, Custom allows it. Now, now, come upon her With all your Oratory, [tickle her to the quick,] As a young Advocate should, and leave no Vertue Of mine unmentioned, I'll stand centinel; Nay keep the door my self. [Exit. Clar. How have you work'd This piece of motley to your ends? Leon. Of that at leasure, Mistriss. [Kissing. Clar. Lower, you are too loud, Though the fool be deaf, some of the house may hear you. Leon. Suppose they should, I am a Gentleman, And held your Kinsman, under that I hope I may be free. Clar. I grant it, but with caution; But be not seen to talk with me familiarly, But at fit distance, or not seen at all, It were the better; you know my Ladies humour, She is all honour, and compos'd of goodness, (As she pretends) and you having no business, How jealous may she grow? Leon. I will be rul'd. But you have promis'd, and I must enjoy you. Clar. We shall find time for that; you are too hasty, Make your self fit and I shall make occasion, Deliberation makes best in that business, And contents every way. Leon. But you must feed This foolish Steward with some shadow of A future favour, that we may preserve him To be our instrument. Clar. Hang him. Leon. For my sake, Sweet, I undertook to speak for him, any Bauble, Or slight employment in the way of service, Will feed him fat.

Clar. Leave him to me. Mal. She comes, my Lady. Clar. I will satisfie her. Mal. How far have you prevail'd? Leon. Observe. Clar. Monsieur Malfort, I must be brief, my cousin hath spoke much In your behalf, and to give you some proof, I entertain you as my servant, You shall have the grace. Leon. Upon your knee receive it. Clar. And take it as a special favour from me, To tye my shooe. Malf. I am o're-joy'd. Leon. Good reason. Clar. You may come higher in time. Leon. No more, the Lady.

Malf. She frowns. Clar. I thank you for this visit cousin, But without leave hereafter from my Lady, I dare not change discourse with you. Malf. Pray you take your mornings draught. Leon. I thank you: [Exeunt Leon, Malf. Happiness attend your honour. Calist. Who gave warrant to this private parle? Clar. My innocence; I hope My conference with a kinsman cannot call Your anger on me. Calist. Kinsman? Let me have No more of this, as you desire you may continue mine. Clar. Why madam (under pardon) Suppose him otherwise: yet coming in A lawfull way, it is excusable. Calist. How's this? Clar. I grant you are made of pureness, And that your tenderness of honour holds The soveraigntie o're your passions. Yet you have A noble Husband, with allow'd embraces, To quench lascivious fires, should such flame in you, As I must ne're believe. Were I the wife Of one that could but zanie brave Cleander, Even in his least perfections, (excuse My o're-bold inference) I should desire To meet no other object. Cal. You grow saucie. Do I look further? Clar. No, dear Madam: and It is my wonder or astonishment rather, You could deny the service of Lisander; A man without a rival: one the King And Kingdom gazes on with admiration, For all the excellencies a Mother could Wish in her only Son. Cal. Did not mine honour And obligation to Cleander, force me To be deaf to his complaints? Clar. 'Tis true; but yet Your rigor to command him from your presence, Argu'd but small compassion; the Groves Witness his grievous sufferings, your fair name Upon the rinde of every gentle Poplar, And amorous Myrtle, (trees to Venus sacred) With adoration carv'd, and knee[l']d unto, This you (unseen of him) both saw and heard Without compassion, and what receiv'd he For his true sorrows? but the heavy knowledge, That 'twas your peremptory will and pleasure, (How e're my Lord liv'd in him) he should quit Your sight and house for ever. Cal. I confess I gave him a strong potion to work Upon his hot bloud, and I hope 'twill cure him: Yet I could wish the cause had concern'd others, I might have met his sorrows with more pity; At least have lent some counsel to his miseries, Though now for honours sake, I must forget him, And never know the name more of Lisander: Yet in my justice I am bound to grant him, (Laying his love aside) most truely noble. But mention him no more, this instant hour My Brother Lidian, new return'd from travel, And his brave friend Clarange, long since rivals For fair and rich Olinda, are to hear Her absolute determination, whom She pleases to elect: see all things ready To entertain 'em: and on my displeasure No more words of Lisander. Clar. She endures to hear him nam'd by no tongue but her own: How e're she carries it, I know she loves him. [Exit. Cal. Hard nature: hard condition of poor women! That where we are most su'd to, we must flye most. The trees grow up, and mix together freely, The Oak's not envious of the sailing Cedar, The lustie Vine not jealous of the Ivie Because she clips the Elm; the flowers shoot up, And wantonly kiss one another hourly, This blossome glorying in the others beauty, And yet they smell as sweet, and look as lovely: But we are ty'd to grow alone. O honour, Thou hard Law to our lives, chain to our freedoms He that invented thee had many curses; How is my soul divided! O Cleander, My best deserving husband! O Lisander, The truest lover that e're sacrific'd To Cupid against Hymen! O mine honour; A Tyrant, yet to be obey'd! and 'tis But justice we should thy strict Laws endure, Since our obedience to thee keeps us pure. [Exit.

Clean. How insupportable the difference Of dear friends is, the sorrow that I feel For my Lisanders absence, one that stamps A reverend print on friendship, does assure me. You are rivals for a Lady, a fair Lady, And in the acquisition of her favours, Hazard the cutting of that Gordian knot From your first childhood to this present hour, By all the tyes of love and amity fasten'd. I am blest in a wife (Heaven make me thankfull) Inferiour to none (sans pride I speak it) Yet if I were a free-man, and could purchase At any rate the certainty to enjoy Lisanders conversation while I liv'd, Forgive me my Calista, and the Sex, I never would seek change. Lid. My Lord and Brother, I dare not blame your choice, Lisanders worth Being a Mistris to be ever courted; Nor shall our equal suit to fair Olinda Weaken, but adde strength to our true affection, With zeal so long continued. Claran. When we know Whom she prefers, as she can choose but one, By our so long tri'd friendship we have vow'd The other shall desist. Clea. 'Tis yet your purpose, But how this resolution will hold In him that is refus'd, is not alone Doubtfull, but dangerous.

Malf. The rich heir is come Sir. Cleand. Madam Olinda? Malf. Yes Sir, and makes choice, After some little conference with my Lady, Of this room to give answer to her suitors. Cle. Already both look pale, between your hopes To win the prize, and your despair to lose What you contended for. Lid. No Sir, I am arm'd. Clar. I confident of my interest. Cle. I'le believe ye when you have endur'd the test.

Malf. Is not your garter Unty'd? you promis'd that I should grow higher In doing you service. Clar. Fall off or you lose me. [Exit Malfort. Cle. Nay take your place, no Paris now sits judge On the contending goddesses. You are The Deitie that must make curst or happy One of your languish[i]ng servants. Ol. I thus look with equal eyes on both; either deserves A fairer fortune than they can in reason Hope for from me; from Lidian I expect, When I have made him mine, all pleasures that The sweetness of his manners, youth, and vertues Can give assurance of: but turning this way To brave Clarange, in his face appears A kind of Majesty which should command, Not sue for favour. If the fairest Lady Of France, set forth with natures best endowments Nay should I adde a Princess of the bloud, Did now lay claim to either for a husband, So vehement my affection is to both, My envie at her happiness would kill me. Cle. The strangest love I ever heard. Cal. You can enjoy but one. Clar. The more I say the merrier. Oli. Witness these tears I love both, as I know You burn with equal flames, and so affect me; Abundance makes me poor; such is the hard Condition of my fortune; be your own judges; If I should favour both, 'twill taint my honour, And that before my life I must prefer; If one I lean to, the other is disvalued; You are fierie both, and love will make you warmer. Clar. The warmer still the fitter. You are a fool Lady. Oli. To what may love, and the Devil jealousie spur you Is too apparent: my name's call'd in question: Your swords flie out, your angers range at large: Then what a murther of my modesty follows? Clar. Take heed of that by any means: O innocent, That will deny a blessing when 'tis offer'd, Would I were murther'd so, I would thank my modesty. Cle. What pause you on? Oli. It is at length resolv'd. Clar. We are on the Rack, uncertain expectation The greatest torture. Lidi. Command what you please, And you shall see how willingly we will execute. Oli. Then hear what for your satisfaction, And to preserve your friendship I resolve Against my self, and 'tis not to be alter'd: You are both brave gentlemen, I'le still profess it, Both noble servants, for whose gentle offers, The undeserving, and the poor Olinda Is ever bound; you love both, fair, and vertuously; Would I could be so happy to content both: Which since I cannot, take this resolute answer; Go from me both contentedly, and he That last makes his return, and comes to visit, Comes to my bed. You know my will: farewel; My heart's too big to utter more: come friend. Cal. I'le wait on you to your Coach.

Cle. You both look blank, I cannot blame you. Lid. We have our dispatches. Clara. I'le home. Lid. And I'le abroad again, Farewel. Clara. Farewel to ye.

Cle. Their blunted departure troubles me: I fear A suddain and a dangerous division Of their long love will follow: have you took Your leave of fair Olinda?

C[al]. She is gone Sir. Cle. Had you brought news Lisander were return'd too, I were most happy. Cal. Still upon Lisander? Cle. I know he loves me, as he loves his health: And Heaven knows I love him. Cal. I find it so: For me you have forgot, and what I am to you. Cle. O think not so. If you had lost a Sister You lock'd all your delights in, it would grieve you: A little you would wander from the fondness You ow'd your husband: I have lost a friend, A noble friend, all that was excellent In man, or man-kind, was contain'd within him, That loss my wife—

Malf. Madam, your noble Father— A fee for my good news. Cal. Why? what of him Sir? Mal. Is lighted at the door, and longs to see you. Calist. Attend him hither. Clean. O my dear Lisander. But I'le be merry: let's meet him my Calista. Cal. I hope Lisanders love will now be buried: My Father will bring joy enough for one moneth, To put him out of memorie.

Dor. How do you Son? Bless my fair child, I am come to visit yee, To see what house you keep, they say you are bountifull, I like the noise well, and I come to trie it. Ne're a great belly yet? how have you trifl'd? If I had done so (Son) I should have heard on't On both sides by Saint Denis. Clean. You are nobly welcom Sir: We have time enough for that. Dorilaus. See how she blushes! 'Tis a good sign you'l mend your fault, how dost thou, My good Calista? Cal. Well, now I see you Sir; I hope you bring a fruitfulness along with ye. Dor. Good luck, I never miss, I was ever good at it: Your mother groan'd for't wench, so did some other, But I durst never tell. Cal. How does your arm Sir? Cle. Have you been let bloud of late? Dor. Against my will Sir. Cal. A fall dear Father? Dor. No, a Gun, dear Daughter; Two or three Guns; I have one here in my buttock, 'Twould trouble a Surgeons teeth to pull it out. Cal. O me! O me! Dor. Nay, if you fall to fainting, 'Tis time for me to trudge: art such a coward, At the meer name of hurt to change thy colour? I have been shot that men might see clean through me, And yet I fainted not: besides my self, Here are an hospital of hurt men for ye.

Clean. What should this wonder be? Cal. I am amaz'd at it. Doril. What think ye of these? they are every one hurt soundly, Hurt to the proof, they are through, and through I assure ye; And that's good game, they scorn your puling scratches. Cal. Who did this Sir? Dor. Leave crying, and I'le tell you, And get your plaisters, and your warm stupes ready: Have you ne're a Shepheard that can tarr us over? 'Twill prove a business else, we are so many. Coming to see you, I was set upon, I and my men, as we were singing frolickly, Not dreaming of an ambush of base Rogues, Set on i'th' forest, I have forgot the name— Cle. 'Twixt this, and Fountaine-Bleau, In the wild Forest? Dor. The same, the same, in that accursed Forest, Set on by villains, that make boot of all men, The Peers of France are pillage there, they shot at us, Hurt us, un-hors'd us, came to the sword, there pli'd us, Opprest us with fresh multitudes, fresh shot still, Rogues that would hang themselves for a fresh doublet, And for a Scarlet Cassock kill their Fathers. Cle. Lighted you among these? Dor. Among these murtherers, Our poor blouds were ingag'd: yet we strook bravely, And more than once or twice we made them shun us, And shrink their rugged heads: but we were hurt all. Cle. How came you off? for I even long to hear that. Dor. After our prayers made to Heaven to help us, Or to be mercifull unto our souls; So near we were. Alas poor wench, wipe, wipe. See Heaven sends remedy. Cal. I am glad 'tis come Sir, My heart was even a bleeding in my body. Dor. A curl'd hair Gentleman stept in, a stranger, As he rod by, belike he heard our bickering, Saw our distresses, drew his sword, and prov'd He came to execute, and not to argue. Lord what a lightning methought flew about him, When he once toss'd his blade! in face Adonis, While peace inhabited between his eye-brows: But when his noble anger stirr'd his metal, And blew his fierie parts into a flame, Like Pallas, when she sits between two armies, Viewing with horrid brows their sad events, Such then he look'd: and as her shield had arm'd him. Cal. This man Sir were a friend to give an age for. This Gentleman I must love naturally: Nothing can keep me off; I pray you go on Sir. Dor. I will, for now you please me: this brave youth, This bud of Mars, for yet he is no riper, When once he had drawn bloud, and flesh'd his sword, Fitted his manly metal to his spirit, How he bestirr'd him! what a lane he made! And through their fierie Bullets thrust securely: The hardned villains wondring at his confidence, Lame as I was I follow'd, and admir'd too, And stirr'd, and laid about me with new spirit, My men too with new hearts thrust into action, And down the Rogues went. Cle. I am struck with wonder. Dor. Remember but the storie of strong Hector, When like to lightning he broke through his vanguard, How the Greeks frighted ran away by Troops, And trod down Troops to save their lives: so this man Dispers'd these slaves: had they been more and mightier, He had come off the greater, and more wonder. Cle. Where is the man, good Sir, that we may honour him? Cal. That we may fall in superstition to him. Dor. I know not that, from me he late departed, But not without that pious care to see safe Me, and my weak men lodg'd, and dress'd; I urg'd him First hither, that I might more freely thank him: He told me he had business, crav'd my pardon, Business of much import. Cle. Know you his name? Dor. That he deny'd me too: a vow had bar'd him. Cal. In that he was not noble to be nameless. Dor. Daughter you must remember him when I am dead, And in a noble sort requite his piety, 'Twas his desire to dedicate this service To your fair thoughts. Cal. He knows me then? Dor. I nam'd you, And nam'd you mine: I think that's all his knowledge. Cle. No name, no being? Cal. Now I am mad to know him: Saving mine honour, any thing I had now But to enjoy his sight, but his bare picture; Make me his Saint, I must needs honour him. Serv. I know his name. Cal. There's thy reward for't; speak it. Ser. His man told me, but he desir'd my silence. Cal. O Jasper speak, 'tis thy good Masters cause too: We all are bound in gratitude to compel thee. Ser. Lisander? Yes, I am sure it was Lisander, Cal. Lisander? 'twas Lisander. Cle. 'Tis Lisander. O my base thoughts! my wicked! To make question this act could be another mans: 'Tis Lisander, a handsome timber'd man? Ser. Yes. Cle. My Lisander! Was this friends absence to be mourn'd? Cal. I grant it: I'le mourn his going now, and mourn it seriously: When you weep for him, Sir, I'le bear you company. That so much honour, so much honesty Should be in one man, to do things thus bravely, Make me his Saint, to me give this brave service: What may I do to recompence his goodness? I cannot tell. Cle. Come Sir, I know you are sickly, so are your men. Dor. I must confess I am weak, And fitter for a bed than long discourses. Cle. You shall hear to morrow, to morrow provide Surgeons. Dor. Lisander— Cal. What new fire is this? Lisander— [Exeunt.

Lis. Prethee good Lancelot remember that Thy Master's life is in thy trust, and therefore Be very carefull. Lanc. I will lose mine own, rather than hazard yours. Lisa. Take what disguise You in your own discretion shall think fittest, To keep your self unknown. Lanc. I warrant ye; 'Tis not the first time I have gone invisible: I am as fine a Fairie in a business Concerning night-work— Lisa. Leave your vanities: With this purse (which deliver'd, You may spare your Oratory) convey this Letter to Calista's woman. Lanc. 'Tis a handsom girle, Mistris Clarinda. Lisa. I have made her mine. You know your work. Lan. And if I sweat not in it, At my return discard me. [Exit. Lisa. O Calista! the fairest! cruellest!

Clar. So early stirring? a good day to you. Lisa. I was viewing Sir, The site of your house, and the handsomness about it: Believe me it stands healthfully and sweetly. Clar. The house and Master of it really Are ever at your service. Lisa. I return it: Now if you please go forward in your storie Of your dear friend and Mistris. Clar. I will tell it, And tell it short, because 'tis breakfast time, (And love is a tedious thing to a quick stomach) You eat not yester-night. Lisa. I shall endure Sir. Clara. My self (and as I then deliver'd to you) A Gentleman of noble hope, one Lidian, Both brought up from our infancy together, One company, one friendship, and one exercise Ever affecting, one bed holding us, One grief, and one joy parted still between us, More than companions, twins in all our actions, We grew up till we were men, held one heart still: Time call'd us on to Arms, we were one Souldier, Alike we sought our dangers and our honours, Gloried alike one in anothers nobleness: When Arms had made us fit, we were one lover, We lov'd one woman, lov'd without division, And woo'd a long time with one fair affection; And she, as it appears, loves us alike too. At length considering what our love must grow to, And covet in the end, this one was parted, Rivals and honours make men stand at distance. We then woo'd with advantage, but were friends still, Saluted fairly, kept the peace of love, We could not both enjoy the Ladies favour, Without some scandal to her reputation, We put it to her choice, this was her sentence, To part both from her, and the last returning Should be her Lord; we obey'd, and now you know it; And for my part, (so truely I am touch'd with't) I will go far enough, and be the last too, Or ne're return. Lisa. A sentence of much cruelty; But mild, compar'd with what's pronounc'd on me. Our loving youth is born to many miseries. What is that Lidian pray ye? Clar. Calista's Brother, if ever you have heard of that fair Lady. Lisa. I have seen her Sir. Clar. Then you have seen a wonder. Lisa. I do confess: of what years is this Lidian? Clar. About my years: there is not much between us. Lisa. I long to know him. Clar. 'Tis a vertuous longing, As many hopes hang on his noble head, As blossoms on a bough in May, and sweet ones. Lisa. Ye are a fair storie of your friend. Clar. Of truth Sir: now, what's the matter?

Serv. There is a Gentleman At door, would speak with you on private business. Clar. With me? Serv. He saies so, and brings haste about him. Clar. Wait on him in. [Exit Servant. Lisa. I will retire the while, to the next room. Clar. We shall not long disturb you.

Alci. Save ye, Sir. Clara. The like to you, fair Sir: pray you come near. Alci. Pray you instruct me for I know you not. With Monsieur Clarange I would speak. Clar. I am he, Sir: Ye are nobly welcome; I wait your business. Alci. This will inform you. Clar. Will you please to sit down? [Reads. He shall command me Sir, I'le wait upon him Within this hour. Alci. Y'are a noble Gentleman, Wil't please you bring a friend? we are two of us, And pity either, Sir, should be unfurnish'd. Clar. I have none now, and the time is set so short, 'Twill not be possible. Alci. Do me the honour: I know you are so full of brave acquaintance, And worthy friends, you cannot want a partner: I would be loth to stand still, Sir; besides, You know the custom, and the vantage of it, If you come in alone. Clar. And I must meet it. Alci. Send, we'l defer an hour, let us be equal: Games won and lost on equal terms shew fairest. Clar. 'Tis to no purpose to send any whither, Unless men be at home by Revelation: So please you breath a while; when I have done with him, You may be exercis'd too: I'le trouble no man.

Lisa. They are very loud. Now what's the news? Clar. I must leave you, Leave you a while, two hours hence I'le return friend. Lisa. Why, what's the matter? Clar. A little business. Lisa. And't be but a little, you may take me with ye. Clar. 'Twill be a trouble to you. Lisa. No indeed, to do you service, I account a pleasure. Clar. I must alone. Lisa. Why? Clar. 'Tis necessity— Before you pass the walks, and back again, I will be with ye. Lisa. If it be not unmannerly To press you, I would go. Clar. I'le tell you true, Sir, This Gentleman and I upon appointment, Are going to visit a Lady. Lisa. I am no Capuchin, why should not I go? Alci. Take the Gentleman, Come he may see the Gentlewoman too, And be most welcom, I do beseech you take him. Lis. By any means, I love to see a Gentlewoman, A prettie wench too. Clar. Well, Sir, we'll meet you, And at the place: My service to the Lady. Alci. I kiss your hand. [Exit. Clar. Prethee read o're her Letter.

Is this your wench? you'l find her a sharp Mistris. What have I thrust my self into? is this that Lidian You told me of? Clar. The same. Lisa. My Ladies Brother? No cause to heave my sword against but his? To save the Father yesterday, and this morning, To help to kill the Son? this is most courteous! The only way to make the Daughter doat on me. Clar. Why do you muse? would ye go off? Lisa. No, no, I must on now; this will be kindly taken; No life to sacrifice, but part of hers? Do you fight straight? Clara. Yes, presently. Lisan. To morrow then, The balefull tidings of this day will break out, And this nights Sun will set in bloud; I am troubl'd: If I am kill'd, I am happy. Clar. Will you go friend? Lis. I am ready Sir, fortune thou hast made me monstrous.

Malf. Your cousin, and my true friend, lusty Leon, Shall know how you use me. Clar. Be more temperate, Or I will never use, nor know you more I'th' way of a servant: all the house takes notice Of your ridiculous fopperie; I have no sooner Perform'd my duties in my Ladies chamber, And she scarce down the stairs, but you appear Like my evil spirit to me. Malf. Can the fish live out of the water, or the Salamander Out of the fire? or I live warm, but in The frying-pan of your favour? Cla. Pray you forget Your curious comparisons, borrowed from The pond, and kitchin, and remember what My Ladies pleasure is for th' entertainment Of her noble Father. Ma. I would learn the art of memory in your table book. Cla. Very good sir, no more but up and ride, I apprehend Your meaning, soft fire makes sweet mault Sir: I'le answer you in a Proverb. Mal. But one kiss from thy hony lip. Cla. You fight too high, my hand is A fair ascent from my foot, his slavering kisses Spoil me more gloves,—enough for once, you'l surfeit With too much grace. Mal. Have you no imployment for me? C[la]. Yes, yes, go send for Leon, and convey him Into the private Arbour, from his mouth I hear your praises with more faith. Ma. I am gone; yet one thing e're I go, there's at the door The rarest Fortune-teller, he hath told me The strangest things; he knows ye are my Mistris, And under seal deliver'd how many Children I shall beget on you, pray you give him hearing, He'l make it good to you. Cla. A cunning man Of your own making, howsoe'r I'le hear him At your intreaty. Mal. Now I perceive ye love me, At my entreaty, come in friend—remember To speak as I directed, he knows his lesson, And the right way to please her; this it is To have a head-piece. [Exit.

Cla. 'Tis said you can tell fortunes to come. Lan. Yes Mistris and what's past; Unglove your hand, by this straight line I see You have lain crooked. Cla. How? lain crooked? Lan. Yes; and in that posture plaid at the old game, (No body hears me, and I'le be no blab) And at it lost your maiden-head. Cla. A shrewd fellow; 'Tis truth, but not to be confess'd; in this Your palmistry deceives you, something else Sir. Lan. Ye are a great woman with your Lady, and Acquainted with her counsels. Cla. Still more strange. Lan. There is a noble Knight Lisander loves her, Whom she regards not, and the destinies With whom I am familiar, have deliver'd That by your means alone, he must enjoy her. Your hand again, yes, yes; you have already Promis'd him your assistance, and what's more, Tasted his bounty, for which, from the skye There are 200. crowns dropp'd in a Purse, Look back, you'l find it true; nay, open it, 'Tis good Gold I assure you. Cla. How, two Letters? the first indors'd to me? this to my Lady? Subscrib'd Lisander? Lan. And the fortune-teller, his servant Lancelot. Cla. How had I lost my eyes, That I could not know thee? not a word of the loss Of my virginity. Lan. Nor who I am. Cla. I'le use all speedy means for your dispatch With a welcom answer, but till you receive it, Continue thus disguis'd, Monsieur Malfort (You know the way to humour him) shall provide A lodging for you, and good entertainment; Nay, since we trade both one way, thou shalt have Some feeling with me, take that. Lan. Bountifull wench may'st thou ne're want imployment. Cla. Nor such pay boy. [Exeunt.

Lid. You're welcom. Alci. Let us do our office first, And then make choice of a new piece of ground To try our fortunes. Lisa. All's fair here. Alci. And here, their swords are equal. Lisa. If there be any odds in mine, we will exchange. Alci. We'l talk of that When we are farther off, farewel. Lisa. Farewel friend. [Ex. Lisander, and Alcidon. Lidi. Come let us not be idle. Cla. I will find you imployment, fear not. Lid. You know Sir, the cause that brings [u]s hither. Cla. There needs no more discoursing, No time, nor place for repetition now. Lid. Let our swords argue, and I wish Clarange, The proud Olinda saw us. Cla. Would she did; What ever estimation she holds of me, She should behold me like a man fight for her. Lid. 'Tis nobly said; set on love; and my fortune— Cla. The same for me, come home brave Lidian, 'Twas manly thrust, this token to the Lady, Ye have it Sir, deliver it, take breath, I see ye bleed apace, ye shall have fair play.

Lis. You must lye there a while, I cannot help you. Lid. Nay, then my fortune's gone, I know I must dye: Yet dearly will I sell my love, come on both, And use your fortunes, I expect no favour; Weak as I am, my confidence shall meet ye. Cla. Yield up your cause and live. Lid. What dost thou hold me? A recreant, that prefers life before credit? Though I bleed hard, my honour finds no Issue, That's constant to my heart. Cla. Have at your life then. Lis. Hold, or I'le turn, and bend my sword against ye; My cause Clarange too, view this brave Gentleman, That yet may live to kill you, he stands nobly, And has as great a promise of the day As you can tye unto your self, he's ready, His sword as sharp, view him with that remembrance, That you deliver'd him to me Clarange: And with those eyes, that clearness will become ye: View him, as you reported him; survey him, Fix on your friendship Sir, I know you are noble, And step but inward to your old affection; Examine but that soul grew to your bosom, And try then if your sword will bite, it cannot, The edge will turn again, asham'd, and blunted; Lidian, you are the pattern of fair friendship, Exampled for your love, and imitated, The Temple of true hearts, stor'd with affections, For sweetness of your spirit made a Saint, Can you decline this nobleness to anger? To mortal anger? 'gainst the man ye love most? Have ye the name of vertuous, not the nature? Lid. I will sit down. Clar. And I'le sit by you, Lidian. Lis. And I'le go on, can Heaven be pleas'd with these things? To see two hearts that have been twin'd together, Married in friendship to the world, to wonder, Of one growth, of one nourishment, one health, Thus mortally divorc'd for one weak woman? Can love be pleas'd? love is a gentle spirit, The wind that blows the April flowers, not softer; She is drawn with doves to shew her peacefulness, Lions and bloody Pards are Mars's servants; Would ye serve love? do it with humbleness, Without a noise, with still prayers, and soft murmurs; Upon her Altars offer your obedience, And not your brawls; she's won with tears, not terrors: That fire ye kindle to her deity Is only gratefull when it's blown with sighs, And holy Incense flung with white hand-innocence; Ye wound her now; ye are too superstitious, No sacrifice of bloud, or death she longs for. Lid. Came he from Heaven? Clar. He tells us truth good Lidian. Lisa. That part of noble love which is most sweet, And gives eternal being to fair beauty, Honour, you hack i' pieces with your swords, And that ye fight to crown, ye kill, fair credit. Clar. Thus we embrace, no more fight, but all friendship, And where love pleases to bestow his benefits, Let us not argue. Lid. Nay, brave Sir, come in too; You may love also, and may hope, if ye do, And not rewarded for't, there is no justice; Farewel friend, here let's part upon our pilgrimage, It must be so, Cupid draws on our sorrows. And where the lot lights— Clar. I shall count it happiness, Farewel, dear friend. Lis. First, let's relieve the Gentleman That lyes hurt in your cause, and bring him off, And take some care for your hurts, then I will part too, A third unfortunate, and willing wanderer. [Exeunt.

Oli. My fears foresaw 'twould come to this. Cal. I would your sentence had been milder. Olln. 'Tis past help now. Cal. I share in your despair, and yet my hopes Have not quite left me, since all possible means Are practised to prevent the mischief following Their mortal meeting, my Lord is coasted one way, My Father, though his hurts forbad his travel, Hath took another, my Brother in Law Beronte A third, and every minute we must look for The certain knowledge, which we must endure With that calm patience heav'n shall please to lend us.

Dor. Dead both? Clea. Such is the rumour, and 'tis general. Olin. I hear my passing bell. Cal. I am in a fevour. Cle. They say their seconds too; but what they are, Is not known yet, some worthy fellows certain. Dor. Where had you knowledge? Clea. Of the Country people, 'tis spoken every where. Dor. I heard it so too; And 'tis so common, I do half believe it, You have lost a Brother, wench, he lov'd you well, And might have liv'd to have done his country service, But he is gone, thou fell'st untimely, Lidian, But by a valiant hand, that's some small comfort, And took him with thee too, thou lov'st brave company, Weeping will do no good, you lost a servant, He might have liv'd to have been your Master, Lady, But you fear'd that. Olin. Good Sir, be tender to me, The news is bad enough, you need not press it, I lov'd him well, I lov'd 'em both. Dor. It seems so. How many more have you to love so Lady? They were both fools to fight for such a Fiddle; Certain there was a dearth of noble anger, When a slight woman was thought worth a quarrel. Olin. Pray you think nobler. Dor. I'le tell thee what I think, the plague, war, famine, Nay put in dice and drunkenness (and those You'l grant are pretty helps) kill not so many (I mean so many noble) as your loves do, Rather your lewdness, I crave your mercy, women, Be not offended if I anger ye. I am sure ye have touch'd me deep, I came to be merry, And with my children, but to see one ruin'd By this fell accident—are they all dead? If they be, speak? Clean. What news?

Ber. What, dead? ye pose me; I understand you not. Clea. My Brother Lidian, Clarange, and their seconds. Ber. Here is one of 'em, and sure this Gentleman's alive. Alci. I hope so, so is your Son, Sir, so is brave Clarange: They fought indeed, and they were hurt sufficiently; We were all hurt, that bred the general rumour, But friends again all, and like friends we parted. Clea. Heard ye of Lisander? Ber. Yes, and miss'd him narrowly: He was one of the combatants, fought with this Gentleman, Second against your Brother, by his wisdom (For certainly good fortune follows him) All was made peace, I'le tell you the rest at dinner, For we are hungry. Alci. I before I eat Must pay a vow I am sworn to; my life, Madam, Was at Lisander's mercy, I live by it; And for the noble favour, he desir'd me To kiss your fair hand for him, offering This second service as a Sacrifice At the Altar of your vertues. Dor. Come joy on all sides; Heaven will not suffer honest men to perish. Clea. Be proud of such a friend. Dor. Forgive me, Madam, It was a grief might have concern'd you near too. Clea. No work of excellence but still Lisander, Go thy waies, Worthy. Olin. We'l be merry too, Were I to speak again, I would be wiser.

Cal. Too much of this rare cordial makes me sick, However I obey you. Clarin. Now or never is an apt time to move her, Madam. Cal. Who's that? Clarin. Your servant, I would speak with your Ladyship. C[al]. Why dost thou look about? Clarin. I have private business That none must hear but your Lisander— Cal. Where? Clar. Nay, is not here, but would entreat this favour, Some of your Balsam from your own hand given, For he is much hurt, and that he thinks would cure him. Cal. He shall have all, my Prayers too. Clar. But conceive me, It must be from your self immediately, Pity so brave a Gentleman should perish, He is superstitious, and he holds your hand Of infinite power; I would not urge this, Madam, But only in a mans extreams to help him. Cal. Let him come (good wench) 'tis that I wish, I am happy in't, My husband his true friend, my noble father, The fair Olinda, all desire to see him; He shall have many hands. Clar. That he desires not, Nor eyes but yours, to look upon his miseries, For then he thinks 'twould be no perfect cure, Madam, He would come private. Cal. How can that be here? I shall do wrong unto all those that honour him, Besides my credit. Clar. Dare ye not trust a hurt man? Not strain a courtesie to save a Gentleman? To save his life that has sav'd all your family? A man that comes like a poor mortifi'd Pilgrim, Only to beg a Blessing and depart again? He would but see you, that he thinks would cure him. But since you find fit reasons to the contrary, And that it cannot stand with your clear honour, Though you best know how well he has deserv'd of ye: I'll send him word back though I grieve to do it, Grieve at my soul, for certainly 'twill kill him, What your will is. Cal. Stay, I will think upon't; where is he, Wench? Clar. If you desire to see him, Let not that trouble you, he shall be with you, And in that time that no man shall suspect ye; Your honour, Madam, is in your own free keeping; Your care in me; in him all honesty; If ye desire him not, let him pass by ye, And all this business reckon but a dream. C[a]l, Go in, and counsel me, I would fain see him, And willingly comfort him. Clar. 'Tis in your power; And if you dare trust me, you shall do it safely, Read that, and let that tell you, how he honours you.

Leon. This happy Night. [Kisses her. Clar. Preserve this eagerness Till we meet nearer, there is something done Will give us opportunity. Leon. Witty Girl, the plot? Clar. You shall hear that at leisure, The whole house reels with joy at the report Of Lidians safety, and that joy encreas'd From their affection to the brave Lisander, In being made the happy instrument to compound The bloudy difference. Leon. They will hear shortly that Will turn their mirth to mourning, he was then The principal means to save two lives, but since There are two faln, and by his single hand, For which his life must answer, if the King, Whose arm is long, can reach him. Clar. We have now no spare time to hear stories, take this Key, 'Twill make your passage to the banquetting house I'th' Garden free. Leon. You will not fail to come? Clar. For mine own sake ne'r doubt it; now for Lisander.

Dor. To bed, to bed, 'tis very late. Clean. To bed all, I have drunk a health too much. Dor. You'll sleep the better, My usual physick that way. Clean. Where's your Mistriss? Clar. She is above, but very ill, and aguish; The late fright of her Brother has much troubl'd her: She would entreat to lye alone. Clean. Her pleasure. Dor. Commend my love to her, and my Prayers for her health, I'll see her ere I go. [Exeunt; manet Clarinda. Clar. All good rest to ye; Now to my watch for Lisander, when he is furnish'd, For mine own friend, since I stand Centinel, I love to laugh i'th' evenings too, and may, The priviledg of my place will warrant it. [Exit.

Lis. You have done well hitherto; where are we now? Lanc. Not far from the house, I hear by th' Owls, There are many of your Welch falkoners about it; Here were a night to chuse to run away with Another mans Wife, and do the feat. Lis. Peace Knave, The house is here before us, and some may hear us; The Candles are all out. Lanc. But one i'th' Parlour, I see it simper hither, pray come this way. Lis. Step to the Garden-door, and feel and't be open. Lan. I am going, luck deliver me from the saw-pits, Or I am buried quick; I hear a Dog, No, 'tis a Cricket, ha? here's a Cuckold buried, Take heed of his horns, Sir, here's the door, 'tis open. [Clarinda at the door. Clar. Who's there? Lis. Friend. Clar. Sir, Lisander? Lis. I. Clar. Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise. Lis. Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, Sirrah, And be sure ye sleep not.

Lan. Send me out the Dairy-maid To play at trump with me, and keep me waking, My fellow horse and I must now discourse Like two learned Almanack-Makers, of the Stars, And tell what a plentiful year 'twill prove of Drunkards. If I had but a pottle of Sack, like a sharp prickle, To knock my Nose against when I am nodding, I should sing like a Nightingale, but I must Keep watch without it, I am apt to dance, Good fortune guide me from the Faries Circles. [Exit.

Clar. Come near, [Calista sitting behind a Curtain. I'll leave ye now, draw but that Curtain, And have your wish; now, Leon, I am for thee; We that are servants must make use of stoln hours, And be glad of snatch'd occasions. [Exit. Lis. She is asleep, Fierce Love hath clos'd his lights, I may look on her, Within her eyes 'has lockt the graces up, I may behold and live; how sweet she breaths! The orient morning breaking out in odours Is not so full of perfumes, as her breath is; She is the abstract of all Excellence, and scorns a Parallel. Cal. Who's there? Lis. Your servant, your most obedient slave (adored Lady) That comes but to behold those eyes again, And pay some Vows I have to sacred Beauty, And so pass by; I am blind as ignorance, And know not where I wander, how I live, Till I receive from their bright influence Light to direct me, for Devotions sake, You are the Saint I tread these holy steps to, And holy Saints are all relenting sweetness, Be not enrag'd, nor be not angry with me; The greatest attribute of Heaven is mercy; And 'tis the Crown of Justice, and the glory Where it may kill with right, to save with pity. Cal. Why do you kneel? I know you come to mock me, T'upbraid me with the benefits you have giv'n me, Which are too many, and too mighty, Sir, For my return; and I confess 'tis justice, That for my cruelty you should despise me, And I expect however you are calm now, A foyl you strive to set your cause upon, It will break out; Calista is unworthy, Coy, proud, disdainful, I acknowledge all, Colder of Comfort than the frozen North is, And more a stranger to Lisanders worth, His youth and faith, than it becomes her gratitude, I blush to grant it, yet take this along, A soveraign medicine to allay displeasure, May be an argument to bring me off too; She is married, and she is chaste; how sweet that sounds! How it perfumes all air 'tis spoken in! O dear Lisander! would you break this union? Lis. No, I adore it; let me kiss your hand, And seal the fair faith of a Gentleman on it. Cal. You are truly valiant, would it not afflict ye To have the horrid name of Coward touch you? Such is the Whore to me. Lis. I nobly thank ye; And may I be the same when I dishonour ye; This I may do again. [Kissing her hand. Cal. Ye may, and worthily; Such comforts Maids may grant with modesty, And neither make her poor nor wrong her bounty; Noble Lisander, how fond now am I of ye! I heard you were hurt. Lis. You dare not heal me, Lady? I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes! Excellent Objects kill our sight, she blinds me; The Roses in the pride of May shew pale to her; O Tyrant, Custom! and O Coward, Honour! How ye compel me to put on mine own Chains! May I not kiss ye now in superstition? For you appear a thing that I would kneel to; Let me err that way. [Kisses her. Cal. Ye shall err for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you, Among your manly sufferings, make this most, To err no farther in desire, for then, Sir, You add unto the gratitudes I owe you; And after death, your dear friends soul shall bless you. Lis. I am wondrous honest. Cal. I dare try. [Kisses. Lis. I have tasted a blessedness too great for dull mortality, Once more, and let me dye. Cal. I dare not murther, How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses! And young men flye th' embraces of fair Virgins? Come, pray sit down, but let's talk temperately. Lis. Is my dear friend abed? Cal. Yes, and asleep; Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too, Lisander, Speak not so loud. Lis. You see I am a Statue, I could not stand else as I had eaten Ice, Or took into my bloud a drowzie Poyson, And Natures noblest, brightest flame burns in me; Midnight? and I stand quietly to behold it so? The Alarm rung, and I sleep like a Coward? I am worn away, my faith, my dull obedience Like Crutches, carry my decayed Body Down to the Grave, I have no youth within me, Yet happily you love too. Cal. Love with honour. Lis. Honour? what's that? 'tis but a specious title We should not prize too high. Cal. Dearer than life. Lis. The value of it is as time hath made it, And time and custome have too far insulted, We are no gods, to be always tyed to strictness, 'Tis a presumption to shew too like 'em; March but an hour or two under Loves Ensigns, We have Examples of great memories— Cal. But foul ones too, that greatness cannot cover, That Wife that by Example sins, sins double, And pulls the Curtain open to her shame too; Methinks to enjoy you thus— Lis. 'Tis no joy, Lady, A longing Bride if she stop here, would cry, The Bridegroom too, and with just cause curse Hymen; But yield a little, be one hour a Woman, (I do not speak this to compel you, Lady) And give your Will but motion, let it stir But in the taste of that weak fears call evil, Try it to understand it, we'll do nothing, You'll ne'r come to know pure good else. Cal. Fie, Sir. Lis. I have found a way, let's slip into this errour As Innocents, that know not what we did; As we were dreaming both, let us embrace; The sin is none of ours then, but our fancies; What have I said? what blasphemy to honour? O my base thoughts! pray ye take this and shoot me. My Villain thoughts! [Noise within. Cal. I weep your miseries, and would to heaven—what noise? Lis. It comes on louder. Kill me, and save your self; save your fair honour, And lay the fault on me, let my life perish, My base lascivious life, shoot quickly, Lady. Cal. Not for the World, retire behind the hangings, And there stand close—my husband, close, Lisander.

Clean. Dearest, are you well? Cal. O my sad heart, my head, my head. Clean. Alas, poor soul! what do you do out of your bed? You take cold, my Calista; how do ye? Cal. Not so well, Sir, to lie by ye, my Brothers fright— Clean. I had a frightful dream too, A very frightful dream, my best Calista; Methought there came a Dragon to your Chamber, A furious Dragon (Wife) I yet shake at it; Are all things well? Lis. Shall I shoot him? Cal. No, all well, Sir, 'Twas but your care of me, your loving care, Which always watches. Clean. And methought he came As if he had risen thus out of his Den, As I do from these Hangings. Lis. Dead. Cal. Hold, good Sir. Clean. And forc'd ye in his arms thus. Cal. 'Twas but fancy That troubled ye, here's nothing to disturb me, Good Sir, to rest again, and I am now drowzie, And will to bed; make no noise, dear Husband, But let me sleep; before you can call any body, I am abed. Clean. This, and sweet rest dwell with ye. [Exit. Cal. Come out again, and as you love, Lisander, Make haste away, you see his mind is troubled; Do you know the door ye came in at? Lis. Well, sweet Lady. Cal. And can ye hit it readily? Lis. I warrant ye; And must I go? Must here end all my happiness? Here in a dream, as if it had no substance? Cal. For this time, friend, or here begin our ruins; We are both miserable. Lis. This is some comfort In my afflictions; they are so full already, They can find no encrease. Cal. Dear, speak no more. Lis. You must be silent then. Cal. Farewel, Lisander, thou joy of man, farewel. Lis. Farewel, bright Lady, Honour of woman-kind, a heavenly blessing. Cal. Be ever honest. Lis. I will be a dog else; The vertues of your mind I'll make my Library, In which I'll study the celestial beauty; Your Constancy, my Armour that I'll fight in; And on my Sword your Chastity shall sit, Terrour to rebel bloud. Cal. Once more, farewel; [Noise within. O that my modesty cou'd hold you still, Sir—he comes again. Lis. Heaven keep my hand from murther, Murther of him I love. Cal. Away, dear friend, Down to the Garden stairs, that way, Lisander, We are betray'd else.

Lis. Honour guard the innocent. [Exit Lisander. Clean. Still up? I fear'd your health. Cal. 'Has miss'd him happily; I am going now, I have done my meditations, My heart's almost at peace. Clean. To my warm Bed then. Cal. I will, pray ye lead. [A Pistol shot within. Clean. A Pistol shot i'th' house? At these hours? sure some thief, some murtherer; Rise, ho! rise all, I am betray'd. Cal. O Fortune! O giddy thing! he has met some opposition, And kill'd; I am confounded, lost for ever.

Dor. Now, what's the matter? Clean. Thieves, my noble Father, Villains and Rogues. Dor. Indeed! I heard a Pistol, let's search about.

Mal. To bed again, they are gone, Sir, I will not bid you thank my valour for't; Gone at the Garden door; there were a dozen, And bravely arm'd, I saw 'em. Clar. I am glad, glad at the heart. Serv. One shot at me, and miss'd me. Mal. No, 'twas at me, the Bullet flew close by me, Close by my ear; another had a huge Sword, Flourish'd it thus; but at the point I met him, But the Rogue taking me to be your Lordship, (As sure your Name is terrible, and we Not much unlike in the dark) roar'd out aloud, 'Tis the kill-Crow, Dorilaus, and away They ran as they had flown; now you must love me, Or fear me for my Courage, Wench. Clar. O Rogue! O lying Rogue, Lisander stumbled, Madam, At the Stairs-head, and in the fall the shot went off; Was gone before they rose. Cal. I thank Heaven for't. Clar. I was frighted too, it spoil'd my game with Leon. Cle. You must sit up; and they had come to your Chamber What pranks would they have plaid! how came the door open? Ma. I heard 'em when they forc'd it; up I rose, Took Durindana in my hand; and like Orlando, issu'd forth. Clar. I know you are valiant. Clean. To bed again, And be you henceforth provident, at sun-rising We must part for a while. Dor. When you are a bed, Take leave of her, there 'twill be worth the taking; Here 'tis but a cold Ceremony, ere long We'll find Lisander, or we have ill-fortune. Clean. Lock all the doors fast. Mal. Though they all stood open, My name writ on the door, they dare not enter. [Exeunt.

Clar. Turn'd Hermit? Fry. Yes, and a devout one too; I heard him preach. Clar. That lessens my belief, For though I grant my Lidian a Scholar, As far as fits a Gentleman, he hath studied Humanity, and in that he is a Master; Civility of manners, Courtship, Arms; But never aim'd at (as I could perceive) The deep points of Divinity. Fry. That confirms his Devotion to be real, no way tainted With ostentation, or hyp[ocr]isie, The cankers of Religion; his Sermon So full of gravity, and with such sweetness Deliver'd, that it drew the admiration Of all the hearers on him; his own Letters To you, which witness he will leave the World, And these to fair Olinda, his late Mistriss, In which he hath with all the moving language That ever express'd Rhetorick, solicited The Lady to forget him, and make you Blessed in her embraces, may remove All scrupulous doubts. Clar. It strikes a sadness in me. I know not what to think of 't. Fry. Ere he entred His solitary Cell, he pen'd a Ditty, His long, and last farewel to Love and Women, So feelingly, that I confess however It stands not with my order to be taken With such poetical Raptures; I was mov'd, And strangely with it. Clar. Have you the Copy? Fry. Yes, Sir; My Novice too can sing it, if you please To give him hearing. Clar. And it will come timely, For I am full of melancholy thoughts, Against which I have heard with reason Musick To be the speediest cure, 'pray you apply it.

Adieu fond love, farewel you wanton powers, I am free again; Thou dull Disease of bloud, and idle hours; Bewitching pain, Flye to the Fools that sigh away their time, My nobler love to Heaven doth climb, And there behold Beauty still young, That Time can ne'r corrupt, nor Death destroy; Immortal sweetness by fair Angels sung, And honour'd by Eternity and Joy: There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire, Fond love declines, this heavenly [love] grows higher. Fri. How do ye approve it? Clar. To its due desert, It is a Heavenly Hymn, no ditty Father, It passes through my ears unto my soul, And works divinely on it; give me leave A little to consider; shall I be Outdone in all things? nor good of my self, Nor by example? shall my loose hope still, The viands of a fond affection, feed me As I were a sensual beast? spiritual food Refus'd by my sick palat? 'tis resolv'd. How far off Father, doth this new made Hermit Make his abode? Fri. Some two dayes journey Son. Clar. Having reveal'd my fair intentions to ye, I hope your piety will not deny me Your aids to further 'em? Fri. That were against a good mans charity. Clar. My first request is, You would some time, for reasons I will shew you, Defer delivery of Lidians Letters To fair Olinda. Fri. Well Sir. Clar. For what follows, You shall direct me; something I will do, A new born zeal, and friendship prompts me to. [Ex.

Clea. We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready, We must be stirring early. Cham. They are made Sir. Dor. I cannot sleep yet, where's the jovial host You told me of? 'thas been my custom ever To parley with mine host. Clea. He's a good fellow, And such a one I know you love to laugh with; Go call your Master up. Cham. He cannot come Sir. Dor. Is he a bed with his wife? Cham. No certainly. Dor. Or with some other guests? Cham. Neither and't like ye. Clea. Why then he shall come by your leave my friend, I'le fetch him up my self. Cham. Indeed you'l fail Sir. Dor. Is he i'th' house? Cham. No, but he is hard by Sir; He is fast in's grave, he has been dead these three weeks. Dor. Then o' my conscience he will come but lamely, And discourse worse. Clean. Farewel mine honest Host then, Mine honest merry Host; will you to bed yet? Dor. No, not this hour, I prethee sit and chat by me. Clean. Give us a quart of wine then, we'l be merry. Dor. A match my Son; pray let your wine be living, Or lay it by your Master. Cham. It shall be quick Sir. [Exit. Dor. Has not mine Host a wife? [Clean.] A good old woman. Dor. Another coffin, that is not so handsom; Your Hostesses in Innes should be blith things, Pretty, and young to draw in passengers; She'l never fill her beds well, if she be not beauteous. Clean. And courteous too.

Dor. I, I, and a good fellow, That will mistake sometimes a Gentleman For her good man; well done; here's to Lisander. Clean. My full love meets it; make fire in our lodgings, We'l trouble thee no farther; to your Son. [Ex. Cham. Dor. Put in Clarange too; off with't, I thank ye; This wine drinks merrier still, O for mine Host now, Were he alive again, and well dispos'd, I would so claw his pate. Clean. Y'are a hard drinker. Dor. I love to make mine Host drunk, he will lye then The rarest, and the roundest, of his friends, His quarrels, and his guests, and they are the best bauds too, Take 'em in that tune. Clean. You know all. Dor. I did Son, but time, and arms have worn me out. Clea. 'Tis late Sir, I hear none stirring. [A lute is struck. Dor. Hark, what's that, a Lute? 'Tis at the door I think. Clean. The doors are shut fast. Dor. 'Tis morning sure, the Fiddlers are got up To fright mens sleeps, have we ne're a pispot ready? Clean. Now I remember, I have heard mine Host that's dead Touch a lute rarely, and as rarely sing too, A brave still mean. Dor. I would give a brace of French Crowns To see him rise and Fiddle—Hark, a Song.

'Tis late and cold, stir up the fire; Sit close, and draw the Table nigher; Be merry, and drink wine that's old, A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold. Your bed of wanton down's the best, Where you shall tumble to your rest; I could wish you wenches too, But I am dead and cannot do; Call for the best the house may ring, Sack, White, and Claret let them bring, And drink apace while breath you have, You'l find but cold drink in the grave; Plover, Partridge for your dinner, And a Capon for the sinner, You shall find ready when you are up, And your horse shall have his sup: Welcom welcom shall flye round, And I shall smile though under ground.

Clean. Now as I live, it is his voice. Dor. He sings well, the Devil has a pleasant pipe. Clean. The fellow lyed sure.

He is not dead, he's here: how pale he looks! Dor. Is this he? Clean. Yes. Host. You are welcom noble Gentlemen, My brave old guest most welcom. Clean. Lying knaves, To tell us you were dead, come sit down by us, We thank ye for your Song. Host. Would 't had been better. Dor. Speak, are ye dead? Host. Yes indeed am I Gentlemen, I have been dead these three weeks. Dor. Then here's to ye, to comfort your cold body. Clean. What do ye mean? stand further off. Dor. I will stand nearer to him, Shall he come out on's coffin to bear us company, And we not bid him welcom? come mine Host, Mine honest Host, here's to ye. Host. Spirits Sir, drink not. Clea. Why do ye appear? Host. To wait upon ye Gentlemen, 'Thas been my duty living, now my farewel; I fear ye are not us'd accordingly. Dor. I could wish you warmer company mine Host, How ever we are us'd. Host. Next to entreat a courtesie, And then I go to peace. Clea. Is't in our power? Host. Yes and 'tis this, to see my body buried In holy ground, for now I lye unhallowed, By the clarks fault; let my new grave be made Amongst good fellows, that have died before me, And merry Hostes of my kind. Clea. It shall be done. Dor. And forty stoops of wine drank at thy funeral. Clea. Do you know our travel? Host. Yes, to seek your friends, That in afflictions wander now. Clean. Alas! Host. Seek 'em no farther, but be confident They shall return in peace. Dor. There's comfort yet. Clea. Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host, Answer me softly, some hours before my death, To give me warning? Host. I cannot tell ye truly, But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye, I will appear again, adieu. [Exit. Dor. Adieu, Sir. Cle. I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are For the most part fatal. Dor. This if told, will not Find credit, the light breaks apace, let's lie down And take some little rest, an hour or two, Then do mine host's desire, and so return, I do believe him. Clean. So do I, to rest, Sir. [Exeunt.

Cal. Clarinda? Clarin. Madam. Cal. Is the house well ordered? The doors look'd to now in your Masters absence? Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants? Clarin. I am stirring, Madam. Cal. So thou art, Clarinda, More than thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush? Clarin. I do not blush. Cal. Why dost thou hang thy head wench? Clarin. Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright, I understand ye not: she has spied Leon, [Aside. Shame of his want of caution. Cal. Look on me; what, blush again? Clarin. 'Tis more than I know, Madam; I have no cause that I find yet. Cal. Examine then. Clarin. Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me. Cal. Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night? What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye. Clarin. Madam, they did. Cal. 'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then, And wore a sword; and sure I keep no Amazons; Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty; Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives, They draw offences nearer still, and greater: Come, tell the truth. Clarin. You are the strangest Lady To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd, Madam? And which of all my careful services deserves these shames? Cal. Leave facing, 'twill not serve ye, This impudence becomes thee worse than lying. I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of't; But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts; who was't? Honest repentance yet will make the fault less. Clarin. Do ye compel me? do you stand so strict too? Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore, Madam, (Since ye provoke me) will but vex your Ladyship; Let me alone. Cal. I will know. Clarin. For your own peace, The peace of your own conscience ask no farther; Walk in, and let me alone. Cal. No, I will know all. Clar. Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with, Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam, And usual too, a proper man I lay with; Why should you vex at that? young as Lisander, And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure, Why should you stir at mine? I steal none from ye. Cal. And dost thou glory in this sin? Cla. I am glad on't, to glory in't is for a mighty Lady That may command. Cal. Why didst thou name Lisander? Clari. Does it anger ye? does it a little gall ye? I know it does, why would ye urge me Lady? Why would ye be so curious to compel me? I nam'd Lisander as my president, The rule I err'd by, you love him, I know it, I grudg'd not at it, but am pleas'd it is so; And by my care and diligence you enjoy'd him, Shall I for keeping counsel, have no comfort? Will you have all your self? ingross all pleasure Are ye so hard hearted? why do ye blush now, Madam? Cal. My anger blushes, not my shame, base woman. Clari. I'le make your shame blush, since you put me to't. Who lay with you t'other night? Cal. With me? ye monster. Clari. Whose sweet embraces circled ye? not your husbands; I wonder ye dare touch me in this point, Madam? Stir her against ye in whose hand your life lies? More than your life, your honour? what smug Amazon Was that I brought you? that maid had ne're a petticoat? Cal. She'l half perswade me anon, I am a beast too, And I mistrust my self, though I am honest For giving her the Helm, thou knowest, Clarinda, (Ev'n in thy conscience) I was ever vertuous; As far from lust in meeting with Lisander, As the pure wind in welcoming the morning; In all the co[n]versation I had with him, As free, and innocent, as yon fair Heaven; Didst not thou perswade me too? Clarin. Yes, I had reason for't, And now you are perswaded I'le make use on't. Cal. If I had sin'd thus, and my youth entic'd me, The nobleness and beauty of his person, Beside the mighty benefits I am bound to, Is this sufficient warrant for thy weakness? If I had been a whore, and crav'd thy counsel In the conveyance of my fault and faithfulness, Thy secrecie, and truth in hiding of it; Is it thy justice to repay me thus? To be the Master sinner to compel me? And build thy lusts security on mine honour? Cla. They that love this sin, love their security; Prevention, Madam, is the nail I knock'd at, And I have hit it home, and so I'le hold it, And you must pardon me, and be silent too, And suffer what ye see, and suffer patiently; I shall do worse else. Cal. Thou canst not touch my credit: Truth will not suffer me to be abus'd thus. Clarin. Do not you stick to truth, she is seldom heard, Madam, A poor weak tongue she has, and that is hoarse too With pleading at the bars, none understand[s] her, Or if you had her, what can she say for ye? Must she not swear he came at midnight to ye, The door left open, and your husband cozen'd With a feign'd sickness? Cal. But by my soul I was honest, thou know'st I was honest. Clarin. That's all one what I know, What I will testifie is that shall vex ye; Trust not a guilty rage with likelihoods, And on apparent proof, take heed of that, Madam; If you were innocent (as it may be ye are) I do not know, I leave it to your conscience, It were the weakest and the poorest part of ye, Men being so willing to believe the worst, So open eyed in this age to all infamie, To put your fame in this weak bark to the venture. Cal. What do I suffer! O my precious honour, Into what box of evils have I lock'd thee! Yet rather than be thus outbrav'd, and by My drudg, my footstool, one that sued to be so; Perish both life, and honour. Devil thus I dare thy worst, defie thee, spit at thee, And in my vertuous rage, thus trample on thee; Awe me thy Mistris, whore, to be thy baud? Out of my house, proclaim all that thou knowest, Or malice can invent, fetch jealousie From Hell, and like a furie breath it in The bosom of my Lord; and to thy utmost Blast my fair fame, yet thou shalt feel with horror To thy sear'd conscience, my truth is built On such a firm base, that if e're it can Be forc'd, or undermin'd by thy base scandals, Heaven keeps no guard on innocence. [Exit. Clarin. I am lost, In my own hopes forsaken, and must fall The greatest torment to a guilty woman Without revenge, till I can fashion it I must submit, at least appear as if I did repent, and would offend no farther. Monsieur Beronte my Lords Brother is Oblig'd unto me for a private favour; 'Tis he must mediate for me; but when time And opportunity bids me strike, my wreak Shall pour it self on her nice chastitie Like to a torrent, deeds, not words shall speak me. [Exit.

Alci. Ye are opportunely [m]et. Ber. Your countenance expresses hast mixt with some fear. Alci. You'l share with me in both, as soon as you are made Acquainted with the cause, if you love vertue, In danger not secure; I have no time For circumstance, instruct me if Lisander Be in your Brothers house? Ber. Upon my knowledge he is not there. Alci. I am glad on't. Ber. Why good Sir? (Without offence I speak it) there's no place In which he is more honour'd, or more safe, Than with his friend Cleander. Alci. In your votes I grant it true, but as it now stands with him, I can give reason to make satisfaction For what I speak; you cannot but remember The ancient difference between Lisander And Cloridon, a man in grace at Court? Ber. I do; and the foul plot of Cloridons kinsman Upon Lisanders life, for a fall given to Cloridon 'Fore the King, as they encountred at a solemn tilting. Alci. It is now reveng'd: In brief, a challenge was brought to Lisander By one Chrysant[h]es; and as far as valour Would give him leave, declin'd by bold Lisander: But peace refus'd, and braves on braves heap'd on him, Alone he met the opposites, ending the quarrel With both their lives. Ber. I am truly sorry for't. Alci. The King incensed for his favorites death, Hath set a price upon Lisanders head, As a reward to any man that brings it Alive, or dead; to gain this, every where He is pursu'd, and laid for; and the friendship Between him and your noble Brother known, His house in reason cannot pass unsearcht, And that's the principal cause that drew me hither, To hasten his remove, if he had chosen This Castle for his sanctuary. Ber. 'Twas done nobly, And you most welcom; this night pray you take A lodging with us; and at my intreaty Conceal this from my Brother, he is grown Exceeding sad of late; and the hard fortune Of one he values at so high a rate, Will much encrease his melancholy. Alci. I am tutor'd: pray you lead the way. Ber. To serve you I will shew it. [Exeunt.

Cle. Nothing more certain than to dye, but when Is most uncertain: if so, every hour We should prepare us for the journey, which Is not to be put off, I must submit To the divine decree, not argue it, And chearfully I welcom it: I have Dispos'd of my estate, confess'd my sins, And have remission from my Ghost[l]y Father, Being at peace too here: the apparition Proceeded not from fancy, Dorilaus Saw it, and heard it with me, it made answer To our demands, and promis'd, if 'twere not Deny'd to him by fate, he would forewarn me Of my approaching end, I feel no symptome Of sickness, yet I know not how a dulness Invades me all over. Ha?

Host. I come Sir, To keep my promise; and as far as spirits Are sensible of sorrow for the living, I grieve to be the messenger to tell you, E're many hours pass, you must resolve To fill a grave. Cle. And feast the worms? Host. Even so Sir. Clea. I hear it like a man. Host. It well becomes you, there's no evading it. Cle. Can you discover by whose means I must dye? Host. That is deny'd me: But my prediction is too sure; prepare To make your peace with heaven. So farewel Sir. [Ex. Cle. I see no enemy near; and yet I tremble Like a pale coward: my sad doom pronounc'd By this aerial voice, as in a glass Shews me my death in its most dreadfull shape. What rampire can my humane frailty raise Against the assault of fate? I do begin To fear my self, my inward strengths forsake me, I must call out for help. Within there? haste, And break in to my rescue. Enter Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda, Beronte, Alcidon, Servants, and Clarinda, at several doors. Dor. Rescue? where? shew me your danger. Cal. I will interpose My loyall breast between you and all hazard. Ber. Your Brothers Sword secures you. Alci. A true friend will dye in your defence. Clean. I thank ye, To all my thanks. Encompass'd thus with friends How can I fear? and yet I do, I am wounded, Mortally wounded: nay it is within, I am hurt in my minde: One word— Dor. A thousand. Cle. I shall not live to speak so many to you. Dor. Why? what forbids you? Cle. But even now the spirit Of my dead Host appear'd, and told me, that This night I should be with him: did you not meet it? It went out at that door. Dor. A vain Chimera Of your imagination: can you think Mine Host would not as well have spoke to me now, As he did in the Inn? these waking dreams Not alone trouble you, but strike a strange Distraction in your Family: see the tears Of my poor Daughter, fair Olinda's sadness, Your Brothers, and your friends grief, servants sorrow. Good Son bear up, you have many years to live A comfort to us all: let's in to supper; Ghosts never walk till after mid-night, if I may believe my Grannam. We will wash These thoughts away with Wine, spight of Hobgoblins. Cle. You reprehend me justly: gentle Madam, And all the rest, forgive me, I'le endeavour To be merry with you. Dor. That's well said. Beron. I have procur'd your pardon. Cal. Once more I receive you Into my service: but take especial care You fall no further. Clar. Never Madam: Sir, When you shall find fit time to call me to it, I will make good what I have said. Ber. Till when, upon your life be silent. Dor. We will have a health unto Lisander. Cle. His name, Sir, Somewhat revives me; but his sight would cure me. How ever let's to supper. Olin. Would Clarange And Lidian were here too, as they should be, If wishes cou'd prevail. Cal. They are fruitless, Madam. [Ex.

Leon. If that report speak truth, Clarinda is Discharg'd her Ladies service, and what burthen I then have drawn upon me is apparent, The crop she reapt from her attendance was Her best Revenue, and my principal means Clarinda's bounty, though I labour'd hard for't, A younger Brother's fortune: must I now Have soure sawce after sweet meats? and be driv'n To leavie half a Crown a week, besides Clouts, Sope, and Candles, for my heir Apparent, If she prove, as she swears she is with child; Such as live this way, find like me, though wenching Hath a fair face, there's a Dragon in the tail of't That stings to th' quick. I must skulk here, until I am resolv'd: how my heart pants between My hopes and fears! she's come; are we in the Port? If not, let's sink together.

Clar. Things go better Than you deserve; you carry things so openly, I must bear every way, I am once more In my Ladies grace. Leon. And I in yours. Clar. It may be; but I have sworn unto my Lady never To sin again. Leon. To be surpriz'd—the sin Is in it self excusable; to be taken Is a crime, as the Poet writes. Clar. You know my weakness, And that makes you so confident. You have got A fair sword; was it not Lisanders? Leon. Yes Wench, And I grown valiant by the wearing of it: It hath been the death of two. With this Lisander Slew Clor[id]on, and Chrysanthes. I took it up, Broken in the handle, but that is reform'd, And now in my possession; the late Master Dares never come to challenge it: this sword, And all the weapons that I have, are ever Devoted to thy service: Shall we bill? I am very gamesome. Clar. I must first dispose of The fool Malfort; he hath smoak'd you, and is not, But by some new device to be kept from me: I have it here shall fit him: you know where You must expect me, with all possible silence Get thither. Leon. You will follow? Clar. Will I live? She that is forfeited to lust must dye, That humour being unfed; begone, here comes [Exit Le.

My champion in Armour. Malf. What adventure I am bound upon I know not, but it is My Mistresses pleasure that I should appear thus. I may perhaps be terrible to others, But as I am, I am sure my shadow frights me, The clashing of my Armour in my ears, Sounds like a passing-bell; and my Buckler, puts me In mind of a Bier; this my broad Sword a pick-axe To dig my grave: O love, abominable love, What Monsters issue from thy dismal den, Clarinda's placket, which I must encounter, Or never hope to enter? Clar. Here's a Knight errant, Monsieur Malfort. Malf. Stand, stand, or I'le fall for ye. Clar. Know ye not my voice? Malf. Yes, 'twas at that I trembl'd. But were my false friend Leon here— Clar. 'Tis he. Malf. Where? where? Clar. He is not come yet. Malf. 'Tis well for him, I am so full of wrath. Clar. Or fear—This Leon, How e're my Kinsman, hath abus'd you grosly, And this night vowes to take me hence perforce, And marry me to another: 'twas for this, (Presuming on your love) I did entreat you To put your armour on, that with more safety You might defend me. Mal. And I'le do it bravely. Clar. You must stand here to beat him off, and suffer No humane thing to pass you, though it appear In my Lords shape, or Ladies: be not cozen'd With a disguise. Mal. I have been fool'd already, but now I am wise. Clar. You must swear not to stir hence. Mal. Upon these lips. Clar. Nor move untill I call you? Mal. I'le grow here rather. Clar. This nights task well ended, I am yours to morrow. Keep sure guard. [Exit Clar. Malf. Adieu; My honey-comb how sweet thou art, did not A nest of Hornets keep it! what impossibilities Love makes me undertake! I know my self A natural Coward, and should Leon come, Though this were Cannon proof, I should deliver The wench before he ask'd her. I hear some footing: 'Tis he; where shall I hide my self? that is My best defence.

Cle. I cannot sleep, strange visions Make this poor life, I fear'd of late to lose, A toy that I grow weary of. Malf. 'Tis Leon. Cle. What's that? Malf. If you are come, Sir, for Clarinda; I am glad I have her for you; I resign My interest; you'll find her in her Chamber, I did stay up to tell you so. Clean. Clarinda, and Leon! There is something more in this Than I can stay to ask. [Exit. Malf. What a cold pickle (And that none of the sweetest) do I find My poor self in! Clean. [Speaks within.] Yield villain.

Clar. 'Tis my Lord, Shift for your self. Leon. His life Shall first make answer [Kills Cleander. For this intrusion. Malf. I am going away, I am gone already. [Falls in a swoon. Clean. Heaven take mercy on My soul; too true presaging Host. Clar. He's dead, And this wretch little better: Do you stare upon your Handy-work? Leon. I am amaz'd. Clar. Get o're the Garden wall, flye for your life, But leave your sword behind; enquire not why: I'le fashion something out of it, though I perish, Shall make way for revenge. Leon. These are the fruits Of lust, Clarinda.

Clar. Hence, repenting Milk-sop. [Exit Leon. Now 'tis too late. Lisanders sword, I that, That is the Base I'le build on. So, I'le raise The house. Help, murther, a most horrid Murther. Monsieur Beronte, noble Dorilaus, All buried in sleep? Aye me a murther, A most unheard-of murther.

Dor. More lights Knaves; Beronte, Alcidon; more lights.

Clar. By this I see too much. Dor. My Son Cleander bathing In his own gore. The Devil, to tell truth, i'th' shape of An Host! Ber. My Brother? Malf. I have been I'th' other world, in Hell I think, these Devils With fire-brands in their paws sent to torment me, Though I never did the deed, for my lewd purpose To be a Whore-master. Dor. Who's that? Alci. 'Tis one in Armour. A bloudy sword in his hand. Dor. Sans question the murtherer. Malf. Who I? you do me wrong, I never had the heart to kill a Chicken; Nor do I know this sword. Alc. I do, too well. Ber. I have seen Lisander wear it. Clar. This confirms What yester-night I whisper'd: let it work, The circumstance may make it good. Malf. My Lord? and I his murtherer? Ber. Drag the villain hence, The Rack shall force a free confession from him. Malf. I am struck dumb; You need not stop my mouth. Ber. Away with him. [Exit with Malfort.

Cal. Where is my Lord? Dor. All that Remains of him lies there: look on this object, And then turn marble. Cal. I am so already, Made fit to be his Monument: but wherefore Do you, that have both life and motion left you, Stand sad spectators of his death. And not bring forth his murtherer? Ber. That lies in you: you must, and shall produce him. Dor. She, Beronte? Ber. None else. Dor. Thou ly'st, I'le prove it on thy head, Or write it on thy heart. Alc. Forbear, there is Too much blood shed already. Ber. Let not choler Stifle your judgment; many an honest Father Hath got a wicked Daughter. If I prove not With evident proofs her hand was in the bloud Of my dear Brother, (too good a Husband for her) Give your revenge the reins, and spur it forward. Dor. In any circumstance but shew her guilty, I'le strike the first stroak at her. Ber. Let me ask A question calmly: do you know this Sword? Have you not seen Lisander often wear it? Dor. The same with which he rescued me. Cal. I do, what inference from this to make me guilty? Ber. Was he not with you in the house to-night? Cal. No on my soul. Ber. Nor ever heretofore In private with you, when you feign'd a sickness, To keep your Husband absent? Cal. Never, Sir, to a dishonest end. Ber. Was not this Woman Your instrument? her silence does confess it: Here lyes Cleander dead, and here the sword Of false Lisander, too long cover'd with A masque of seeming truth. Dor. And is this all The proof you can alledge? Lisander guilty, Or my poor Daughter an Adulteress? Suppose that she had chang'd discourse with one To whom she ow'd much more? Cal. Thou hast thy ends, wicked Clarinda. [She falls. Oli. Help, the Lady sinks, malice hath kill'd her. Dor. I would have her live, Since I dare swear she's innocent: 'tis no time Or place to argue now: this cause must be Decided by the Judge; and though a Father, I will deliver her into the hands Of Justice. If she prove true gold when try'd, She's mine: if not, with curses I'le disclaim her: Take up your part of sorrow, mine shall be Ready to answer with her life the fact That she is charg'd with. Ber. Sir, I look upon you as on a Father. Dor. With the eyes of sorrow I see you as a Brother: let your witnesses Be ready. Ber. 'Tis my care. Alc. I am for Lidian. This accident no doubt will draw him from His Hermits life. Clar. Things yet go right, persist, Sir. [Exeunt.