THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN. A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Monsieur Marine, the Noble Gent. but none of the wisest. Jaques, an old servant to Marine's family. Clerimont, a Gull, Cosin to Monsieur Marine. A Gentleman, Servant to Marine's wife. Lo[n]gueville, } two Courtiers that plot to abuse Marine. Beaufort, Shattillion, a Lord, mad for Love. Doctor. Page. Gentlemen. Servants. Duke.

WOMEN.

Marine's Wife, a witty wanton. Clerimont's Wife, a simple countrey Gentlewoman. Shattillion's Mistriss, a virtuous Virgin. Maria, Servant to Marine's wife.

The Scene France.

PROLOGUE.

Wit is become an Antick, and puts on As many shapes of variation, To court the times applause, as the times dare, Change several fashions, nothing is thought rare Which is not new, and follow'd, yet we know That what was worn some twenty years agoe, Comes into grace again, and we pursue That custom, by presenting to your view A Play in fashion then, not doubting now But 'twill appear the same, if you allow Worth to their noble memory, whose name, Beyond all power of death, live in their fame.

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Gentleman a[n]d Jaques.

Gent. What happiness waits on the life at Court, What dear content, greatness, delight and ease! What ever-springing hopes, what tides of honor! That raise their fortunes to the height of wishes! What can be more in man, what more in nature, Than to be great and fear'd? A Courtier, A noble Courtier, 'Tis a name that draws Wonder and duty from all eyes and knees. Jaq. And so your Worships Land within the Walls, Where you shall have it all inclos'd, and sure. Gent. Peace knave; dull creature, bred of sweat and smoke, These mysteries are far above thy faith: But thou shalt see— Jaq. And then I shall believe; Your fair revenues, turn'd into fair suits; I shall believe your Tenant's bruis'd and rent Under the weight of Coaches, all your state Drawn through the streets in triumph, suits for places Plied with a Mine of Gold, and being got Fed with a great stream. I shall believe all this. Gent. You shall believe, and know me glorious. Cosin, good day and health.

Enter Cosin.

Cosin. The same to you, Sir, And more, without my wishes, could you know What calm content dwels in a private house: Yet look into your self, retire: this place Of promises, and protestations, fits Minds only bent [t]o ruin, you should know this, You have their language perfect, you have tutors I do not doubt, sufficient: but beware. Gent. You are merry Cosin: Cosin. Yet your patience, You shall learn that too, but not like it self, Where it is held a virtue; tell me Sir, Have you cast up your State, rated your Land, And find it able to endure the change Of time and fashion? is it always harvest? Always vintage? have you Ships at Sea, To bring you Gold and Stone from rich Peru, Monthly returning Treasure? doth the King Open his large Exchequer to your hands And bid ye be a great man? can your wife Coin off her beauty? or the week allow Suits to each day? and know no ebb in honor? If these be possible, and can hold out, Then be a Courtier still, and still be wasting. Gent. Cosin, pray give me leave: Cos. I have done. Gent. I could requite your gall, and in a strain As bitter, and as full of Rubarb, preach Against your Countrey life, but 'tis below me And only subject to my pitty, know The eminent Court, to them that can be wise, And fasten on her blessings, is a Sun That draws men up from course and earthly Being, I mean these men of merit that have power And reason to make good her benefits, Learns them a manly boldness, gives their tongues Sweetness of Language, makes them apt to please; Files of all rudeness, and uncivil haviour, Shews them as neat in carriage, as in cloaths; Cosin, have you ever seen the Court? Cos. No Sir, Nor am I yet in travel with that longing. Gent. Oh the state and greatness of that place Where men are found Only to give the first creation glory! Those are the models of the antient world Left like the Roman Statues to stir up Our following hopes, the place it self puts on The brow of Majesty, and flings her lustre Like the air newly light'ned; Form, and Order, Are only there themselves, unforc'd, and sound, As they were first created to this place. Cos. You nobly came, but will goe from thence base. Gent. 'Twas very pretty, and a good conceit; You have a wit good Cosin, I do joy in't, Keep it for Court: but to my self again, When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes, And with some taste of superstition, Look'd on the wealth of Nature, the fair dames, Beauties, that light the Court, and make it shew Like a fair heaven, in a frosty night: And 'mongst these mine, not poorest, 'tis for tongues Of blessed Poets, such as Orpheus was, To give their worth and praises; Oh dear Cosin: You have a wife, and fair, bring her hither, Let her not live to be the Mistriss of a Farmers heir And be confin'd ever to a searge, Far courser than my horse-cloth. Let her have Velvets, Tiffinies, Jewels, Pearls, A Coach, an Usher, and her two Lacquies, And I will send my wife to give her rules, And read the rudiments of Court to her. Cos. Sir, I had rather send her to Virginia To help to propagate the English Nation.

Enter Servant.

Gent. Sirrah, how slept your Mistriss, and what visitants Are to pay service? Serv. As I came out, Two Counts were newly ent'red. Gent. This is greatness, But few such servants wait a Countrey beauty. Cos. They are the more to thank their modesty, God keep my Wife, and all my Issue Female From such uprisings.

Enter a Doctor.

Gent. What? my learned Doctor? You will be welcome, give her health and youth And I will give you gold. [Exit Doctor. Cosin, how savors this? is it not sweet And very great, tasts it not of Nobleness? Cos. Faith Sir, my pallat is too dull and lazie I cannot taste it, 'tis not for my relish, But be so still. Since your own misery must first reclaim ye, To which I leave you, Sir, If you will, yet be happy, leave the humor And base subjection to your Wife, be wise, And let her know with speed, you are her Husband, I shall be glad to hear it. My horse is sent for. [Exit. Gent. Even such another countrey thing as this Was I, such a piece of dirt, so heavy, So provident to heap up ignorance, And be an ass: such musty cloaths wore I, So old and thred-bare, I do yet remember Divers young Gallants lighting at my Gate, To see my honoured Wife, have offered pence, And bid me walk their horses, such a slave Was I in shew then: but my eyes are open'd.

Enter Gent. Wife.

Many sweet morrows to my worthy Wife. Wife. 'Tis well, and aptly given, as much for you, But to my present business, which is money— Gent. Lady, I have none left. Wife. I hope you dare not say so, nor imagine so base and low, A thought: I have none left? Are these words fitting for a man of worth, And one of your full credit? Do you know The place you live in? me? and what I labour For, you? and your advancement? Gent. Yes my dearest. Wife. And do you pop me off with this slight answer, In troth I have none left? in troth you must have; Nay stare not, 'tis most true, send speedily To all that love you, let your people flye Like thunder, through the City, And not return under five thousand Crowns. Try all, take all, let not a [wealthy] Merchant be untempted Or any one that hath the name of Money, Take up at any Use, give Band, or Land, Or mighty Statutes, able by their strength, To tye up Sampson, were he now alive, There must be money gotten; for be perswaded, If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink, Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin, And then good night to all, (but our disgrace) Farewel the hope of coming happiness, And all the aims we levied at so long. Are ye not mov'd at this? no sense of want, Towards your self yet breeding? be old, And common; jaded to the eyes Of Grooms, and Pages, Chamber-maids, and Guarders, And when you have done, put your poor house in order And hang your self, for such must be the end Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin. All that I say is certain, if ye fail Do not [impute] me with it, I am clear. Gent. Now heaven forbid I should do wrong to you My dearest Wife, and Madam; yet give leave To your poor creature to unfold himself. You know my debts are many more than means, My bands not taken in, my friends at home Drawn dry with these expences, my poor Tenants More full of want than we, then what new course Can I beget, to raise those crowns by? speak, And I shall execute. Wife. Pray tell me true, Have you not Land in the Countrey? Gent. Pardon me, I had forgot it. Wife. Sir, you must remember it, There is no remedy, this Land must be, In Paris e'r to morrow night. Gent. It shall, let me consider, some 300 acres Will serve the turn. Wife. 'Twill furnish at all points, Now you speak like your self, and know like him, That means to be a man, suspect no less For the return will give ye five for one, You shall be great to morrow, I have said it. Farewel, and see this business be a-foot, With expedition. [Exit Wife. Gent. Health, all joy, and honor Wait on my lovely Wife. What? Jaques, Jaques.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq. Sir, did you call? Gent. I did so, hie thee Jaques. Down to the Bank, and there to some good Merchant (Conceive me well, good Jaques, and be private) Offer 300 acres of my Land: Say it is choice and fertile, ask upon it Five thousand Crowns, this is the business I must employ thee in, be wise and speedy. Jaq. Sir, do not do this. Gent. Knave, I must have money. Jaq. If you have money thus, your knave must tell ye You will not have a foot of Land left, be more wary, And more friend to your self, this honest Land Your Worship has discarded, has been true, And done you loyal service. Gent. Gentle Jaques, You have a merry wit, employ it well About the business you have now in hand. When ye come back, enquire me in the Presence, If not in the Tennis-Court, or at my house. [Exit. Jaq. If this vain hold, I know where to enquire ye. Five thousand Crowns! this, with good husbandry, May hold a month out, then 5000 more, And more Land a bleeding for't, as many more, And more Land laid aside. God and St. Dennis Keep honest minded young men batchelors. 'Tis strange, my Master should be yet so young A puppy, that he cannot see his fall And got so near the Sun. I'll to his Cosin. And once more tell him on't, if he fail, Then to my Mortgage, next unto my sale. [Exit.

Enter Longovile, Bewford, and the Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while, I shall return with knowledge how and where We shall have best access unto my Mistriss To tender your devotions. [Exit. Long. Be it so: Now to our first discourse. Bew. I prethee peace; Thou canst not be so bad, or make me know Such things are living, do not give thy self So common and so idle, so open vile, So great a wronger of thy worth, so low, I cannot, nor I must not credit thee. Lon. Now by this light I am a whoremaster, An open, and an excellent whormaster, And take a special glory that I am so: I thank my Stars I am a whoremaster, And such a one as dare be known and seen, And pointed at to be a noble wencher. Bew. Do not let all ears hear this, hark [y]e Sir, I am my self a whoremaster, I am Believe it Sir (in private be it spoken) I love a whore directly, most men are wenchers, And have profest the Science, few men That look upon ye now, but whoremasters, Or have a full desire to be so. Lon. This is noble. Bew. It is without all question, being private, And held as needful as intelligence, But being once discover'd, blown abroad, And known to common senses, 'tis no more Than geometrical rules in Carpenters, That only know some measure of an Art, But are not grounded: be no more deceived, I have a conscience to reclaim you, Sir. Mistake me not: I do not bid you leave your whore Or less to love her; forbid it, I should be such a villain to my friend, Or so unnatural: 'twas never harbor'd here, Learn to be secret first, then strike your Deer. Lon. Your fair instructions, Mo[n]sieur, I shall learn. Bew. And you shall have them; I desire your care. Lon. They are your servants. Bew. You must not love. Lon. How Sir? Bew. I mean a Lady, there's danger. She hath an Usher and a Waiting Gentlewoman, A Page, a Coach-man, these are fee'd and fee'd And yet for all that will be prating. Lon. So. Bew. You understand me Sir, they will discover't, And there is a loss of credit, Table-talk Will be the end of this, or worse, than that; Will this be worthy of a Gentleman? Long. Proceed good Sir. Bew. Next leave your City Dame; The best of that Tribe, are most meerly coy, Or most extreamly foolish, both which vices Are no great stirrers up, unless in Husbands That owe this Cattle, fearing her that's coy To be but seeming, her that's fool too forward. Lon. This is the rarest fellow, and the soundest, I mean in knowledge, that e'r wore a Codpiece, H'as found out that will pass all Italy, All France and England; to their shames I speak, And to the griefs of all their Gentlemen, The noble Theory of Luxury. Bew. Your patience, And I will lay before your eyes a course That I my self found out, 'tis excellent, Easie, and full of freedome. Long. O good Sir, You rack me till I know it. Bew. This it is, When your desire is up, your blood well heated And apt for sweet encounter, chuse the night, And with the night your Wench, the streets have store, There seize upon her, get her to your chamber, Give her a cardecew, 'tis royal payment; When ye are dull, dismiss her, no man knows, Nor she her self, who hath encountred her. Lon. O but their faces. Bew. Nere talke of faces: The night allows her equal with a Dutchess, Imagination doth all think her fair, And great, clapt in Velvet, she is so, Sir, I have tryed those, and do find it certain It never failes me, 'tis but twelve nights since My last experience. Lon. O my meiching Varlet, I'll fit ye as I live. 'Tis excellent, I'll be your Scholar Sir.

Enter Lady and Servant.

Wife. You are fairly welcome both: troth Gentlemen You have been strangers, I could chide you for't, And taxe ye with unkindness, What's the news? The Town was never empty of some novelty; Servant, What's your intelligence? Ser. Faith nothing. I have not heard of any worth relating. Bew. Nor I sweet Lady. Lon. Then give me attention, Monsieur Shattillion's mad. Wife. Mad? Lon. Mad as May-butter, And which is more, mad for a Wench. Lady. 'Tis strange, and full of pity. Lon. All that comes near him He thinks are come of purpose to betray him, Being full of strange conceit: the wench he loved Stood very near the Crown. Lady. Alass good Monsieur; A' was a proper man, and fair demean'd, A Person worthy of a better temper. Lon. He is strong opinion'd that the Wench he lov'd Remains close prisoner by the Kings command: Fearing her title, when the poor grieved Gentlewoman Follows him much lamenting, and much loving In hope to make him well, he knows her not, Nor any else that comes to visit him. Lady. Let's walk in Gentlemen, and there discourse His further miseries, you shall stay dinner, In truth you must obey. Om. We are your servants. [Exeunt.

Enter Couzen.

Cous. There's no good to be done, no cure to be wrought Upon my desperate Kinsman: I'll to horse And leave him to the fools whip, misery. I shall recover twenty miles this night, My horse stands ready, I'll away with speed.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. Sir, may I crave your name? Cous. Yes Sir you may: My name is Cleremont. Shat. 'Tis well, your faction? What party knit you with? Cous. I know no parties, Nor no Factions, Sir. Shat. Then weare this Cross of white: And where you see the like they are my friends, Observe them well, the time is dangerous. Cous. Sir keep your cross, I'll weare none, sure this fellow Is much beside himself, grown mad. Shat. A word Sir; You can pick nothing out of this, this cross Is nothing but a cross, a very cross, Plain, without spell, or witchcraft, search it, You may suspect, and well, there's poyson in't, Powder, or wild-fire, but 'tis nothing so. Cous. I do believe you, Sir, 'tis a plain cross. Shat. Then do your worst, I care not, tell the King, Let him know all this, as I am sure he shall; When you have spit your venome, then will I Stand up a faithful, and a loyal Subject, And so God save His Grace, this is no Treason. Cous. He is March mad, farewell Monsieur. [Exit Couzen. Shat. Farewel; I shall be here attending, 'tis my life They aime at, there's no way to save it, well Let 'em spread all their nets: they shall not draw me Into any open Treason, I can see, And can beware, I have my wits about me, I thank heaven for't.

Enter Love.

Love. There he goes, That was the fairest hope the French Court bred, The worthiest and the sweetest temper'd spirit, The truest, and the valiantest, the best of judgment, Till most unhappy I: sever'd those virtues, And turn'd his wit wild with a coy denial, Which heaven forgive me, and be pleas'd, O heaven To give again his senses: that my love May strike off all my follies. Shat. Lady. Love. I Sir. Shat. Your will with me sweet Lady. Love. Sir, I come. Shat. From the dread sovereign King, I know it Lady, He is a gracious Prince, long may he live, Pertain you to his chamber? Lov. No indeed Sir, That place is not for women, Do you know me? Shat. Yes, I do know you. Lov. What's my name? pray you speak. Shat. That's all one, I do know you and your business, You are discover'd Lady, I am wary, It stands upon my life; pray excuse me, The best man of this Kingdom sent you hither, To dive into me, have I toucht you? ha? Lov. You are deceiv'd Sir, I come from your love, That sends you fair commends, and many kisses. Shat. Alass, poor soul, How does she? Is she living? Keeps she her bed still? Lov. Still Sir, She is living, And well, and shall do so. Shat. Are ye in counsel? Lov. No Sir, nor any of my sex. Shat. Why so, If you had been in counsel, you would know, Her time to be but slender; she must die. Lov. I do believe it, Sir. Shat. And suddenly, She stands too near a fortune. Lov. Sir? Shat. 'Tis so, There is no jesting with a Princes Title, Would we had both been born of common parents, And liv'd a private and retir'd life, In homely cottage, we had then enjoyed, Our loves, and our embraces, these are things, That cannot tend to Treason— Lov. I am wretched. Shat. O I pray as often for the King as any, And with as true a heart, for's continuance, And do moreover pray his heirs may live; And their fair issues, then as I am bound For all the states and commons: if these prayers Be any wayes ambitious, I submit, And lay my head down, let 'em take it off; You may informe against me, but withall Remember my obedience to the Crown, And service to the State. Lov. Good Sir, I love ye. Shat. Then love the gracious King, and say with me. Lov. Heaven save his Grace. Shat. This is strange— A woman should be sent to undermine me, And buz love into me to try my spirit; Offer me kisses, and enticing follies, To make me open, and betray my self; It was a subtile and a dangerous plot, And very soundly followed, farewel Lady, Let me have equal hearing, and relate I am an honest Man. Heaven save the King. [Exit. Love. I'll never leave him, till, by art or prayer, I have restor'd his senses, If I make Him perfect Man again, he's mine, till when, I here abjure all loves of other men. [Exit.

Enter Cozen, and Jaques.

Jaques. Nay, good Sir be perswaded, go but back, And tell him hee's undone, say nothing else; And you shall see how things will work upon't. Cozen. Not so good Jaques, I am held an asse, A Countrey Fool, good to converse with dirt, And eate course bread, weare the worst Wooll, Know nothing but the high-way to Paris, And wouldst thou have me bring these stains, And imperfections to the rising view Of the right worshipful thy worthy Master? They must be bright, and shine, their cloaths Soft Velvet, and the Tyrian Purple Like the Arabian gums, hung like the Sun, Their golden beames on all sides; Such as these may come and know Thy Master, I am base, and dare not speak unto him, Hee's above me. Ja. If ever you did love him, or his state, His name, his issue, or your self, go back: 'Twill be an honest and a noble part Worthy a Kinsman; save 300 Acres From present execution; they have had sentence, And cannot be repriev'd, be merciful. Co. Have I not urg'd already all the reasons, I had to draw him from his will? his ruin? But all in vain, no counsel will prevail; H'as fixt himself, there's no removing, Jaques, 'Twill prove but breath and labor spent in vain, I'll to my horse, farewell. Ja. For Gods sake, Sir, As ever you have hope of joy, turn back; I'll be your slave for ever, do but go, And I will lay such fair directions to you That if he be not doting on his fall, He shall recover sight, and see his danger, And ye shall tell him of his Wives abuses, I fear, too foul against him; how she plots, With our young Mounsiers, to milk-dry her husband, And lay it on their backs; the next her pride; Then what his debts are, and how infinite The curses of his Tenants, this will work I'll pawn my life and head, he cries away, I'll to my house in the Countrey. Co. Come, I'll go, and once more try him, If he yield not, so, The next that tryes him shall be want and woe. [Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Gentleman, Solus.

Gent. Jaques. Jaq. Sir. [Within. Gent. Rise Jaques 'tis grown day, The Country life is best, where quietly, Free from the clamor of the troubled Court, We may enjoy our own green shadowed walks, And keep a moderate diet without art. Why did I leave my house, and bring my Wife, To know the manner of this subtile place? I would, when first the lust to fame and honor, Possest me, I had met with any evil, But that; had I been tied to stay at home, And earn the bread for the whole family, With my own hand, happy had I been.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq. Sir, this is from your wonted course at home, When did ye there keep such inordinate hours? Goe to bed late? start thrice? and call on me? Would you were from this place; our Countrey sleeps, Although they were but of that moderate length That might maintain us in our daily work, Yet were they sound and sweet. Gent. I Jaques, there we dreamt not of our Wives, we lay together; And needed not; now at length my Cozens words, So truly meant, mixt with thy timely prayers So often urged, to keep me at my home, Condemn me quite. Ja. 'Twas not your fathers course: He liv'd and dy'd in Orleance, where he had His Vines as fruitful as experience (Which is the art of Husbandry) could make; He had his presses for 'em, and his wines Were held the best, and out-sold other Mens, His corn and cattel serv'd the neighbor Towns With plentiful provision, yet his thrift Could miss one Beast amongst the heard; He rul'd more where he liv'd, than ever you will here. Gent. 'Tis true, why should my Wife then, 'gainst my good, Perswade me to continue in this course? Ja. Why did you bring her hither at the first, Before you warm'd her blood with new delights? Our Countrey sports could have contented her; When you first married her a puppet-play Pleas'd her as well as now the tilting doth. She thought her self brave in a bugle chain, Where Orient pearl will scarce content her now. Gent. Sure Jaques, she sees something for my good More than I do; she oft will talk to me Of Offices, and that she shortly hopes, By her acquaintance with the friends she hath, To get a place shall many times outweigh Our great expences, and if this be so— Ja. Think better of her words, she doth deceive you, And only for her vain and sensual ends Perswade ye thus. Let me be set to dwell For ever naked in the barest soil, So you will dwell from hence. Gent. I see my folly, Pack up my stuffe, I will away this morne. Haste—haste. Ja. I, now I see your Father's honors Trebling upon you, and the many prayers The Countrey spent for him, which almost now Begun to turn to curses, turning back, And falling like a [timely] shower Upon ye. Gent. Goe, call [up] my Wife. Ja. But shall she not prevail, And sway you, as she oft hath done before? Gent. I will not hear her, but raile on her, Till I be ten miles off. Ja. If you be forty, 'Twill not be worse Sir: Gent. Call her up. Ja. I will Sir. [Exit. Gent. Why what an Ass was I that such a thing As a Wife is could rule me! Know not I that woman was created for the man, That her desires, nay all her thoughts should be As his are? is my sense restor'd at length? Now she shall know, that which she should desire, She hath a husband that can govern her,

Enter Wife.

If her desires leads me against my will; Are you come? Wife. What sad unwonted course Makes you raise me so soon, that went to bed So late last-night. Gent. O you shall goe to bed sooner hereafter, And be rais'd again at thrifty hours: In Summer time wee'l walk An hour after our Supper, and to bed, In Winter you shall have a set at Cards, And set your Maids to work. Wife. What do you mean? Gent. I will no more of your new tricks, your honors, Your Offices, and all your large preferments, Which still you beat into my ears, hang o'er me, I'll leave behind for others, the great sway Which I shall bear at Court: my living here With countenance of your honoured friends, I'll be content to lose: for you speak this Only that you may still continue here In wanton ease: and draw me to consume, In cloaths and other things idle for shew, That which my Father got with honest thrift. Wife. Why, who hath been with you Sir, That you talk thus out of Frame. Gent. You make a fool of me: You provide one to bid me forth to supper, And make me promise; then must some one or other Invite you forth, if you have born your self Loosely to any Gentleman in my sight At home, you ask me how I like the carriage, Whether it were not rarely for my good, And open'd not a way to my preferment? Come, I perceive all: talk not, we'll away. Wife. Why Sir, you'll stay till the next triumph Day be past? Gent. I, you have kept me here triumphing This seven years, and I have ridden through the streets, And bought embroyder'd hose and foot-cloths too, To shew a subjects zeal, I rode before In this most gorgeous habit, and saluted All the acquaintance I could espie From any window, these are wayes ye told me To raise me; I see all: make you ready straight, And in that Gown which you came first to Town in, Your safe-guard, cloak, and your hood sutable: Thus on a double gelding shall you amble, And my man Jaques shall be set before you. Wife. But will you goe? Gent. I will. Wife. And shall I too? Gent. And you shall too. Wife. But shall I by this light? Gent. Why by this light you shall. Wife. Then by this light You have no care of your Estate, and mine. Have we been seven years venturing in a Ship, And now upon return, with a fair wind, And a calm Sea, full fraught with our own wishes, Laden with wealth and honor to the brim, And shall we flye away and not receive it? Have we been tilling, sowing, labouring, With pain and charge a long and tedious winter, And when we see the corn above the ground, Youthful as is the Morn and the full eare, That promises to stuffe our spacious garners, Shall we then let it rot, and never reap it? Gent. Wife talke no more, your Rhetorick comes too late, I am inflixible; and how dare you Adventure to direct my course of life? Was not the husband made to rule the Wife? Wife. 'Tis true: but where the man doth miss his way, It is the Womans part to set him right; So Fathers have a power to guide their Sons In all their courses, yet you oft have seen Poor little children, that have both their eyes, Lead their blind Fathers. Gen. She has a plaguy wit, I say you'r but a little piece of man. Wife. But such a piece, as being tane away, Man cannot last: the fairest and tallest ship, That ever sail'd, is by a little piece of the same Wood, steer'd right, and turn'd about. Gen. 'Tis true she sayes, her answers stand with reason. Wife. But Sir, your Cozin put this in your head, Who is an enemy to your preferment, Because I should not take place of his wife; Come, by this kiss, thou shalt not go sweet heart. Gen. Come, by this kiss I will go Sweet-heart, On with your riding stuffe: I know your tricks, And if preferment fall ere you be ready, 'Tis welcome, else adieu the City life. Wife. Well, Sir, I will obey. Gent. About it then. Wife. To please your humor I would dress my self, In the most loathsome habit you could name, Or travel any whether o're the World, If you command me, it shall ne'r be said, The frailty of a woman, whose weak mind, Is often set on loose delights, and shews, Hath drawn her husband to consume his state, In the vain hope of that which never fell. Gen. About it then, women are pleasant creatures, When once a man begins to know himself. Wife. But hark you Sir, because I will be sure, You shall have no excuse, no word to say In your defence hereafter; when you see What honors were prepar'd for you and me, Which you thus willingly have thrown away, I tell you I did look for present honor, This morning for you, which I know had come: But if they do not come ere I am ready (Which I will be the sooner least they should) When I am once set in a countrey life, Not all the power of earth shall alter me, Not all your prayers or threats shall make me speak The least words to my honorable friends, To do you any grace. Gent. I will not wish it. Wife. And never more hope to be honorable. Gent. My hopes are lower. Wife. As I live you shall not, You shall be so far from the name of noble That you shall never see a Lord again; You shall not see a Maske, or Barriers, Or Tilting, or a solemn Christning, Or a great Marriage, or new Fire-works, Or any bravery; but you shall live At home, bespotted with your own lov'd durt, In scurvy cloaths, as you were wont to doe, And to content you, I will live so too. Gen. Tis all I wish, make haste, the day draws on, It shall be my care to see your Stuffe packt up. Wife. It shall be my care to gull you: you shall stay. [Ex. Gen. And more than so, intreat me humbly too, You shall have honors presently; Maria.

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam. Wife. Bring hither, pen, ink, and paper. Ma. 'Tis here. Wife. Your Master will not stay, Unless preferment come within an hour. Mar. Let him command one of the City gates, In time of mutiny, or you may provide him, To be one of the counsel for invading, Some savage Countrey to plant Christian faith. Wife. No, no, I have it for him, call my page; Now, my dear husband, there it is will fit you. [Ex. Maria. And when the world shall see what I have done, Let it not move the spleen of any Wife, To make an Ass of her beloved husband, Without good ground, but if they will be drawn To any reason by you, do not gull them; But if they grow conceited of themselves, And be fine Gentlemen, have no mercy, Publish them to the World, 'twill do them good When they shall see their follies understood, Go bear these Letters to my servant, And bid him make haste, I will dress my self, In all the Journey-Cloaths I us'd before, Not to ride, but to make the Laughter more. [Exit.

Enter Gentleman, and Jaques.

Gent. Is all packt up? Ja. All, all Sir, there is no tumbler Runs through his hoop with more dexterity, Then I about this business: 'Tis a day, That I have long long'd to see. Gent. Come, Where's my Spurs? Ja. Here, Sir, and now 'tis come. Gent. I, Jaques, now, I thank my fates, I can command my Wife. Ja. I am glad to see it, Sir. Gent. I do not love alwayes, To be made a puppie, Jaques. Ja. But, yet me thinks your Worship does not look, Right like a Countrey Gentleman. Gent. I will, give me my t'other hat. Ja. Here. Gent. So, my Jerkin. Ja. Yes, Sir. Gent. On with it Jaques, thou and I Will live so finely in the Countrey, Jaques, And have such pleasant walks into the Woods A mornings, and then bring home riding-rods, And walking staves— Ja. And I will bear them, Sir, And Skurdge-sticks for the children. Gent. So thou shalt, And thou shalt do all, over-see my Work-folkes, And at the weeks end pay them all their wages. Ja. I will, Sir, so your Worship give me Money. Gent. Thou shalt receive all too: give me my Drawers. Ja. They are ready, Sir. Gent. And I will make thy Mistriss, My wife, look to her landrie, and her dairy, That we may have our linnen clean on Sundayes. Ja. And Holy-dayes. Gent. I, and ere we walk about the Grounds Provide our break-fast, Or she shall smoke, I'll have her a good huswife; She shall not make a voyage to her Sisters, But she shall live at home, And feed her pullen fat, and see her Maides In bed before her, and lock all the doors. Ja. Why that will be a life for Kings and Queens. Gen. Give me my Scarfe with the great Button quickly. Ja. 'Tis done, Sir. Gen. Now my Mittens. Ja. Here they are, Sir. Gen. 'Tis well: now my great dagger. Ja. There. Gen. Why so; thus it should be, now my riding rod. Ja. There's nothing wanting, Sir. Gen. Another, man, to stick under my girdle. Ja. There it is. Gent. All is well. Ja. Why now methinks your Worship looks Like to your self, a Man of means and credit, So did your grave and famous Ancestors, Ride up and down to Fairs, and cheapen cattel. Gent. Goe, hasten your Mistriss, Sirra. Ja. It shall be done. [Ex. Jaques.

Enter Servant and Page.

Ser. Who's that? who's that Boy? Page. I think it be my Master. Ser. Who, he that walkes in gray, whisking his riding rod? Pag. Yes, Sir, 'tis he. Ser. 'Tis he indeed; he is prepar'd For his new journey; when I wink upon you, Run out and tell the Gentleman 'tis time— Monsieur good day. Gen. Monsieur, your Mistriss is within, but yet not ready. Ser. My business is with you, Sir; 'tis reported, I know not whether by some enemy Maliciously, that envies your great hopes, And would be ready to sow discontents Betwixt his Majesty, and you, or truely, Which on my faith I would be sorry for, That you intend to leave the Court in haste. Gen. Faith, Sir, within this half hour. Jaques? Jaques within: Sir? Gent. Is my Wife ready? Ja. Presently. Ser. But Sir, I needs must tell you, as I am your friend, You should have ta'en your journey privater, For 'tis already blaz'd about the Court. Gen. Why Sir, I hope it is no Treason, is it? Ser. 'Tis true, Sir, but 'tis grown the common talk, There's no discovery else held, and in the presence All the Nobility and Gentry, Have nothing in their mouths but only this, Monsieur Marine, that noble Gentleman, Is now departing hence: every Mans face Looks ghastly on his fellows; such a sadness (Before this day) I ne'er beheld in Court, Mens hearts begin to fail them when they hear it, In expectation of the great event That needs must follow it, pray Heaven it be good! Gen. Why, I had rather all their hearts should fail, Than I stay here until my purse fail me. Ser. But yet you are a Subject, and beware, I charge you by the love I bear to you, How you do venture rashly on a course, To make your Sovereign jealous of your deeds, For Princes jealousies, where they love most, Are easily found, but they be hardly lost. Gen. Come, these are tricks, I smell 'em, I will goe. Ser. Have I not still profest my self your friend? Gen. Yes, but you never shewd it to me yet. Ser. But now I will, because I see you wise, And give ye thus much light into a business, That came to me but now, be resolute, Stand stifly to it that you will depart, And presently. Gen. Why so I mean to doe. Ser. And by this light you may be what you will; Will you be secret, Sir? Gen. Why? What's the matter? Ser. The King does fear you. Gent. How? Ser. And is now in Counsel; Gent. About me? Ser. About you, and you be wise, You'll find he's in Counsel about you: His Counsellors have told him all the truth. Gent. What truth? Ser. Why, that which now he knows too well. Gent. What is't? Ser. That you have followed him seven years, With a great train: and though he have not grac't you, Yet you have div'd into the hearts of thousands, With liberality and noble carriage; And if you should depart home unprefer'd, All discontented, and seditious spirits Would flock to you, and thrust you into action: With whose help, and your Tenants, who doth not know (If you were so dispos'd:) How great a part of this yet fertile peaceful Realm of France You might make desolate? but when the King Heard this— Gent. What said he? Ser. Nothing, but shook, As never Christian Prince did shake before. And to be short, you may be what you will But be not ambitious Sir, sit down With moderate honors, least you make your self More fear'd. Gent. I know, Sir, what I have to doe In mine own business.

Enter Longavile.

Long. Where's Monsieur Mount Marine? Ser. Why there he stands, will you ought with him? Long. Yes: Good day Monsieur Marine. Gent. Good day to you. Long. His Majesty doth commend himself, Most kindly to you Sir, and hath, by me, Sent you this favor: kneel down, rise a Knight. Gent. I thank his Majesty. Long. And he doth further request you, Not to leave the Court so soon, For though your former merits have been slighted, After this time there shall no Office fall; Worthy your spirit, as he doth confess There's none so great, but you shall surely have it. Ser. Do you hear? if you yield yet you are an ass. Gent. I'll shew my service to his Majesty In greater things than these, but for this small one I must intreat his Highness to excuse me. Long. I'll bear your Knightly words unto the King, And bring his Princely answer back again. [Exit Long. Ser. Well said, be resolute a while, I know There is a tide of honors coming on. I warrant you.

Enter Bewford.

Bew. Where is this new made Knight? Gent. Here, Sir. Bew. Let me enfold you in my arms, Then call you Lord, the King will have it so, Who doth entreat your Lordship to remember His Message sent to you by Longavile. Ser. If ye be durty, and dare not mount aloft; You may yield now, I know what I would do. Gent. Peace, I will fit him; tell his Majesty I am a Subject, and I do confess I serve a gracious Prince, that thus hath heapt Honors on me without desert, but yet As for the Message, business urgeth me, I must be gone, and he must pardon me, Were he ten thousand Kings and Emperors. Bew. I'll tell him so. Ser. Why, this was like your self. Bew. As he hath wrought him, 'tis the finest fellow That e're was Christmas Lord, he carries it So truely to the life, as though he were One of the plot to gull himself. [Exit Bewf. Ser. Why so, you sent the wisest and the shrewdest answer Unto the King, I swear, my honored friend, That ever any Subject sent his Liege. Gent. Nay now I know I have him on the hip, I'll follow it.

Enter Longavile.

Long. My honorable Lord, Give me your noble hand right courteous Peer, And from henceforth be a courtly Earl; The King so wills, and Subjects must obey: Only he doth desire you to consider Of his request. Ser. Why faith you'r well my Lord, yield to him. Gent. Yield? why 'twas my plot. Ser. Nay, 'twas your Wives plot. Gent. To get preferment by it, And thinks he now to pop me i'th' mouth But with an Earldome? I'll be one step higher. Ser. 'Tis the finest Lord, I am afraid anon He will stand upon't to share the Kingdom with him.

Enter Bewford.

Bew. Where's this Courtly Earl? His Majesty commends his love unto you; And will you but now grant to his request, He bids you be a Duke, and chuse of whence. Ser. Why if you yield not now, you are undone, What can you wish to have more, but the Kingdom? Gent. So please his Majesty, I would be D. of Burgundy, Because I like the place. Bew. I know the King is pleas'd. Gent. Then will I stay and kiss his Highness hand. Bew. His Majesty will be a glad man when he hears it. Lon. But how shall we keep this from the world's ear, That some one tell him not, he is no Duke? Ser. Wee'l think of that anon. Why Gentlemen, Is this a gracious habit for a Duke? Each gentle body set a finger to To pluck the clouds of this his riding weeds From off the orient Sun of his best cloaths; I'll pluck one Boot and spur off. Long. I another. Bew. I'll pluck his Jerkin off. Ser. Sit down my Lord; Both his spurs off at once good Longavile, And Bewford, take that Scarfe off, and that Hat, Doth not become his largely sprouting fore-head. Now set your gracious foot to this of mine, One pluck will do it, so, off with the other. Lon. Loe, thus your servant Longavile doth pluck The trophy of your former gentry off. Off with his Jerkin Bewford. Ser. Didst thou never see A nimble footed Taylor stand so in his stockings, Whilst some friend help'd to pluck his Jerkin off, To dance a Jigg?

Enter Jaques.

Lon. Here's his man Jaques come, Booted and ready still. Jaq. My Mistriss stayes; Why how now Sir? What do's your Worship mean, To pluck your grave and thrifty habit off. Gent. My slippers, Jaques. Lon. O thou mighty Duke, Pardon this Man, That thus hath trespassed in ignorance. Gent. I pardon him. Lon. His Graces slippers, Jaques. Ja. Why what's the matter? Lon. Foot-man, he's a Duke: The King hath rais'd him above all his Land. Ja. I'll to his Cozen presently, and tell him so; O what a dung-hill Countrey rogue was I. [Exit Jaques.

Enter Wife.

Ser. See, see, my Mistriss. Lon. Let's observe their greeting. Wife. Unto your will, as every good Wife ought, I have turn'd all my thoughts, and now am ready. Gent. O Wife, I am not worthy to kiss the least Of all thy toes, much less thy Thumb, Which yet I would be bold with; all thy counsel Hath been to me Angelical, but mine to thee Hath been most dirty, like my mind: Dear Duchess I must stay. Wife. What are you mad, to make me Dress, and undress, turn and wind me, Because you find me plyant? said I not The whole world should not alter me, if once I were resolv'd? and now you call me Duchess: Why what's the matter? Gent. Loe a Knight doth kneel. Wife. A Knight? Gent. A Lord. Wife. A Fool. Gent. I say doth kneel an Earl, a Duke. Long. In Drawers. Bew. Without shoes. Wife. Sure you [are] lunatick. Ser. No, honoured Duchess, If you dare but believe your servants truth, I know he is a Duke. Long. God save his Grace. Wife. I ask your Graces pardon. Gent. Then I rise, And here, in token that all strife shall end, 'Twixt thee and me, I let my drawers fall, And to thy hands I do deliver them: Which signifies, that in all acts and speeches, From this time forth, my Wife shall wear the breeches. Ser. An honorable composition. [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Cozen, and Jaques.

Coz. Shall I believe thee, Jaques? Ja. Sir you may. Coz. Didst thou not dreame? Ja. I did not. Coz. Nor imagine? Ja. Neither of both: I saw him great and mighty, I saw the Monsieurs bow, and heard them cry, Good health and fortune to my Lord the Duke. Coz. A Duke art sure? a Duke? Ja. I am sure a Duke, And so sure, as I know my self for Jaques. Coz. Yet the Sun may dazel; Jaques, Was it not Some leane Commander of an angry Block-house To keep the Fleemish Eele-boats from invasion, Or some bold Baron able to dispend His fifty pounds a year, and meet the foe Upon the Kings command, in gilded canvas, And do his deeds of worth? or was it not Some place of gain, as Clerk to the great Band Of maribones, that people call the Switzers? Men made of Beufe, and Sarcenet? Ja. Is a Duke his chamber hung with Nobles like a presence? Coz. I am something wavering in my faith; Would you would settle me, and swear 'tis so, Is he a Duke indeed? Ja. I swear he is. Coz. I am satisfied, he is my Kinsman. Jaques, And I his poor unworthy Cozen. Ja. True, Sir. Coz. I might have been a Duke too, I had means, A wife as fair as his, and as wise as his; And could have brookt the Court as well as his, And laid about her for her husbands honor: O Jaques, had I ever dreamt of this, I had prevented him. Ja. Faith Sir it came Above our expectation, we were wise Only in seeking to undoe this honor, Which shewed our dung-hill breeding and our durt. Coz. But tell me Jaques, Why could we not perceive? what dull Divel Wrought us to cross this noble course, perswading 'Twould be his overthrow? 'fore me a Courtier Is he that knows all, Jaques, and does all, 'Tis as his noble Grace hath often said, And very wisely, Jaques, we are fools, And understand just nothing. Ja. I, as we were, I confess it. But rising with our great Master, We shall be call'd to knowledge with our places, 'Tis nothing to be wise, not thus much there, There's not the least of the billet dealers, Nor any of the Pastry, or the Kitchin, But have it in measure delicate. Coz. Methinks this greatness of the Dukes my Cozens, (I ask you mercy, Jaques, that near name Is too familiar for me) should give promise Of some great benefits to his attendants. Ja. I have a suit my self, and it is sure, Or I mistake my ends much. Coz. What is't Jaques, May I not crave the place? Ja. Yes, Sir, you shall, 'Tis to be but his Graces Secretary, Which is my little all, and my ambition, Till my known worth shall take me by the hand, And set me higher; how the fates may do In this poor thread of life, is yet uncertain; I was not born I take it for a Trencher, Nor to espouse my Mistriss Dairy-maid. Couz. I am resolv'd my Wife shall up to Court; I'll furnish her, that is a speeding course, And cannot chuse but breed a mighty fortune; What a fine youth was I, to let him start, And get the rise before me! I'll dispatch, And put my self in Moneys. Ja. Mass 'tis true, And now you talke of Money; Sir, my business For taking those Crowns must be dispatcht: This little plot in the Countrey lies most fit To do his Grace such serviceable uses, I must about it. Couz. Yet, before you goe, Give me your hand, and bear my humble service To the great Duke your Master, and his Duchess, And live your self in favor: say my Wife Shall there attend them shortly, so farewell. Ja. I'll see you mounted, Sir. Couz. It may not be, Your place is far above it, spare your self, And know I am your servant, fare ye well. [Exit Couzen. Ja. Sir I shall rest to be commanded by you, This place of Secretary will not content me, I must be more and greater: let me see; To be a Baron is no such great matter As people take it: for say I were a Count, I am still an under-person to this Duke, Which methinks sounds but harshly: but a Duke? O I am strangely taken, 'tis a Duke Or nothing, I'll advise upon't, and see What may be done by wit and industry. [Exit.

Enter Wife, Longoveil, Bewford, Servants.

Wife. It must be carried closely with a care That no man speak unto him, or come near him, Without our private knowledge, or be made Afore-hand to our practice: My good husband, I shall entreat you now to stay a while, And prove a noble coxcomb. Gentlemen, Your counsel and advice about this carriage. Ser. Alas good man, I do begin to mourn His dire Massacre: what a persecution Is pouring down upon him! sure he is sinful. Long. Let him be kept in's chamber under shew Of state and dignity, and no man suffer'd To see his noble face, or have access, But we that are Conspirators. Bew. Or else down with him into the Countrey amongst his Tenants, There he may live far longer in his greatness, And play the fool in pomp amongst his fellows. Wife. No, he shall play the fool in the City, and stay, I will not lose the greatness of this jest, That shall be given to my wit, for the whole Revenues. Ser. Then thus wee'll have a guard about his person, That no man come too near him, and our selves Alwayes in company; have him into the City To see his face swell; whilst, in divers corners, Some of our own appointing shall be ready To cry heaven bless your Grace, long live your Grace. Wife. Servant, your counsel's excellent good, And shall be follow'd, 'twill be rarely strange To see him stated thus, as though he went A shroving through the City, or intended To set up some new [stake]: I shall not hold From open laughter, when I hear him cry, Come hither my sweet Duchess: let me kiss Thy gracious lips: for this will be his phrases? I fear me nothing but his legs will break Under his mighty weight of such a greatness. Bew. Now me thinks dearest Lady you are too cruel; His very heart will freeze in knowing this. Wife. No, no, the man was never of such deepness, To make conceit his Master: Sir, I'll assure ye He will out-live twenty such pageants. Were he but my Cozen, or my Brother, And such a desperate killer of his fortune, In this belief he should dye, though it cost me A thousand Crowns a day to hold it up; Or were I not known his wife, and so to have An equal feeling of this ill he suffers, He should be thus till all the Boyes i'th' Town Made sute to weare his badges in their hats, And walk before his Grace with sticks and nose-gayes, We Married Women hold— Ser. 'Tis well, no more. The Duke is entring, set you[r] faces right, And bow like Countrey Prologues: here he comes. Make room afore, the Duke is entring.

Enter Duke.

Long. The choisest fortunes wait upon our Duke. Ser. And give him all content and happiness. Bew. Let his great name live to the end of time. Duke. We thank you, and are pleas'd to give you notice We shall at fitter times wait on your Loves, Till when, be near Us. Longv. 'Tis a valiant purge, and works extreamly; 'Thas delivered him Of all Right worshipful and gentle humors, And left his belly full of nobleness. Du. It pleased the King my Master, For sundry vertues not unknown to him, And the all-seeing state, to lend his hand, And raise me to this Eminence, how this May seem to other Men, or stir the minds Of such as are my fellow Peers, I know not, I would desire their loves in just designs. Wife. Now by my faith he does well, very well: Beshrew my heart I have not seen a better, Of a raw fellow, that before this day Never rehearst his state: 'tis marvellous well. Ser. Is he not Duke indeed, see how he looks As if his spirit were a last, or two Above his veins, and stretcht his noble hide. Long. Hee's high-brac't like a Drum, pray God he break not. Bew. Why let him break, there's but a Calves-skin lost. Long. May it please your Grace to see the City, 'Twill be to the minds and much contentment Of the doubtful people. Du. I am determin'd so, till my return I leave my honour'd Dutchess to her chamber. Be careful of your health, I pray you be so. Ser. Your Grace shall suffer us your humble servants To give attendance, fit so great a person Upon your body. Du. I am pleased so. Long. Away good Bewford, raise a guard sufficient To keep him from the reach of Tongues, be quick; And do you hear, remember how the streets Must be dispos'd with, for cries, and salutations. Your Grace determines not to see the King— Du. Not yet, I shall be ready ten dayes hence To kiss his Highness hand, and give him thanks, As it is fit I should for his great bounty. Set forward Gentlemen. Groom. Room for the Duke there. [Exeunt Duke and Train. Wife. 'Tis fit he should have room to shew his mightiness, He swells so with his poyson, 'Tis better to reclaim ye thus, than make A sheeps-head of you, It had been but your due; But I have mercy Sir, and mean to reclaim you By a directer course. That Woman is not worthy of a Soul That has the sovereign power to rule her husband, And gives her title up, so long provided As there be fair play, and his state not wrong'd.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. I would be glad to know whence this new Duke springs, The people buz abroad; or by what title He receiv'd his dignity, 'tis very strange There should be such close jugling in the State, But I am ty'd to silence, yet a day May come, and soon to perfect all these doubts. Wife. It is the mad Shattillion by my Soul, I suffer much for this poor Gentleman; I'll speak to him, may be he yet knows me. Monsieur Shattilion. Shat. Can you give me reason from whence This great Duke sprang that walks abroad? Wife. Even from the King himself. Shot. As you are a Woman, I think you may be cover'd? Yet your prayer would do no harm good Woman. Wife. God preserve him.

Enter Shattillions Love.

Shat. I say Amen, and so say all good Subjects. Love. Lady, as ever you have lov'd, or shall, As you have hope of heaven lend your hand, And wit, to draw this poor distracted man Under your roofe, from the broad eyes of people, And wonder of the streets. Wife. With all my heart; My feeling of his grief and loss is much. Love. Sir, now you are come so near the prison, will ye Goe in, and visit your fair Love: poor soul She would be glad to see you. Shat. This same Duke is but Apocryphal, there's no creation That can stand where titles are not right. Lov. 'Tis true, Sir. Shat. That is another draught upon my life; Let me examine well the words I spake. The words I spake were, that this novel Duke Is not o'th' true making, 'tis to me most certain. Wife. You are as right, Sir, as you went by line. Shat. And to the grief of many thousands more. Wife. If there be any such, God comfort them. Shat. Whose mouths may open when the time shall please; I'm betray'd, commend me to the King, And tell him I am sound, and crave but justice; You shall not need to have your guard upon me, Which I am sure are plac'd for my attachment; Lead on; I'm obedient to my bonds. Lov. Good Sir be not displeased with us; We are but servants to his Highness will, To make that good. Shat. I do forgive you even with my heart; Shall I entreat a favor? Wife. Any thing. Shat. To see my love before that fatal stroak, And publish to the world my christian death, And true obedience to the Crown of France. Lov. I hope it shall not need Sir, for there is mercy As well as Justice in his Royal heart. [Exeunt.

Enter three Gentlemen.

1 Gent. Every man take his corner, here am I, You there, and you in that place, so be perfect, Have a great care your cries be loud; and faces Full of dejected fear and humbleness. He comes.

Enter Jaques.

Ja. Fye, how these streets are charg'd and swell'd With these same rascally people! give more room, Or I shall have occasion to distribute A martial almes amongst you; as I am a Gentleman I have not seen such rude disorder, They follow him like a prize, there's no true gaper Like to your Citizen, he will be sure The Beares shall not pass by his door in peace, But he and all his family will follow. Room there afore: Sound:

Enter Duke and his company.

Ja. Give room, and keep your places, you may see enough; keep your places. Long. These people are too far unmanner'd, thus To stop your Graces way with multitudes. Du. Rebuke them not, good Monsieur, 'tis their loves Which I will answer, if it please my stars To spare me life and health. 2 Gen. Bless your Grace. Du. And you with all my heart. 1 Gen. Now heaven preserve your happy dayes: Du. I thank you too. 3. Gen. Now Heaven save your Grace; Du. I thank you all. Bew. On there before. Du. Stand Gentlemen, stay yet a while. For I am minded to impart my love To these good people, and my friends, Whose love and prayers for my greatness, Are equal in abundance, note me well, And with my words; my heart? for as the Tree— Long. Your Grace had best beware, 'twill be inform'd Your greatness with the people. Duke. I had more, My honest, and ingenious people.—But The weight of business hath prevented me. I am call'd from you: but this tree I spake of Shall bring forth fruit, I hope, to your content, And so I share my bowels amongst you all. Omnes. A noble Duke, a very noble Duke.

Enter a Gentleman.

Ser. Afore there Gentlemen. Gen. You'r faithfully met good Monsieur Mount Marine. Ser. Be advis'd, the time is alter'd. Gen. Is he not the same man he was afore? Duke. Still the same man to you, Sir. Long. You have received mighty Grace, be thankful. Gen. Let me not dye in ignorance; Long. You shall not. Then know, the King out of his love, hath pleas'd To stile him Duke of Burgundy. Gen. O great Duke, Thus low, I plead for pardon, and desire To be enrol'd amongst your poorest slaves. Du. Sir, you have mercy, and withal my hand, From henceforth let me call you one of mine. Ser. Make room afore there, and dismiss the people. Du. Every Man to his house in peace and quiet. Peop. Now heaven preserve the Duke, heaven bless the Duke. [Exeunt Omnes.

Enter Wife.

Wife. This Letter came this morn from my Cosin To the great Lady, high and mighty Duchess Of Burgundy, be these delivered. Oh, For a stronger lace to keep my breath That I may laugh the nine days till the wonder Fall to an ebb: the high and mighty Duchess? The high and mighty God? what a stile is this! Methinks it goes like a Duchy lope-man, A ladder of 100 rounds will fail To reach the top on't: well my gentle Cosin I know by these contents, your itch of honor; You must to the Court you say, and very shortly: You shall be welcome; and if your wife have wit I'll put her in a thriving course, if not Her own sin on her own head, not a blot Shall stain my reputation, only this I must for healths sake sometimes make an ass Of the tame moil my Husband; 'twill do him good, And give him fresher brains, Me fresher bloud. Now for the noble Duke, I hear him coming.

Enter Duke, his train.

Your Grace is well return'd. Duke. As well as may be: Never in younger health, never more able: I mean to be your bed-fellow this night, Let me have good encounter. Bew. Bless me heaven What a hot meat this greatness is! Long. It may be so, For I'll be sworn he hath not got a snap This two months on my knowledge, or her woman Is damn'd for swearing it. Duke. I thank you Gentlemen for your attendance And also your great pains, pray know my Lodgings Better and oftner, do so Gentlemen. Now by my honor, as I am a Prince, I speak sincerely, know my lodgings better, And be not strangers, I shall see your service And your deservings, when you least expect. Om. We humbly thank your grace for this great favor. Du. Jaques? Jaq. Your Grace. Du. Be ready for the Countrey, And let my Tenants know the Kings great love: Say I would see them, but the weight at Court Lies heavy on my shoulders: let them know I do expect their duties in attendance Against the next feast, wait for my coming To take up Post-horse, and be full of speed. [Exit Jaq. Wife. I would desire your Grace— Du. You shall desire, and have your Full desire: sweet Duchess speak. Wife. To have some conference with a Gentleman That seems not altogether void of reason. He talks of Titles, and things near the Crown, And knowing none so fit as your [good] Grace, To give the difference in such points of State— Du. What is he? if he be noble, or have any part That's worthy our converse, we do accept him. Wife. I can assure your Grace, his strain is noble, But he's very subtle. Duke. Let him be so. Let him have all the brains, I shall demonstrate How this most Christian Crown of France can bear No other shew of Title than the Kings. I will go in and meditate for half an hour, And then be ready for him presently, I will convert him quickly, or confound him. Serv. Is mad Shattillion here? Wife. Is here, and's Lady, I prethee servant fetch him hither. Serv. Why, what do you mean to put him to? Wife. To chat with the mad lad my Husband; 'Twill be brave to hear them speak, babble, Stare, and prate. Bew. But what shall be the end of all this, Lady?

Enter Shattillion and Lady.

Wife. Leave that to me, now for the grand dispute, For see, here comes Shattillion: as I live, methinks All France should bear part of his griefs. Long. I'll fetch my Lord the Duke. Shat. Where am I now, or whether will you lead me? To my death? I crave my priviledge, I must not dye, but by just course of Law. Serv. His Majesty hath sent by me your pardon, He meant not you should dye; but would intreat you To lay the full state of your Title open, Unto a grave and Noble Gentleman.

Enter Duke and Longovile.

The Duke of Burgundy who here doth come, Who, either by his wisdom will confute you, Or else inform and satisfie the King. Bew. May't please your grace, this is the Gentleman. Duke. Is this he that chops Logick with my Liege? Shat. D'ye mock me? you are great, the time will come, When you shall be as much contemn'd as I, Where are the antient compliments of France, The upstarts brave the Princes of the bloud? Duke. Your Title Sir, in short. Shat. He must Sir, Be a better States-man than your self, that can Trip me in any thing, I will not speak Before these witnesses. Duke. Depart the room, for none shall stay, No, not my dearest Duchess. Wife. We'll stand behind the Arras and hear all. [Exeunt. Duke. In that chair take your place, I in this, Discourse your Title now. Shat. Sir, you shall know, My Loves true Title, mine by Marriage, Setting aside the first race of French Kings, Which will not here concern us, as Pharamond, With Clodian, Meroveus, and Chilperick, And to come down unto the second Race, Which we will likewise slip— Duke. But take me with you. Shat. I pray you give me leave, of Martel Charles, The Father of King Pippin, who was, Sire To Charles the Great, and famous Charlemain. And to come to the third Race of French Kings, Which will not be greatly pertinent in this cause, Betwixt the King and me, of which you know HUGH CAPET was the first, Next his Son Robert, Henry then, and Philip With Lewis, and his Son a Lewis too, And of that name the Seventh, but all this Springs from a Female, as it shall appear. Duke. Now give me leave, I grant you this your Title At the first sight, carries some shew of truth; But if ye weigh it well, ye shall find light. Is not his Majesty possest in peace, And justice executed in his name, And can you think the most Christian King Would do this if he saw not reason for it? Shat. But had not the Tenth Lewis a sole Daughter? Duke. I cannot tell. Shat. But answer me directly. Duke. It is a most seditious question. Shat. Is this your justice? Duke. I stand for my King. Shat. Was ever Heir-apparant thus abus'd? I'll have your head for this. Duke. Why, do your worst. Shat. Will no one stir to apprehend this Traitor? A guard about my person, will none come? Must my own royal hands perform the deed? Then thus I do arrest you. Duke. Treason, help.

Enter Wife, Long. Bew. and Serv.

Wife. Help, help, my Lord and Husband. Duke. Help the Duke. Long. Forbear his grace's person. Shat. Forbear you to touch him that Your Heir-apparent weds, But by this hand, I will have all your heads. [Exit. Serv. How doth your Grace? Duke. Why? well. Serv. How do you find his Title? Duke. 'Tis a dangerous one, As can come by a female. Serv. I, 'tis true, But the Law Salique cuts him off from all. Long. I do beseech your Grace, how stands his Title? Duke. Pew, nothing; the Law Salique cuts him off from all. Wife. My gracious Husband, you must now prepare, In all your Graces pomp to entertain Your Cosin, who is now a convertite, And follows here, this night he will be here. Duke. Be ready all in haste, I do intend, To shew before my Cosin's wondring face, The greatness of my pomp, and of my place. [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Cosin and his Wife.

Cos. Sirrah, is all things carried to the Tailor? The measure, and the fashion of the Gown, With the best trim? Man. Yes Sir, and 'twill be ready within this two days. Cos. For my self I care not, I have a suit or two of antient Velvet; Which with some small correcting and addition, May steal into the presence. Wife. Would my Gown were ready; Husband, I'll lay my life, To make you something e'r to morrow night. Cos. It must not be Before we see the Duke, and have advice, How to behave our selves: lets in the while, And keep our selves from knowledge, till time shall call us.

Enter Long. and Bew.

Long. I much admire the fierce masculine spirit, Of this dread Amazon. Bew. This following night I'll have a wench in solace. Long. Sir, I hear you, And will be with you if I live, no more.

Enter Maria.

Ma. My Lady would intreat your presence, Gentlemen. Bew. We will obey your Lady, she is worthy. Long. You, light alone, a word, or two. Ma. Your Will, Sir. Long. Hark in your ear; wilt thou be married? speak, wilt thou marry? Ma. Married? to whom Sir? Long. To a proper fellow, landed, and able bodied. Ma. Why do you flout me, Sir? Long. I swear I do not; I love thee for thy Ladies sake, be free? Ma. If I could meet such matches as you speak of, I were a very child to lose my time, Sir. Long. What saist thou to Monsieur Bewford? Ma. Sir, I say he's a proper Gentleman, and far Above my means to look at. Long. Dost thou like him? Ma. Yes Sir, and ever did. Long. He is thine own. Ma. You are too great in promises. Long. Be rul'd, and follow my advice, he shall be thine. Ma. Would you would make it good, Sir. Long. Do but thus, Get thee a cushion underneath thy cloaths, And leave the rest to me. Ma. I'll be your scholar, I cannot lose much by the venture sure. Long. Thou wilt lose a pretty maidenhead, my rogue, Or I am much o'th' bow hand, you'll remember If all this take effect, who did it for you, And what I may deserve for such a kindness. Ma. Yours Sir. [Exeunt.

Enter Jaques and Shattillion severally.

Jaq. Save ye Sir. Shat. Save the King. Jaq. I pray you Sir, which is the nearest way. Shat. Save the King, this is the nearest way. Jaq. Which is the nearest way to the Post-house? Shat. God save the King and his Post-house. Jaq. I pray Sir direct me to the house. Shat. Heaven save the King, you cannot catch me, Sir. Jaq. I do not understand you, Sir. Shat. You do not, I say you cannot catch me, Sir. Jaq. Not catch you, Sir? Shat. No Sir, nor can the King, With all his stratagems, and his forced tricks, Although he put his Nobles in disguise; Never so oft to sift into my words, By course of Law, lay hold upon my life. Jaq. It is business that my Lord the Duke Is by the King imployed in, and he thinks I am acquainted with it. Shat. I shall not need to rip the cause up, From the first, to you, But if his Majesty had suffer'd me To marry her, though she be after him, The right heir general to the Crown of France. I would not have convey'd her into Spain, As it was thought, nor would I e'er have joyn'd, With the reformed Churches, to make them, Stand for my cause. Jaq. I do not think you would. Shat. I thank you Sir, And since I see you are a favourer Of virtues, kept in bondage; Tell directly to my soveraign King, For so I will acknowledge him for ever, How you have found my staid affections Setled for peace, and for the present state. Jaq. Why Sir? Shat. And good Sir, tell him further this, That notwithstanding all suggestions Brought to him against me, and all his suspitions, Which are innumerable to my treasons, If he will warrant me but publique trial, I'll freely yeild my self into his hands; Can he have more than this? Jaq. No by my troth. Shat. I would his Majesty would hear but reason, As well as you. Jaq. But Sir, you do mistake me, For I never saw the King. In all my life but once, therefore good Sir, May it please you to shew me which is the Post-house. Sha. I cry you mercy, Sir, then you are my friend. Jaq. Yes Sir. Sha. And such men are very rare with me, The Post-house is hard by, farewel; Jaq. I thank you, Sir, I must ride hard to night, And it is dark already. Sha. I am cruel, to send this man directly to his death That is my friend, and I might easily save him, He shall not dye, come back, my friend, come back. Jaq. What is your Will? Sha. Do you not know? Jaq. Not I. Sha. And do you gather nothing by my face? Jaq. No Sir. Sha. Virtue is ever innocent, Lay not the fault on me, I grieve for you, And wish that all my tears might win your safety. Jaq. Why Sir? Sha. Alas good friend you are undone, The more ill fortune, mine to be the means Of your sad overthrow, you know not me. Jaq. No truly Sir. Sha. Would you had never seen me, I am a man pursu'd by the whole state And sure some one hath seen me talk with you. Jaq. Yes, divers Sir. Sha. Why then your head is gone. Jaq. I'll out of town. Sha. Would it were soon enough, Stay if you love your life, or else you are taken. Jaq. What shall I do? Sha. I'll venture deeply for him, Rather than to cast away an innocent, Take courage friend, I will preserve thy life, With hazard of mine own. Jaq. I thank you, Sir. Sha. This night thou shalt be lodg'd within my doors, Which shall be all lock'd fast, and in the morn I'll so provide, you shall have free access, To the Sea-side, and so be shipt away, E'r any know it. Jaq. Good Sir, suddainly, I am afraid to dye. Sha. Then follow me. [Exeunt.

Enter Shatillion's Love.

Love. This way he went, and there's the house, I hope, His better Angel hath directed him, To leave the wandring streets, poor Gentleman. Would I were able with as free a heart, To set his soul right, as I am to grieve, The ruine of his fame, which God forgive me; Sir, if you be within, I pray Sir speak to me. Sha. I am within, and will be; what are you? Love. A friend. Sha. No Sir, you must pardon me, I am acquainted with none such: be speedy, Friend, there is no other remedy. Love. A word Sir, I say, I am your friend. Sha. You cannot scape by any other means, Be not fearful, God save the King, What's your business, Sir? Lov. To speak with you. Sha. Speak out then. Lov. Shall I not come up? Sha. Thou shalt not: flie if thou be'st thine own friend, There lies the suit and all the furniture Belonging to the head, on with it friend. Lov. Sir do you hear? Sha. I do, God bless the King, It was a habit I had laid aside, For my own person, if the state had forced me. Love. Good Sir, unlock your door. Sha. Be full of speed, I see some 20 Musquetiers in ambush Whate'r thou art, know I am here and will be, Seest thou this bloody sword that cries revenge? Shake not my friend, through millions of these foes I'll be thy guard, and set thee safe aboard. Lov. Dare you not trust me, Sir? Sha. My good sword before me, And my allegeance to the King I tell thee Captain (for so I ghess thee by thy Arms) And the loose flanks of Halberdiers about thee, Thou art too weak, and foolish to attempt me. If you be ready, follow me, and hark you Upon your life speak to no living wight, Except my self. Love. Monsieur Shattillion? Sha. Thou shalt not call agen; thus with my sword, And the strong faith I bear unto the King; Whom God preserve, I will de[sc]end my chamber, And cut thy throat, I swear I'll cut thy throat, Steal after me and live. Love. I will not stay. The fury of a man so far distracted. [Exit Love.

Enter Shattillion.

Where's the Officer that dares not enter, To intrap the life of my distressed friend? I, have you hid your self? you must be found, What do you fear? is not authority on your side Nay, I know the Kings command Will be your warrant, why then fear you? speak What strange designs are these? Shattillion, Be resolute and bear thy self upright, Though the whole world despise thee: soft, methinks. I heard a rushing which was like the shake Of a discovered Officer, I'll search The whole street over, but I'll find thee out. [Exit.

Enter Jaques in womans apparel.

Jaq. How my joynts do shake, where had I been But for this worthy Gentleman, that Hath some touch of my infortunes; would I were Safe under hatches once, for Callicut, Farewel the pomp of Court, I never more Can hope to be a Duke or any thing, I never more shall see the glorious face Of my fair spreading Lord that lov'd me well.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. Fly you so fast? I had a sight of you, But would not follow you; I was too wise, You shall not lead me with a cunning trick; Where you may catch me; poor Shattillion; Hath the Kings anger left thee never a friend? No, all mens loves move by the breath of Kings. Jaq. It is the Gentleman that sav'd my life, Sir. Shat. Bless Shattillion, another plot. Jaq. No Sir, 'tis I. Shat. Why, who are you? Jaq. Your friend whom you preserv'd. Shat. Whom I preserv'd? My friend? I have no woman friend but one, Who is too close in prison to be here; Come near, let me look on you. Jaq. 'Tis I. Shat. You should not be a woman by your stature. Jaq. I am none, Sir. Shat. I know it, then keep off, Strange men and times! how I am still preserv'd! Here they have sent a yeoman of the guard, Disguis'd in womans clothes, to work on me, To make love to me; and to trap my words, And so insnare my life, I know you, Sir, Stand back, upon your peril, can this be In Christian Common-weals, from this time forth I'll cut off all the means to work on me, I'll ne'er stir from my house: and keep my doors Lockt day and night, and cheapen meat and drink At the next shops by Signs, out of my window, And having bought it, draw it up in my garters. Jaq. Sir, will you help me? Shat. Do not follow me, I'll take a course to live, despight of men. [Exit Shat. Jaq. He dares not venture for me, wretched Jaques! Thou art undone for ever and for ever, Never to rise again? what shall I do?

Enter Bewfort.

Where shall I hide me? here's one to take me, I must stand close, and not speak for my life. Bew. This is the time of night, and this the haunt, In which I use to catch my Wastcoatiers, It is not very dark, no, I shall spie 'em, I have walk't out in such a pitchy night. I could not see my fingers this far off, And yet have brought home venison by the smell, I hope they have not left their old walk, ah? Have I spied you sitting by this light? To me there's no such fine sight in the world, As a white apron 'twixt twelve and one; See how it glisters! do you think to scape? See now I have you fast; come, and do not strive, It takes away the edge of appetite; Come, I'll be liberal every way. Take heed you make no noise, for waking of the Watch. [Exeunt.

Enter Cosin and his Wife.

Cos. Now the blessing of some happy guide, To bring us to the Duke, and we are ready.

Enter Long. and Servant.

Come forward, see the door is open'd, And two of his Gent. I'll speak to them, And mark how I behave my self, God save ye; For less I cannot wish to men of sort, and of your seeming: Are you of the Dukes? Long. We are, Sir, and your servants, your salutes, We give you back again with many thanks. Cos. When did you hear such words before Wife? peace, Do you not dare to answer yet; is't fit So mean a Gentleman as my self should crave, The presence of the great Duke your Master? Serv. Sir you may. Long. Shall we desire your name, and business, Sir? And we will presently inform him of you. Cos. My name is Cleremont. Serv. You are his Graces kinsman, Or I am much mistaken? Cos. You are right, Some of his noble bloud runs through these veins, Though far unworthy of his graces knowledge. Long. Sir, we must all be yours; his graces kinsman, And we so much forgetful? 'twas a rudeness, And must attend your pardon, thus I crave it: First to this beauteous Lady, whom I take To be your Wife, Sir, next your mercy. Cos. You have it, Sir, I do not like this kissing, It lies so open to a world of wishes. Serv. This is the merry fellow; this is he That must be noble too. Long. And so he shall. If all the Art I have can make him noble, I'll dub him with a Knight-hood; if his wife Will be but forward, and joyn issue, I like her above excellent. Serv. Wil't please you To walk a turn or two, whilst to the Duke We make your comming known? [Exit Serv. and Long. Cos. I shall attend, Sir. Wife. These Gentlemen are very proper men, And kiss the best that e'er I tasted. For goodness-sake husband, let us never more Come near the Countrey, whatsoe'er betide us; I am in malice with the memory Of that same stinking dung-hil. Cos. Why now you are my chicken and my dear, Love where I love, hate where I hate: now You shall have twenty Gowns, and twenty Chains, See, the door is opening. Groom. Room afore there, the Duke is entring.

Enter Duke, Wife, Long. Servant, Maria.

Cos. 'Tis the Duke, even he himself, be merry, This is the golden age the Poet speaks on. Wife. I pray it be not brazen'd by their faces, And yet methinks they are the neatest Pieces For shape, and cutting that e'er I beheld. Cos. Most gracious Duke, my poor Spouse and my self, Do kiss your mighty foot, and next to that The great hand of your Dutchess, ever wishing Your honors ever springing, and your years. Duke. Cosin? Cos. Your Graces vassal, far unworthy The nearness of your blood. Duke. Correct me not, I know the word I speak, And know the person. Though I be something higher than the place Where common men have motion, and descending Down with my eye, their forms are lessened to me; Yet from this pitch can I behold my own, From millions of those men that have no mark, And in my fearful stoop, can make them stand, When others feel my feet, and perish: Cosin, Be comforted, you are very welcome, so Is your fair Wife: the charge of whom I give To my own dearest, and best beloved. Tell me, you have resolv'd your self for Court, And utterly renounc'd the slavish Countrey, With all the cares thereof? Cos. I have, Sir. Duke. Have you dismist your eating houshold, Sold your hangings of Nebuchadnezar, for such they were, As I remember, with the Furnitures Belonging to your Beds and Chambers? Cos. I Sir. Duke. Have you most carefully ta'en off the Lead, From you[r] roof, weak with age, and so prevented The ruin of your house, and clapt him In a summer suit of thatch to keep him cool? Cos. All this I have perform'd. Duke. Then lend me all your hands, I will embrace my Cosin Who is an understanding Gentleman, And with a zeal mighty, as is my name, Once more I bid you welcome to the Court; My state again. Duch. As I was telling you, your Husband Must be no more Commander, look to that, Be several at meat, and lodging, let him have Board-wages, and Diet, 'mongst his men i'th' Town For pleasure, if he be given to't, let him have it, Else as your own fancy shall direct you. Cosin, you see this mighty man here: he was an ass When he came first to Town: indeed he was Just such another coxcomb as your Husband, God bless the mark, and every good mans child! This must not stir you Cosin. Wif. Heaven forbid! Long. Sweet Maria; provide the cushion ready for it. Mar. It shall be done. Duke. Receive all your advices from our self, Be once a day with us, and so farewel For this time, my fair Cosin, Gentlemen Conduct him to his Lodging. Duch. Farewel, and think upon my words. Wife. I shall observe them. [Exit Duke and Duchess. Cos. Health, and the Kings continual love, attend you. Serv. Oh for a private place to ease my Lungs! Heaven give me patience, such a pair of jades Were never better ridden to this hour, Pray heaven they hold out to the journeys end. Long. Twitch him aside good Monsieur, whilst I break Upon the body of his strength, his wife, I have a constant promise: she is my own. Serv. Ply her to wind-ward Monsieur, you have taken The most compendious way to raise your self, That could have been delivered by a Counsel. Cos. I have some certain aims, Sir: but my wife— Serv. Your wife, you must not let that trouble you. Cos. It will Sir, to see her in a strangers arms. Serv. What mean you? let her alone, be wise, stir not a foot For if you do, all your hopes are buried: I swear you are a lost man if you stir. Cos. I thank you Sir, I will be more advis'd. Serv. But what great Office do you level at? Cos. Sir, they are kissing. Serv. Let them kiss, And much may do their good hearts; they must kiss And kiss, and double kiss, and kiss again, Or you may kiss the post for any rising: Had your noble kinsman ever mounted To these high Spheres of honor, now he moves in, But for the kisses of his wife? Cos. I know not. Serv. Then I do; credit me, he had been lost, A fellow of no mark, and no repute. Had not his wife kist soon, and very sweetly: She was an excellent woman, and dispatcht him To his full being, in a moment, Sir— [Exit Long. and Wife. Cos. But yet methinks he [sh]ould not take her, Sir, Into a private room. Serv. Now stand and flourish, You are a mad[e] man for ever. I do envy you if you stand your fortunes up, You are the happiest man, but your great Cosin, This day in Court: well, I will marry surely, And not let every man out-run me thus. 'Tis time to be mine own friend, I live In town here, and direct the readiest way, To other men, and be a slave my self. Cos. Nay, good Sir be not mov'd, I am your servant, And will not be ungrateful for this knowledge. Serv. Will you be walking home? Cos. I would desire to have my wife along. Serv. You are too raw, Begone, and take no notice where you left her, Let her return at leasure, if she stay A month, 'twill be the better, understand me This Gentleman can do't. [Exit Cosin. Cos. I will Sir, and wife remember me, a Duke, a Duke wife. Serv. Aboard her Longaveile, she's thine own, To me the fooling of this fool is venery. [Exit Servant.

Enter Bewford and Jaques.

Bew. Come, prethee come, have I not crowns? behold And follow me, here; not a word, go in Grope by the walls, and you shall find a bed, Lie down there, see, see, a turn or two, to give My blood some heats, and I am presently For action: darkness, by thy leave, I come. [Exit Bew.

Enter Maria.

Ma. I am perfect in my lesson, be my speed, Thou god of marriage, this is the door, I'll knock. Bew. within. Whose there, I cannot come yet. Ma. Monsieur Bewford? Bew. Stay till I light a candle, who are ye? Ma. Sir? a poor Gentlewoman.

Enter Bewford.

Bew. Oh come in, I'll find a time for you too, be not loud. Ma. Sir, you have found that time already, shame On my soul therefore. Bew. Why? what's the matter? Ma. Do you not see, Sir, is your light so dim? Bew. Do you not wait on the Lady Mount Marine? Ma. I do Sir, but my love on you. Bew. Poor soul! how cam'st thou by this big belly? Ma. By your self. Bew. By heaven I ne'er touch'd your body. Ma. Yes, unswear that oath again, I'll tell you all; These two years I have lov'd you, but the means How to enjoy you, I did never know Till Twelf-night last, when hearing of your game To take up wenches private in the night, I apprehended straight this course to make My self as one of them, and wait your coming; I did so, and enjoyed you, and now this child That now is quick within me, hide my shame, And marry me, or else I must be forc'd— Long. within. Monsieur Bewford, Monsieur Bewford. Bew. Whose that calls? Long. Are you a bed? Bew. No Sir, the hangings.

Enter Longaveil.

Long. Nay Monsieur, I'll forbid that, we'll have fair play, Lend me your candle, are you taken Bewford? A lecher of your practice, and close carriage To be discovered thus? I am asham'd So great a master in his art should fail, And stagger in his grounds. Bew. You're wide, This woman and my self are man and wife, And have been so this half year, Where are you now? have I been discover'd? You cannot break so easily on me, Sir, I am too wary to be open'd by you. Long. But these are but illusions, to give colour To your most mystick leachery, but Sir, The belly hath betraid you all, it must out. Bew. Good Longaveil believe me on my faith, I am her husband. Long. On my faith I cannot, unless I saw Your hands fast, and your hearts. Bew. Why Longavile, when did I give that to your ears, That was not truth? by all the world she's mine, She is my wife, and to confirm you better I give my self again, here take my hand And I yours, we are once more married, Will this content you? Long. Yes I am believing, and God give you joy. Bew. My loving wife, I will not wrong thee, Since I am thine and only loved of thee From this hour I vow my self a new man, Be not jealous: for though I had a purpose, To have spent an hour or two in solace otherwise, And was provided for it, yet my love Shall put a better temper to my blood, Come out thou woman of unwholsome life, Be sorry for thy sins, and learn to mend, Nay, never hide your face, you shall be seen. Long. Jaques, why Jaques, art thou that Jaques, The very staffe, and right hand of our Duke? Speak, thou bearded Venus. Jaq. I am he, by miracle preserv'd to be that Jaques, Within this two hours Gentlemen, poor Jaques Was but as coarse in grave: a man of wisdom, That of my conscience, if he had his right Should have a pretty State, but that's all one That Noble Gentleman did save this life, I keep it for him, 'tis his own. Long. Oh Bacchus! is all the world drunk? come we'll to the Duke And give thanks for this delivery.