The Fair Maid of the Inn.

Plays have their fates, not as in their true sence They're understood, but as the influence Of idle custom, madly works upon The dross of many tongu'd opinion. A worthy story, howsoever writ For Language, modest Mirth, Conceit or Wit, Meets oftentimes with the sweet commendation Of hang't, 'tis scurvy, when for approbation A Jigg shall be clapt at, and every rhime Prais'd and applauded by a clamorous chime. Let ignorance and laughter dwell together, They are beneath the Muses pity. Hither Come nobler Judgements, and to those the strain Of our invention is not bent in vain, The Fair Maid of the Inn to you commends Her hopes and welcomes, and withal intends In th' Entertains to which she doth invite ye, All things to please, a[n]d some things to delight ye.

Cesario. Interpret not Clarissa, my true zeal In giving you counsel, to transcend the bounds That should confine a brother; 'tis your honor, And peace of mind (which honor last will leave you) I labor to preserve, and though you yet are Pure and untainted, and resolve to be so: Having a Fathers eye, and Mothers care In all your ways to keep you fair, and upright. In which respects my best advices must Appear superfluous; yet since love, dear Sister Will sometimes tender things unnecessary, Misconstrue not my purpose. Claris. Sir, I dare not: But still receive it as a large addition, To the much that I already stand ingag'd for, Yet pardon me, though I profess upon A true examination of my self, Even to my private thoughts I cannot find (Having such strong supporters to uphold me) On what slight ground the least doubt can be rais'd To render me suspected, I can fall, Or from my Fame or Virtue. Cæsar. Far be it from me, To nourish such a thought; and yet excuse me, As you would do a Lapidary, whose whole fortunes Depend upon the safety of one Jewel, If he think no case precious enough To keep it in full lustre, nor no locks, Though lending strength to Iron doors sufficient To guard it, and secure him; you to me are A Gemm of more esteem, and priz'd higher Than Usurers do their Muck, or great men Title. And any flaw (which heaven avert) in you, (Whose reputation like a Diamond Cut newly from the rock, women with envie, And men with covetous desires look up at) By prying eies discovered in a moment Would render what the braveries of Florence For want of counterpoize, forbear to cheapen, Of little or no value. Claris. I see brother The mark you shoot at, and much thank your love; But for my Virgin Jewel which is brought In comparison with your Diamond, rest assur'd It shall not fall in such a workmans hands Whose ignorance or malice shall have power To cast one cloud upon it, but still keep Her native splendor. Cesa. 'Tis well, I commend you; And study your advancement with that care As I would do a Sisters, whom I love With more than common order. Claris. That from me, I hope's return'd to you. Cesar. I do confess it, Yet let me tell you, (but still with that love, I wish to increase between us) that you are Observ'd against the gravity long maintain'd In Italy (where to see a maid unmasqu'd Is [h]eld a blemish) to be over-frequent In giving or receiving visits. Clari. How? Cesar. Whereas the custom is here to wooe by Picture, And never see the substance: you are fair, And beauty draws temptations on; You know it, I would not live to see a willing grant From you, to one unworthy of your birth, Feature or fortune; yet there have been Ladies Of rank, proportion, and of means beyond you, That have prov'd this no miracle. Claris. One unworthy? Why, pray you gentle brother, who are they That I vouchsafe these bounties to? I hope In your strict Criticisme of me, and my manners, That you will not deny they are your equals. Cesar. Angry? Claris. I have reason, but in cold blood tell me, Had we not one Father? Cesar. Yes, and Mother too. Claris. And he a Soldier. Cesar. True. Claris. If I then borrow A little of the boldness of his temper, Imparting it to such as may deserve it; (However indulgent to your selves, you brothers Allow no part of freedom to your Sisters) I hope 'twill not pass for a crime in me, To grant access and speech to noble suitors; And you escape for innocent, that descend To a thing so far beneath you. Are you touch'd? Why did you think that you had Giges Ring, Or the Herb that gives invisibility? Or that Biancha's name had ne'er been mention'd; The fair Maid of the grand Osteria, brother. Cesar. No more. Claris. A little, brother. Your night walks, And offer'd presents; which coy she, contemn'd, Your combats in disguises with your Rivals, Brave Muletiers. Scullions perfum'd with grease, And such as [cry] meat for Cats must be remembred; And all this pother for a common trull, A tempting sign, and curiously set forth, To draw in riotous guests, a thing expos'd To every Ruffians rude assault; and subject For a poor salary, to a rich mans lust, Though made up of diseases. Cesar. Will you end yet? Claris. And this a Mistriss for Albertus Son, One that I should call Sister? Cesar. Part not with Your modesty in this violent heat; the truth is, (For you shall be my Confessor) I love her, But virtuously; report that gives her out Only for fair, and adds not she is chaste, Detracts much from her: for indeed she is, Though of a low condition; compos'd Of all those graces, dames of highest birth, Though rich in natures bounties, should be proud of; But leave her, and to you my nearest care, My dearest best Clarissa. Do not think (For then you wrong me) I wish you should live A barren Virgin life; I rather aim at A noble Husband, that may make you mother Of many children, one that when I know him Worth your embraces, I may serve, and sue [to]: And therefore scorn not to acquaint me with That man, that happy man; you please to favour. Claris. I ever purpos'd it, for I will like With your allowance: Cesa. As a pawn of this; Receive this Ring, but e'r you part with it On any terms, be certain of your choice; And make it known to me.

Claris. You have my hand for't. Cesar. Which were it not my Sisters, I should kiss: With too much heat. Claris. My Father and his guests, Sir. Alber. Oh my old friend, my tri'd friend, my Baptista: These days of rest and feasting, sute not with Our tougher natures, those were golden ones, Which were enjoy'd at Sea; that's our true Mother: The Land's to us a step-dame; there we sought Honor, and wealth through dangers: yet those dangers Delighted more than their rewards, though great ones, And worth the undertakers: here we study The Kitchin Arts, to sharpen appetite, Dull'd with abundance; and dispute with Heaven; If that the least puff of the rough North-wind, Blast our times burthen, rendring to our Palats The charming juice less pleasing; whereas there If we had Bisket, powder'd flesh, fresh water, We thought them Persian delicates, and for Musick If a strong gale but made the main yard crack, We danc'd to the loud Minstrel. Bapt. And fear'd less, (So far we were in love with noble action) A tempest than a calm. Alber. 'Tis true Baptista; There, there, from mutual aids lent to each other, And virtuous emulation to exceed In manly daring, the true School of friendship, We learnt those principles, which confirm'd us friends Never to be forgot. Baptist. Never I hope. Alber. We were married there, for bells the roaring Canon, Aloud proclaim'd it lawful, and a prize Then newly ta'en, and equally divided, Serv'd as a dowry to you, then stil'd my wife; And did enable me to be a Husband, Fit to encounter so much wealth, though got With bloud and horror. Maria. If so got, 'tis fit Sir Now you possess it, that you should enjoy it In peace, and quiet; I, your Son, and Daughter That reap the harvest of your winters labour, Though debtors for it yet have often trembled, When, in way of discourse, you have related How you came by it. Alber. Trembled? how the softness Of your sex may excuse you, I'll not argue, But to the world, howe'er I hold thee noble I should proclaim this boy some cowards bastard, And not the Image of Albertus youth: If when some wish'd occasion calls him forth, To a brave trial, one weak artery Of his, should show a fever, though grim death Put on a thousand dreadful shapes to fright him; The Elements, the Sea, and all the Winds We number on our compass, then conspiring To make the Scæne more ghastly; I must have thee Sirrah, I must, If once you grapple with An enemies ship, to board her, though you see The desperate Gunner ready to give fire, And blow the deck up, or like Cæsar's Soldier Thy hands like his cut off, hang by the teeth, And die undaunted. Maria. I even die to hear you: My son, my lov'd Cesario run such hazards? Bless'd Saints forbid it: you have done enough Already for one family, that rude way; I'll keep him safe at home, and train him up A compleat Courtier: may I live to see him, By sweet discourse, and gracious demeanor, Winn, and bring home a fair Wife, and a rich; 'Tis all I rest ambitious of. Alber. A Wife! As if there were a course to purchase one Prevailing more than honourable action! Or any Intercessors move so far, To take a Mistriss of a noble spirit, As the true fame of glorious victories, Atchiev'd by sweat and bloud! Oh the brave dames Of warlike Genoua! they had eyes to see The inward man, and only from his worth, Courage, and conquests: the blind Archer knew To head his shafts, or light his quenched Torch, They were proof against them else. No Carpet Knight That spent his youth in Groves, or pleasant Bowers; Or stretching on a Couch his lazy limbs, Sung to his Lute such soft and melting Notes, As Ovid, nor Anacreon ever knew, Could work on them, nor once bewitch'd their sense; Though he came so perfum'd as he had robb'd Sabæa, or Arabia, of their wealth; And stor'd it in one sute: I still remember, And still remember it with joy, Baptista, When from the rescue of the Genoua Fleet, Almost surpriz'd by the Venetian Gallies, Thou didst return, and wert receiv'd in triumph. How lovely in thy honor'd wounds and scars Thou didst appear! what worlds of amorous glances The beauties of the City (where they stood, Fix'd like so many of the fairest stars) Shot from their windows at thee! how it fir'd Their blouds to see the enemies captive streams Born through the streets! nor could chaste Juliana The Duke's fair Neece, though guarded with her greatness Resist this gallant charge, but laying by Desparity of fortune from the object, Yielded her self thy prisoner. Bap. Pray you chuse some other theme. Mari. Can there be one more pleasing? Bap. That triumph drew on me a greater torture, And 'tis in the remembrance little less Than ever Captive suffer'd. Mari. How? to gain the favour of so great a Lady? Bap. Yes, since it prov'd fatal, t'have been happy, Madam, Adds to calamity, and the heavy loss Of her I durst not hope for, once enjoy'd, Turns what you think a blessing to a curse, Which grief would have forgotten. Alber. I am sorry I touch'd upon it. Maria. I burn rather, Sir, With a desire to hear the story of Your loves, and shall receive it as a favour, Which you may grant. Bap. You must not be deny'd, Yet with all brevity I must report it; 'Tis true, fair Juliana (Genoua's pride) Enamour'd of my actions, lik'd my person; Nor could I but with joy meet her affection; Since it was lawful, for my first wife dead; We were closely married, and for some few months Tasted the fruits of't; but malicious fate, Envying our too much happiness, wrought upon A faithless servant, privy to our plot, And Cabinet-Counselor to Juliana, Who either for hope, or reward, or fear, Discover'd us to the incensed Duke: Whose rage made her close prisoner, and pronounc'd On me perpetual banishment: some three years I wander'd on the Seas, since entertain'd By the great Duke of Florence; but what fate Attended her? or Prospero my friend, That staid at Genoua, to expect the issue, Is yet uncertain.

Alber. From the Duke: Bap. He's welcome, to end my forc'd relation. Alber. Signior Baptista; The Great Dukes Will commands your present [e]are. Gent. It points indeed at both of you. Bap. I wait it. Alber. In Mariana, to your rest. Bap. Nay leave us, we must be private. Maria. Stay not long Cesario:

Mentivo. So these old men vanish'd, 'tis allow'd That we may speak, and howsoe'r they take Delight in the discourse of former dangers, It cannot hinder us to treat a little Of present pleasures. Cesario. Which if well injoy'd, Will not alone continue, but increase In us their friendship. Ment. How shall we spend the night? To snore it out like drunken Dutchmen, would Sort ill with us Italians. We are made Of other metall, fiery, quick, and active; Shall we take our fortune? and while our cold fathers (In whom long since their youthful heats were dead,) Talk much of Mars, serve under Venus Ensigns, And seek a Mistriss. Cesar. That's a game dear friend, That does admit no rival in chase of it. And either to be undertook alone, Or not to be attempted. Ment. I'll not press you; What other sports to entertain the time with The following morning? Cesar. Any that may become us. Ment. Is the Neapolitan horse the Viceroy sent you, In a fit plight to run? Cesar. So my Groom tells me. I can boast little of my horsemanship; Yet upon his assurance, I dare wager A thousand Crowns, 'gainst any horse in Florence, For an eight mile course. Ment. I would not win of you, In respect you are impatient of loss: Else I durst match him with my Barbary For twice the sum. Cesar. You do well to excuse it, being certain to be beaten. Ment. Tush. You know the contrary. Cesar. To end the controversie Put it to trial, by my life I'll meet you

With the next rising Sun. Ment. A match. But here Appears a Cynthia, that scorns to borrow A beam of light from the great eye of Heaven, She being her self all brightness; how I envy Those amorous smiles, those kisses, but sure chaste ones Which she vouchsafes her brother! Claris. You are wanton: Pray you think me not Biancha, leave I pray you; My Mother will not sleep before she see you, And since you know her tenderness, nay fondness; In every circumstance that concerns your safety, You are not equal to her. Cesar. I must leave you; but will not fail to meet you. Ment. Soft sleeps to you. Within. Mariana: Cesario. Claris. You are call'd again. Cesar. Some Sons Complain of too much rigor in their Mothers; I of too much indulgence; you will follow.— [Exit. Claris. You are her first care, therefore lead the way. Ment. She staies: blest opportunity, she staies: As she invited conference, she was ever Noble, and free: but thus to tempt my frailty, Argues a yielding in her; or contempt Of all that I dare offer; stand I now Consulting? No, I'll put it home. Claris. Who waits there? more Lights. Ment. You need them not, they are as useless, As at noon-day; can there be darkness, where Nature then wisely liberal, vouchsaf'd To lend two Suns. Claris. Hyperboles: Ment. No, truths: Truths beauteous Virgin, so my love-sick heart Assures me, and my understanding tells me I must approach them wisely, should I rashly Press near their scorching beams, they would consume me And on the contrary, should your disdain Keep me at too much distance, and I want Their comfortable heat, the frost of death Would seize on all my faculties. Cla. Pray you pause, Sir. This vehemency of discourse must else needs tire you. These gay words take not me, 'tis simple faith Honest integrity, and lawful flames I am delighted with: Ment. Such I bring with me, and therefore Lady. Cla. But that you took me off E're I came to a period; I had added A long experience must be requir'd Both of his faith and trust, with whom a Virgin Trafficks for, what's dearest in this life, Her liberty, and honor; I confess I oft have view'd you with an eye of favour, And with your generous parts the many tenders Of doing me all fair offices, have won A good opinion from me. Ment. Oh speak ever, I never heard such Musick. Cla. A plain tune, Sir: But 'tis a hearty one; when I perceive By evident proofs, your aims are truly noble, And that you bring the Engines of fair Love, Not of foul Lust, to shake and undermine My Maiden-fortress: I may then make good What now I dare not promise. Ment. You already In taking notice of my poor deservings, Have been magnificent, and 'twill appear A frontless impudence to ask beyond this Yet qualifie, though not excuse my error, Though now I am ambitious to desire A confirmation of it. Cla. So it wrong not my modesty to grant it. Ment. 'Tis far from me, I only am a suitor, you would grace me With some toy, but made rich in that you wore it, To warrant to the world that I usurp not When I presume to stile my self your servant, A ribond from your shooe: Cla. You are too humble, I'll think upon't; and something of more value Shall witness how I prize you, it grows late, I'll bring you to the door. Ment. You still more bind me.— [Exeunt.

Duke. You find by this assur'd intelligence The preparation of the Turk[e] against us. We have met him oft and beat him; now to fear him Would argue want of courage, and I hold it A safer policie for us and our signiories To charge him in his passage o'er the Sea, Than to expect him here. Alb. May it please your Highness Since you vouchsafe to think me worthy of This great imployment, if I may deliver My judgement freely, 'tis not flattery Though I say my opinion waits on you, Nor would I give my suffrage and consent To what you have propos'd, but that I know it Worth the great speaker, though that the denial Call'd on your heavy anger. For my self I do profess thus much, if a blunt Soldier, May borrow so much from the oyl'd tongu'd Courtier, (That ecchoes whatsoe'er the Prince allows of) All that my long experience hath taught me That have spent three parts of my life at Sea, (Let it not taste of arrogance that I say it) Could not have added reasons of more weight To fortifie your affections, than such As your grace out of observation meerly Already have propounded. Bap. With the honor to give the daring enemy an affront In being the first opposer it will teach Your Soldiers boldness: and strike fear in them That durst attempt you. 1 Magi. Victuals and Ammunition, And Money too, the sinews of the War, are stor'd up in the Magazine. 2 Magi. And the Gallies new rig'd and train'd up, And at two dayes warning fit for the service. Duke. We commend your care, Nor will we e'er be wanting in Our counsels, As we doubt not your action; you Baptista Shall stay with us; that Merchant is not wise, That ventures his whole fortunes in one bottom. Albert. Be our Admiral, spare your thanks, 'Tis Merit in you that invites this honor, Preserve it such; ere long you shall hear more, Things rashly undertaken end as ill, But great acts thrive when reason guides the will.

1. No question 'twas not well done in Cæsario, To cross the horse of young Mentivole In the midst of this course. 2. That was not all, the switching him dull'd him. 3. Would that both the jades Had broke their necks, when they first started; 'Slight, We stand here prating, give them leave to whisper, And when they have cut one anothers throats

Make in to part 'em. 2. There is no such hazard, Their Fathers friendship, and their love forbid it; See where they come! 1. With fury in their looks. Ment. You have the wager, with what foul play got I'll not dispute: Cæsar. Foul play? Ment. I cannot speak it In a fairer language, and if some respects Familiar to my self chain'd not my tongue, I should say no more. I should, but I'll sit down, With this disgrace; how e'er press me no farther. For if once more provok'd, you'll understand I dare no more suffer an Injury, Than I dare do one. Cæsar. Why Sir are you injur'd In that I take my right which I would force, Should you detain it? Ment. Put it to judgment. Cæsar. No; my will in this shall carry it. Ment. Your will? nay, farewell softness then. [They suddenly draw 3. This I foresaw. 2. Hold, hold. Cæsar. I am hurt. 2. Shift for your self, 'tis death. Men. As you respect me, bear him off with care, If he miscarry since he did the wrong, I'll stand the shock of't. 2. Gently, he will faint else.— [Exeunt Gent. with Cæsario. Ment. And speedily, I beseech you; my rage over, That pour'd upon my reason clouds of error, I see my folly, and at what dear loss I have exchang'd a real innocence, To gain a meer fantastical report, Transported only by vain popular wind, To be a daring, nay, fool-hardy Man.

But could I satisfie my self within here, How should I bear my fathers frown? They meet me, My guilt conjures him hither. Bap. Sirrah: Mentiv. Sir: Bap. I have met the trophies of your ruffian sword: Was there no other Anvile to make triall How far thou durst be wicked, but the bosome Of him, which under the adulterate name Of friendship, thou hast murder'd. Ment. Murder'd Sir? My dreams abhor so base a fact; true valour Imploy'd to keep my reputation fair From the austerest Judge, can never merit To be branded with that title; you begot me A man, no coward; and but call your youth To memory, when injur'd, you could never Boast of the Asses fortitude, slave-like patience: And you might justly doubt I were your son, If I should entertain it; if Cæsario Recover, as I hope his wound's not mortal, A second tryal of what I dare doe In a just cause, shall give strong witness for me I am the true heir to Baptista's courage, As to his other fortunes. Baptist. Boy, to neither: But on this strict condition, which intreaties From Saints, nay Angels, shall not make me alter. A friendship so began, and so continu'd Between me and Alberto my best friend, Your brawls shall not dissolve; it is my will, And as I am thy Father, I command thee, That instantly, on any termes, how poor So e'er, it skills not, thou desire his pardon, And bring assurance to me, he has sign'd it, Or by my Fathers soul I'll never know thee: But as a stranger to my blood; perform it, And suddenly, without reply, I have said it. Ment. And in it given a heavier sentence on me Than the most cruel death; you are my father And your will to be serv'd, and not disputed By me, that am your Son: But I'll obey, And though my heart-strings crack for't, make it known, When you command, my faculties are your own. [Exeunt.

Phys. Have patience, Noble Sir; your son Cæsario Will recover without question. Surgeon. A slight wound. Though it pierc't his body, it hath miss'd the vitals. Phys. My life for't, he shall take the air again within these ten dayes. Alber. O but from a friend, To receive this bloody measure from a friend! If that a man should meet a violent death, In a place where he had taken sanctuary, Would it not grieve him? such all Florence held Their friendship, and 'tis that which multiplies The injury. Physi. Have patience worthy Signior. Alber. I do protest, as I am Man and Soldier, If I had buried him in a wave at Sea, (Lost in some honorable action) I would not, to the saltness of his grave, Have added the least tear; but these quarrels

Bred out of game and wine, I had as live He should have died of a Surfet. Maria. Oh what comfort! How is it with our Son Sir? Alber. His Work-masters Bear me in hand here, as my Lawyer does, When I have a crackt Title, or bad Sute in Law, All shall go well. Maria. I pray you Gentlemen, what think you of his wound. Physi. 'Tis but a scratch, nothing to danger. Claris. But he receiv'd it from a friend, And the unkindness ta'en at that, may kill him. Mari. Let me see him: Physi. By no means, he slumbers. Mari. Then I cannot believe you, When you tell me there's hope of him. Alber. Yet many Ladies Do give more faith to their Physitian Than to their Confessor. Claris. O my poor lost brother, And friend more dear than Brother. Alber. More loud instruments To disturb his slumbers! goe, goe, take Caroch: And as you love me, you and the Girle retire To our Summer house, i'th' Country; I'll be with you Within these two days. Maria. I am yours in all things, Though with much sorrow to leave him. [Exeunt Maria, Claris. Alber. I pray you Gentlemen, With best observance tend your Patient; The loss of my heir-male, lies now a bleeding.

And think what payment his recovery Shall show'r upon you, Of all men breathing; [Exeunt Physitian, Chirur. Wherefore do you arrive here? Are you mad? My injury begins to bleed afresh At sight of you; why this affront of yours I receive more malitious than the other. Your hurt was only danger to my son: But your sight to me is death; Why come you hither? Do you come to view the wounds, which you have made? And glory in them? Menti. Rather worthy Sir, to pour Oyl into them. Alber. I am a Soldier Sir, Least part of a Courtier, and understand By your smooth Oyl, Your present flattery. Menti. Sir, for my Fathers sake acknowledge me To be born a Gentleman, no slave; I ever Held flatterers of that breed; do not misconstrue In your distaste of me, the true intent Of my coming hither, for I do protest I do not come to tell you I am sorry For your sons hurt. Alber. Not sorry? Menti. No not sorry; I have to the lowest ebbe, lost all my fury: But I must not lose my honesty; 'twas he Gave heat unto the injury, which return'd (Like a Petar, ill lighted, into 'th' bosome Of him, gave fire to't) yet I hope his hurt, Is not so dangerous, but he may recover; When if it please him, call me to account, For the loss of so much blood, I shall be ready To do him noble reason. Alber. You are arm'd me thinks with wondrous confidence. Menti. O with the best Sir; For I bring penitence, and satisfaction. Alber. Satisfaction? Why I heard you say but now, You were not sorry for his wounds. Menti. Nor am I: the satisfaction which I bring Sir, is to you; You are a Gentleman ne'er injur'd me; One ever lov'd my Father, the right way, And most approv'd of noble amity. Yet I have run my sword quite through your heart, And slightly hurt your son; for't may be [f]ear'd, A grief ta'en at these years for your sons loss, May hazard yours: And therefore I am sent By him that has most interest in your sorrow; Who having chid me almost to the ruin Of a disheritance, for violating So continued and so sacred a friendship Of 50 Winters standing: such a friendship, That ever did continue like the spring; Ne'er saw the fall o'th' leaf; by him I am sent To say the wrong I have done Sir, is to you: And that I have quite lost him for a Father, Until I find your pardon; nay there follows A weightier deprivation; his Estate I could with a less number of sighs part with. Fortune might attend my youth, and my deservings In any Climate: but a Fathers blessing, To settle and confirm that fortune, no where; But only here. Your pardon, give me that; And when you have done, kill me; for 'tis that Takes from me the effect of excommunication; A Fathers heavy curse. Alber. Nay, may that curse Light on himself, for sending thee in this minute: When I am grown as deaf to all compassion, As the cruellest Sea-fight, or most horrid tempest. That I had drown'd i'th' Sea a thousand duckets, Thou hadst not made this visit: rash young man, Thou tak'st me in an ill Planet, and hast cause To curse thy Father; for I do protest, If I had met thee in any part o'th' World, But under my own roofe, I would have kill'd thee.

Look you! Here's a triumph sent for the death of your young Master. Serv. Shall we kill him? Alber. No, I'll not be so unhospitable; but Sir, By my life, I vow to take assurance from you, That right hand never more shall strike my son. Menti. That will be easily protested. Alber. Not easily, when it must be exacted, and a bloody seal to't. Bind him, and cut off's right hand presently: Fair words shall never satisfie foul deeds. Chop's hand off. Menti. You cannot be so unrighteous, to your own honor. Phy. O Sir, collect your self; And recall your bloody purpose. Alber. My intents of this nature, do ever come to action. Chirur. Then I must fetch another stickler.— [Exit. Alber. Yet I do grieve at heart; And I do curse thy Father heartily, That's the cause of my dishonor; sending thee In such an hour, when I am apt for mischief: Apt, as a Dutchman after a Sea-fight, When his enemy kneels afore him; come dispatch. Phys. Intreat him, Noble Sir. Menti. You shall excuse me; Whatsoever he dares do, that I dare suffer.

Cæsar. Oh Sir, for honors sake stay your foul purpose, For if you do proceed thus cruelly, There is no question in the wound you give him, I shall bleed to death for't. Alber. Thou art not of my temper, What I purpose, cannot be alter'd. Serv. Sir; the Duke With all speed expects you. You must instantly Ship all your followers, and to sea. Alber. My blessing stay with thee upon this condition, Take away his use of fighting; as thou hop'st To be accounted for my son, perform't.— [Exit. Cesar. You hear what I am injoyn'd to. Menti. Pray thee take it, Only this ring, this best esteem'd Jewel: I will not give't to'th' hangman chops it off; It is too dear a relique. I'll remove it nearer my heart. Cæsar. Ha, that Ring's my Sisters. The Ring I injoyn'd her never part withal Without my knowledge; come, Sir, we are friends Pardon my fathers heat, and melancholy; Two violent Fevers which he caught at Sea, And cannot yet shake off: only one promise I must injoyn you to, and seriously. Hereafter you shall never draw a Sword To the prejudice of my life. Menti. By my best hopes I shall not. Cæsar. I pray deliver me your sword On that condition. Menti. I shall Sir, may it hereafter Ever fight on your part. Cæsar. Noble Sir, I thank you; But for performance of your vow, I intreat Some gage from you. Menti. Any Sir. Cæsar. Deliver me that ring. Menti. Ha, this Ring? indeed this Jewel binds me, If you knew the vertue of it, never more To draw my sword against you. Cæsar. Therefore I will have it. Menti. You may not. Cæsar. Come: you must. I that by violence could take your hand, Can inforce this from you; this is a token Sir, That we may prove friends hereafter. Fare you well. Phys. Why did you ceise his Sword Sir? Cesar. To perform what my Father bade me, I have for the present ta'en away his Use of fighting. Phys. Better so, Than take that which your Father meant. [Exeunt Manet, Mentivole. Menti. Was ever the like usage? O that Ring! Dearer than life, Whither is honor fled? Cesario. Thou art unmanly in each part, To seize my sword first, and then split my heart. [Exit.

Host. Thy Master that lodges here in my Osteria, Is a rare man of art, they say he's a Witch.

Host. As I am true Inkeeper, yet a Gentleman born, I'll ne'er turn Witch for that trick; And thou hast been a great Traveller?

Host. And you have been in England? but they say, Ladies in England take a great deal of Physick.

Host. So 'tis to be understood: But they say, Ladies there take Physick for fashion.

Host. A nimble pated Rascal, come hither Daughter, When was Cesario here? Bian. Sir, not this fortnight. Host. I do not like his visits, commonly He comes by Owl-light, both the time and manner Is suspitious; I do not like it. Bian. Sir, the Gentleman Is every way so noble, that you need not Question his intent of coming, though you did; Pray Sir preserve that good opinion of me, That though the custome of the place I was born in, Makes me familiar to every guest, I shall in all things keep my self a stranger To the vices they bring with them. Hostis. Right my daughter: She has the right strain of her Mother. Host. Of her Mother? And I would speak, I know from whence she took it; When I was as young, I was as honest. Hostess. Leave your prating. And study to be drunk; and abuse your guests over and over.

Host. Peace Wife. My honorable guest. Foro. My indear'd Landlord? And the rest o'th' complements o'th' house. Host. Breakfast is ready Sir; It waites only the tide of your stomach. Clow. And mine gapes for't like a stale Oyster. Ere you go to bed, fail not of that I pray. [—Exeunt all but Forobosco, and Clown. Foro. We will instantly be with you; Now we are all fellows. Nine a Clock, and no Clyents come Yet, sure thou do'st not set up bills enough. Clow. I have set up bills in abundance. Foro. What Bills? Clow. Marry for curing of all diseases, Recovery of stoln goods, And a thousand such impossibilities. Foro. The place is unlucky. Clow. No certain, 'tis scarcity of mony; do not you hear the Lawyers complain of it? Men have as much Malice as ever they had to wrangle, but they have no Mony: Whither should this Mony be travell'd? Foro. To the Devil I think.

Bap. Was ever expectation of so Noble A requital answered with such contumely! A wild Numidian that had suck'd a Tigress, Would not have been so barbarous; Did he threat To cut thy hand off? Ment. Yes Sir, and his slaves were ready to perform't. Bapt. What hind'red it? Ment. Only his sons intreaty. Bapt. Noble youth, I wish thou wert not of his blood; thy pitty Gives me a hope thou art not. Ment. You mistake Sir, The injury that followed from the son, Was worse than the fathers; he did first disarme And took from me a Jewel, which I prize Above my hand or life. Bap. Take thy sword from thee? He stole it like a Thief rather, he could not I'th' Field deprive thee of it. Ment. He took it from me, And sent me forth so thin, and so unmade up, As if I had been a Foot-boy. Bap. O my fury! I must now ask thee forgiveness, that my rashness, Bred out of too much friendship, did expose thee To so eminent a danger; which I vow I will revenge on the whole Family: All the calamities of my whole life, My banishment from Genoa, my wifes loss Compar'd to this indignity, is nothing; Their Family shall repair't; it shall be to them Like a plague, when the Dog-star reigns most hot: An Italian's revenge may pause, but's ne'er forgot. [Exit. Ment. I would I had conceal'd this from my Father, For my interest in Clarissa; my care now Must be to untangle this division, That our most equal flames may be united; And from these various and perturbed streames, Rise, like a sweet Morn, after terrible dreams.— [Exit.

Clar. Brother, I am happy in your recovery. Cæs. And I Sister, am ever best pleased in your happiness: But I miss a toy should be on your finger. Clar. My Ring; this morning when I wash't I put it off, 'tis in my Window. Ces. Where's your Looking-glass? Clar. Here, Sir. Ces. 'Tis a fair one. Clar. 'Tis pure Chrystal. Ces. Can a Diamond cut in Crystal? let me see, I'll grave my name in't. Clar. Oh, you'll spoyl my glass. Would you not have your brother in your eye? Ces. I had thought he had been Planted in your heart, Look you, the Diamond cuts quaintly, you are cozen'd, Your Chrystal is too britle. Clar. 'Tis the Ring I gave unto Mentivole, sure the same. You put me to amazement Sir, and horror; How came you by that Ring? Ces. Does the blood rise? Clar. Pray Sir resolve me, O for pitty do; And take from me a trembling at the heart, That else will kill me: for I too much fear Nothing but Death could ravish it from his hand That wore it. Cesar. Was it given to Mentivola on that condition? Clar. Tell me of his health first. And then I'll tell you any thing. Cesar. By my life he's well, In better health than I am. Clar. Then it was Sir. Cesar. Then shall I ever hate thee, Oh thou false one; Hast thou a Faith to give unto a friend, And break it to a brother? Did I not, By all the tyes of blood importune thee Never to part with it without my knowledge? Thou might'st have given it to a Muliter, And made a contrail with him in a stable, At as cheap a price of my vengeance: never more Shall a Womans trust beguile me; You are all Like Relicks: you may well be look't upon, But come a Man to'th' handling of you once, You fall in pieces. Clar. Dear Sir, I have no way Look't either beneath reason, or my self, In my election; there's parity in our blood, And in our fortunes, antient amity Betwixt our parents: to which wants nothing, But the Fruit of blest Marriage between us, To add to their posterities: nor does now Any impeachment rise, except the sad And unexpected quarrel, which divided So noble, and so excellent a friendship, Which as I ne'er had Magick to foresee, So I could not prevent. Cæsar. Well, you must give me leave To have a hand in your disposing, I shall, In the absence of my Father, be your Guardian; His Suit must pass through my office. Mentivole, He has too much of my blood already; he has, And he get's no more of't— Wherefore weep you Mother?

Marian. 'Tis occasion'd by a sorrow, Wherein you have a Child's part, and the mainest, Your Father's dead. Cæsar. Dead? Marian. There's one can relate the rest. Sailor. I can Sir, your Father's drown'd, Most unfortunately drown'd. Cæsar. How? In a tempest? Sailor. No Sir, in a calm, Calm as this evening; the Gunner being drunk, Forgot to fasten the Ordnance to their ports, When came a sudden gust, which tumbled them All to the Starboord side, o'erturn'd the Ship, And sunk her in a moment, some six men That were upon the deck were sav'd: the rest Perish'd with your Father. Claris. O my dearest Father— Cesar. I pray thee leave us. Maria. I have a sorrow of another nature, equal to the former. Cesar. And most commonly they come together. Maria. The Family of the Baptisti Are grown to faction, and upon distast Of the injury late offer'd in my house, Have vow'd a most severe, and fell revenge 'Gainst all our family, but especially 'Gainst you my dear Cæsario. Cæsar. Let them threat, I am prepar'd to oppose them. Maria. And is your loss then Of so easie an estimation? What comfort Have I but in your life, and your late danger Presents afore me what I am to suffer, Should you miscarry; therefore I'll advise you When the Funeral is over, you would travel, Both to prevent their fury, and wear out th' injury. Cæsar. No Mother, I will not travel, So in my absence he may marry my Sister, I will not travel certain. Maria. O my Cesario, Whom I respect and love 'bove my own life, Indeed with a kind of dotage, he shall never Go forth o' doors, but the contrary faction Will indanger's life, and then am I most wretched. I am thinking of a strange prevention, Which I shall witness with a bleeding eye, Fondness sometimes is worse than cruelty.— [Exeunt.

Bian. Sir, be not jealous of my care and duty; I am so far from entertaining thoughts Of liberty, that much more excellent objects Than any of such course contents as these are, Could not betray mine eye to force my heart; Conceive a wish of any dearer happiness Than your direction warrant's. I am yours Sir.

Clow. Murther me, do, pound me to Mummy, do; see what will come on't. Foro. Dog, leave thy snarling, or I'll cut thy tongue out, Thou un[l]ickt Bear, dar'st thou yet stand my fury, My generous rage? yet! by the sulpherous damps That feed the hungry and incessant darkness, Which curles around the grim Alastors back, Mutter again, and with one powerful word, I'll call an Host up from the Stygian Lakes, Shall waft thee to the Acherontick fens; Where choak't with Mists as black as thy impostures, Thou shalt live still a dying. Clow. Conjure me to the Devil and you can, I live in Hell upon earth already, and you had any mercy, you would not practice upon a kind heart thus. Host. You have drawn blood from him Signior, Is his offence unpardonable? Foro. A lump of ignorance, pray speak not for him, A drowsie grossness, in all Christian Kingdoms, The mention of my art, my name, my practise, Merit and Glory hath begot at once Delight and wonder; I'll not be entreated; Spare intercession for him,——O thou scorn Of learning, shame of duty; must thy sloth Draw my just fame in question? I discharge thee From my service; see me no more henceforth. Clow. Discharge me! Is that my years wages? I'll not be so answer'd. Foro. Not Camel? Sirrah I am liberal to thee; Thou hast thy life, be gone.

Foro. A slave, a curr—but be not you afrighted Young Virgin, 'twere an injury to sweetness: Should any rough sound draw from your cheeks, The pretious tincture which makes nature proud Of her own workmanship. Host. Wife, Mark, mark that Wife. Bian. Shake then your anger off Sir. Foro. You command it Fair one, mine Host and Hostess, with your leaves I have a motion joyntly to you all. Hostess. An honest one I hope. Host. Well put in Wife. Foro. A very necessary one, the Me[s]s And half of suitors, that attend to usher Their Loves sir-reverence to your daughter, wait With one consent, which can best please her eye; In offering at a Dance, I have provided Musick. And, 'twill be something I dare promise Worthy your laughter, Shall they have admittance? Host. By any means, for I am perswaded the manner will be so Ridiculous, that it will confirm the assurance of their Miserable fooleries, but no longer trouble with 'em here, Than they are in these May-games. Foro. So I am resolv'd. Hostess. Nor any wise word of senceless love. Foro. Not any; I have charm'd them, Did you see How they prepar'd themselves? how they stroak up Their foretops, how they justle for the Looking-glass, To set their faces by it; [See they Muster. You would look for some most impossible antick.

Foro. Some other time, I'll give no answer now, But have preferred your suits, here shew your cunning. First, every one in order do his honor To the fair mark you shoot at; courtly, courtly, Convey your several loves in lively measure: Come, let us take our seates, some sprightly Musick. Host. Dance all and part, 'tis a very necessary farewell.

Host. Well done my lusty bloods, precisely well done, One lusty rouse of Wine, and take leave on all sides. Cesar. Thanks for your Revels Gentlemen; accept This Gold, and drink as freely as you danc'd.

Cesar. My often visits (sweet Bianca) cannot But constantly inform thy judgment, wherein Thy happiness consists, for to steal minutes From great imployments, to converse with beauty, Lodg'd in so mean a fortune, to lay by Consideration of the unequal distance Between my blood and thine, to shun occasions Of courtship with the Ladies of the time: Noble, and fair, only for love to thee, Must of necessity invite a tenderness; As low as nature could have stampt a Bondwomans. To entertain quick motions of rare gratitude For my uncommon favors. Bian. 'Deed my Lord, as far as my simplicity can lead me, I freely thank your curtesies. Cesar. To thank them, is to reward them pretty one. Bian. Then teach me How I may give them back again; in truth I never yet receiv'd a pair of Gloves: A trifling Ring from any that expected An equall satisfaction, but as willingly I parted with the guift unto the owner, as he bestow'd it. Cæsar. But I pour before thee Such plenties, as it lies not in the ability Of thy whole kindred, to return proportionable One for a thousand. Bian. You my Lord conclude For my instruction, to ingage a debt Beyond a possibility of paiment, I ever thought a sin; and therefore justly Without conceit of scorn, or curious rudeness, I must refuse your bounty. Cesar. Canst thou love? Bian. Love! Is there such a word in any Language That carries honest sence? Cesar. Never dwelt ignorance In so sweet-shap't a building: love, Bianca, Is that firm knot which ties two hearts in one: Shall ours be tied so? Bian. Use a plainer word, My Lord. In stead of tyes, say marries hearts, Then I may understand. Cæsar. Their hearts are married Whose enterchange of pleasures, and embraces, Soft kisses, and the privacies of sweets, Keeps constant league together, when temptation Of great mens oathes and gifts, shall urge contempt, Rather than batter resolution, novelty Of sights, or taste of new delights in wantonness, Breeds surfeit more than appetite in any Reserv'd to noble vowes; my excellent Maid, Live thou but true to me, and my contents, Mine only, that no partner may partake The treasure of those sweets thy youth yet glories in, And I will raise thy lowness to abundance Of all varieties, and more triumph In such a Mistris, than great Princes doating On truth-betraying Wives. Bian. Thus to yield up then The cottage of my virtue, to be swallow'd By some hard-neighbouring Landlord, such as you are, Is in effect to love, a Lord so vicious! O where shall innocence find some poor dwelling, Free from temptations tyranny. Cesar. Nay prethee. Byan. Gay clothes, high feeding, easie beds of lust, Change of unseemly sights; with base discourse, Draw curses on your Pallaces; for my part, This I will be confirm'd in, I will eate The bread of labour, know no other rest Than what is earn'd from honest pains, ere once more Lend ear to your vile toyles; Sir, would you were As noble in desires, as I could be in knowing virtue. Pray do not afflict a poor soul thus. Cesar. I swear —— to me?— [Bianca steales off.

Gent. The Duke my Lord commands your speedy presence For answering agrievances lately urg'd Against you by your Mother? Cesar. By my Mother. Gent. The Court is near on sitting. Cesar. I wait on it Sir.— [Exeunt.

Duke. What waste of blood, what tumults, what divisions, What outrages, what uprores in a State, Factions, though issuing from mean springs at first, Have (not restrain'd) flowed to, the sad example At Rome, between the Ursins and Columni's: Nay, here at home, in Florence, 'twixt the Neers And the Bianchi, can too mainly witness. I sit not at the Helm (my Lords) of Sovereignty Deputed Pilot for the Common-wealth, To sleep while others steere (as their wild fancies Shall counsel) by the compass of disorders. Baptista, This short Preface is directed Chiefly to you, the petty brawls and quarrels Late urg'd betwixt th' Alberti and your family; Must, yes, and shall, like tender unknit joynts, Fasten again together of themselves: Or like an angry Chyrurgion, we will use The roughness of our justice, to cut off The stubborn rancour of the limbes offending. Bap. Most gracious Florence. Duke. Our command was signified, That neither of the followers of each party Should appear here with weapons. Bap. 'Tis obey'd Sir, on my side. Duke. We must leave the general cause Of State employments, to give ear to brawls Of some particular grudges, pollitick government For tutor'd Princes, but no more henceforth.

Our frown shall check presumption, not our clemency. Mari. All blessings due to unpartial Princes, Crown Florence with eternity of happiness. Cesar. If double Prayers can double blessings (great Sir) Mine joyn for your prosperity with my Mothers. Duke. Rise both; now briefly (Lady) without circumstance Deliver those agrievances, which lately Your importunity possest our Counsel, Were fit for audience, wherein you petition'd, You might be heard without an Advocate, Which boon you find is granted. Mari. Though divided. I stand between the Laws of truth and modesty, Yet let my griefs have vent: Yet the clearness Of strange necessity requires obedience To nature and your Mercy, in my weeds Of mourning, emblems of too dear misfortunes, Badges of griefs, and Widdowhood, the burthen Of my charg'd soul, must be laid down before you; Wherein, if strict opinion cancel shame, My frailty is my plea; Stand forth young Man, And hear a story that will strike all reason Into amazement. Cesar. I attend. Mar. Alberto (peace dwell upon his ashes) still the husband Of my remembrance and unchanging vowes, Has, by his death, left to his heir possession Of fair revenew, which this young man claimes As his inheritance. I urg'd him gently, Friendly, and privately, to grant a partage Of this estate to her who ownes it all, This his supposed Sister. Bap. How supposed? Cesar. Pray Madam recollect your self. Mar. The relish Of a strange truth begins to work like Physick Already: I have bitterness to mingle With these preparatives, so deadly loathsome; It will quite choak digestion; shortly hear it Cesario, for I dare not rob unjustly The poor soul of his name; this, this Cesario Neither for Father had Alberto, me For Mother, nor Clarissa for his Sister. Claris. Mother, O Mother. Ment. I am in a Dream sure. Duke. No interruptions. Lady on. Mari. Mistake not, Great Duke of Tuscany, or the beginning Or process of this novelty; my husband The now deceas'd Alberto, from his youth In-ur'd to an impatiency, and roughness Of disposition, when not many months After our Marriage were worn out, repin'd At the unfr[u]itful barrenness of youth, Which, as he pleas'd to terme it, cut our hopes off From blessing of some issue; to prevent it I grew ambitious of no fairer honor Than to preserve his love, and as occasions Still call'd him from me, studied in his absence How I might frame his welcome home with comfort. At last I fain'd my self with Child; the Message Of freedome, or relief, to one half starv'd In prison, is not utter'd with such greediness Of expectation, and delight, as this was To my much affected Lord; his care, his goodness; (Pardon me that I use the word) exceeded All former fears, the hour of my deliverance As I pretended, drawing near, I fashion'd My birth-rights at a Country Garden-house, Where then my Faulk'ners Wife was brought a bed Of this Cesario; him I own'd for mine; Presented him unto a joyful Father. Duke. Can you prove this true? Mari. Proofs I have most evident; But oh the curse of my impatiency; shortly, E'r three new Moons had spent their borrow'd Lights, I grew with Child indeed, so just is Heaven, The issue of which burthen was this Daughter; Judge now most gracious Prince, my Lords and you, What combats then, and since, I have indur'd, Between a Mothers piety, and weakness Of a Soul trembling Wife; to have reveal'd This secret to Alberto, had been danger Of ruin to my fame, besides the conflict Of his distractions; now to have supprest it, Were to defeat my Child, my only Child, Of her most lawful honors, and inheritance. Cæsario, th'art a Man still, Education Hath moulded thee a Gentleman, continue so; Let not this fall from greatness sink thee lower Than worthy thoughts may warrant, yet disclaim All interest in Alberto's blood, thou hast not One drop of his or mine. Duke. Produce your witness. Marian. The Faulconers Wife his Mother, And such women as waited then upon me, Sworn to the privacy of this great secret. Duke. Give them all their Oaths. Cesar. O let me crave forbearance, gracious Sir, Vouchsafe me hearing. Duke. Speak Cæsario. Cesar. Thus long I have stood silent, and with no unwillingness, Attended the relation of my fall, From a fair expectation; what I fear'd (Since the first syllable this Lady utter'd Of my not being hers) benevolent Fates Have eas'd me off; for to be basely born, If not base-born, detracts not from the bounty Of natures freedom, or an honest birth. Nobility claim'd by the right of blood, Shewes chiefly, that our Ancestors desir'd What we inherit; but that Man whose actions Purchase a real merit to himself, And rancks him in the file of praise and honor, Creates his own advancement; let me want The fuel which best feeds the fires of greatness, Lordly possessions, yet shall still my gratitude By some attempts, of mention not unworthy, Endeavour to return a fit acquittance To that large debt I owe your favours (Madam) And great Alberto's memory and goodness; O that I could as gently shake off passion For the loss of that great brave Man, as I can shake off Remembra[n]ce of that once I was reputed; I have not much to say, this Princely presence Needs not too strictly to examine farther The truth of this acknowledgment; a Mother Dares never disavow her only son, And any woman must come short of Piety, That can, or dis-inherit her own issue, Or fears the voice of rumor for a stranger. Madam, you have confest, my Father was A servant to your Lord and you: by interest Of being his son, I cannot but claim justly The honor of continuing still my service To you and yours; which granted, I beg leave I may for this time be dismist. Duke. Bold spirit. Bap. I love thee now with pitty. Duke. Go not yet— A sudden tempest that might shake a rock, Yet he stands firm against it; much it moves me, He, not Alberto's son, and she a Widdow, And she a Widdow,—Lords your ear. Omnes. Your pleasure.— [Whispers. Duke. So, Lady, what you have avouch'd is truth. Mari. Truth only, gracious Sir. Duke. Hear then our Sentence. Since from his cradle you have fed and foster'd Cæsario as your Son, and train'd him up To hopes of greatness; which now in a moment You utterly again have ruin'd, this way We with our Counsel are resolv'd, you being A Widdow, shall accept him for a husband. Maria. Husband to me, Sir? Duke. 'Tis in us to raise him To honors, and his vertues will deserve 'em. Maria. But Sir, 'tis in no Prince, nor his Prerogative, To force a Womans choice against her heart. Duke. True, if then you appeale to higher Justice, Our Doom includes this clause upon refusal, Out of your Lords revenues shall Cæsario Assure to any, whom he takes for Wife, The inheritance of three parts; the less remainer Is dowry large enough to marry a daughter; And we, by our Prerogative, which you question, Will publickly adopt him into th'name Of your deceas'd Alberto, that the memory Of so approv'd a Peer may live in him That can preserve his memory; 'less you find out Some other means, which may as amply satisfie His wrong, our Sentence stands irrevocable: What think you Lords? Omnes. The Duke is just and honorable. Bap. Let me embrace Cæsario, henceforth ever I vow a constant friendship. Mentivole. I remit all former difference. Cesar. I am too poor In words to thank this Justice. Madam, alwayes My studies shall be love to you, and duty. Duke. Replies we admit none. Cæsario wait on us.

Bap. Mentivole. Menti. My Lord. Bap. Look on Clarissa, she's noble, rich, young, fair. Mentivole. My Lord, and virtuous. Bap. Mentivole and virtuous.—Madam. Maria. Tyranny of Justice, I shall live reports derision, That am compell'd to exchange a graceful Widdowhood For a continual Martyrdome in Marriage, With one so much beneath me. Bap. I'll plead for ye Boldly and constantly, let your daughter only Admit my son her servant, at next visit, Madam, I'll be a messenger of comfort. Mentivole, be confident and earnest. [Exit. Maria. Married again, to him too! better 'thad been The young Man should have still retain'd the honors Of old Alberto's son, than I the shame Of making him successor of his bed; I was too blame. Ment. Indeed without offence, Madam I think you were. Claris. You urge it fairly, and like a worthy friend. Maria. Can you say any thing In commendation of a Mushroom withered Assoon as started up? Ment. You scorn an Innocent Of noble growth, for whiles your husband liv'd I have heard you boast Cesario in all actions Gave matter of report of Imitation, Wonder and envy; let not discontinuance Of some few days estrange a sweet opinion Of virtue, ch[ie]fly when, in such extremity, Your pitty not contempt will argue goodness. Maria. O Sir. Cla. If you would use a thriving courtship, You cannot utter a more powerfull language That I shall listen to with greater greediness Than th'argument you prosecute; this speaks you A man compleat and excellent. Ment. I speak not, they are his own deserts. Maria. Good Sir forbear, I am now fully sensible of running Into a violent Lethargy, whose deadliness Locks up all reason, I shall never henceforth Remember my past happiness. Ment. These clouds may be disperst. Maria. I fear continuall night Will over-shroud me, yet poor youth his trespass Lies in his fortune, not the cruelty Of the Duke's sentence. Cla. I dare think it does. Maria. If all fail I will learn thee to conquer Adversity with sufferance. Ment. You resolve Nobly. [Exeunt.

Cesar. Let any friend have entrance. Servant. Sir a'shall. Cesar. Any, I except none. Serv. We know, your mind Sir. [—Exit. Cesar. Pleasures admit no bounds. I am pitcht so high To such a growth of full prosperities That to conceal my fortunes were an injury To gratefulness, and those more liberall favours By whom my glories prosper. He that flowes In gracious and swolne tydes of best abundance, Yet will be Ignorant of his own fortunes, Deserves to live contemn'd, and dye forgotten; The harvest of my hopes is now already Ripen'd and gather'd, I can fatten youth With choice of plenty, and supplies of comforts, My fate springs in my own hand, and I'll use it.

1 'Tis my place. 2 Yours? here fair one, I'll aquaint my Lord. 1 He's here, go to him boldly. 2 Please you to let him understand how readily I waited on your errand? 1 Saucy fellow, you must excuse his breeding. Cesar. What's the matter? Biancha, my Biancha, to your offices. [Exit Ser. This visit (Sweet) from thee (my pretty dear) By how much more 'twas unexpected, comes So much the more timely: witness this free welcome, What ere occasion led thee. Bian. You must guess Sir, Yet indeed 'tis a rare one. Ces. Prethee speak it, my honest virtuous maid. Bian. Sir I have heard Of your misfortunes, and I cannot tell you Whether I have more cause of joy or sadness, To know they are a truth. Ces. What truth Biancha? misfortunes, how, wherein? Bian. You are disclaym'd For being the Lord Alberto's Son, and publickly Acknowledg'd of as mean a birth as mine is, It cannot chuse but greive ye. Ces. Greive me? Ha ha ha ha? Is this all? Bian. This all? Ces. Thou art sorry for't I warrant thee: alas good soul, Biancha, That which thou call'st misfortune is my happiness, My happiness Biancha. Bian. If you love me, it may prove mine too. Ces. May it? I will love thee. My good, good maid, If that can make thee happy, Better and better love thee. Bian. Without breach then Of modesty I come to claime the Interest Your protestations, both by vows and letters, Have made me owner of: from the first hour I saw you, I confess I wisht I had been Or not so much below your rank and greatness, Or not so much above those humble flames That should have warm'd my bosome with a temperate Equality of desires in equal fortunes. Still as you utter'd Language of affection, I courted time to pass more slowly on That I might turn more fool to lend attention To what I durst not credit, nor yet hope for: Yet still as more I heard, I wisht to hear more. Ces. Didst thou introth wench? Bian. Willingly betraid My self to hopeless bondage. Ces. A good girl, I thought I should not miss What ere thy answer was. Biancha. But as I am a maid Sir, and I'faith You may believe me, for I am a maid, So dearly I respected both your fame And quality, that I would first have perisht In my sick thoughts than ere have given consent To have undone your fortunes by inviting A marriage with so mean an one as I am. I should have dyed sure, and no creature known The sickness that had kill'd me. Ces. Pretty heart, good Soul, alas, alas. Bian. Now since I know There is no difference 'twixt your birth and mine, Not much 'twixt our estates, if any be, The advantage is on my side, I come willingly To tender you the first fruits of my heart, And am content t'accept you for my husband, Now when you are at lowest. Ces. For a husband? Speak sadly, dost thou mean so? Bian. In good deed Sir, 'Tis pure love makes this proffer. Ces. I believe thee, What counsail urg'd thee on, tell me, thy Father My worshipfull smug Host? wast not he wench? Or mother Hostess? ha? Bian. D'ee mock my parentage? I doe not scorn yours. Mean folks are as worthy To be well spoken of if they deserve well, As some whose onely fame lies in their blood, O y'are a proud poor man: all your oaths falshood, Your vows deceit, your letters forg'd, and wicked. Ces. Thou'dst be my wife, I dare swear. Bian. Had your heart, Your hand and tongue been twins, you had reputed This courtesy a benefit. Ces. Simplicity, How prettily thou mov'st me! why Biancha, Report has coz'ned thee, I am not fallen From my expected honors, or possessions, Though from the hope of birthright. Bian. Are you not? Then I am lost again, I have a suit too; You'll grant it if you be a good man. Ces. Any thing. Bian. Pray doe not talk of ought what I have said t'ee. Ces. As I wish health I will not. Bian. Pitty me, but never love me more. Ces. Nay now y'are cruell, Why all these tears?—Thou shalt not go. Bian. I'll pray for ye That you may have a virtuous wife, a fair one, And when I am dead— Ces. Fy, fy. Bian. Think on me sometimes, With mercy for this trespass. Ces. Let us kiss At parting as at coming. Bian. This I have As a free dower to a virgins grave, All goodness dwell with ye.— [Exit. Ces. Harmeless Biancha! unskill'd; What hansome toyes are maids to play with!

How innocent! But I have other thoughts Of nobler meditation.—my felicity, Thou commest as I could wish, lend me a lip Soft as melting as when old Alberto After his first nights triall taking farewell Of thy youth's conquest tasted. Maria. You are uncivill. Ces. I will be Lord of my own pleasures, Madam Y'are mine, mine freely, Come, no whimpering henceforth New con the lessons of loves best experience, That our delights may meet in equal measure Of resolutions and desires; this sulleness Is scurvy, I like it not. Mar. Be modest. And do not learn Cesario how to prostitute The riot of thy hopes to common folly; Take a sad womans word, how ere thou doat'st Upon the present graces of thy greatnes. Yea I am not falen so below my constancy To virtue, nor the care which I once tend'red For thy behoof that I prefer a sentence Of cruelty before my honor. Ces. Honor! Maria. Hear me, thou seest this girl! now the comfort Of my last days. She is the onely pledge Of a bed truely noble: shee had a father (I need not speak him more than thou remembrest) Whom to dishonor by a meaner choice, Were injury and infamy. Claris. To goodnes, To time and virtuous mention. Mar. I have vow'd, Observe me now Cesario, that how ere I may be forc'd to marry, yet no tyranny, Persuasions, flattery, guifts, intreats, or tortures, Shall draw me to a second bed. Clar. Tis just too. Maria. Yes and 'tis just Clarissa. I allow The Duke's late sentence, am resolv'd young man To be thy wife, but when the ceremony Of marriage is perform'd, in life I will be, Though not in name, a widdow. Ces. Pray a word t'ee, Shall I in earnest never be your bedfellow? Maria. Never, O never; and 'tis for your good too. Ces. Prove that. Mar. Alas too many years are numbred In my account to entertain the benefit Which youth in thee Cesario, and ability Might hope for and require, it were Injustice To rob a gentleman deserving memory Of Issue to preserve it. Ces. No more herein, You are an excellent pattern of true piety, Let me now turn your advocate. Pray look into The order of the Duke. Injoyn'd, admit I satisfie the sentence without mariage With you, how then? Mar. Cesario. Ces. If I know How to acquit your fears, yet keep th'injunction In every clause whole and entire, your charity Will call me still your servant. Mar. Still my son. Ces. Right Madam, now you have it, still your son. The Genius of your blessings hath instructed Your tongue oraculously, we will forget How once I and Clarissa enterchang'd The tyes of brother and of sister, henceforth New stile us man and wife. Cla. By what authority? Ces. Heavens great appointment, yet in all my dotage On thy perfections, when I thought Clarissa We had been pledges of one womb, no lose No wanton heat of youth, desir'd to claime Priority in thy affections, other Than nature might commend. Chastly I tend'red Thy welfare as a brother ought; but since Our bloods are strangers, let our hearts contract A long life-lasting unity, for this way The sentence is to be observ'd or no way. Mar. Then no way. Ces. I expected other answer Madam from you. Mar. No, every age shall curse me, The monster, and the prodigie of nature, Horrors beyond extremity. Cla. Pray mother confine the violence of greif. Ces. Yes mother, pray do. Mar. Thus some catch at a matrons honor By flying lust to plot Incestuous witchcrafts. More terrible than whoredomes; cruell mercy! When to preserve the body from a death The soul is strangled. Ces. This is more than passion, It comes near to distraction. Mar. I am quieted. Cesario, thou mayest tell the Duke securely Alberto's titles, honors and revenues, The Duke may give away, enjoy them thou. Clarissas birthright, Marianas dower Thou shalt be Lord of; turn us to the world Unpittied and unfriended, yet my bed Thou never sleep'st in; as for her; she hears me, If she as much as in a thought consent; That thou may'st call her wife, a Mothers curse Shall never leave her. Clar. As a brother once I lov'd you, as a noble friend yet honor ye, But for a husband sir, I dare not own you, My faith is given already. Ces. To a Villain, I'll cut his throat. Mar. Why this is more than passion! It comes near a distraction. Clar. Call to mind Sir. How much you have abated of that goodness Which once reign'd in ye, they appear'd so lovely That such as friendship led to observation

Courted the great example. Ces. Left, and flatter'd into a broad derision? Mar. Why d'ee think so? My Lord Baptista, is your Son grown cold In hasting on the marriage, which his vows Have seal'd to my wrong'd daughter? Bap. We come Lady, to consummate the contract. Ces. With Mentivole? is he the man? Ment. Clarissas, troth and mine, Cesario, are recorded in a character So plain and certain, that except the hand Of heaven, which writ it first, would blot it out again, No humane power can raze it. Ces. But say you so too young Lady? Cla. I should else betray My heart to falshood, and my tongue to perjury. Ces. Madam, you know the sentence. Bap. From the Duke, I have particular comforts which require A private [e]are. Mar. I shall approve it gladly We are resolv'd Cesario. Bap. Be not insolent upon a Princes favor. Cla. Loose no glory, Your younger years have purchast. Ment. And deserved too, y'have many worthy freinds. Bap. Preserve and use them. [Exeunt. Manet Cesar. Ces. Good, very good, why here's a complement Of mirth in desperation, I could curse My fate: O with what speed men tumble down From hopes that soar too high. Biancha now May scorn me justly too, Clarissa married, Alberto's widdow resolute, Biancha Refus'd, and I forsaken: let me study, I can but die a Batchelor that's the worst on't. [Exit.

Host. Come Gentlemen, This is the day that our great artist hath Promis'd to give all your severall suits satisfaction. Dancer. Is he stirring? Host. He hath been at his book these t[w]o hours. Pedant. He's a rare Physitian. Host. Why I'll tell you, Were Paracelsus the German now Living, he'd take up his single rapier against his Terrible long sword, he makes it a matter of nothing To cure the gout, sore eyes he takes out as familiarly, Washes them, and puts them in again, As you'd blanch almonds. Tay. They say he can make gold. Host. I, I, he learnt it of Kelly in Germanny. There's not a Chymist In christendome can goe beyond him for multiplying. Pedant. Take heed then; He get not up your daughters belly my Host. Host. You are a merry Gentleman And the man of art will love you the better. Dancer. Does he love mirth and crotchets? Host. O he's the most courteous Physitian, You may drink or drab in's company freely, The better he knows how your disease grows, The better he knows how to cure it. Danc. But I wonder my Host He has no more resort of Ladyes to him. Host. Why Sir? Dan. O divers of them have great beleif in conjurers: Lechery is a great help to the quality. Host. He's scarce known to be in town yet, Ere long we shall have 'em come Hurrying hither in Fetherbeds. Dan. How? bedridden? Host. No sir, in fetherbeds that move upon 4 wheels in Spanish caroches. Ped. Pray accquaint him we give attendance. Host. I shall gentlemen; I would fain be rid Of these rascalls, but that they raise profit To my wine cellar. When I have made use of them sufficiently, I will intreat the conjurer to tye crackers to their tails, And send them packing.

Foro. Come hither mine Host, look here. Host. What's that? Foro. A challenge from my man. Host. For breaking's pate? Foro. He writes here if I meet him not I'th' Feild within this half hour, I shall hear more from him. Host. O sir, minde your profit, Ne'er think of the rascall, here are the gentlemen. Foro. 'Morrow my worthy clients, What are you all prepar'd of your questions; That I may give my resolution upon them? Omnes. We are Sir. Pedant. And have brought our mony. Foro. Each then in order, And differ not for precedency. Dan. I am buying of an office Sir, And to that purpose I would fain learn To dissemble cunningly. Foro. Doe you come to me for that? you should rather Have gone to a cunning woman. Danc. I sir but their Instructions are but like wom[e]n, Pretty well but not to the depth, as I'd have it: You are a conjurer, the devils Master, And I would learn it from you so exactly. Foro. That the devill himself Might not go beyond you. Dane. You are i'th' right Sir. Foro. And so your mony for your purchase Might come in again within a 12 month. Danc. I would be a Graduate sir, no freshman. F[e]ro. Here's my hand sir, I will make you dissemble so methodically, As if the divell should be sent from the great Turk, In the shape of an Embassador To set all the Christian princes at variance. Danc. I cannot with any modesty desire any more. There's your mony sir. Foro. For the art of dissembling. Cox. My suit sir will be news to you when I tell it. Foro. Pray on. Cox. I would set up a press here in Italy, To write all the Corantos for Christendome. Foro. That's news indeed, And how would you imploy me in't? Cox. Marry sir, from you I would gain my intelligence. Foro. I conceive you, you would have me furnish you With a spirit to informe you. Cox. But as quiet a Divell as the woman, The first day and a half after she's married, I can by no means indure a terrible one. Foro. No, no, I'll qualifie him, He shall not fright you, It shall be the ghost of some lying Stationer, A Spirit shall look as if butter would not melt in his mouth. A new Mercurius Gallo-belgicus. Cox. O there was a captain was rare at it. Foro. Ne'er thinke of him, Though that captain writ a full hand gallop, And wasted indeed more harmeless paper than Ever did laxative Physick, Yet will I make you to out-scribble him, And set down what you please, The world shall better believe you. Cox. Worthy sir I thank you, there's mony. Foro. A new office For writing pragmaticall Curranto's. Pedant. I am a school-master sir, And would fain conferre with you About erecting 4 new sects of religion at Amsterdam. Foro. What the Divell should New sects of religion doe there? Pedant. I assure you I would get A great deal of money by it. Foro. And what are the 4 new sects Of religion you would plant there? Ped. Why that's it I come about sir, 'Tis a Divel of your raising must invent 'em, I confess I am too weak to compass it. Foro. So sir, then you make it a matter of no difficulty To have them tolerated. Pedant. Trouble not your self for that, Let but your Divel set them a foot once. I have Weavers, and Ginger-bread makers, And mighty Aquavitæ-men, shall set them a going. Foro. This is somewhat difficult, And will aske some conference with the divell. Ped. Take your own leasure sir, I have another business too, because I mean To leave Italy, and bury my self in those neather parts Of the low countries. Foro. What's that sir. Ped. Marry I would fain make 9 dayes to the week, for the more ample benefit of the captain. Foro. You have a shrewd pate sir. Ped. But how this might be compass'd? Foro. Compass'd easily; tis but making A new Almanack, and dividing the compass Of the year into larger penny-worths, As a Chandler with his compass makes A Geometrick proportion of the Holland cheese He retailes by stivers. But for getting of it licenc'd? Ped. Trouble not your self with that sir, There's your mony. Foro. For four new sects of religions, And 9 dayes to the week. Ped. To be brought in at general pay-dayes, Write I beseech you. Foro. At generall pay-dayes. Taylor. I am by profession a Taylor, You have heard of me. Foro. Yes sir, and will not steal from you The least part of that commendation I have heard utter'd. Taylor. I take measure of your worth sir, And because I will not afflict you with any large bill Of circumstances, I will snip off particulars. I would fain invent some strange And exquisite new fashions. Foro. Are you not travel'd sir. Tay. Yes sir, but have observ'd all we can see Or invent, are but old ones with new names to'em, Now I would some way or other grow more curious. Foro. Let me see; to devise new fashions— Were you never in the Moon? Tay. In the Moon tavern! yes sir, often. Foro. No, I do mean in the new world, In the world that's in the Moon yonder. Tay. How? a new world 'ith' moon? Foro. Yes I assure you. Tay. And peopled? Foro. O most fantastically peopled. Tay. Nay certain then there's work for taylors? Foro. That there is I assure you. Tay. Yet I have talked with a Scotch taylor That never discover'd so much to me, Though he has travell'd far, and was a pedlar in Poland. Foro. That was out of his way, This lies beyond China: You would study new fashions you say? Take my councell, make a voyage, And discover that new world. Tay. Shall I be a moon-man? Foro. I am of opinion, the people of that world (If they be like the nature of that climate they live in) Do vary the fashion of their cloaths oftener than any Quick-silver'd nation in Europe. Tay. Not unlikely, but what should that be we call The man in the moon then? Foro. Why 'tis nothing but an Englishman That stands there stark naked, With a pair of sheers in one hand, And a great bundle of broad cloath in the other (Which resembles the bush of thorns) Cutting out of new fashions. Taylor. I have heard somewhat like this, But how shall I get thither? Foro. I'll make a new compass shall direct you. Tay. Certain? Foro. Count me else for no man of direction. Tay. There's 20 duckats in hand, at my return I'll give you a 100. Foro. A new voyage to discover new fashions. Mul. I have been a traveller too sir, That have shewed strange beasts in Christendome, And got money by them, but I find the trade to decay. Your Camelion, or East-Indian hedg-hog Gets very little mony, and your Elephant devours So much bread, brings in so little profit, His keeper were better every morning Cram 15 Taylors with white manchet: I would have some new spectacle, And one that might be more attractive.