Four PLAYS in One. (continued 2)

Per. Maria. Mar. Are mine eyes mine own? or bless me, Am I deluded with a flying shadow? Per. Why do you start so from me? Mar. It speaks sensibly, And shews a living body: yet I am fearful. Per. Give me your hand, good Maria. Mar. He feels warm too. Per. And next your [l]ips. Mar. He kisses perfectly. Nay, and the Devil be n[o] worse: you are Perolot. Per. I was, and sure I should be: Can a small distance, And ten short moneths take from your memory The figure of your friend, that you stand wondring? Be not amaz'd, I am the self-same Per[o]lot, Living, and well; Son to Gentille, and Brother To virtuous Casta; to your beauteous Mistriss, The long since poor betroth'd, and still vow'd servant. Mar. Nay, sure he lives. My Lord Lavall, your Master, Brought news long since to your much mourning Mistriss, Ye dy'd at Orleance; bound her with an oath too, To keep it secret from your aged Father, Lest it should rack his heart. Per. A pretty secret To try my Mistriss Love, and make my welcome From travel of more worth; from whence, Heaven be thanked, My business for the Duke dispatch'd to th' purpose, And all my money spent, I am come home, wench. How does my Mistriss? for I have not yet seen Any, nor will I, till I do her service.

Per. Yes, by much more force he got it, But none else knew; upon his promise too And honor to conceal it faithfully Till my return; to further which, he told me, My business being ended, from the Duke He would procure a pension for my service, Able to make my Mistriss a fit Husband. Mar. But are you sure of this? Per. Sure as my sight, wench. Mar. Then is your Lord a base dissembling villain, A Devil Lord, the damn'd Lord of all lewdness, And has betraid ye, and undone my Mistriss, My poor sweet Mistriss: oh that leacher Lord, Who, poor soul, since was married. Per. To whom, Maria? Mar. To that unlucky Lord, a —— upon him; Whose hot horse-appetite being allaid once With her chaste joyes, married again, scarce cool'd, The Torches yet not out the yellow Hymen Lighted about the bed, the Songs yet sounding, Marine's young noble Daughter Helena, Whose mischief stands at door next. Oh that recreant! Per. Oh villain! Oh most unmanly falshood! Nay then I see, my Letters were betraid too. Oh, I am full of this, great with his mischiefs, Loaden and burst: Come, lead me to my Lady. Mar. I cannot, Sir, Lavall keeps her conceal'd, Besides, her griefs are such, she will see no man. Per. I must, and will go to her: I will see her: There be my friend, or this shall be thy furthest. Mar. Hold, and I'll help thee: but first ye shall swear to me, As you are true and gentle, as ye hate This beastly and base Lord, where I shall place ye, (Which shall be within sight) till I discharge ye, What-e'er you see or hear, to make no motion. Per. I do by —— Mar. Stay here about the house then, Till it be later; yet the time's not perfect: There at the back door I'll attend you truly. Per. Oh monstrous, monstrous beastly villain. [Exit. Mar. How cross this falls, and from all expectation! And what the end shall be, Heaven only yet knows: Only I wish, and hope. But I forget still, Casta must be the bait, or all miscarries. [Exeunt.

Gent. Holla, Shaloon. Shal. Who's there? Gent. A word from the Duke, Sir. Shal. Your pleasure. Gent. Tell your Lord he must to Court strait. Shal. He is ill at ease: and prays he may be pardon'd The occasions of this night. Gent. Belike he is drunk then: He must away; the Duke and his fair Lady, The beauteous Helena, are now at Cent. Of whom she has such fortune in her carding, The Duke has lost a thousand Crowns, and swears, He will not go to bed, till by Lavall The Tide of loss be turn'd again. Awake him, For 'tis the pleasure of the Duke he must rise. Sha. Having so strict command (Sir) to the contrary, I dare not do it: I beseech your pardon. Gent. Are you sure he is there? Sha. Yes. Gen. And asleep? Sha. I think so. Gen. And are you sure you will not tell him, Shalon? Sha. Yes, very sure. Gen. Then I am sure, I will. Open, or I must force. Sha. Pray ye stay, he is not, Nor will not be this night. You may excuse it. Gent. I knew he was gone about some womans labour. As good a neighbor, though I say it, and as comfortable: Many such more we need Shaloon. Alas, poor Lady, Thou art like to lie cross-legg'd to night. Good Monsieur, I will excuse your Master for this once, Sir, Because sometimes I have lov'd a wench my self too. Sha. 'Tis a good hearing, Sir. Gent. But for your lye, Shaloon, If I had you here, it should be no good hearing. For your pate I would pummel. Sha. A fair good night, Sir. Gent. Good night, thou noble Knight, Sir Pandarus. My heart is cold o'th' suddain, and a strange dulness Possesses all my body: thy Will be done Heaven. [Exit.

Casta. 'Faith Friend, I was even going to my bed, When your Maid told me of your sudden sickness: But from my grave (so truly I love you) I think your name would raise me: ye look ill Since last I saw ye, much decay'd in colour: Yet I thank Heaven, I find no such great danger As your Maid frighted me withal: take courage And give your sickness course: some grief you have got That feeds within upon your tender spirits, And wanting open way to vent it self, Murders your mind, and choaks up all your sweetness. Gab. It was my Maids fault; worthy friend, to trouble ye, So late, upon so light a cause: yet since I have ye Oh my dear Casta. Casta. Out with it, God's name. Gab. The Closset of my heart, I will lock here, wench,

And things shall make ye tremble. Who's that knocks there? Mar. 'Tis Lavall. Gab. Sit you still. Let him in. I am resolv'd, and all you wronged women, You noble spirits, that as I have suffer'd Under this glorious beast-insulting man, Lend me your causes, then your cruelties, For I must put on madness above women. Cast. Why do you look so ghastly? Gab. Peace; no harm, Deer.

Lav. There, take my cloak and sword: Where is this Banquet? Mar. In the next room. Casta. How came he here? Heaven bless me. Lav. Give me some Wine wench; fill it full, and sprightly. Gab. Sit still, and be not fearful. Lav. Till my veins swell, And my strong sinews stretch like that brave Centaur, That at the Table snatch'd the Bride away In spight of Hercules. Casta. I am betraid. Lav. Nay, start not Lady; 'tis for you that I come, And for your beauty: 'tis for you, Lavall Honors this night; to you, the sacred shrine I humbly bow, offering my vows and prayers; To you I live. Gab. In with the powder quickly: So, that and the Wine will rock ye. [Lav. Here, to the health] Of the most beauteous and divine, fair Casta, The star of sweetness. Gab. Fear him not, I'll die first. And who shall pledge ye? Lav. Thou shalt, thou tann'd Gipsey: And worship to that brightness give, cold Tartar. By —— ye shall not stir; ye are my Mistris, The glory of my love, the great adventure, The Mistris of my heart, and she my whore. Gab. Thou ly'st, base, beastly Lord; drunker then anger, Thou sowsed Lord, got by a surfeit, thou lyest basely. Nay, stir not: I dare tell thee so. Sit you still. If I be whore, it is in marrying thee, That art so absolute and full a villain, No Sacrament can save that piece tied to thee. How often hast thou woo'd in those flatteries, Almost those very words, my constancie? What goddess have I not been, or what goodness What star that is of any name in Heaven, Or brightness? which of all the virtues (But drunkenness, and drabbing, thy two morals) Have not I reach'd to? what Spring was ever sweeter? What Scythian snow so white? what crystal chaster? Is not thy new wife now the same too? Hang thee, Base Bigamist, thou honor of ill women. Casta. How's this? O! Heaven defend me. Gab. Thou salt-itch, For whom no cure but ever burning brimstone Can be imagin'd. Lav. Ha, ha, ha. Gab. Dost thou laugh, thou breaker Of all law, all religion, of all faith Thou Soule contemner? Lav. Peace, thou paltry woman: And sit by me, Sweet. Gab. By the Devil? Lav. Come, And lull me with delights. Gab. It works amain now. Lav. Give me such kisses as the Queen of shadows Gave to the sleeping boy she stole on Latmus; Look round about in snakie wreathes close folded, Those rosie arms about my neck, O! Venus. Gab. Fear not, I say. Lav. Thou admirable sweetness, Distill thy blessings like those silver drops, That falling on fair grounds, rise all in roses: Shoot me a thousand darts from those fair eyes, And through my heart transfix 'em all, I'll stand 'em. Send me a thousand smiles, and presently I'll catch 'em in mine eyes, and by Love's power Turn 'em to Cupids all, and fling 'em on thee, How high she looks, and heavenly! More wine for me. Ga. Give him more wine, and good friend be not fearful. Lav. Here on my knee, thou Goddess of delights, This lustie grape I offer to thy Beauties; See how it leaps to view that perfect redness That dwels upon thy lips: now, how it blushes To be outblush'd. Oh! let me feed my fancie, And as I hold the purple god in one hand Dancing about the bri[m] and proudly swelling, Deck'd in the pride of nature young, and blowing; So let me take fair Semele in the other, And sing the loves of gods, then drink, their Nectar's Not yet desir'd. Casta. Oh! Lav. Then like lustie Tarquin Turn'd into flames with Lucrece coy denyals, His blood and spirit equally ambitious, I force thee for my own. Casta. O help me Justice: Help me, my Chastitie. Lav. Now I am bravely quarried. [Perolot above. Per. 'Tis my Sister. Gab. No, bawdy slave, no Treacher, she is not carried. Per. She's loose again, and gone. I'll keep my place still. Mar. Now it works bravely: stand, he cannot hurt ye. Lav. O my sweet Love, my life. [He falls downe, and sleeps. Mar. He sinks. Lav. My blessing. Mar. So, now he is safe a while. Gab. Lock all the doors, wench, Then for my wrongs. Per. Now I'll appear to know all. Gab. Be quick, quick, good Marie, sure and sudden. Per. Stay, I must in first. Gab. O' my conscience! It is young Perol[o]t: Oh my stung conscience! It is my first and noblest Love. Mar. Leave wondring, And recollect your self: the man is living, Equally wrong'd as you, and by that Devil. Per. 'Tis most true, Lady: your unhappy fortune I grieve for as mine own, your fault forgive too, If it be one. This is no time for kisses: I have heard all, and known all, which mine ears Are crack'd apieces with, and my heart perish'd. I saw him in your chamber, saw his fury. And am afire till I have found his heart out. What do you mean to do? for I'll make one. Gab. To make his death more horrid (for he shall dye). Per. He m[u]st, he must. Gab. We'll watch him till he wakes, Then bind him, and then torture him. Per. 'Tis nothing. No, take him dead drunk now without repentance, His leachery inseam'd upon him. Gab. Excellent. Per. I'll do it my self; and when 'tis done, provide ye, For we'll away for Italy this night. Gab. We'll follow thorow all hazards. Per. Oh false Lord, Unmanly, mischievous; how I could curse thee; But that but blasts thy fame; have at thy heart, fool: Loop-holes I'll make enough to let thy life out. Lav. Oh! does the devil ride me? Per. Nay then. Lav. Murder. Nay, then take my share too. Per. Help; oh! he has slain me. Bloudy intentions must have bloud. Lav. Hah? Per. Heaven. Gab. He sinks, he sinks, for ever sinks: oh fortune! Oh sorrow! how like seas thou flowest upon me! Here will I dwell for ever. Weep Maria, Weep this young man's misfortune: oh thou truest!

Lav. What have I done? Spir. That that has mark'd thy soul man. Lav. And art thou come again thou dismal spirit? Spir. Yes, to devour thy last. Lav. Mercy upon thee. Spir. Thy hour is come: succession, honor, pleasure, And all the lustre thou so long hast look'd for Must here have end: Summon thy sins before thee. Lav. Oh my affrighted soul! Spir. There lies a black one; Thy own best servant by thy own hand slain, Thy drunkenness procur'd it: There's another: Think of fair Gabriella, there she weeps; And such tears are not lost. Lav. Oh miserable! Spir. Thy foul intention to the virtuous Casta. Lav. No more, no more, thou wild-fire. Spir. Last, thy last wife, Think on the wrong she suffers. Lav. O my miserie. Oh! whither shall I flie? Spir. Thou hast no faith, fool. Heark to thy knell. [Sings, and vanishes. Lav. Millions of sins muster about mine eyes now: Murders, ambitions, lust, false faiths; O horror, In what a stormie form of death thou rid'st now! Me thinks I see all tortures, fires, and frosts, Deep sinking caves, where nothing but despair dwels, The balefull birds of night hovering about 'em; A grave, me thinks, now opens, and a herse Hung with my Arms tumbles into it: oh! Oh! my afflicted soul: I cannot pray; And the least child that has but goodness in him May strike my head off; so stupid are my powers: I'll lift mine eyes up though. Mar. Cease these laments, They are too poor for venge[a]nce: Lavall lives yet. Gab. Then thus I drie all sorrows from these eyes, Fury and rage possess 'em now: damn'd divell. Lav. Hah? Gab. This for young Perolot. Lav. O mercy, mercy. Gab. This for my wrongs. Lav. But one short hour to cure me. [Knock within. Oh be not cruell: Oh! oh. Mar. Heark, they knock. Make hast for Heavens sake, Mistris. Gab. This for Casta. Lav. Oh, O, O, O! [He dies. Mar. He's dead: come quickly, let's away with him, 'T will be too late else. Gab. Help, help up to th' chamber! [Exeunt with Lavalls body.

Duke. What frights are these? Gent. I [a]m sure here 's one past frighting. Bring the lights neerer: I have enough alreadie. Out, out, mine eyes. Look, Casta. Lord. 'T is young Perolot.

Cast. O my dear brother! [Exit. Gent. There is a time for all; for me, I hope, too, And very shortly. Murdred?

Duke. Who's above there? Gab. Look up, and see. Duke. What may this mean? Gab. Behold it; Behold the drunken murderer Of that young Gentleman; behold the rankest, The vilest, basest slave that ever flourish'd. Duke. Who kill'd him? Gab. I; and there 's the cause I did it: Read, if your eyes will give you leave. Hell. Oh! monstrous. Gab. Nay, out it shall: there, take this false heart to ye; The base dishonor of a thousand women: Keep it in gold, Duke, 'tis a precious jewel. Now to my self; for I have liv'd a fair age, Longer by some moneths then I had a mind to. Duke. Hold. Gab. Here, young Perolot; my first contracted True love shall never go alone. Duke. Hold, Gabriella. I do forgive all. Gab. I shall die the better, Thus let me seek my grave, and my shames with me. Mar. Nor shalt thou go alone my noble Mistris: Why should I live, and thou dead? Lord. Save the wench there. Mar. She is, I hope; and all my sins here written. Duke. This was a fatal night. Gent. Heaven has his working, Which we cannot contend against. Duke. Alas! Gent. Your Grace has your alas too. Duke. Would 't were equal; For thou hast lost an honest noble childe. Gent. 'T is heir enough has lost a good remembrance. Duke. See all their bodies buried decently, Though some deserv'd it not. How do you, Lady? Hell. Even with your Graces leave, ripe for a Monasterie; There will I wed my life to tears and prayers, And never know what man is more. Duke. Your pleasure; How does the maid within? Lord. She is gone before, Sir, The same course that my Lady takes. Gent. And my course shall be my Beads at home; so Please your Grace to give me leave to leave the Court. Duke. In peace, Sir, And take my love along. Gent. I shall pray for ye. Duke. Now to our selves retire we, and begin By this example to correct each sin. [Exeunt.

King. Em. By this we plainly view the two imposthumes That choke a kingdoms welfare; Ease, and Wantonness; In both of which Lavall was capital: For first, Ease stole away his minde from honor, That active noble thoughts had kept still working, And then deliver'd him to drink and women, Lust and outragious riot; and what their ends are, How infamous and foul, we see example. Therefore, that great man that will keep his name, And gain his merit out of Virtues schools, Must make the pleasures of the world his fools. [Flourish.

From this sad sight ascend your noble eye, And see old Time helping triumphantly, Helping his Master Man: view here his vanities And see his false friends like those glutted flyes, That when they've suckt their fill, fall off, and fade From all remembrance of him, like a shade. And last, view who relieves him; and that gone, We hope your favour, and our Play is done. [Flourish.

Ant. What hast thou done, Desire, and how imploy'd The charge I gave thee, about levying wealth For our supplies? Desire. I have done all, yet nothing: Tri'd all, and all my ways, yet all miscarried; There dwells a sordid dulness in their mindes Thou son of earth, colder then that thou art made of, I came to Craft, found all his hooks about him, And all his nets baited and set; his slie self And greedie Lucre at a serious conference Which way to tie the world within their statutes: Business of all sides and of all sorts swarming Like Bees broke loose in summer: [I] declared Your will and want together, both inforcing With all the power and pains I had, to reach him; Yet all fell short. Anth. His answer. Desire. This he gave me. Your wants are never ending; and those supplies That came to stop those breaches, are ever lavisht Before they reach the main, in toys and trifles, Gew-gaws, and gilded puppets: Vain delight He says has ruin'd ye, with clappi[n]g all That comes in for support, on clothes, and Coaches, Perfumes, and powder'd pates; and that your Mistris, The Lady Pleasure, like a sea devours At length both you and him too. If you have houses, Or land, or jewels, for good pawn, he'll hear you, And will be readie to supplie occasions; If not, he locks his ears up, and grows stupid. From him, I went to Vanity, whom I found Attended by [a]n endless troop of Tailors, Mercers, Embroiderers, Feather-makers, Fumers, All occupations opening like a Mart, That serve to rig the body out with braverie; And th'row the roome new fashions flew like flyes, In thousand gaudie shapes; Pride waiting on her, And busily surveying all the breaches Time and delaying Nature had wrought in her, Which still with art she piec'd again, and strengthened: I told your wants; she shew'd me gowns and head-tires, Imbroider'd wastcoats, smocks seam'd thorow with cut-works, Scarfs, mantles, petticoats, muffs, powders, paintings, Dogs, monkeys, parrots, which all seemed to shew me The way her money went. From her to Pleasure I took my journey. Anth. And what says our best Mistris? Desire. She danc'd me out this answer presently: Revels and Masques had drawn her drie alreadie. I met old Time too, mowing mankind down, Who says you are too hot, and he must purge ye. Anth. A cold quietus. Miserable creatures, Born to support and beautifie your master, The godlike man, set here to do me service, The children of my will; why, or how dare ye, Created to my use alone, disgrace me? Beasts have more court[e]sie; they live about me, Offering their warm wooll to the shearers hand, To clothe me with their bodies to my labours; Nay, even their lives they daily sacrifice, And proudly press with garlands to the altars, To fill the gods oblations. Birds bow to me, Striking their downie sails to do me service, Their sweet airs ever ecchoing to mine honor, And to my rest their plumie softs they send me. Fishes, and plants, and all where life inhabits, But mine own cursed kind, obey their ruler; Mine have forgot me, miserable mine, Into whose stonie hearts, neglect of dutie, Squint-ey'd deceit, and self-love, are crept closely: None feel my wants, not one mend with me. Desire. None, Sir? Ant. Thou hast forgot (Desire) thy best friend, Flatterie; He cannot fail me. Delight. Fail? he will sell himself, And all within his power, close to his skin first. Desire. I thought so too, and made him my first venture But found him in a young Lords ear so busie, So like a smiling showr pouring his soul In at his portals, his face in a thousand figures Catching the vain mind of the men: I pull'd him, But still he hung like birdlime; spoke unto him, His answer still was, By the Lord, sweet Lord, And By my soul, thou master-piece of honor; Nothing could stave him off: he has heard your flood's gone; And on decaying things he seldom smiles, Sir. Anth. Then here I break up state, and free my followers, Putting my fortune now to Time, and Justice: Go seek new masters now; for Anthropos Neglected by his friends, must seek new fortunes. Desire, to Avarice I here commend thee, Where thou may'st live at full bent of thy wishes: And Vain Delight, thou feeder of my follies With light fantastickness, be thou in favour. To leave thee, Bountie, my most worthie servant, Troubles me more then m[ine] own misery; But we must part: go plant thy self, my best friend, In honorable hearts that truely know thee, And there live ever like thy self, a virtue: But leave this place, and seek the Countrey, For Law, and lust, like fire lick all up here. Now none but Poverty must follow me, Despis'd patch'd Poverty; and we two married, Will seek Simplicity, Content and Peace out.

And live with them in exile. How uncall'd on My true friend comes! Poverty. Here, hold thee, Anthropos, Thou art almost arm'd at rest; put this on, A penitential robe, to purge thy pleasures: Off with that vanitie. Anth. Here, Vain Delight, And with this all my part, to thee again Of thee I freely render. Pov. Take this staff now, And be more constant to your steps hereafter: The staff is Staidness of affections. Away you painted flyes, that with mans summet Take life and heat buzzing about his blossoms; When growing full, ye turn to Caterpillers, Gnawing the root that gave you life. Fly shadows.

Now to Content I'll give thee, Anthropos, To Rest and Peace: no vanitie dwells there; Desire [nor] Pleasur[e], to delude thy mind more; No Flatteries smooth-fil'd tongue shall poison thee. Anth. O! Jupiter, if I have ever offer'd Upon thy burning Altars but one Sacrifice Thou and thy fair-ey'd Juno smil'd upon; If ever, to thine honor, bounteous feasts, Where all thy statu[e]s sweet with wine and incense, Have by the son of earth been celebrated: Hear me (the child of shame now) hear thou helper, And take my wrongs into thy hands, thou justice Done by unmindful man, unmerciful, Against his master done, against thy order; And raise again, thou father of all honor, The poor despis'd, but yet thy noblest creature. Raise from his ruines once more this sunk Cedar, That all may fear thy power, and I proclaim it. [Exeunt.

Jup. Ho! Mercury, my winged son. Mer. Your servant. Jup. Whose powerful prayers were those that reach'd our ears, Arm'd in such spells of pity now? Mer. The sad petitions Of the scorn'd son of earth, the god-like Anthropos, He that has swell'd your sacred fires with incense, And pil'd upon your Altars a thousand heifers; He that (beguil'd by Vanity and Pleasure, Desire, Craft, Flattery, and smooth Hypocrisie) Stands now despis'd and ruin'd, left to Poverty. Jup. It must not be; he was not rais'd for ruine; Nor shall those hands heav'd at m[ine] Altars, perish: He is our noblest creature. Flee to Time, And charge him presently release the bands Of Poverty and Want this suitor sinks in: Tell him, among the Sun-burnt Indians, That know no other wealth but Peace and pleasure, She shall find golden Plutus, god of riches, Who idly is ador'd, the innocent people Not knowing yet what power and weight he carries: Bid him compell him to his right use, honor, And presently to live with Anthropos. It is our Will. Away. Mer. I do obey it. [Jupiter and Mercury ascend again.

Time. Rise, and away; 'tis Joves command. Plut. I will not: Ye have some fool to furnish now; some Midas That to no purpose I must choak with riches. Who must I go to? Time. To the son of earth; He wants the god of wealth. Plut. Let him want still: I was too lately with him, almost torn Into ten thousand pieces by his followers: I could not sleep, but Craft or Vanity Were filing off my fingers; not eat, for fear Pleasure would cast her self into my belly, And there surprize my heart. Time. These have forsaken him: Make haste then, thou must with me: be not angry, For fear a greater anger light upon thee. Plut. I do obey then: but change my figure; For when I willingly befriend a creature, Goodly, and full of glory I shew to him; But when I am compell'd, old, and decrepid, I halt, and hang upon my staff. Farewell, friends, I will not be long from ye; all my servants I leave among ye still, and my chief riches.

Oh Time, what innocence dwells here, what goodness! They know me not, nor hurt me not, yet hug me. Away, I'll follow thee: but not too fast, Time.

Humil. Man, be not sad, nor let this divorce From Mundus, and his many ways of pleasure, Afflict thy spirits; which consider'd rightly With inward eyes, makes thee arrive at happy. Pov. For now what danger or deceit can reach thee? What matter left for Craft or Covetize To plot against thee? what Desire to burn thee? Honest. Oh son of earth, let Honesty possess thee; Be as thou wast intended, like thy Maker; See thorow those gawdy shadows, that like dreams Have dwelt upon thee long: call up thy goodness, Thy mind and man with[in] thee, that lie shipwrack'd, And then how thin and vain these fond affections, How lame this worldly [l]ove, how lump-like raw And ill digested all these vanities Will shew, let Reason tell thee. Simpl. Crown thy mind With that above the worlds wealth, joyful suff'ring, And truly be the master of thy self. Which is the noblest Empire; and there stand The thing thou wert ordain'd, and set to govern. Pov. Come, let us sing the worlds shame: hear us, Anthropos.

Hon. Away; we are betrayd. [Exeunt all but Poverty. Time. Get thou too after, Thou needy bare companion; go for ever, For ever, I conjure thee: make no answer. [Exit Poverty.

Time. I have brought thee succour; And now catch hold, I am thine: The god of riches (Compell'd by him that saw thy miseries, The ever just and wakeful Jove, at length) Is come unto thee: use him as thine own; For 'tis the doom of Heaven: he must obey thee. Anth. Have I found pity then? Time. Thou hast; and Justice Against those false seducers of thine honor: Come, give him present helps. [Exit Time.

Plut. Come Industry, Thou friend of life; and next to thee, rise Labour;

Rise presently: and now to your employments; But first conduct this mortal to the rock.

What seest thou now? [Plutus strikes the Rock, and flames flie out. Anth. A glorious Mine of Metal. Oh Jupiter, my thanks. Plut. To me a little. Anth. And to the god of wealth, my Sacrifice. Plut. Nay, then I am rewarded. Take heed now, Son, You are afloat again, lest Mundus catch ye. Anth. Neve[r] betray me more. Plut. I must to India, From whence I came, where my main wealth lies buried, And these must with me. Take that Book and Mattock, And by those, know to live again.

Anth. I shall do.

Fame. Thorow all the world, the fortune of great Anthropos Be known and wonder'd at; his riches envy'd As far as Sun or Time is; his power fear'd too. [Exeunt.

Mer. Take heed, weak man, those are the sins that sunk thee: Trust 'em no more: kneel, and give thanks to Jupiter. Anth. Oh mighty power! Jup. Unmask, ye gilded poisons: Now look upon 'em, son of earth, and shame 'em; Now see the faces of thy evil Angels, Lead 'em to Time, and let 'em fill his Triumph: Their memories be here forgot for ever. Anth. Oh just great god! how many lives of service, What ages only given to thine honor. What infinites of vows, and holy prayers, Can pay my thanks? Jup. Rise up: and to assure thee That never more thou shalt feel want, strike, Mercury, Strike him; and by that stroke he shall for ever Live in that rock of Gold, and still enjoy it. Be't done, I say. Now sing in honor of him.

Exeunt. Flourish. King. Em. By this we note (sweet-heart) in Kings and Princes A weakness, even in spite of all their wisdoms. And often to be master'd by abuses: Our natures here describ'd too, and what humors Prevail above our Reasons to undo us. But this the last and best. When no friend stands, The gods are merciful, and lend their hands. Flourish.

Now as the Husbandman, whose Costs and Pain, Whose Hopes and Helps lie buried in his Grain, Waiting a happy Spring to ripen full His long'd-for Harvest, to the Reapers pull; Stand we expecting, having sown our Ground With so much charge, (the fruitfulness not found) The Harvest of our Labours: For we know You are our Spring; and when you smile, we grow. Nor Charge nor Pain, shall bind us from your Pleasures, So you but lend your hands to fill our Measures.