Chapter V: Introduction: To the Lady Mother (1)

The authorship of this anonymous play, now printed for the first time (from Eg. MS. 1994), is not difficult to discover. Any one who has had the patience to read the Plays of Henry Glapthorne cannot fail to be amused by the bland persistence with which certain passages are reproduced in one play after another. Glapthorne's stock of fancies was not very extensive, but he puts himself to considerable pains to make the most of them. In _The Lady Mother_ we find the same ornaments spread out before us, many of them very tawdry at their best. Glapthorne's editor has striven to show that the weak-kneed playwright was a fellow-pupil of John Milton's at St. Paul's. One cannot think of the two names together without calling to mind the "lean and flashy songs" and "scrannel pipes of wretched straw" in _Lycidas_.

Yet Glapthorne was a man of some parts. He had little enough dramatic power, but he writes occasionally with tenderness and feeling. In his poetical garden rank weeds choke up the flower-beds; but still, if we have patience to pursue the quest, we may pick here and there a musk-rose or a violet that retains its fragrance. He seems to have taken Shirley as his master; but desire in the pupil's case outran performance. It is, indeed, a pitiful fall from the _Grateful Servant_, a honey-sweet old play, fresh as an idyl of Theocritus, to the paltry faded graces of the _Lady's Privilege_.

A note at the end of _The Lady Mother_ in the hand-writing of William Blagrave, acting for the Master of the Revels, shows that the play was licensed in October, 1635. From a passage in II., 1, it would seem to have been produced at the Salisbury Court Theatre in Whitefriars. In the same year Glapthorne's comedy of the _Hollander_, according to the title-page, was being acted at the Cockpit, Drury Lane. His other pieces were produced rather later. I am inclined to think that _The Lady Mother_, in spite of the wild improbability of the plot and the poorness of much of the comic parts, is our author's best work. In such lines as the following (IV., 1) there is a little flickering of pathos:--

"Enough, good friend; no more.
Had a rude _Scythian_, ignorant of tears,
Unless the wind enforced them from his eyes,
Heard this relation, sure he would have wept;
And yet I cannot. I have lost all sense
Of pitty with my womanhood, and now
That once essentiall Mistress of my soule,
Warme charity, no more inflames my brest
Then does the glowewormes uneffectuall fire
The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist
The agravation of your sad report; [_Weepe_.
Ive to much griefe already."

The "glowewormes uneffectuall fire" is of course pilfered from Hamlet, but it is happily introduced. There is some humour in the scene (I., 2) where the old buck, Sir Geoffrey, who is studying a compliment to his mistress while his hair is being trimmed by his servant before the glass, puts by the importunity of his scatter-brain'd nephew and the blustering captain, who vainly endeavour to bring him to the point and make him disburse. On the whole I am confident that _The Lady Mother_ will be found less tedious than any other of Glapthorne's pieces.

THE LADY MOTHER: A COMEDY.

BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE.

_Written in 1635, and now printed for the first time_.

The Play of The Lady Mother.

_Actus Primus_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Thorowgood, Bonvill & Grimes_.

_Bon_. What? will it be a match man? Shall I kneele to thee and aske thee blessing, ha?

_Tho_. Pish! I begin to feare her, she does Dally with her affection: I admire itt.

_Bon_. Shee and her daughters Created were for admiration only, And did my Mistress and her sister not Obscure their mothers luster fancy could not Admitt a fuller bewty.

_Tho_. Tis easier to expresse Where nimble winds lodge, ore investigate An eagles passage through the agill ayre Then to invent a paraphrase to expresse How much true virtue is indebted to their Unparaleld perfections.

_Bon_. Nay[56], but shall I not be acquainted with your designe? when we must marry, faith to save charges of two wedding dinners, lets cast so that one day may yeild us bridegroome,--I to the daughter and thou to the mother.

_Tho_. She falls off With such a soddaine ambiguitie, From the strong heate of her profesd[57] love That I conceive she intends a regular proofe Of my untainted Faith.

_Grimes_. Soe I thinke, too: when I was young the plaine downe-right way serv'd to woe and win a wench; but now woing is gotten, as all things else are, into the fashion; gallantts now court their Mistress with mumps & mows as apes and monke[y]s doe.

_Bon_. But cannot all your fluent witt interpret Why she procastinatts your promisd match? By this light, her daughter would be married tomorrow If her mother and I had concluded on the Joynture.

_Tho_. The most evident reason she will give me of this unwellcome protraccon is she has some new employment to put on me, which performd she has ingaged her selfe to certainty of her designing me an answerare [_sic_].

_Enter Lovell_.

_Grimes_. Here comes your Rivall, Mr. _Thorowgood_,--_Alexander_ the _Great_, her Ladishipps loving Steward.

_Bon_. But does he affect the lady; what's his character?

_Grimes_. He was by trade a taylor, sir, and is the tenth part of the bumbast that goes to the setting forth of a man: his dealing consists not much in weight but in the weight of his pressing Iron, under whose tyranny you shall perceave no small shrinking.

_Tho_. Well said, _Grimes_. On!

_Grimes_. He has alterd himselfe out of his owne cutt since he was steward; yet, if you saw him in my ladyes Chamber you would take him for some usher of a dancing schoole, as being aptest in sight for a crosse cap.

_Tho_. Excellent _Grimes_ still!

_Grimes_. By his cloathes you might deeme him a knight; but yet if you uncase him, you will find his sattin dublett naught but fore sleaves & brest, the back part buckram; his cloake and cape of two sorts; his roses and garters of my ladyes old Cypres: to conclude, sir, he is an ambodexter or a Jack-of-all-sides & will needs mend that which Nature made: he takes much upon him since the old Knight dyed, and does fully intend to run to hell[58] for the lady: he hates all wines and strong drinks--mary, tis but in publique, for in private he will be drunke, no tinker like him.

_Bon_. Peace, sirrah; observe.

_Lov_. So, let me see the _summa totalis_ of my sweet ladies perfections.

_Grimes_. Good, he has her in whole already.

_Tho_. Peace, _Grimes_.

_Lov_. _Imprimis, her faire haire; no silken sleave Can be so soft the gentle worm does weave. It[em], noe Plush or satten sleeke, I vow, May be compard unto her velvet brow. It[em], her eyes--two buttons made of iett; Her lipps gumd taffety that will not frett; Her cheeks are changeable, as I suppose,-- Carnation and white, lyllie and rose_.

_Grimes_. I, there it goes.

_Bon_. I protest I comend him; he goes through stitch with her like the Master of his trade.

_Lov_. _It[em] her brests two bottomes[59] be of thred, By which love to his laborinth is led. Her belly_--

_Grimes_. I, marry, sir, now he comes to the purpose.

_Lov_. _Her Belly a soft Cushion where no sinner But her true love must dare stick a pin in her_.

_Grimes_. That line has got the prick and prayse from all the rest.

_Lov_. _Butt to that stuff of stuffs, that without scoff Is Camills haire or else stand further off_.

_Grimes_. How many shreads has he stoale here to patch up this lady?

_Lov_. _The totall some of my blest deity Is the magazine of Natures treasury_.-- Soe, this made up, will I take an occasion to dropp where she may find it. But, stay; here's company.

_Bon_. Mr. _Lovell_.

_Lov_. And see, I shall divulge myselfe.

_Grimes_. A foole, I doubt not.

_Bon_. Is your lady stirring?

_Lov_. She is risen, sir, and early occupied in her occasions spiritual, and domesticke busines.

_Enter Lady & Magdalen_.

_Lady_. Sweet Mr. _Bonvil_. The simple entertain[m]ent you receave here I feare will scare you from us: you're so early Up, you do not sleepe well.

_Tho_. I cannot looke on her But Ime as violent as a high-wrought sea In my desires; a fury through my eyes At every glance of hers invades my heart.

_Lady_. What ayles you, servant? are you not well?

_Bon_. 'Tis his humour, Madam; he is accustomed, though it be in company, to hold a dialogue with his thoughts. Please you, lady, to give his fever libertie; the fit will soon be overpasd.

_Tho_. She bears her age well, or she is not sped Far into th'vale of yeares: she has an eye Piercing as is an Eglets when her damme, Training[60] her out into the serene air, Teaches her face the Sunbeames.

_Bon_. Madam, I fear my friend Hath falne againe in love; he practises To himself new speeches; you and he are not Broke off, I hope.

_Lady_. O, sir, I value my servant at a higher rate: We two must not easily disagree. Sir _Alexander_, attend in Mr. _Bonvill_. My daughter's up by this time, and I would have him give her the first salute. You had best be wary, _Bonvill_; the young cittizen or the souldier will rob you of her.

_Bon_. O, we feare not them: shall we goe, sir?

_Lady_. Nay, Ile detaine my servant.

_Bon_. Harke you, sir, strike home; doe you heare?

[_Exeunt Bonvill, Grimes, Lovell & Mag_.

_Lady_. Servant, have you leasure To hear what I inioyne you?

_Tho_. Your good pleasure.

_Lady_. What shall I doe? I can no longer beare This flame so mortall; I have wearid heaven With my entreaties and shed teares enough To extinguish _Aetna_, but, like water cast On coales, they ad unto my former heate A more outragious fervor. I have tried All modest meanes to give him notice of My violent love, but he, more dull then earth, Either conceives them not or else, possessd With full affection of my daughter, scornes me.

_Tho_. Madam, wilt please you to deliver your pleasure?

_Lady_. _Thorowgood_, Not clouds of lightning, or the raging bolt Heavens anger darts at the offending world, Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earth As these sad words I must demonstrate to you Doe my afflicted brest.--Ime lost; my tongue When I would speake, like to an Isicle Disturbd by motion of unruly winds Shakes to pronounce't, yet freezes to my roofe Faster by th'agitation.

_Tho_. Your full Judgment Could not have found an apter instrument For the performance of what you designe, Then I experience how much any man May become passive in obedience To the intent of woman, in my truth. Set the abstrusest comment on my faith Imagination can resolve, my study Shall mak't as easie as the plainest lines Which hearty lovers write.

_Enter Timothy_.

_Tim_. Madam, this letter and his humble vowes From your deserving sonn.

_Lady_. He writes me here he will be here tomorrow. Where left you him?

_Tim_. At your right worthy Cosens.

_Lady_. What manner of man is this Mr. _Thurston_ He brings with him?

_Tim_. A most accomplishd gentleman.

_Lady_. 'Tis well: Mr. _Thoroegood_, Weele walke into the Gallery, and there Discourse the rest.

_Tho_. I long till I receive the audience of it.

_Tim_. Your ladiship will vouchsafe to meete The Gent[lemen] in your Coach some two miles hence?

_Lady_. Ile thinke of it.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Sucket and Crackby[61].

Suc_. Come, deport your selfe with a more elated countenance: a personage of your rare endowments so dejected! 'tis fitt for groomes, not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull: speake boldly to them, that like cannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take in townes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman.

_Crac_. Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me. Would I were in my native Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole: the vapor[s] rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me then the common sewer ith sicknes time. Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudent enough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett his wealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to sound the reason of it.

_Suc_. What may it be imagind.

_Crac_. Why, here are no Taverns where for my crowne I can have food provocative, besides the gaining of many precious phrase[s] for (from?) divers gallants new frenchefied. Theirs nothing to excite desire but creame and eggs, and they are so common every clowne devoures them. Were each egge at twelve pence, or as deare as lobsters, I could afford to eate them, but I hate all that is vulgar; 'tis most base.

_Suc_. Pish, tis dificience in your resolution: Suppose your mistress were an enemy You were to encounter in sterne duell.

_Crac_. 'Tis well my Enemie is a woman; I should feare else to suppose the meeting. Resolution! how can a man have resolution that drinkes nought but ale able to kill a Dutchman? Conduit water is nector to it,

_Suc_. Nay, but I say, suppose--

_Crac_. Suppose! Why here are no wenches halfe so amorous as Citty tripennies[62]: those that are bewtifull the dew is not so cold. I did but begg a curtesie of a chambermaide, and she laughd at me! Ile to the Citty againe, that's certaine; where for my angell I can imbrace pl[enty]. If I stay here a little longer, for want of exercise I shall forget whether a woman be fish or flesh: I have almost don't already.

_Suc_. O, heeres your uncle, move him; you conceive me; He must disburse.

_Crac_. And 'tis as hard to wrest a penny from him as from a bawd.

_Enter Sir Gefferie and Bunche_.

_Sir Geff_. Erect that locke a little; theres a hayre Which, like a foreman of a shop, does strive To be above his fellowes. Pish! this glasse Is falsly silverd, maks me look as gray As if I were 4 score.

_Bun_. What does he want of it?

_Sir Geff_. Combe with more circumspection, knave; these perfumes Have a dull odor; there is meale among them, My Mrs. will not scent them.

_Crac_. Uncle, my friend, My martiall fellow is deficient In this ubiquitarie mettall, silver: You must impart.

_Sir Geff_. This garter is not well tide, fellow: where Wert thou brought up? thou knowest not to tie A rose yet, knave: a little straiter: so, Now, tis indifferent. Who can say that I Am old now?

_Bun_. Marry, that can I or any one which sees you.

_Suc_. Death to my reputation! Sir, we are gent[lemen] and deserve regard: Will you not be responsible?

_Sir Geff_. Alas, good Captaine, I was meditating how to salute my lady this morning. You have bin a traviler: had I best do it in the _Italian_ garbe or with a _Spanish_ gravity? your _French_ mode is grown so common every vintners boy has it as perfect as his _anon, anon, sir_. Hum, I must consider on it.

_Crac_. Nay, but uncle, uncle, shall we have answeare concerning this mony, uncle? You must disburse; that is the souldiers phrase. You see this man; regard him.

_Suc_. Death of vallor! I can hold no longer; I shall rise in wroth against him.

_Crac_. Dee heare, Uncle? you must furnish him; he wilbe irefull presently, and then a whole bagg will not satisfie him; heele eate your gold in anger and drinke silver in great sack glasses.

_Sir Geff_. Pox o'this Congee; 't shalbe thus, no thus; That writhing of my body does become me Infinitly. Now to begett an active Complement that, like a matins sung By virgins, may enchant her amorous ear. The _Spanish Basolas[63] manos_ sounds, methinks, As harsh as a Morisco kettledrum; The _French boniour_ is ordinary as their Disease: hees not a gent that cannot parlee. I must invent some new and polite phrases.

_Crac_. Shall I have answeare yet, sir.

_Sir Geff_. Pish, you disturbe me.--Gratulate her rest, Force an encomium on her huswifry For being up so early.--_Bunch_, where is my nephew?

_Crac_. I have bin here this halfe hower and could not get answere.

_Sir Geff_, To what, good nephew?--I was meditating a little seriously.

_Crac_. Concerning this white earth.

_Sir Geff_. Youde know the nature of it? If it be marle 'tis good to manure land; if clay, to make tobacco pipes.

_Crac_. I meane mony.

_Sir Geff_. O mony, Nephew: Ide thought youde learnd ith Citty How to use mony: here we do imploy it To purchase land and other necessaries.

_Suc_. Infamy to fame and noble reputation! Old man, dost thou disdaine valour? I tell thee, Catterpillar, I must have mony.

_Sir Geff_. 'Tis reason good you should; it is fitting to cherish men of armes. There is a treasurer in the county, Captaine, pays souldiers pensions: if any be due to you Ile write my letter, you shall receive it.

_Bun_. Faith, there he mett with you.

_Crac_. I see a storme a coming. Uncle, I wilbe answerable upon account: my souldier must have mettall.

_Sir Geff_. Iron and Steele is most convenient for Souldiers; but, since you say it, Nephew, he shall have it: how much must it be?

_Suc_. A score of Angells shall satisfie for the confrontment you have offred me in being dilatory.

_Sir Geff_. _Bunch_, deliver him ten pounds;--but, dee heare.

_Bunch_, let be in light gold; 'twill serve his turn as well as heavier: it may be he is one of those projectors transports it beyond sea.

_Enter Magdalen_.

_Mag_. Sir, I come to give you notice my ladyes walkd into the garden.

_Sir Geff_. Life! is she upp so early?

_Mag_. An hower since, beleeve it.

_Crac_. Is my Mistress stirring?

_Mag_. In truth, I know not.

_Sir Geff_. Nephew, demeane your selfe with[64] all respect Toward the gentlewoman you affect. You must learne with here since the citty Could spare you none.--Ile to the lady.

[_Exeunt Bunch, Sir Geff. and Mag_.

_Crac_. Captaine, shalls into th'Celler, Captaine?

_Suc_. I like the Motion.

_Crac_. Come away, then: there is indifferent liquor in this house, but that ith towne is most abominable. Weele drinke our owne healths, Captaine.

_Suc_. Well considered; 'tis for our reputation.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Enter Bonvill, Clarinna, Belizea and Grimes_.

_Bon_. Come, you are wantons both: If I were absent, You would with as much willingness traduce My manners to them. What Idiots are wee men To tender our services to women Who deride us for our paines!

_Cla_. Why can you great wise men who esteeme us women But equall with our parrets or at best But a degree above them, prating creatures Devoid of reason, thinke that when we see A man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongue To say,--(he is soe like December come A woing to the Spring, with all the ensignes Of youth and bravery as if he meant To dare his land-lord Death to single rapier)-- We have not so much spleene as will engender A modest laughter at him?

_Bel_. Nay, theres his Nephew, _Crackby_, your sweet servant.

_Clar_. My Servant! I do admire that man's impudence, How he dare speake to any woman.

_Bon_. Why, is he not flesh and blood?

_Clar_. Yes, but I question whether it be mans or no. They talk of changlings: if there be such things I doubt not but hees one of them.

_Bel_. Fie,[65] Sister; 'tis a prettye gent, I know you love him.

_Clar_. You hitt it there, I faith,[66]--You know the man?

_Bon_. Yes, very well.

_Clar_. Have you then ever seene such another monster? He was begott surely in the wane of the moone, When Natures tooles were at laime Vulcans forge A sharpning, that she was forced to shake this lumpe together.

_Bon_. What man for heavens sake could your nicenes fancy?

_Clar_. Not you of all that ever I beheld.

_Bel_. And why, good wisdome?

_Clar_. Nay, do not scratch me because he is your choyse, forsooth.

_Bel_. Well, we shall see the goodly youth your curiositie has elected, when my brother returnes, I hope.

_Clar_. I hope soe, too; I marvill where this Cub is, He is not roaring here yet.

_Enter Thorogood_.

_Bon_. Frend, thou hast lost The absolu[t]st characters deliverd by this lady: Would thou hadst come a little sooner.

_Tho_. Ladies, I must desire your pardon for my friend: I have some busines will a while deprive him Your sweet companies.

_Clar_. Take him away; we are weary of him.

_Bel_. Sister, lets leave the gentlemen alone, And to our chambers. [_Exeunt Bel. and Clar.

_Bon_. _Grimes_, put to the doore and leave us.-- Whats the matter? [_Exit Grimes_.

_Tho_. Freind, Ere I begin my story I would wish you Collect yourselfe, awake your sleeping Spiritts, Invoake your patience, all thats man about you To ayd your resolution; for I feare The newes I bring will like a palsie shake Your soules indifferenst temper.

_Bon_. Prethee, what is't which on the soddaine can Be thus disastrous? 'tis beyond my thoughts.

_Tho_. Nay, slight it not: the dismall ravens noate Or mandrakes screches, to a long-sick man Is not so ominous as the heareing of it Will be to you; 'twill like a frost congeale Your lively heate,--yet it must out, our frendship Forbids concealment.

_Bon_. Do not torture me; Ime resolute to heare it.

_Tho_. Your soe admired Mistress Who parted from you now, _Belisea_,--

_Bon_. You have don well before Your sad relation to repeat that sound; That holy name whose fervor does excite A fire within mee sacred as the flame The vestalls offer: see how it ascends As if it meant to combat with the sunn For heats priority! Ime arm'd gainst death, Could thy words blow it on me.

_Tho_. Here me, then: Your Mistress--

_Bon_. The Epitome of virtues, Who like the pretious reliques of a Saint Ought only to be seene, not touchd.

_Tho_. Yet heare me; Cease your immoderate prayses: I must tell you You doe adore an Idoll; her black Soule Is tainted as an Apple which the Sunn Has kist to putrifaction; she is (Her proper appelation sounds so foule I quake to speake it) a corrupted peice, A most lascivious prostitute.

_Bon_. Howes this? Speake it agen, that if the sacrilege Thou'st made gainst vertue be but yet sufficient To yeild thee dead, the iteration of it May damne thee past the reach of mearcye. Speake it, While thou hast utterance left; but I conceit A lie soe monstrous cannot chuse but choake The vocall powers, or like a canker rott Thy tung in the delivery.

_Tho_. Sir, your rage Cannot inforce a recantacion from me: I doe pronounce her light as is a leafe In withered Autumne shaken from the trees By the rude winds: noe specld serpent weares More spotts than her pide honor.

_Bon_. So, no more: Thy former words incenst me but to rage; These to a fury which noe sea of teares, Though shed by queenes or Orphants, shall extinguish; Nay, should my mother rise from her cold urne And weepe herself to death againe to save Thee from perdition, 't should not; were there placd Twixt thee and mee a host of blasing starrs, Thus I would through them to thee! [_Draw.

Tho_. Had I knowne Your passion would have vanquishd reason thus, You should have met your ruine unadvisd; Hugd your destruction; taken what the lust Of other men had left you. But the name And soule of friendship twixt us I had thought Would have retain'd this most unmanly rage Gainst me, for declaration of a truth By which you might be ransomed from the armes Of her adulterate honor.

_Bon_. Yes, kind foole; Perswade an _Indian_ who has newly div'd Into the ocean and obtaind a pearle, To cast it back againe; labour t'induce _Turkes_ to contemne their _Alcoron_ ere you strive To make me creditt my _Belissia_ false. [_Kneele_. Forgive me, holy love, that I delay So long to scourge the more than heathnish wrongs Of this iniurious villaine, whome me thinks-- Blow him hence to hell With his contagious slander! yet before Thou doest fall by me as, if heaven have not Lost all its care of Innocence, thou must doe, Tell me what Divell urgd thee to detract From virtue thus, for of thy selfe thou couldst not (Unlesse with thee shee hath bin vicious) know it Without some information: whoes the Author Of this prodigious calumnie?

_Tho_. Her mother.

_Bon_. Ha! her mother?

_Tho_. Yes, she; that certaine Oracle of truth, That pretious mine of honor, which before She would exhaust, or yeild your innocence A spoyle to vice, chose rather to declare Her daughter's folly; and with powerfull teares Besought me, by the love I bore to goodnes, Which in her estimation had a roome Higher than Nature, to reveale it to you And disingage you from her.

Bon. Soe, rest there, [_Put up_. Ere thou beest drawne were the whole sex reduced To one, left only to preserve earths store, In the defence of women; who,[67] but that The mothers virtues stands betweene heavens Justice Would for the daughters unexampled sinne Be by some soddaine Judgment swept from earth As creatures too infectious. Gentle freind, An humor, heavy as my soule was steep'd In _Lethe_, seases on me and I feare My passion will inforce me to transgresse Manhood; I would not have thee see me weepe; I prethee leave mee, solitude will suite Best with my anguish. [_Sitt downe.

Tho_. Your good Genius keepe you. [_Exit_.

[_Enter Belisea_.]

_Bel_. Why have you staid thus long? Young _Crackby_ and his friend are newly up And have bin with us. My sister has had The modest bout with them: 'tis such a wench. Are you a sleepe? why doe you not looke up? What muse you on?

_Bon_. Faith, I was thinking where In the whole world to find an honest woman.

_Bel_. An excellent meditation! What doe you take me for, my Mother and my Sister?

_Bon_. You alway excepted; tis but melancholly; Prethee bestow a kisse upon me, love; Perchance that will expell it.

_Bel_. If your cure be wrought soe easily, pittie you should perish for want of physick. [_Kiss him_.

_Bon_. She kisses as sheed wont; were she unchast, Surely her breath would like a _Stigian_ mist Or some contagious vapor blast me; but 'Tis sweet as _Indian_ balme, and from her lips Distills[68] a moisture pretious as the Dew The amorous bounty of the wholesome morne Throwes on rose buds; her cheeks are fresh and pure As the chast ayre that circumscribes them, yet Theres that within her renders her as foule As the deformed'st _Ethiope_.

_Bel_. Whats the matter? Why do you staire so on me?

_Bon_. To admire That such a goodly building as this same Should have such vild stuff in itt.

_Bel_. What meanes this language?

_Bon_. Nothing, but only to informe you what You know to well alreadie: _Belisia_, you are --(I cannot call her whore)--a perjurd woman.

_Bel_. Defend me innocence! I scarce remember That ever I made oath and therefore wonder How I should breake on.

_Bon_. Have you not with imprecations beg'd Heavens vengeance if you ere lovd man but me?

_Bel_. And those same heavens are vouchers[69] I've kept my vowes with that strict purity That I have done my honor.

_Bon_. I believe thee; The divell sometimes speaks truth. Intemperate woman, Thoust made that name a terme convertible With fury, otherwise I should call thee soe, How durst thou with this impudence abuse My honest faith? did I appeare a guest So infinitly worthles that you thought The fragments of thy honour good enough To sate my appetite, what other men Had with unhallowd hands prophaind? O woman, Once I had lockd in thy deceiving brest A treasure wealthier then the _Indies_ both Can in their glory boast, my faithfull heart, Which I do justly ravish back from it Since thou art turnd a strumpet.

_Bel_. Doe you thinke I am what you have term'd me?

_Bon_. Doe I thinke When I behold the wanton Sparrows change Their chirps to billing, they are chast? or see The Reeking Goate over the mountaine top Pursue his Female, yet conceit him free From wild concupiscence? I prithee tell me, Does not the genius of thy honor dead Haunt thee with apparitions like a goast Of one thou'dst murdrd? dost not often come To thy bed-side and like a fairy pinch Thy prostituted limbs, then laughing tell thee 'Tis in revenge for myriads of black tortures Thy lust inflicted on it?

_Bel_. Have you don? Give me a little leave then ere my greife Surround my reason. Witnes, gratious heaven, Who, were you not offended at some sinn I have unwittingly comitted, would Send sacred innocence it selfe to pleade How much 'tis iniurd in me, that with zeale Above the love of mothers I have tendred This misinformd man. Ile not aske the authors Of this report, I doe forgive them; may A happier fate direct you to some other May love you better; and my fate conferr On me with speed some sudden sepulcher. [_Exit_.

_Bon_. I shall grow childish, too; my passions strive For my dead love to keepe my greife alive.

[_Exit_.

_Actus Secundus_.

(SCENE 1.)[70]

_Enter Sucket, Crackbie, Grimes_.

_Gr_. Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards!

_Suc_. Where? how, good _Grimes_?

_Gr_. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe lecture us before my ladie for drinking ... at midnight, has gott the key of the wine C[ellar from] _Timothie_ the Butler and is gon downe to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.

_Enter Timothie_.

_Tim_. Gent[lemen], _Grimes_, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar] when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is retyringe with all exp[edition]. Close, close, and be not seene.

_Crac_. Oh, my fine steward!
[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Alexander Lovell with a Bottle of Sacke and a Cup_.

_Lov_. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best. I am the Steward and to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give ill examples. Goe to, I, and goe to; tis good to be merry and wise; an inch in quietness is better than an ell of sorrow. Goe to and goe to agen, for I say and I sayt, there is no reason but that the parson may forget that ere he was clerke[71]. My lady has got a cast of her eye since she tooke a survey of my good parts. Goe to and goe to, for I say and I sayt, they are signes of a rising; flesh is frayle and women are but women, more then men but men. I am puft up like a bladder, sweld with the wind[72] of love; for go to and go to, I say and I sayt, this love is a greife, and greife a sorrowe, and sorrows dry. Therefore come forth, thou bottle of affection[73]; I create thee my companion, and thou, cup, shalt be my freind. Why, so now,--goe to and goe to: lets have a health to our Mrss, and first to myne; sweet companion, fill to my kind freind; by thy leave, freind, Ile begin to my companion: health to my Mrs! Soe, now my hands in: companion, fill, and heres a health to my freinds Mrs. Very good, and now I will conclude with yours, my deare companion: stay, you shall pledge me presently, tis yet in a good hand; I will pledge both your Mrss first. Goe to and go to,[74] freind; thou alwayes lookst on me like a dry rascall; give him his liquor; and soe with my Mrs I conclude. What say you, Companion? ha, do you compare your Mrs with myne? howes that? such another word and thou darst, Sirrah! off with your Capp and doe her Reverence! wilt tell me soe? goe to, I say and I sayt; Ile make better languadge come out of that mouth of thine, thou wicked Carkasse. Freind, heres to thee:[75] Ile shake thee, thou empty Rascall, to peeces, and as _Hector_ drew _Achilles_ bout the walls of Troy at his horse tayle, so shalt thou at a doggs tayle be dragd in vild disgrace throughout the towne. Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt; Ile have the dragd, sirr, ah I[le] have the dragd; perswade me not, good friend; let him yeild me a reason[76] if he can. I, I, he had need to be squeezd; why tis true, this is one, but not to purpose. Oh, would you whisper with me? umh, umh, umh, away, Ile heare no more: why, how now frend? ha, ha, ha, you have got a Cup to much; umh, goe to and goe to, you can hold no more, I see that, at this time; let me ene bring you to your chambers. [_Flings away the bottle and sleeps_.

_Enter Timothy, Grimes, Sucket, Crackby, with flaggons of wine.

Suc_. 'Tis well don, cherish valour.

_Crac_. Creditt me, my Captaine carries fortitude enough for a whole legion; twas his advice tooke in[77] the _Busse_[?], and at _Mastricht_ his courage did conclude _Papenhams_ overthrow.[78]

_Suc_. Pish, you to farr exemply[fy]. I have bin at some few skermishes, kild halfe a score or soe; but what of yt? men are but men.

_Tim_. What wines that, fellow _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Sack by this light, the Emperor of liquors! Captaine, here tis well keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup of this upon an onslaught, Captain?

_Suc_. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I am engagd against a squadron or a whole company.

_Grimes_. He meanes of drunkards.

[_Lovell grunts_.

_Suc_. Ha! Cinielaro[?] an ambuscado! see, whos that lyes there pardue[79]? fort of Mars! my wroth shall eate him up.

_Grimes_. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] dead drunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; _Timothy_, hast thou thy Salvatorie about thee.

_Tim_. Yes, heere, here.[81]

_Grimes_. Quick, quick; make some plasters and clapp em on his face: here, bind this napkin about his hand; who has a garter, lets see, to bind it up?

_Suc_. Some blood, my sonn of _Mercury_, were neceseary for consummation of the jest.

_Crac_. And here, _Grimes_, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for some blood!

_Grimes_. Here, I have prickt my finger.

_Tim_. Let you and I, Mr. _Crackby_, goe to buffitts for a bloody nose.

_Crac_. No, no, you shall pardon me for that, _Tim_[82]; no, no; no boyes play.

_Suc_. So, so; now set him in the chaires. Hart of valour! he looks like a Mapp oth world. Death, what are these?[83]

_Enter Musike_.

_Grimes_. The Town Waites whome I appointed to come and visitt us.

_Suc_. 'Twas well donn: have you ere a good song?

_Tim_. Yes, they have many.

_Suc_. But are they bawdy? come, sir, I see by your simpring it is you that sings, but do not squeake like a _French_ Organ-pipe nor make faces as if you were to sing a Dirge. Your fellowes may goe behind the arras: I love to see Musitions in their postures imitate those ayrey soules that grace our Cittie Theaters, though in their noats they come as short of them as _Pan_ did of _Apollo_. [_Musike_.

_Grimes_. Well, sir, this is indifferent Musicke, trust my judgment. Sing, boy. [_A song_.

_Crac_. Now on my life this boy does sing as like the boy[84] at the _Whitefryers_ as ever I heard: how say you Captain?

_Suc_. I, and the Musicks like theires: come, Sirra, whoes your Poett?

_Crac_. Some mad wag, I warrant him: is this a new song?

_Mus_. Tis the first edition, sir: none else but we had ever coppie of it.

_Suc_. But you wilbe intreated to let a gent have it?

_Mus_. By no meanes; the author has sworne to the contrary, least it should grow so wonderous old and turne a Ballad.

_Crac_. Well said, Captain; the tother health, Captain: heres good wine, good Tobackoe, good everything: had we but a good wench or two twere excellent.

_Suc_. Great _Alexander_, does not dreame of this, I warrant yee.

_Grimes_. Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accounts the easier when my lady calls him.

_Crac_. Come, come; who payes the Musicke? Captain, you have my purse.

_Suc_. Truths a truth from Infidell or Pagan: I am in trust, and that's beleife, and so it shalbe saved. Pay the Musick? umh, where are they? let me see, how many's of you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: good, can any of you daunce?

_Mus_. Daunce? Yes, sir, we can shake our legs or soe.

_Suc_. So said so don, brave ladd; come, letts have a daunce, some daunce and some play.

_Mus_. Anything to please you, noble Captaine.

_Suc_. Lively then, my hearts; some country Jigg or soe. Oh those playes that I have seene of youre, with their Jiggs[85] ith tayles of them[86] like your French forces! Death, I am a rorging (roaring?) boy; but, come, stir your shanks nimbly or Ile hough ye. Strike up there!

[_Daunce_.

_Grimes_. Well don, my hearts; drinke, drinke.

_Suc_. Goe you in, Ile follow you.

_Om[nes]_. Come, Captaine.

_Suc_. Farewell, Steward.

_Mus_. Dee heare, Captaine?

_Suc_. With me, my fine treble knave? umh, thou dost tickle minikin as nimbly--

_Mus_. We hope your worship will consider our paines?

_Suc_. How, my fine knave? letts see, who were the dauncers?

_Mus_. Come forward there! nay, I told you he was ever bountifull: oh, good Captaine!

_Suc_. Let me see: I, thou art hart of vallor: thou didst daunce well, thou deservest--, I say no more: and who played?

_Mus_. Wee.

_Suc_. You? well sayd; you plaid and you daunc'd, you say good; let me see, halfe a peece or--

_Mus_. Blesse your Captaineship.

_Suc_. You plaid, you say, and you dauncd: umh, well, why then you that dauncd must pay those that plaid.

_Mus_. How, sir, how?

_Suc_. Ever, ever, whilst you live, _Jarvice_;[87] the dauncers alwayes payes the musike. Wilt breake custome? No, or there a pawne for you. --Mr. Steward. Farewell. [_Exit_.

_Mus_. This is your bountifull Captaine! a rope of his bounsing! But stay, lets play to the steward; it may be when he wakes we may worke him to't.

_Omnes_. Content, content. [_Musike softe_.

_Lov_. Umh[88], play a healthe: soe; say, it shall goe rounde: goe to, I say and I sayt, it shall goe round. Umh, where is this fidle? in the ayre? I can perceave nothing. Where is my kinde friend and my fine companion? come, we will be friends again; goe to, we will. Umh, plaistered and bound up? bloody? how comes this? goe too and goe to; if I have done any mischiefe or bene over valiant in my drinke to kill a man or soe, why 'twas in my drinke, not I, and let my drinke be hangd for't; or, I say and I sayt, let um stay till I am drunke againe and then hange me; I care not, I shall not be sensible of it. Oh this sack! it makes a coward a _Hector_: the _Greekes_ and _Troians_ drinke no other; and that and a wench (for theres the divell out) made um cuffe ten yeares together, till at length when they had bled more than they coulde drinke they grew sober, the contented Cuckold tooke his wife home againe and all were good frends[89]. [_Sease Musicke_] But stay, the musikes husht; I hope theyle appeare; I doe feale no such paine in my wounds that I had need of musicke to bring me to sleepe. Blesse me whose this? ha[90]!

_Enter Grimes disguised_.

_Grimes_. How does your worshipp? Mr. Steward, dee feele your selfe at ease? I am hartely sorry for your misfortune?

_Lov_. Misfortune? ha, what misfortune? now heaven and't be thy will--

_Grimes_. Pray heaven they be alive.

_Lov_. Ha, alive? in the name of drinke what have I don? where did you find me, ha?

_Grimes_. Why, sir, comming out--umh, umh--

_Lov_. Out with't, man.

_Grimes_. Out of a bad-house, sir.

_Lov_. A Bawdie house, I warrant.

_Grimes_. Yes sir.

_Lov_. Why, now its out.

_Grimes_. I, and tis well your worships out.

_Lov_. Noe, noe, it had bin better had I never gon in; but on, on.

_Grimes_. You were, sir,--as they say, sir--you had gotten a Cup to much.

_Lov_. Hang Cupps, my friend excepted; goe to; speake plaine; I was drunke was I?

_Grimes_. Yes, sir; you were not able to stand when you came out, sir?

_Lov_. Out of the Bawdy-house? I beleave thee; nay, I am a right _Lovell_ I, I look like a shotten herring now for't. _Jone's_ as good as my lady in the darke wee me. I have no more Roe than a goose in me; but on to the mischiefe, on.

_Grimes_. You beate the Bawd downe with the Chamber dore and bade her keepe that for the Reckoning.

_Lov_. Umh, there was witt in my drinke, I perceive; on.

_Grimes_. Then, sir, you tooke up a Spitt.

_Lov_. A Spitt?

_Grimes_. Yes, sir, and broacht one of the wenches out.

_Lov_. How?

_Grimes_. Oh, sir, you made such a hole in her bakside[91] you might have turnd-- [_Blows his nose_.

_Lov_. What? thy nose int?

_Grimes_. Had I been there it had been at your service.

_Lov_. Thanke thee; thou shouldst have lost nothing by it.

_Grimes_. Then went Tobackoe pipes to wrack, and oh the black potts sufferd without measure; nay, you swore (and for it paid your twelve pence) that if you were maior youd come disguisd on purpose to confou[nd] 'um.

_Lov_. Ist possible I could doe this?

_Grimes_. This, sir? Why you kickd one flat-nosd wench that snuffled, and swore she was a puritan.

_Lov_. Did not I pay for that oath too?

_Grimes_. No, sir; you bid the Constable keepe reckoning till it came to a some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in your hand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaring Captain.

_Lov_. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune.

_Grimes_. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as in suspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through his heart.

_Lov_. Ha, through his heart? the Captaines dead then?

_Grimes_. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory of his Mrs.

_Lov_. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thy newes.

_Grimes_. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall _Dutch_ man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and ere we could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we brought you home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here stayd till your waking.

_Lov_. Yare honest fellowes; goe to and go to, I say and I sait agen, yare honest fellowes and shall not be unrewarded: looke you, theres for you--and be but sylent in't.

_Grimes_. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne away the back of your satteen Doublet? the Canvas is seene.

_Lov_. Umh, no, but they have stolne my velvet Jerkin.

_Grimes_. I, and dam'd your Dublet.

_Lov_. Tis well; goe; thanks; goe, Ile see you shortly; you and your Companie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I love you and I thanke you,

_Grimes_. I thanke you, good Mr. Steward. [_Discovers_

_Lov_. Whoes this? _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Even he that has thus begrimd yee, my fine drunken Steward. I can cure you, toe; come, let me be your Surgion.

_Lov_. Thou shalt be my hangman first, Rascall.

_Grimes_. You wonnot murder? helpe Captain, Mr. _Crackby, Tim_!

_Enter Omnes_.

_Omnes_. How now! how now! what's the matter?

_Lov_. Whoop! hell broke loose! tis good to shun the Divell.
[_Exit_.

_Grimes_. Not if you meet him in the likenes of a bottle of Sack, good Steward.[92]

_Tim_. Why this is excellent.

_Suc_. Grimes, let me hugg thee, thou sonn of witt.

_Grimes_. Nay, letts not leave him thus.

_Crac_. Leade on, weele follow.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Finis Actus Secundi_.

_Actus Tertius_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Sir Geffry and Lady_.

_Sir Geff_. But I beseech you, Madam; what greater accession[93] can you wish then me for husband? I have it here thats sattisfaction for the lustiest widdow twixt this and London. Say, will you love me? Ime in hast and hate demurrs; if you refuse I must seeke out: I have a little moysture and would be loth to hav't dride for want of exercise.--What say you, lady?

_Lady_. Sir, for your love I thanke you; for your wealth I want it not; but yet I doe not find A disposicon in my selfe to marriage.

_Sir Geff_. That will not serve my turne; I am no knight Who weares the spurr of honour without Rowells To prick a woman forwards: I ride post To Marriage and resolve at the next stage To take my Inn up. You have here Two beautifull young gallants to your daughters: Since youle not be my wife yet be my mother; Ile marry any of them, which you please, And hood her with the bagg [badge?] of honor. Lady, What say you to this motion.

_Lady_. My daughters wills are not in my command: If you can purchase either of their hearts, My free consent shall follow.

_Sir Geff_. Nay, then, they will fall out for me, Madam, I am most fortunate in atcheiving virgins.

_Enter Bonville_.

Save you, sweet youth, the bewties of your Mrs. Crowne your desires. Are you a suiter?

_Bon_. Madam, I have occasions of importance Wishes a little privacy with you.

_Lady_. With me, sweet Mr. _Bonvill? Sir Geffrey_, Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure We shall discourse.

_Sir Geff_. With all my heart: Ile to the wenches.
[_Exit_.

_Bon_. Madam we are alone?

_Lady_. You did desire we should.

_Bon_. But are you sure none can oreheare us.

_Lady_. Unles we be to loud: What mooves you to require this secresie?

_Bon_. I come to aske a question, which the winds; If I could deafe them, should not heare for feare Their repercussive Eccho should declare it To all our infamies.

_Lady_. What ist, I pray you?

_Bon_. Your daughter whom I was a servant to, --I must deliver it in the homeliest phrase-- Is she dishonest?

_Lady_. You urge a repetition, gentle sir, Of a sad truth: she is.

_Bon_. It cannot be In reason comprehensible a mother Should for a stranger blurr her daughters fame, Were it untruth. I am confirmd; this favor Transcends requitall: if a man misled By error gainst the diety, gross enough For his damnation, owe a gratitude To his converter, I am engag'd to you For my delivery from her.

_Lady_. 'Twas no more Then what my honor obligd me And my respect to vertue, which in you I should have murdred by my silence; but I have not greife enough left to lament The memory of her folly: I am growne Barren of teares by weeping; but the spring Is not yet quite exhausted. [_Weeps_.

_Bon_. Keepe your teares Lest the full clouds, ambitious that their drops Should mix with yours, unteeme their big wombd laps And rayse a suddeine deluge. Gratious madam, The oftner you reherse her losse the more You intimate the gaine I have acquird By your free bounty, which to me appeares So farr transcending possibility Of satisfaction that, unles you take My selfe for payment, I can nere discharge A debt so waytie.

_Lady_. Ist come to this? You speake misteriously; explaine your meaning.

_Bon_. To consecrate, with that devotion That holy Hermits immolate[94] theire prayers, My selfe the adorer of your vertues.

_Lady_. Are you serious?

_Bon_. No scrupulous penitent, timerous that each thought Should be a sinn, does to the priest lay ope With halfe that verity his troubled soule That I doe mine. I love you: in that word Include all ceremony. No sooner had Your information disingagd my heart Of honoring your daughter, but amazd At the immensnesse of the benefit Your goodness had cast on me, I resolvd This way to show my gratitude.

_Lady_. But dare you, Knowing the daughter vicious, entertaine Affection to the mother?

_Bon_. Dare I when I have bin long opresd with a disease, Wish pleasing health? theres vertue enough here To excite beleife in _Moores_ that only women Have heavenly soules.

_Lady_. This is admirable: Did my intention tend to love, as soone I should embrace your motion in that kind As any others, wert but to afford Some small lustracon for the wrong my daughter Intended you; nay, to confesse my thought, I feele a strong propension in my selfe To yeild to you; but I am loath,[95]--your youth Will quickly loath me.

_Enter Y[oung] Marlowe and Thurston_.

_Mar_. Madam, this Gent[leman] Desires to have you know him for your son: Tis he my sister _Clariana_, with your licence, Wishes for husband.

_Lady_. A proper Gent[leman]; Ime happy she has made So iuditious an election.[96] You are very welcome, sir: conduct him in, Sonn.

[_Exeunt Young Marlowe and Thurston_.

_Bon_. Persuade me I can hate Sleepe after tedious watching, or reiect The wholesome ayre when I've bin long choakd up With sicklie foggs: sooner shall--

_Lady_. Desist from protestations, or employ them Mong those who have no more discretion Then to beleive them.

_Bon_. How, Lady?

_Lady_. You can in Justice now no more appeach Our mutabillities, since you have provd So manifestly [in]constant.

_Bon_. These are arts Orewhelme my dull capacity with horror: Inconstant!

_Lady_. Are the light faines erected on the tops Of lofty structures stedfast, which each wind Rules with its motion? credulous man, I thought My daughters reall vertues had inspired thee With so much confidence as not to loose The estimation of her honor for My bare assertion, without questioning The time or any the least circumstance That might confirm't. I did but this to try Your constancy: farewell. [_Exit_.

_Bon_. What witch had duld my sense That such a stuped Lethurgie should sease My intellectuall faculties they could not Perceive this drift! If she be virtuous, As no man but an heretick to truth Would have imagind, how shall I excuse My slanderous malice? my old fire renewes And in an instant with its scortching flames Burnes all suspicon up.

_Enter Belisea_.

_Bel_. Peace attend you.

_Bon_. What Cherubim has left the quire in heaven And warbles peacefull Anthems to the earth? It is her voyce, that to all eares speakes health, Only to mine. Come charitable mist Hide me, or freindly wherlewind rap me hence, Or her next accent, like the thunderers, will Strike me to dust.

_Bel_. Sir, I come not With resolution (though my innocence May justly arme [me]) to declare my truth; For I am going where your slander cannot (Had it bin greater) blast me. I desire This for my past love, that youle retaine Your wrong opinion to yourselfe, not labour To possesse others with it, to disgrace Our yet unspotted family.

_Bon_. If you want A partner in your greife, take me along That can teach you and all the world true Sorrow.

_Bel_. Twas not don well to brand my spotles name With Infamy; but to deride me is Inhumaine, when I only come to tell you Ile send my prayers on charities white wings To heaven for your prosperity.--You greive For what? for your deliverance from a strumpet?

_Bon_. No, but that my raving fancy should direct My trecherous tongue with that detested name To afflict thy unblemishd purity, _Belisea_. I do confes my error was an act Soe grosse and heathnish that its very sight Would have inforcd a Crocodile to weepe Drops as sincere as does the timorous heart When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing His funerall Dirge.

_Bel_. Can this be possible?

_Bon_. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith, Can more abhorre the Error he has left Than I do mine. I do beleive thee chast As the straight palme; as absolute from spots As the immaculate Ermine, who does choose, When he is hunted by the frozen _Russe_, To meete the toyle ere he defile the white Of his rich skin. What seas of teares will serve To expiatt the scandall I have throwne On holy Innocence?

_Bel_. Well, I forgive you; But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyne This as a pennance: you shall now declare The author of your wrong report.

_Bon_. Your mother.

_Bel_. How! my mother?

_Bon_. No creature else Could have inducd me to such a madnes.