Chapter VI: Introduction: To the Lady Mother (2)

_Bel_. Defend me gracious virtue! is this man Not desperate of remission, that without Sense of compu[n]ction dares imagine lies Soe horrible and godlesse? My disgrace Was wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yet Cause twas my owne I pardond it; but this Inferd toth piety of my guiltless mother Stops all indulgence.

_Bon_. Will you not heare me out?

_Bel_. Your words will deafe me; I doe renounce my affection to you; when You can speake truth, protest you love agen. [_Exit_.

_Bon_. Contempt repaid with scorne; tis my desert; Poyson soone murders a love wounded heart.

[_Exit_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood_.

_Bel_. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares But those I will not banish, were your busines More secret.

_Tho_. Lady, I come to free My worthy freind and your owne servant, _Bonvill_, From an uniust suspition your conceite Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me In the unlucky message that pronouncd you Empty of honor.

_Bel_. Has your worthles freind Hird you to sweare this?

_Tho_. I'me none that live By selling oathes.

_Bel_. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not With all his cunning policie regaine My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me: I do not love to heare of him.

_Tho_. Your pleasure rules me. [_Exit_.

_Cla_. _Belisea_, you did ill Not to heare out the Gent[leman].

_Bel_. Prethe why? His owne confession does appeach him one In the conspiracy against my honor. He sayes my mother was the originall Of _Bonviles_ slaunder; and how impious Twere for a child to thinke so, filiall duty Instructs my knowlidge.

_Cla_. Be not confident; Your piety may misleade you. Though your mother, Shees passion like to us; we had it from her. Ile say no more; the event will testifie Whoes in the fault.[98]

_Enter Sucket and Crackby_.

_Suc_. Be not abashd; a little impudence is requisite; Observe me, with what a garbe and gesture martiall I will beseige their fortresses.

_Bel_. Who sent these fooles to trouble us?--Gent[lemen], We have some conference will admit no audience Besides ourselves. We must desire you to withdraw, or give us Leave to do soe.

_Suc_. Men of warr are not soe easily put to a retreat; it suites not with their repute.

_Cla_. Heele fight with us, sister: weed best procure him bound toth peace.

_Crac_. Ladies, I must no more endure repulse; I come to be a suiter.

_Bel_. For what?

_Crac_. Why, that you would with Judgment overlooke This lovely countenance.

_Cla_. The hangman shall doe't sooner.

_Crac_. If you knew How many bewtious gentlewomen have sued To have my picture--

_Cla_. To hang at their beds head for a _memento mori_--

_Crac_. You would regard it with more curiosity. There was a merchants daughter the other day Runn mad at sight of itt.

_Cla_. It scared her from her witts: she thought the divell had haunted her.

_Suc_. Valour deserves regard, myne shall propugne Your bewty gainst all opposers.

_Bel_. Alasse! mine is so meane, None will contend with it, it needs no champions.

_Crac_. Contemne me not, lady; I am--

_Cla_. A most egregious asse.

_Crac_. Most nobly propagatted; my father was a man Well fu[rnish'd] with white and yellow mettall.

_Cla_. I lay my life a Tinker.

_Crac_. And in his parish of account.

_Cla_. A Scavenger.

_Bel_. Is it a badge of your profession To be uncivell?

_Suc_. Uncivell! Noe; what is in other men uncivill In us is resolution; therefore yeild: I am invincible, flesh cannot stand Before me.

_Bel_. It must be drunke then.

_Cla_. I am not ith humour now To laugh, or else Ide not dismisse him yet. Good Mr. _Crackby_, does your wisdome thinke That I can love you?

_Crac_. My worth deserves it.

_Cla_. Well said, impudence. Goe, get you home toth Cittie; goe solicitt Some neighbors daughter; match with _Nan_ your Schoolefellow With whome you usd to walk to _Pimblicoe_[99] To eate plumbe cakes and creame,--one of your parish, Good what-doe-you-lack.

_Crac_. This is offensive to My reputation.

_Cla_. You shall heare more on't: When thou art married, if the kind charity Of other men permitt thee to geet thee children That call thy wife mother, bring them up To people shopps and cheat for 18d, The pretious youth that fathers them. Walke, walke, you and your Captaine _Huff_ to _London_, And tell thy mother how thou has't sped i'th country, And let her moane thee.

_Crac_. Captaine, we must give place; these girles are firebrands, And we as straw before them.

_Suc_. They may stand In neede of valour. [_Exeunt Suc. and Crac_.

_Enter Thurston_.

_Cla_. Have you oreheard us? these are the lads will do't, When 20 such as you will be cast off.

_Thu_. Like a bob'd[100] Hawke.--Mrs, if I mistake not, Your mother does inquire for you.

_Bel_. I will attend her pleasure. [_Exit_.

_Cla_. Doe not goe, wench; we shall scarce be honest.

_Thu_. Love, is it time, after the services I have perform'd, to have some salary? Noe labourer works without his hier; I would Be satisfied when you determine we Shall end our hopes in marriage.

_Cla_. I have lookt for this month in my Calender And find that marriage is prohibited.

_Thu_. It is not Lent nor Advent;[101] if it were The Court is not so strickt but 'twill dispense With freinds, and graunt a licence.

_Cla_. Whole be bound With you that theres no hindrance but we may Be lawfully espoused?

_Thu_. Ime not so barren Of freinds but I shall find security For what will nere be question'd.

_Cla_. It may be soe; but one who calculated My birth did warne me to abstaine from marriage Til I was twenty.

_Thu_. You're no _Atlanta_; if you be, Ile play _Hippomanes_ and over runn you.

_Cla_. You'd scarce catch me, Though you had _Venus_ apples to seduce My covetous eyes. Henceforth Ide have you leave Your love to me.

_Thu_. I must leave to live then. Why doe you say soe?

_Cla_. Cause it is [un]iust You should mispend affection on her Who is incapeable of it.

_Thu_. You'd faine wrest A new expence of complement from me: If you delight to heare your praise, Ile hire Some mercenary [poet][102] to comend In lofty verse your bewty.

_Cla_. You are merry: My humor is not specious; we must know A further distance.

_Thu_. Wherefore, pray? Our eyes are no more poysonous then they were.

_Cla_. Yes, they infect reciprocall.

_Thu_. This language Is not accustomd; pray, tell me how My presence is offensive, and Ile shun you[103] As I would doe my fate. You are not serious: My innocence assures me my deserts Can chalenge no such usage.

_Cla_. Tis confest; but we Are like thinne christall glasses that will crack By touching one another: I coniure thee By all our past love, from this parting minute Nere to behold me more. I dare not venter My frailty with thee.

_Thu_. What immodesty Has my demeaner uttred you should doubt Ravishing from me?

_Cla_. Thats not it, but cause I would not tempt my destinie: thy sight Would inflame marble, much more me whose heart Is prompt enough to fly into thy breast And leave mine empty. But 'tmust not remaine In that lone habitation, least a curse, A fearefull one, sease on mee.

_Thu_. Can there be Curses more horrid, incident to earth For its past Sinns, then would depend on you For such a bold presumption as your breatch Of faith would be.

_Cla_. Our tyrant fate has found Yet uninvented torments to expresse Our loyall soules. O, _Thurston_, thou wert never --Not when our mutuall freindships might have taught The constant turtles amity--more deare To me then now. I could, as well as then, Peruse love's dictats in thy amorous cheeks, Enioy the pressure of thy modest lipp; But Ime enioynd by powerfull menaces T'infring my wonted use and to disclaime My vowes to thee.

_Thu_. If this be possible, What will become of earth? men will no more Respect Society or strive to save Humanity alive: henceforth theyle seeke For lost fidelity on Caves or topps Of untrodd Rocks, and plight their trothes to beasts; Commix with them and generate a race Of creatures, though less rationall, yet more Indude with truth. O _Clariana_, can There be a motive able to convert This pretious Christall temple, built for purity And goodnes adoration, to a faine For Idoll falshoods worship? But I cannot Labour my wandring Judgment to beleife Thou speakst thy meaning. If I have not lovd With that essential perfectnes thy worth That man could doe, in charity declare My Ignorant defect, and Ile amend it With more then zealous industry.

_Cla_. Tis vaine: You may as easily penetrate the cloudes With a soft whisper, as my eares, then which Noe thunders deafer. _Thurston_, tis not cause I have in the intemperate heate of blood Given up my soule to a new choyce, that breeds This soddaine mutability: I will Preserve my affection as inviolate to you As Anchorites their vowes, and in my grave Interr my virgin glory. Teares will not Permitt more conference: fare you well; Ile keepe My passion up till I have none to weepe. [_Exit_.

_Thu_. Shees gon! What vapor which the flattring sunn Exhales to heaven as to create a starr, Yet throwst, a fading meteor, to the earth, Has falne like me? Divinity, that tells Us there are soules in women, Ile no more Credit thy dubious _Theorems_ nor thinke Thy lawes astring us to preserve our faith. Let the nice Casuists, that dispute each clause Belongs to conscience with a[l]ternate sense, Dispense with breach of promise and prescribe Equivocacons to evade all oathes Without offending, or shees damnd.

_Enter Lovell_.

_Lov_. Well, Companion, at my friends Intreatie I am content to be reconsyld; but have a care, goe to, ha, oh ho, youle[104] ... more; why, goe to then ... pledge the companion ... heeres to thee: what, what!

_Thu_. Heres one perchance will satisfie me. Sir, your habit speaks yer understanding: Please you resolve me one thing which disturbes The quiet of my conscience.

_Lov_. Revenge may slumber but can never sleep: He that lets slip an Injury thats done Takes the next course to draw a greater on.

_Thu_. You counsell well. I pray, in all the volumes Your learning has perusd, did you ere find Any conclusion that allowd it lawfull To breake an oath?

_Lov_. If she neglect and throw[105] disgrace on thee, Fly't thou as much and be thy scorne as free.

_Thu_. An Oracle speakes in him; but, pray, tell me Ist lawfull then to breake an oath?

_Lov_. Though time prolongs, we cannot style it sloath: My vowes are firme; hees damd that breaks an oath.

_Thu_. Good, good, agen: but the oath I treat on, Is of another kind: tis to a woman.

_Lov_. It could not be her fault; there's a mistake in't.

_Thu_. None o'my life, theres none.

_Lov_. Let me see, let me see: No, twas not hers, twas _Grimeses_ knavery.

_Thu_. Ha, whether did wild fancy lead my apprehension. He minds me not but is in disputation With his owne thoughts.

_Lov_. Wilt thou pledge me ii cuppes? Why, goe to and goe to, then. Ha to thee, ha, sirra _Grimes_! --When man gainst man conspire to doe evill, For what Society is a fitt!

_Thu_. The Devill. [_Claps him on the shoulder_.

_Lov_. Oh helpe, helpe![106] [_Exit_.

_Enter Lady_.

_Lady_. I hope, sir, Noe occasion offerd in my house Breedes your distast; I should be sorry if It be soe, and conceald from me.

_Thu_. Your goodnes Is to nice ore me; Ime exceeding well; Only some erring cogitations Trouble my braine a little.

_Lady_. Tis much pitty Distraction should have roome in you; I would Not for the love you beare my daughter, have you Be discont[ent]ed here.

_Thu_. And your daughter Repayes me kindly fort.

_Lady_. Surely her breeding Affords her better manners then to iniure A gent[leman] of your deservings?

_Thu_. Alas, she has not: Twas but an unkindness triviall Mong freinds not worth the nameing.

_Lady_. It was to much Wert but an ill looke. If I may so far, Without immodesty, entreat the knowledge Of what it was Ile chide her for't. Pray, sir,-- We women are bold suitors; by your looke It is no meane perplexity her folly Has cast upon your temper,--pray, disclose it; And ift be anything the obedience She owes to me may countermand, she shall Repent her error.

_Thu_. Your humanity Would wrest a secret from me, though my life Consisted ith concealment: she has abolishd Her protestations to me, murdred vowes Which like the blood of Innocents will pull Cloudes of black vengeance on her, for no cause I can imagine but her humor; banishd Me her society and sight for ever.[107]

_Lady_. Tis above wonder: could I as well rule Her will as her exterior actions, She should not thus reject you; but I cannot Limitt her mind, compell her to affect Against her liking. If perswations may Reduse her, Ile endevour it.

_Thu_. Twilbe needles; I am resolvd to meet her in revolt, Hug infidelity with as strong a faith As she can possible; and if mans mallice Can passe a womans, my dispight shall winne Preheminence. I will inquire out one By nature framd in scorne of bewty, and In your perfidious daughters presence give her That heart which she reiected.

_Lady_. Twere pitty Your passion should undoe you; you may find Matches of noble quality: my daughter In worth's inferior to you, yet I doubt not But my perswasive oratorie may gaine you Her forfeited affection.

_Thu_. Let her reserve it For them who sue to inioy it; Ile conferr My fancy on a Negro new reclaim'd From prostitution; sacrifice my youth To bedridd age, ere reinthrall my heart To her insulting bewty.

_Lady_. Twould be a maime to your discretion To abjure a certaine and a pleasing good For an uncertaine harme you would impose In malice on another. Yo'are a man In whome the glorious soule of goodnes moves With such a spacious posture that no woman, But such a squemish baby as my daughter, Would be most fortunate to enrich their choyse With one so much deserving.

_Thu_. He experience Your affirmation: could you love me?

_Lady_. What I spoake was a contingent supposition What others might doe, but not argument I meant to love you.

_Thu_. But I know you will; I see a pleasing augury in your looks Presages mercy; and those eyes, whose lustre The light (that scornes privation) cannot equall, Darts beames of comfort on me.

_Lady_. Twould be rare Could you perswade me to't, I can find No such propension in my selfe; beware Least in this wildnes you ingage your heart To one cannot accept it.

_Thun_. Pish! Ime sure you will: humanity forbids Refusall of my affection, which shall be As constant as insep[a]rable heate To elementall fire.--I'me soddaine, lady, In my resolve, but firme as fate.

_Lady_. Surely, You are not well.

_Thu_. You are deceivd; I am Exceeding well yett; all my faculties Retaine their wonted motion; but Ime like A new recoverd patient, whose relapse Admitts no helpe of phisick: in your love Consists my hope, futurity of health; And you have too much charity to suffer Perdition overwhelme me.

_Lady_. Your confidence Workes much uppon my lenity; but twould Occasion scandall; every one would judge I did supplant my daughter, should I yeild To your desines.

_Thu_. Let the censorious world Fright those with harelipd Calumnie whose guilt Merritts detraction; your pure innocence No feind dares vitiatt.

_Lady_. You have prevaild.

_Thu_. Ile take you at your word, a holy kisse Shall seale the contract. [_kisse_. Avaunt! stand of! she has poysond me, her lips Are sault as sulpher, and her breath infects, Noe scorpions like it.

_Lady_. What ayles you, Sir?

_Thu_. Ha, ha, ha! Those who imagine such prodigious mischiefes Should be more cunning then to be ore reacht By puisne[108] cosnage; Have you no more judgement Then to beleive I lov'd you.

_Lady_. Doe you not love me then?

_Thu_. Can a man Robd of a Jewell deare to him as breath Affect the theife, O murdresse?--for that title Best suites thy impious quality, since thy curse, Thy cruell curse, imposd uppon my love, Has massacred two of the faithfulst hearts Affection ere united. Though your lust Desir'd smooth youth to sate it, piety Might have reclamd you for attempting me, Your daughter's interest.--Ile not rayle Cause tis unman[ner]ly,[109] untill you find What 'tis to cause true lovers prove unkind. [_Exit_.

_Enter Alexan_.

_Lady_. Was I a sleepe? What transitory dreame Deceivd my sense? did I not here my love Protest affection? no, it was some feind Vested in his mortallity, whome hell Sent to abuse my weaknes.

_Lov_. She has bin sure tormented with that furie which cla[pt] me on my shoulder. She talkes of Hell, love and affection. Ha, goe to and goe to! the old Knight my Mrs. Goast, I hope does not haunt the house.

_Lady_. Twas he, Ime certaine on't; I felt his lips, And they were flesh; they breath'd on mine a warmth Temperate as westerne kisses which the morne Weaps liquid drops to purchase. This confirmes It was no apparition that contemnd My willingnes, but he, his reall selfe, Mockt my integrity: he must not passe soe, To blase abroad my infamy.

_Lov_. Madam, feare nothing, be not troubled; the Goast meant no harme to you, uppon my life he did not; Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt, he did not. He did appeare to me--your love, your husband, my old Mr.--here, clapt me on the shoulder, as his old custome was still when he usd to talke with me familiarly.

_Lady_. But, Sirrah, what familiarity Have you with any of my privasies? Sausie groome, practise your ancient duty.

_Enter Young Mar_.

_Y. M_. What meanes this fury, Madam?

_Lady_. O, deare boy, What haplesse fate exposd thee to the veiw Of this [sic] sad mothers sorrowes? but I charge thee, As thou respects thy duty, not to question The cause of my distemper; my iust feares Prohibits thee the knowledge of it.

_Lov_. Why, Sir, she has seene the Divell.

_Lady_. Ha!

_Lov_. Nay, Madam, I have don; they say the Divell has no power ore a Drunkard; once more Ile run the hazard.

_Y. M_. Whoe, what is he? speake, For heavens sake, speake: were he defensd with clouds Or circled with unsteadfast boggs, my rage Should cut a passage to him.

_Lady_. Thou strait will grow More passionate then I: goe to your chamber, Ile but dispatch these gentlemen. [_Exit Mar_.

_Enter Sir Geffery, Crackby, [Suc]ett [and Bun]ch.

_Sir Gef_. O here she is.--Lady, I and my Nephew, being your good neighbors and of the worshipfull, I of the Country, he of the Cittie, have long desird a match with your daughters, but they are coy, so childish, so unmannerly; I know not how to terme them: they dispise who worship offers them, they may[110] hereafter doe worse and have worse, madam.

_Crac_. My uncle tells your ladiship the truth: We are noe peasants[111] or unhonorable To be affronted with indignities.

_Suc_. Here are men that has seene service.

_Bunch_. At a mustring or ith Artillery[112] garden.

_Lady_. 'Twas past my pleasure, good Sir _Geffery_, you have had such harch entertainement from them: henceforth Ile lay my charge upon them to be more tractable.--Mr. _Alexander_, goe call my daughters hither.

_Lov_. She turnes againe.--I shall with all celerity wish them to approach. [_Exit_.

_Sir Gef_. Certainly, Madam, I can see no cause Wherefore at first you might not, without putting My Knighthood to this trouble, have matched with me Your selfe; it had been somewhat fitter.

_Enter Belisea and Clariana_.

_Bel_. Are these fooles here?

_Lady_. Minions you might have expresd more kindnes In your behaviour to these Gent[lemen] Whom my strict caire provided for your husbands.

_Bel_. I hope they cannot blame us, we have usd them With that respect our modesties allowd.

_Lady_. Your peevish nicenes settle your affections To a more fayre demeaner towards their worth, Or you shall seeke a Mother and a portion.

_Crac_. Nay, if you take away their portions, Ile Meddle no further with them.

_Lady_. You both heare My not to be revoaked intention Respect this knight and his nephew in the way Of marriage, or I shall take another order with you. [_Exit_.

_Cla_. Was it you, good knight of the ill favord Countenance, Who procurd us these loving admonitions?

_Sir Gef_. Nay, and you begin agen, Ile call your Ladie Mother.

_Suc_. I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady, You do not cast a favorable aspect.

_Bel_. I am no Plannet.

_Crac_. Captaine, you doe me palpable affront: She is the election of my understanding.

_Sir Geff_. Retort not so abstrusly.--Will you disdain The good of honour, condiscend to me And youthfull write me, lady, in your stile, And to each thread of thy sun-daseling h[air] Ile hang a pearle as orient as the gemmes The eastern Queenes doe boast of. When thou walk[st], The country lasses, crownd with gorgeous flo[w]res, Shall fill each path and dance their rural jigs In honour of this bewty.

_Cla_. Hey day, where did you borrow this? Sir, youle beg[one]: I feele the fitt a coming; I shall rayle instantly.

_Crac_. Baffeld before my Mrs? Death to fame! Captaine, good Captaine.

_Suc_. Pish, I doe but drill her For you, friend; you shall have her, say your Captaine Sayes it, whose words doe ventilate destruction To all who do oppugn what they designe.

_Sir Gef_. Come, you shall love me.

_Cla_. I cannot choose: goe, get you home, antiquity; thinke [of] heaven, say thy prayers often for thy old sinns and let [thy] maid diett thee with warme broathes least some cold appoplexis sease thee before thou art prepard.

_Sir Gef_. Madam! madam! shees in her old fitt!

_Cla_. Call her, I care not if she heare me, I councell better than your physician: every night drinke a good cup of muscadine,[113]--you will not have moysture left to ingender spitle to cleanse thy mouth ith morning. Goe, set thy feath[er] right, good mooncalfe[114]: you have your answeare.

_Sir Gef_, Contemne an old man and his feather, _Bunch_, Ile begon, _B[unch]_.

[_Exeunt Sir Gef. and Bunch_.

_Cla_. Will you goe?--Sister, I have shakd mine off. What stayes this nifle[115] for?

_Crac_. Nay, call me what you will, she is my prise, And I will keepe her.--Captaine, to her Captaine.

_Suc_. You must not part thus, Mrs; here are men Has scapd--

_Cla_. The Gallowes.

_Suc_. Ile rigg you up; although you were a Carack I shall find tackling for you.

_Bel_. You are uncivill; pray, desist.

_Crac_. Not kisse a gentleman? a pretty ring this same: I have a mind to it and I must have it.

_Bel_. You will not robb me of it?

_Suc_. I will intreate this glove which shall adorne In fight my burgonett.

_Cla_. Some honest hostesse Ere this has made a chamber pot of it.

_Crac_. It is some rivalls ring and I will have it To weare in spight of him.

_Bel_. Helpe, Sister, helpe.

_Enter Bonvill and Grimes_.

_Bon_. She shall not neede. It is my ring the villaine desires soe importunatly: what untuterd slave art thou that darst inforce aught from this gentlewoman.

_Crac_. Whats that to you? you might have come before me.

_Bel_. What would you have don?

_Crac_. Entreated you againe to have come behind me.

_Bel_. O, my _Bonvill_, so happy a benefit no hand but thine could have administred. Thou save[d]st the Jewell I esteeme next to my honour,--the Ring thou gavest me.

_Crac_. Nay, if you have more right to her than I, takt I pray you:-- would I were off with a faire broken pate.

_Suc_. Is your life hatefull to you?

_Bon_. Why doe you inquire, good puff past?

_Suc_. My blade Is of the _Bilbo_[116] mettle; at its splendor My foes does vanish.

_Bon_. Ile try that presently;--feare nothing, ladyes.

_Suc_. Death! now I thinke out, I did breake my blade this morning on foure that did waylay me: Ile goe fetch another, and then I am for you.

_Crac_. Take myne, Captaine.

_Suc_. Hold your peace, be wise: that fellow In the blew garment has a countenance Presages losse of limme if we encounter.-- Ile meet you presently.

_Bon_. It shall not serve your turne yet: Ile not blunt My sword upon such stock fish. _Grimes_, bestow Thy timber on them.

_Grimes_. Come, sir. [_beats them_.

_Suc_. Take me without a weapon? this cudgell sure Is Crabb tree, it tasts so sourely. [_Exeunt_.

_Bel_. Oh, my Deare _Bonvill_.

_Bon_. Mistrisse, I sent an advocate to plead My guiltless cause: you, too[117] severe a Judge Forbad him audience; I am therefore come Once more to prove my innocence.

_Cla_. Come, without Ceremony Forgive you her and she shall pardon you Most willingly.

_Bon_. Can you have soe much mercy, You soe much goodnes?

_Bel_. Noe soule long tir'd with famine, whom kind death Has new enfranchisd from the loathed flesh, With happier expedition enters heaven Then mine thy bosome, _Bonvill_. Let our loves, Like plants that by their cutting downe shoot up, Straiter and taller flourish: we are now Inseperable.

_Cla_. Your good fates, though I Repine not at them, makes my unhappy fortunes Appeare farr more disastrous.

_Bon_. Whats thy misfortune?

_Bel_. Alas, my mother has crost her in her affection as she did us.

_Bon_. She shall Crosse ours no more. _Belisia_, if youle Be ruld by me you shall away with me; None but you sister shall be privy to it, And sheele keepe Councell.

_Bel_. Ile goe any whither To enjoy thy presence; theres no heaven without it.

_Bon_. You shalbe advertisd where she remaines, And certifie us how your mother takes it: When we are married we shall live to thanke you.

_Cla_. Will you leave me, then?

_Bel_. Prethee, poore heart, lament not; we shall meet, And all these stormes blowe over.

_Cla_. Your tempests past; mine now begins to rise But Ile allay its violence with my eyes.

_Exeunt omnes_.

_Actus Quartus_.

SCENE 1.

_Enter Magdalen, Timothy and Alexander_.

_Ma_. Run, good sweet _Timothy_; search the barnes, the stab[les], while I looke in the Chambers. Should she be lost or come to any harme my lady will hang us all. Why dost not fly?

_Tim_. Hey day, if her feet walke as fast as thy tongue, sh[e's] far enough ere this time. What a stir you make! Were you, as shee is, with your sweet heart, you would [be] pursud, would you? You would be hangd as soone. Al[as], good gentlewoman, heaven speed her!

_Ma_. You will not goe then?

_Tim_. No, indeed, will I not. Her mother may be angry if she please. The time has bin she would as willingly Bin at the sport her selfe as now her daughter. The ge[ntleman] shees gon with is a man, And see theres no harme d[one], I warrant you.

_Lov_. Ha, ha, gramercy, _Timothy_, thou hittst it right. _Maudlin_, goe to; should _Tim_ here offer as much to you, ha, I beleave you would not lock your selfe up in my ladyes closett; goe to, and goe to.

[_Exeunt_.

_Ma_. Udsme, my lady!

_Enter Lady_.

_Lady_. Lost, past redemption! I pursue a fier Which like the giddy Meteors that seduce With their false light benighted travellers Allures me to distruction. To curse fate Were to allow I feard it, and admit Participation in me of that spiritt I most detest, a womans.

_Lov_. Please your good Ladyship.

_Lady_. Yes, that you depart.-- [_Exit Alexander_. What can he see in her more worthy love Then is in me? shees but a picture drawne By my dimensions, and men sooner fancy The Substance then the Shaddow. Oh, but shee Is the true image not of what I am But what I was, when like the spring I wore My virgin roses on my cheeks.

_Lov_. Madam, you seeme--

_Lady_. Angry at your impertinency; learne manners, leave me.

_Lov_. She has coniurd downe my spirit: these are immodest devills that make modest ladyes become strickers[118]. Ile out oth storme, take shelter in the cellar. Goe to and goe to; tis better venter quarriling mongst those hogesheads. [_Exit Alexander_.

_Enter Maudlin [and Timothy.]_

_Ma_. Madam, your daughter--

_Lady_. Where is she? Who? _Clariana_?

_Ma_. The faire _Belisea_.

_Enter Clariana_.

_Cla_. Did you call me, madam.

_Lady_. Noe: were you soe neere? begon againe,-- Yet stay.--_Maudlin_, avoid the Roome, and if you see Mr. _Thurston_, entreat him hither. _Timothy_, Find out my son and charge him to delay The execution of my late comaund Till I next speake with him. [_Exeunt Mag. and Tim_. _Clariana_, you did what I comanded?

_Cla_. Yes, on my Soule.

_Lady_. But thou art ignorant Why with such violence I inioyn[e]d thee To leave thy _Thurstons_ love?

_Cla_. Were I not sure Theres nought in him that can be titled ill, I should have thought your circumspective Judgment Had spide some error in him, and in care Of me your child forbidden me his love. But whatsoer's the cause, though your comaund Was like perdition welcome, my obedience Fullfild it truly, without questioning The reason why or the unlimited power Of you my mother.

_Lady_. You did very well. Now thou shalt know the reason, which before I doe relate, afford me leave to weepe, To save thy teares, which at the hearing of it Will, like the dew on lillies, pearle thy cheekes. I have beheld thee with a Rivalls eye In _Thurstons_ love; my penetrable heart, Like a moist cloud, has opened and receivd Loves fine bolt into it. Now thou knowst it, Methinks I see confusion in thy lookes Prepard to blast me.

_Cla_. Heaven forbid it I Should ere conceive the meanest thought of ill Of you, my parent. Since you love him, here To heaven and you I give my interest up And would I could as well commaund his heart As he might mine, beleive me you should then Affect you with as true and deare a zeale As ever I did him: I should be happie In making you soe.

_Lady_. Charitable girle, Forgive thy cruell mother, who must yet Impose a stronger penance on thy duty: Thou must go to thy _Thurston_, and obtaine His love.

_Cla_. A little labour will serve for that.

_Lady_. Not for thy selfe but for thy haplesse mother, Who am, without it, nothing. Woe him for me, Use the inchanting musicke of thy voice On my behalfe, who, though thy Rivall, yet Remember I'm thy mother; nor canst thou Consigne thy breath to a more holy use (Though thou shouldst spend it in religious prayers) Then to redeeme thy parent. Weepe for me, And in requitall for each drop thou shedst I'll pay to heaven a Hecatombe of teares For thy successe. But take good heede, deare child, While thou art weeping, thou dost not disclose That face of thine; for, were he mine by vow, Loves powerfull Retorick uttered [in?] thyne eyes Would winn from me.

_Enter Thurston and Thorowgood_.

_Cla_. Here comes the Gentleman.

_Lady_. Be earnest, _Clariana_, I shall heare you.
[_Exit_.

_Tho_. Sir, you must iuistifie this.

_Thu_. Feare it not; yonder she goes; I'll tell her of it, sheele not denie it.

_Cla_. Mr. _Thurston_, whether do you walke soe fast?

_Thu_. O, _Clarianna_, are you there?

_Cla_. Nay, stay, I have a suite to you.

_Thu_. I would Be loth to offend your eyes; when we last met You chargd me never to behold you more.

_Cla_. I did indeed, but on mature advice I have reclaimd that imposition. You shall behold me dayly, talke with me, Doe all the acts that love with Innocence Can suffer, if youle but overrule your will To graunt me one request.

_Thu_. You wrong my faith In questioning my graunt of any thing You can desire wer't to undoe my selfe Or combate miseries as yet unheard of, You[r] least breath may expose me to them.

_Cla_. Nay, in this theres no danger; if there be A real happines on earth, this way You shall arrive to it.

_Tho_. He were unwise Would he not graunt it then.

_Thu_. Please you declare it.

_Cla_. There is a lady, Of such a perfect virtue, grace and sweetnes, That Nature was to all our sex beside A niggard, only bountiful to her; One whose harmonious bewtie may intitule All hearts its captive: yet she doats on you With such a masculine fancy that to love her Is duty in you.

_Thu_. It is herselfe, Ime sure.

_Tho_. It surely is no other.

_Cla_. No, tis one So farr transcending me, that twere a sinne Should I deprive you, the most perfect man, Of her, the perfectest woman. She will weepe Even at your name; breath miriads of sighes; Wring her hands thus; demonstrate all the signes Of a destracted lover; that in pitty, Though I did love you well, I have transferd My right to her, and charge you by all ties That you affect her with the same true zeale Which you did me, and ift be possible, Purer and better.

_Tho_. This is the strangest madnes I ere heard of.

_Thu_. Is it you, _Clariana_, that speake all this?

_Cla_. You know and heare it is.

_Thu_. But I doe scarce Credit my hearing, or conceive I am Mortall, for surely, had I bin, your words Like the decree of heaven had struck me dead. What strong temptation lay you on my faith! O, _Clariana_, let me but decline Passion, and tell you seriously that this Is cruel in you, first to scorne my love, Next to admitt a scruple of beleife, Though you can be perfidious to your selfe, That I can be soe. Noe; since you are lost, Ile like the solitary turtle mourne Cause I must live without you. But, pray, tell me What is she you would have me love?

_Cla_. My Mother.

_Thu_. Ha, your Mother!

_Tho_. Ist possible, lady? you much doe wrong Your innocence in laboring to enforce That upon him which is my interest. Heaven Smild at the contract twixt us; quiers of Saints Receivd our mutuall vowes, and though your Mother May in her passion seeme to have forgott Her pretious faith, yet when I shall awake Her sleeping reason with the memory Of that has past betwixt us, my strong hope Tells me I shall induce her to the spheare Which she has movd from.

_Cla_. Would heaven you could! How coldly in this cause Doe I perswade! when I would speake, my heart Checks its bold orator, my tongue, and tells it Tis traitorous to its Mr.--Noble Sir, [_kneele_ I doe conceit you infinitly good, So pittiful that mercy is in you Even naturally superlative, (forgive me, If I offend) you doe in this transgresse Humanity, to let a lady love you Without requitall. But I must professe To heaven and you, that here Ile fix to earth, Weepe till I am a statue, but Ile gaine Your pitie for her: pray consider ont.

_Thu_. Consider ont? wonder has soe engrossd To its wild use all corners of my heart That there remaines scarce one poore concave left To hold consideration. I must either Love her I hate or see her whome I love Wilfully perish. See, shee kneeles and weeps, Prays as she meant to expiate all the sinns Earth ere committed. One of those pure drops Does (as my lives blood in a soddaine trance) Surround my heart. You have prevaild, arise: At your request I will performe an act, Which may no story hold least all who love Hereafter curse the president,--Ile love her. That deathfull word comes from my torturd soule As a consent doth from a timorous maid For an enforcing ravisher.

_Tho_. You are not mad, sir? what doe you meane?

_Cla_. I thanke you. But love her dearely, _Thurston_, sheele deserv't: I doe remember, when my Father livd, How he would praise her goodnes. Think on me As one that lovd you well, but neer like her; And, if you please, bestow each day a kisse Uppon her in my memory. Soe, farewell.-- Sorrows flow high: one griefe succeed another; I die in piety to redeeme my Mother. [_Exit_.

_Tho_. But, harke you, sir, do you intend to love her.

_Thu_. Good sir, torment me not.

_Enter Grimes_.

_Grimes_. By your leave, gentlemen: good Mr. _Thorowgood_, a word or two in private.

_Thu_. Compeld to love my enemy! what man, That had but so much spiritt as a mule, Could suffer this! Lay nice prescriptions, Ambiguous bookmen, on submissive slaves; Affright with terror of a wilfull death Those whom black murders of inhumane sin Has living damnd; Ime yet in my owne heart White as a babe, as Innocent as light From any mortall guilt; and were my soule Drawn fro this mew[119] of flesh twould quickly streatch Like a swift Falkon her aspiring wings And soare at heaven. Nature instructs us Death Is due to all: how can't be then a Sinn To die, or he more guilty of offense That kills himselfe or [than?] he who in his bed Some shivoring ague murders? Ime resol[v']d; Ile rather chuse to immolate my life In Martirdome to virtue then reserve't Till it be staind with mischiefes.

_Enter Lady_.

_Lady_. How doe you, sir?

_Thu_. Oh, oh, my head, my head! Stand further of, good nightcrow: if thou comst As a presaging harbinger of death, Howlt in thy direfulst and most horrid notes, And ['t] will be wellcome as choyse musick to me And Ile adore thee fort, with teares of ioy Make thy black feathers white.

_Lady_. Good sir, mistake me not, I am your friend.

_Thu_. I cry you mercy, lady; you are shee Whom I had vowd to love;--a wild conceite Had seasd my fancy. Pardon me, I must Proclaim to heaven and to the world a truth Which I should study to forget: you are A Creature so suparlatively bad That, were the earth as absolute from sinn As in its first creation, youre sole crimes Would pull a curse upon it. I should tell you The specialties wherein you're foule, but dare not Breath in the same ayre with you; I begin To feel infection:--fare you well. [_Exit_.

_Lady_. Contemnd againe! deprive me of the name And soule of woman! render me a scorne To the most base of our revengefull sex! If I beare this while there be knives or swords, Poyson or ought left to extinguish life That womans spleene can compasse-- _Alexander_! within there!

_Enter Alexander_.

Goe to my sonn; inioyne him by all rights Of naturall duty to accomplish that Which in youre hearing I comanded him. Beare him this Jewell and this gold, that when Tis don he may escape; be carefull, As you expect my favour.

_Alex_. I shall inculcate your desires unto him. --Her favour! goe to, theres comfort. [_Exit_.

_Enter Thorowgood_.

_Tho_. Madam, theres one brings a sad message to you.

_Lady_. From whome, I pray you.

_Tho_. From two friends of yours Your cruelty has murdred,

_Lady_. My cruelty Never extended to that horrid height, Not to my foes. Who are they?

_Tho_. Your daughter, The innocent _Belisia_, and my friend, Her worthy suiter, _Bonvill_.

_Lady_. Your freind and my daughter dead and by my meanes! This cannot be; my daughters sure in the house. Good sir, unfould this ridle, it begetts Wonder and terror in me.

_Tho_. Madam, you know with what a cruel messuage You sent me to my friend, which provd as false As your faire daughter virtuous. Why you did it I will not question, nor upbraid you with This violation of your faith.

_Lady_. This story Conduces nothing to the deathes you talkd of.

_Tho_. Yes, since then A iust mistrust that you would crosse their match Causd them last night privatly to steale hence With an intention to have reacht the house Where _Bonvills_ mother lives; but see the fates How they dispose of men! crossing the River That runns beneath your orchard, and ith darke, Their headstrong horses missing the ford overthrew them And, which I cannot without true griefe utter, There drownd them both. Was it not soe, _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Tis too sad a truth; and I, After all meanes to save their life was past, Lookd to my owne and got the shore: their bodies I feare the violence of the tide has carried Into the Sea by this time.

_Lady_. Enough, good friend; no more. Had a rude _Scythian_, ignorant of teares, Unlesse the wind enforcd 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 Than does the glowewormes ineffectual fire The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist The agravation of your sad report; [_Weepe_ Ive to much greife already.

_Tho_. It becomes you: You do appeare more glorious in these t[ears] Then the red morne when she adornes her cheeks With _Nabathean_ pearls: in such a posture Stand _Phaetons_ sisters when they doe distill Their much prisd amber. Madam, but resume Your banishd reason to you, and consider How many Iliads of preposterous mischeife From your intemperate breach of faith to me Fetch their loathed essence; thinke but on the love, The holy love I bore you, that we two --Had you bin constant--might have taught the wor[ld] Affections primitive purenes; when, from Your abrogation of it, Bonvills death, Your daughter['s] losse have luc[k]lessly insu'd. The streame that, like a Crocodile, did weepe Ore them whom with an over ravenous kisse Its moyst lips stifled, will record your fault In watery characters as lastingly As iff twere cut in marble. Heaven, forgive you; Ile pray for you; repent.

[_Exeunt Thorowgood and Grimes_.

_Grimes_. O, my deare Master!

_Lady_. Repent! should I but spend The weakest accent of my breath in sighes Or vaine compunction, I should feare I sinnd Against my will, then which I doe confes Noe other diety. Passions[120] doe surround My intellectual powers; only my heart, Like to a Rocky Island, does advance Above the foming violence of the waves Its unmovd head, bids me my fate outdare. Ills sure prevention is a swift despaire.

[_Exit_.

([SCENE] 2.)

_Enter Alexander and Young Marlowe_.

_Alex_. Thinke, sir, to whome the Iniury was don,--go to--your Lady Mother, a vertuous lady, I say and I sayt agen, a very vertuous lady. Had I but youth and strength as you have, in what cause should I sooner hazard both then in this?

_Y. M_. Murder, my friend!

_Alex_. Noe, tis doing sacrifice to slaunderd goodnes.

_Y. M_. Rob my beloved Sister of a husband!

_Alex_. Yes, to redeeme to your mother her lost honour.

_Y. M_. Art not a Divell?

_Alex_. Ha!

_Y. M_. Thy breath has blasted me.

_Alex_. I must confes indeed I have eaten garlicke.

_Y. M_. All pious thoughts that lately fild this spheare Are scatterd with the winds that issu'd from thee, Which, like the infectious yawning of a hill, Belching forth death inevitable, Has distroyd freindship and nature in me. Thou canst not poyson worse: I can feed now, Feed and nere burst with mallice. Sing, Syren, sing And swell me with revenge sweet as the straines Falls from the _Thrasian_ lyre; charme each sence With musick of Revenge, let Innocence In softest tunes like the expiring Swann Dy singing her owne Epitaph.

_Alex_. What meane you, sir? are you mad? goe to and goe to; you doe not use me well; I say and I say, you do not. Have I this for my love to you and your good Mother? Why, I might be your Father by my age, which is falne on me in my old Mrs service; he would have used me better.

_Y. M_. Dost weepe, old Crocodile? looke dost see this sword.

_Alex_. Oh, I beseech you, sir; goe to; what meane you?

_Y. M_. No harme to thee; this was my Fathers once, My honord Father; this did never view The glaring Sunn but in a noble cause, And then returnd home blushing with red spoyles, Which sung his fame and conquest. Goe, intreat My Mother be as pleasant as she was That night my Father got me. I am going, say, Most cheerfully to finish her comaund.

_Alex_. Heaven prosper you. Ha!

_Enter Thurston_.

_Thu_. Freind, I was looking for you.

_Y. M_. And you have found me, Villaine.

_Thu_. What meane you?

_Y. M_. If thou darst follow me I will conduct thee Unto the seate of death.

_Thu_. Dare! Ile goe with thee, hand in hand; goe on.

[_Exeunt ambo_.

_Alex_. Goe, goe to and goe to, I say and I sait; here wilbe some revenge. If the Gent[leman] fall my lady has promist me a farme of 100 pounds a yeare; goe to, then. Now, if her sonn be slayne, heres then this purse of gold and this rich Jewell which she sent to him. By this wee see, whoever has the worst, The fox fares well, but better when hees curst.[121] Goe to and goe to then.

[_Exit_.

_Actus Quintus_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Lady Marlowe sola_.

_Lady_. Twas[122] here about; these are the poplars, this The yewe he named. How prettily thees trees Bow, as each meant to Consecrate a branch To the drownd lovers! and, methinks, the streame Pitt[y]ing their herse should want all funerall rights, Snatches the virgin lillies from his bankes To strow their watry sepulcher. Who would Desire an easier wafting to their death Then through this River? what a pleasing sound Its liquid fingers, harping on the stones, Yeilds to th'admiring eare!

_Enter Thorowgood, Clariana, and Magdalen_.

_Mag_. This way she went, Ime sure. She has deliv[er']d So many strang distractions that I feare Sheele act some wilfull violence on her selfe If we prevent it not.

_Cla_. Yonder is somebody among the Trees Hard by the River: alasse, tis shee!

_Tho_. Come softly; if she heare our footing, her disp[aire May] anticipate our diligence.

_Lady_. Tempt me not, frailty: I disdaine revolt From ought the awfull violence of my will Has once[123] determind. Dost thou tremble, flesh? Ile cure thy ague instantly: I shall, Like some insatiate drunkard of the age, But take a cup to much and next day sleepe An hower more then ordinary.

_Tho_. Heaven and good Angells guard you!

_Cla_. My deare Mother!

_Mag_. My gratious Lady!

_Lady_. What inhumaine creatures Are you that rob me of the priviledge Of wellcome death, which I will run to meet Spight of your malice!

_Tho_. Oh decline those thoughts; Let not the lucid tapers of your soule, Bright grace and reason, fondly be extinct. Essentiall virtue, whether art thou fled, To what unknowne place? wert thou hid mongst ro[cks] Or horid grots where comfortable light Hates to dispence its luster, yet my search Should find thee out, reduce thee to this brest Once[124] thy lovd Paradice. Pray, madam, pray: From those faire eyes one penetentiall teare Would force whole legions of heavens brightest Sa[ints] If they have power to intercede for earth To beg for mercy for you.

_Lady_. These are toyes Forgd to delude mortality: let me die And afterwards my uncontroled Ghost Shall visitt you. I only goe and aske How my _Belisia_ does enioy her health Since she exchangd her native ayre of earth For those dull regions. If I find the clime Does to our constitutions promise life, Ile come to you and in those happy shades Will live in peace eternally.

[[125]_Cla_. Alas, I feare shees Irrecoverable. Twas Ill don to affright her thus.

_Mag_. Expect the best: The Gentleman will perswade her.

_Tho_. O, dispaire, Grimme homicide of soules, how thou involvst More haplesse creatures in distracted Ills Ore [w]home thou triumpst; but Ile fright thee hence: No feind shall add a trophy to thy acts For victory over her.] Deare madam, heare me: You had a noble husband, while he livd; And I beleive That no perswasion cold have forcd you yeild To vitiation of his honord bed, Not with a prince. And will you give your soule, Which heaven in its creation had designd A bride to faire eternity of blisse, By vild procurement of hells bawd, despaire, To prostitution of unnaturall death And then of woes erelasting which admit Noe diminution? Can you heare this, Madam, And does the flintie substance of your heart Not thaw, like to a hill of _Russian_ Ice When fires applid to't? Yes, your eyes demonstrate It[126] melts already.

_Cla_. Deare Mother, please you walke Into your Chamber: here the wind is cold And may disease your weaknes.

_Mag_. Here is your vayle, and't please your ladiship.

_Lady_. Let me alone, you trouble me; I feele A soddaine change; each organ of my soule Suffers a strong vicissitude; and, though I do detest a voluntary death, My Conscience tells me that it is most iust That the cursd author of such impious ills Ought not to live.

_Tho_. O thinke not soe: those words Retaine affinity with that passion I hop'd youd left. The greatest of your Sinns Mercy will smile at, when you doe implore Its unconsuming grace: the dullest cloud Will, when you pray, be active as the ayre In opening to receive that breath to heaven Thats spent to purge your ills. Why, you may live To make a faire lustration for your faults And die a happie Convert.

_[Ho]llow within_: Follow, follow, follow! that way he went.

_Enter Young Marlowe, Alexander, [Consta]ble and [office]rs_.

_Y. M_. Hell, I will flie no farther; since my hand Is guilt in murder it shall sacrifice Some of my apprehenders.

_Tho_. Whats the matter? Deare Sir, what ayles you?

_Lady_. O my Sonne! I feare.

_Alex_. Stand back, goe to; what meanes this rudenes. I say goe to, keepe back.

_Con_. Sir, we must enter: here he is. I charge you Asist us to lay hold on him.

_Lady_. Why, how now, Fellowes? what makes you presse in here thus rudely? Whom do you follow?

_Con_. Madam, Ime sorry my authority Enforces me to doe it: your sonn iust now Has slaine one Mr. _Thurstone_, and the law Commaunds us apprehend him.

_Y. M_. Here take my sword: When I but doe waigh the iustnes of the cause For which I suffer, though I could escape, My Conscience would forbid me. Come, Ile goe Whither you please.

_Lady_. Stay, officers; all accessaries are As liable to punishment for murder As those who act it. I confesse twas I Enforcd my son to slay that gentleman. Your warrant extends to take me with him.

_Tho_. Alas, beleive her not; greife for her sonne Has made her franticke.

_Lady_. By heaven tis truth! If you refuse to execute your office I shall confesse my act unto the Judg And soe condemne you of partiality. My Sonn knowes this is truth.

_Y. M_. I must acknowledge Mr. _Alexander_ oft did instigate me To kill him.

_Con_. Sir, you must clere your selfe of this.

_Alex_. Who? I? Goe, take the babe from its Mothers teat and taxe him with this crime. I accessary to a murder! goe to.

_Con_. Why, and goe to, sir, and avoid resistance; You must goe. Will your ladiship walke with us?

_Lady_. Yes, most willingly. I doe this most abhorrid life despise Since tis to iustice a iust sacrifice.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 2.)

_A Table: Enter Judge,[127] Sir Geffery, Crackbie,
Suckett, and Bunch_.

_Sir Hu_. I doe admire this accident: since I have sat Judge I have not knowne any such tryall.

_Sir Gef_. Tis certaine, sir; but looke you, sir, Ile tell you. You do perceive me sir: as Ime a gentleman I lov'd the lady; but she, out of her pride, I thinke, or else I were to b[lame] to say soe, scornd me. Marke you that, sir? understand you that?

_Sir Hu_. You question my understanding very much, good Sir _Geffe[rey]_. But pray you, sir, being here more conversant then I, c[ould] you informe me how this quarrell grew twixt her [and Mr.] _Thurston_?

_Sir Gef_. Yes, yes, I can;--but let me see, I have almost forgott; to say truth, I never heard the reason, but as the wisest guess--hum, hum--he should have had her daughter.

_Crac_. I might have had her my self, you know, uncle.

_Sir Gef_. Peace, Nephew, peace, give Justice leave to speake.--As I related, the reason I related, Sir, was as I told you.

_Sir Hu_. You told me nothing yet, Sir _Geffery_.

_Sir Gef_. Noe? did I not say he should have had her daughter?

_Sir Hu_. You did; but what does that conduce to their dissention?

_Sir Gef_. Oh sir, the originall efficient cause,--you understand me? for suspition whispers he had given her a foule blow and would have left her.