Chapter VI: Part 6

_Mild_. Yes for myne owne. I had thought, lyke one forlorne, All fortune had forsooke mee, but I see My best dayes are to com. Welcom my lyfe! Nay if there bee in any bawde a sowle This nowe hath mett the body.

_Ashb_. All's theire safe Unrifled, naye untutcht, save a small caskett With som few trifles of no valewe in't, Yet to mee pretious, synce by them I have fownd My one and only doughter.

_Mild_. Howes that, pray?

_Ashb_. Thus; thy _Palestra_ is my _Mirable_.

_Mild_. Now may you to your comfort keepe the guerle, Synce of my wealthe I am once againe possest. I heare acquitt you of all chardges past Due for her education.

_Ashb_. You speake well.

_Grip_. It seemes you are possest, and this your owne.

_Mild_. Which I'l knowe howe I part with.

_Grip_. Com quickly and untrusse.

_Mild_. Untrusse, Syr? what?

_Grip_. Nay if you stand on poynts,[156] my crowns, my crowns: Com tell them out, a thousand.

_Mild_. Thousand deathes I will indure fyrst! synce I neather owe thee Nor will I paye thee any thinge.

_Grip_. Didst thou not sweare?

_Mild_. I did, and will againe If it bee to my profit, but oathes made Unto our hurt wee are not bound to keepe.

_Ashb_. What's that you chalendge, _Gripus_.

_Grip_. Not a sowse lesse Then a full thousand crownes.

_Ashb_. On what condition?

_Grip_. So much hee vowed and swore to paye mee downe At sight of this his budgett; a deneere I will not bate; downe with my dust, thou perjurer.

_Ashb_. But did hee sweare?

_Mild_. Suppose it, saye I did.

_Ashb_. Then thus I saye, oathes ta'ne advisedly Ought to bee kept; and this I'l see performed, What's forfett to my man is due to mee; I claime it as my right; these your bawdes fallacyes In this shall no weye helpe you, you shall answer it Now as a subject and beefore the judge.

_Mild_. If I appeare in coort I am lost againe; Better to part with that then hazard all. These bagges conteine fyve hundred pownds apeece, Tak't and the pox to boot.

_Grip_. And all these myne?

_Godf_. Would I might have a share in't.

_Ashb_. Nowe tell mee, _Mildewe_, howe thou ratest the freedome Of th'other virgin yonge _Scribonia_, Companion with my dowghter?

_Mild_. I am weary Of this lewde trade; give mee fyve hundred crownes And take her; I'l gie't over now in tyme Ere it bringe mee to the gallowes.

_Ashb_. There's for her ransom; she's from henceforthe free.

_Grip_. Howe, Syr?

_Ashb_. These other, _Gripus_, still belonge to thee Towards the manumission.

_Enter at one doore Palestra, Scribonia; at the other
Raphael, Treadway, Thomas Ashburne and the Clowne_.

_Raph_. If all bee trewe my man related to mee I have no end of Joy.

_Ash_. This is my _Mirable_, My doughter and freeborne; and if you still Persist the same man you profest your self, Beehold shee is your wyfe.

_Raph_. You crowne my hopes.

_Mir_. This very day hathe made mee full amends For many yeares of crosses.

_Tread_. Nowe my suite.

_Raph_. Nor are my expectations yet at heighte Before my frend bee equally made blest In this fayer damsell's love.

_Tread_. To accomplishe which If all the wealth that I injoye by land, Or what at Sea's in ventur, will but purchase With her release a tye of love to mee, This hower it shalbe tenderd.

_Ashb_. Offer'd fayrely; But knwe, syr, could you winne her to your wishes, She shall not lyke a bondemaide come to ye; Fyve hundred crownes are tenderd downe all redy (Unknowne to her) for her free liberty.

_Scrib_. This is a Juberly, a yeare of Joy, For chastity and spotles Inocens.

_Tread_. Shall I intreate you to receive them backe? Lett it bee made my woorke of charity.

_Ashb_. I knowe you woorthy, but that must not bee; Yet proove her, court her, with my free consent And use the best love's rethorick you can: If with the motion shee rest satisfied, And you pleas'd to accept her, it shall never Bee sayde you tooke a captyve to your bedd But a free woman.

_Tread_. Nobly have you spoake.

_Raph_. Fayre _Mirable_, the fyrst thinge I intreate you In which to expresse your love, speake for my frend.

_Mir_. And with my best of Oratory.

_Raph_.[157] Weel be all Assistants in the motion.

_Ashb_. If you prevayle, I in the absens of som nearer frend Have vowed to stand her father.

_Clowne_. Now, Sir, I have showed him you, but are you ever the wyser?

_Thom. Ash_. Peace, I am somwhat trobled. Oh tis hee, My brother; and those rude and violent gusts That to this strange Road thrust my shipp per force, And I but late for new disasters curst, Have with there light winges mounted mee aloft, And for a haven in heaven new harbord mee. Yet they but feede upon theire knowne delights; Anon I'l make them surfett.

_Scrib_. If to this frendly fayer society, I, a poore desolate virgin, so much bownd, Should putt you off with delatory trifles When you importune answer, t'would appeare In mee strange incivility: I am yours And, beeinge so, therefore consequently his.

_Ashb_. A match then! but, ere further you proceede, Resolve mee one thinge, _Mildewe_,--not as thou art Thyself, but as thou once weart made a Christian,-- Knowest thou this made's descent, and parentadge?

_Mild_. I will resolve you lyke a convertite,[158] Not as the man I was: I knew there byrthes, But for myne owne gayne kept them still conceal'd.

_Ashb_. Now as thou hop'st of grace--

_Mild_. The nurse late dead That had these too in chardge, betrayde a shipboord And ravisht from her coontry, ere she expyr'd Nam'd her the doughter of _Jhon Ashburne_, marchant. Her I _Palestra_ cal'd, shee _Mirable_; That, _Winefryde_, doughter to _Thomas Ashburne_ Brother to the sayde _Jhon_, I cal'd _Scribonia_. They too are coosin germans.

_Ashb_. This our neece?

_Thom_. My doughter?

_Pal_. Partners in sorrowe, and so neere allyde, And wee till nowe neare knewe it!

_Scrib_. My deere coosin.

_Ashb_. Nay, I'l bee my woords mayster; reache your hands, And thoughe no nearer then an Unkle, once I'l playe the father's part.

_Thom_. Praye hold your hand, Syr; Heares one that will doo't for you.

_Ash_. Brother _Thomas_!

_Thom_. Peruse that letter, whilst I breathe these Joys, Impartinge these a most unlimitted love In equall distribution, doughter, neece, Brother, and frends; lett mee devyde amongst you A fathers, brothers, and a kinsman's yoake With all th'unmeasured pleasures and delights That thought of man can wishe you.

_Ashb_. Spare reply. These tell mee, that those bloodhounds who pursude My fall, my oppressinge creditors I meane, Are gone before to answer for my wronges, And in there deathes with due acknowledgment Of all theire violens doon mee; peace with them! That lykewyse by the deathe of a ritche alderman, My unkle, I am left a fayer estate In land, eight hundred by the yeare, in coyne Twenty fyve thousand pound. Make mee, oh heaven, For this greate blessinge gratefull! and not least To you my Indeer'd brother.

_Thom_. One thinge woonders mee That I should fynd you neare _Marcellis_ heare, When I was aym'd for _Florens_; where your letters Inform'd mee you were planted.

_Ashb_. But even thither Those crewell men dog'd mee with such pursuit That theire I fownd no safety, but was forct To fly thence with that little I had left And to retyre mee to this obscure place; Where by the trade of fishinge I have lyv'd Till nowe of a contented competens. Those bates, hookes, lynes and netts for thy good servyce, _Gripus_, I nowe make thyne.

_Grip_. You are my noble mayster, and would I could have fownd more tricks then these in my budgett, they had bin all at your servyce.

_Ashb_. I purpose nowe for _England_, whether so please These gentlemen consort us with theire brydes.

_Boathe_. Most willingly.

_Ashb_. There you shall see what welcome Our _London_, so much spoake of heare in _France_, Can give to woorthy strangers.

_Thom_. Att my chardge Your shippinge is provyded, and at anchor Lyes ready in the roade.

_Ashb_. Oh happy storme That ends in such a calme!

_Enter Godfreye in haste_.

_Godf_. Staye, gentlemen, and see a dolefull sight; One ledd to execution for a murder The lyke hath scarce bin heard of.

_Ash_. Of the Fryar? In part we weare ey witness of the fact, Nor is our hast so great but wee maye staye To viewe his tragick end, whom the strickt lawe Hathe made a Just example.

_Enter the Abbott, Fryar Richard, Shreeve and officers_.

_Abb_. Upon thy trewe confession I have given thee Such absolution as the churche allowes. What hast thou else to saye ere thou art made To all men heare a wofull spectacle?

_Fr. R_. This only, that betwixt Fryar _Jhon_ and mee Was ever hate and mallyce; and althoughe With no entent of murder, this my hand This most unfortnate hand, beereft his lyff, For which vile deede I mercy begge of Heaven, Next of the woorld, whom I offended too, Pardon and pitty. More to saye I have not: Heaven of my sowle take chardge, and of my body Dispose thou, honest hangeman.

_Clown_. Lasse, poore Fryar, and yet there's great hope of his sowle, for I canot spye one heyre betwixt him and heaven.

_Fisher_. And yet I dowbt hee will make but a bald reckninge of it.

_Enter the Lord De Averne and his man Dennis_.

_Av_. Staye the execution.

_Abb_. Our noble fownder out of his greate charity And woonted goodnes begg'd him a reprieve!

_Av_. Brought a reprieve I have: lett go the Fryar, And take from mee your warrant; I dischardge him.

_Sherif_. And yet, my Lord, 'tis fitt for our dischardge That the Kinge's hand bee seene.

_Av_. If not my woord Will passe for currant, take my person then, Or if you thinke unequall the exchaunge I tender my man's too to valewe his. Meanetyme dismisse him as one Innocent Of what hee is condemde.

_Abb_. By his owne mouthe Hee stands accus'd.

_Av_. And wetnes all of you, As frely I acquitt him.

_Sher_. Honored Syr, Praye bee more playne, wee understand you not.

_Av_. I'l make it playne then.

_Cl_. Now if thou bee'st wyse drawe thy neck out of the collar, doo, Slipp-stringe, doo.

_Rich_. Marry, with all my hart and thanke him too.

_Av_. Attend mee, reverend father, and you all Of this assembly: for som spleene conceiv'd Against the Fryar deceast, I strangled him; The cause why no man heare importun mee: For many reasons to my self best knowne I hold fitt to conceale it, but I murdered him In myne owne howse.

_Abb_. But by your Honor's favour How can that bee when _Richard_ heere confest Hee slewe him in our cloyster?

_Av_. Heare me outt. At fyrst, untutcht with horror of the fact, My purpose was to laye the guilt elswhear And for that purpose caus'd my man to mount him Over the cloyster wall.

_Denis_. Which soone I did By th'helpe of a short ladder, sett him theire In a close-place and thoughe not of the sweetest Yet as I thought the safest; left him there.

_Fr. R_. Just in that place I found him, and imadgining He satt of purpose theire to despight mee, I hitt him with a stone, hee fell withall And I thought I had slayne him.

_Dennis_. But howe the Devill Gott hee into our porch? that woonders mee.

_Fr. R_. I fownd a ladder theire.

_Den_. The same I left.

_Fr. R_. Gott him upon my shoolders and by that Conveighd him back and left him in that porch, Wheare, as it seemes, you fownd him.

_Av_. This troblinge us, it drove us to newe plotts. We arm'd the Fryar, accoutred as you sawe, Mounted him on a stallion, lock't him fast Into the saddle, turn'd him forthe the gates To trye a second fortune.

_Fr. R_. Just at the tyme When, I beeinge mounted on the baker's mare, The gates weare sett wyde ope for mee to fly.

_Abb_. So that it seemes one beast pursuide the tother, And not the dead Fryar _Richard_.

_Av_. Howsoever, As one repentant for my rashnes past, And loathe to Imbrewe mee in more Innocent blood, I fyrst confesse my servant's guilt and myne, Acquitt the Fryar, and yeeld our persons upp To the full satisfaction of the lawe.

_Enter the Lady Averne and her maid Mellesent_.

_Lady_. Which, noble Sir, the Kinge thus mittigates: See, I have heare your pardon. In the tyme That you weare ceas'd with this deepe melancholly And inward sorrowe for a sinne so fowle, My self in person posted to the Kinge (In progresse not farr off), to him related The passadge of your busines, neather rose I From off my knees till hee had signd to this.

_Av_. Th'hast doon the offyce of a noble wyfe. His grace I'l not despyse, nor thy great love Ever forgett, and iff way may bee fownd To make least satisfaction to the dead, I'l doo't in vowed repentance.

_Abb_. Which our prayers In all our best devotions shall assist.

_Ashb_. All ours, great Syr, to boote.

_Av_. Wee knowe you well and thanke you.

_Ashb_. But must nowe Forsake this place, which wee shall ever blesse For the greate good that wee have fownd therein, And hence remoove for _England_.

_Av_. Not beefore All your successfull Joyes wee heare related To comfort our late sorrowes; to which purpose Wee invite you and your frends to feast with us. That granted, we will see you safe aboord: And as wee heare rejoyce in your affayers, Forget not us in _England_ in your prayers.

[_Exeunt_.

FINIS.

INTRODUCTION TO THE COSTLIE WHORE.

_The Costlie Whore_, though not of the highest rarity, is a scarce play. It has never been reprinted, and thoroughly deserves on its own merits a place in the present collection. The conduct of the story is simple and straight-forward; the interest is well sustained; and the poetry has all the freshness and glow of youth.

The play bears some indications of having been written in 1613. In I. 2, where the Duke's brothers are devising schemes for enriching themselves at the state's expense, occurs the following passage:--

"_Al_. I have a commission drawne for making glasse.
Now if the Duke come, as I thinke he will,
Twill be an excellent meanes to lavish wood;
And then the cold will kill them, had they bread.

_Hat_. The yron Mills are excellent for that.
I have a pattent drawne to that effect;
If they goe up, downe goes the goodly trees;
Ile make them search the earth to find new fire."

The mention of the "yron Mills" appears to refer to the patent granted to Clement Daubigny for cutting iron into rods. On 13th March,[159] 1612-13, the Commissioners of Suits forwarded to the Lord Mayor a petition from Daubigny for the renewal of letters patent. They enclosed petitions from nailmakers and other smiths, shipmasters, shipowners, and shipwrights, from which it would appear that the iron imported from foreign parts was brittle and useless; and being themselves unable to judge accurately of the quality of iron, they directed the Lord Mayor to take the evidence of the Master and some of the Wardens of the Blacksmiths', Ironmongers', and Carpenters' Companies, of the Master and some of the Brethren of the Trinity House, and of any others that he might think fit to consult: after hearing the evidence, he was to draw up a statement of his own views and return Daubigny's petition. On 31st March the Lord Mayor addressed a letter to the Lords of the Council, in which he stated that from the evidence of the various witnesses he had been convinced that the patent would raise the price of iron, hinder the king in his customs, and further the decay of woods; and he added that the Flemish iron was for the most part good and tough. It will be observed that one of the objections raised by the Lord Mayor to the granting of the patent--namely that a great consumption of wood (as fuel for smelting the ore) would follow--is specially put forward by the dramatist. The mention in Alfred's speech of a scheme for glassmaking seems also to suggest 1613 as the date of authorship; for on 17th November of that year Sir Jerome Bowes and Sir Edward Zouch procured patents for making glass.[160]

There are other allusions that point to 1613. In II. 4, we find--"Make us for want coyn brasse and passe it current." The first patent for the coining of brass farthing-tokens was granted on 10th April, 1613, to John Stanhope, Lord Harrington; and the grant caused general dissatisfaction.[161] Again: in the same scene there is a reference to the exportation of broad cloth:--"I, an't please your honour, have a commoditie of good broad cloth, not past two hundred; may I shippe them over? and theres a hundred poundes." When we turn to the State Papers we discover that numerous complaints were made in 1613 about the exportation of undressed broadcloth. On 3rd March, 1612-13, the King forwarded to the Lords of the Council a petition from the clothworkers and dyers that the statutes against the exportation of undressed and undyed goods should be strictly enforced. I am inclined to think that these passages, taken collectively, afford strong proof that _The Costlie Whore_ was written in 1613--twenty years before the date of publication.

In I. 2, we have the story of Bishop Hatto and the Rats told briefly but effectively. Mr. Baring-Gould in his _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_ has investigated the sources of the legend with much fulness. He refers us specially to Wolfius's _Lect. Memorab_., Lavingae, 1600, tom. i. p. 343. From the Stationers' Registers it appears that a ballad of _The Wrathfull Judgement of God upon Bishop Hatto_ was licensed to H. Carre on 15th August, 1586. The dramatist has invested the story with the glamour of that poetical strangeness which is the very salt of such narrations:--

"_Alf_. He did proclaime reliefe unto the poore;
Assembled them unto a private Barne,
And, having lockt the doore, set it on fire,
Saying hee'de rid the countrie of such Mice:
And Mice and Rats have rid him from the World.

* * * * *

_Duke_. Could not this palace, seated in the _Rheine_
In midst of the great River, (to the which
No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats
Was to be had) free him from vermine Rats?

_Alf_. Against their kind the land Rats took the water
And swomme in little armies to the house,
And, though we drownd and killed innumerable,
Their numbers were like _Hydra's_ heads increasing;
Ruine bred more untill our brother died.

_Duke_. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.

_Hat_. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free
From all resort of Rats; for _at his death,
As if a trumpet sounded a retreat,
They made a kind of murmure and departed_."

THE COSTLIE WHORE.

A COMICALL HISTORIE,

Acted by the companie of _the Revels_.

LONDON Printed by _Augustine Mathewes_, for WILLIAM SHEARES, and HVGH PERRIE, and are to be sold at their shoppe, in _Brittaines Burse_. 1633.

The Actors Names.

_Duke of Saxonie_. _Fredericke_ his sonne. _Hatto_, | Brothers to the Duke. _Al[f]rid_, | _Montano_, kinsman to the Duke. _Euphrata_, daughter to the Duke. _Constantine_, a lover of _Euphrata_. _Otho_, a friend to _Constantine_. _Alberto_, | Two Lords. _Reynaldo_, | _Vandermas_, a Pander. _Valentia_, the Costly _Whore_. _Julia_, a Gentlewoman to _Euphrata_. _Two Maides_. _Petitioners_. _Beggers_. _Servants_.

THE COSTLY _WHORE_.

[_Act the First_.]

[SCENE 1.]

_Enter Constantine and Otho_.

_Constantine_. How do'st thou like the lovely _Euphrata_?

_Otho_. I did not marke her.

_Const_. Then thou didst not marke The fairest _Saxon_ Lady in mine eye That ever breath'd a maid.

_Otho_. Your minde now knowne, Ile say shee is the fairest in the world, Were she the foulest.

_Con_. Then thou canst dissemble.

_Otho_. You know I cannot; but, deare _Constantine_, I prethee tell me first, what is that Ladie, That wonder of her sexe, cal'd _Euphrata_? Whose daughter is she?

_Const_. I cannot blame thee, _Otho_, Though thou be ignorant of her high worth, Since here in _Saxon_ we are strangers both; But if thou cal'st to minde why we left _Meath_, Reade the trice[162] reason in that Ladies eye, Daughter unto the Duke of _Saxonie_, Shee unto whom so many worthy Lords Vail'd Bonnet when she past the Triangle, Making the pavement Ivory where she trode.

_Otho_. She that so lightly toucht the marble path That leadeth from the Temple to the presence?

_Const_. The same.

_Otho_. Why, that was white before, White Marble, _Constantine_, whiter by odds Then that which lovers terme the Ivory hand, Nay then the Lillie whitenesse of her face.

_Con_. Come, thou art a cavilling companion: Because thou seest my heart is drown'd in love, Thou wilt drowne me too. I say the Ladie's faire; I say I love her, and in that more faire; I say she loves me, and in that most faire; Love doth attribute in Hyperbolies Unto his Mistris the creation Of every excellence, because in her His eies do dreame of perfect excellence.-- And here she comes; observe her, gentle friend.

[_Enter Euphrata_.

_Euph_. Welcome, sweet _Constantine_.

_Con_. My _Euphrata_.

_Euph_. Thy _Euphrata_, be thou my _Constantine_. But what is he? a stranger, or thy friend?

_Con_. My second selfe, my second _Euphrata_. If thou beest mine, salute her, gentle _Otho_.

_Otho_. An humble and a true devoted heart I tender to you in a mindes chast kisse.

_Euph_. Welcome to me, since welcome to my friend.

_Otho_.--A beautiful, an admirable Ladie! I thinke 'tis fatall unto every friend Never to love, untill his friend first love, And then his choice; but sooner will I teare Out of this brest mine affection with my heart.

_Euph_. Hearing, sweet _Constantine_, thou wert so nere me, I came as I were winged to gaze on thee.

_Con_. And would to heaven there were no bar in time To hinder me from thy desired sight, But thousand sutors eyes, do watch my steps; And harke, I heare some trampling. How now, _Julia_?

_Enter Julia_.

_Juli_. Madam, the Lord Montano, spying you To leave the presence and to enter here, Hath ever since waited your comming foorth. And will not be denied untill he see you.

_Euph_. Of all my sutors, most importunate.

_Con_. What is he, love?

_Euph_. Of very noble birth, But my affection is not tyed to birth. I must dispense with this kind conference For some small time, untill I rid him hence. Therefore within my closet hide thy selfe; Your friend shall _Julia_ guide into the garden, Where through a private doore, but seldome us'd, He may at pleasure leave us and returne. Deny me not I prethee, _Constantine_; Thou hast my heart, and would thy birth were such I need not feare t'avouch thee for my Love.

_Otho_. Madam, I take my leave. [_Exit Otho_.

_Con_. Farewell, deare friend, Returne as soone as may be; farewell Love. [_Exit_.

_Euph_. Now guide _Montano_ hither.

_Enter Montano_.

_Mon_. Gracious Madam, I have seene the noble Palsgrave, the Prince Of _Milleine_, and the Palatine of the _Rheine_, With divers other honorable sutors, Mounted to ride unto their severall places.

_Euph_. Of me they took their farewell yesternight.

_Mon_. What meanes your grace to be so unkind to all? You drive away good fortune by disdaine.

_Euph_. Why are you grieving too?

_Mon_. I am your subject, The meanest that did humbly seeke your love, Yet not the meanest in affection; And I am come to take my farewell too.

_Euph_. Why, then farewell.

_Mon_. So short with them that love you?

_Euph_. Your journey may be great, for ought I know; And 'tis an argument of little love To be the hinderer of a traveller.

_Mon_. My journey, Madame, is unto my house, Scarce halfe a league hence, there to pine and die, Because I love such beauteous crueltie.

_Euph_. God speede you, sir.

_Mon_. Nay then I will not leave you. Madam, 'tis thought, and that upon good ground, You have shrin'd your affection in the heart Of some (whatere he be) noble or base, And thats the cause you lightlie censure[163] all.

_Euph_. Who thinkes it?

_Mon_. I doe, Madame, and your father.

_Euph_. It is upon my vowed chastitie.

_Mon_. What devill made you sweare to chastitie, Or have you tane that oath onely for a terme?

_Euph_. A terme, what terme?

_Mon_. A terme of some seven yeeres, Or peradventure halfe the number more.

_Euph_. For terme of life.

_Mon_. You have sworne, to be forsworne: He was no well disposed friend of yours That gave you consaile [_sic_] to forsweare such beautie. Why, 'tis as if some traveiler had found A mine of gold, and made no use of it. For terme of life! Why, then die presently; So shall your debt to nature be farre lesse, Your tyranny over man's yeelding heart Be lesse condemned. Oh, you were made for man, And living without man to murder men. If any creature be so fortunate That lives in grace of your all gracious selfe, Though I am well perswaded 'tis not I, I vow by all the rites of vertuous love, Be he ignoble, of the basest sort, To please you, Madame, Ile renounce my suite And be a speciall meane unto your father To grant your hearts affection, though I die.

_Euph_. Now, Lord _Montano_, you come neere my heart, And were I sure that you would keepe your word, As I am sure you love me by your deedes, I might perchance deliver you my thoughts.

_Mon_. By heaven and by your beauteous selfe I will.

_Euph_. Then, _Constantine_, come forth; behold thy friend.

_Enter Constantine_.

_Con_. Madame, what meane you, to reveale our love?

_Mon_. This is a very stubborne Gentleman. A Gentleman? a pesant! _Saxonie_, Affords not one more base.

_Con_. He does me wrong, That termes me meaner then a gentleman.

_Mon_. I tearme thee so.

_Euph_. Why, how now, Lord _Montano_? You do forget your oath.

_Mont_. And you your selfe, Your Princely father, and the Dukedomes honour, To chaine your liking to a groome so base.

_Con_. He lies that calles me groome.

_Enter Julia_.

_Ju_. O God, forbeare: His Excellence your father's comming hither.

_Mon_. He comes in happie time, to know the cause Why such great Princes have bin made your scorne.

_Euph_. What, will you tell him?

_Mon_. Will I? let me die Contemn'd of heaven, in publique obloquie, If I reveale not this lascivious course.

_Ju_. We are undone.

_Con_. Hence with this prating Maide. If thou hast any anger in thy brest Towards this Lady, turne it all on me. She is a woman, timerous by her kinde; I, man-like borne, and beare a man-like minde.

_Mon_. Ile trie your courage. [_Draw_.[164]

_Euph_. As thou fear'st my frowne, As thou hast hope to thrive in thy new choice, As thou respect'st the favour of the gods, Welfare in any action thou intends, Doe not reveale unto my fretfull father This humble choice that my high birth hath made.

_Mon_. Why, then forsweare him.

_Euph_. Sooner set thy feet Upon my breast, and tread me to the ground.

_Ju_. As thou art any thing more then a beast, Doe not procure my Ladie such disgrace.

_Mon_. Peace, bawde, Ile have no conference with you.

_Euph_. He cannot hurt me, 'tis my Love I feare. Although my father be as sterne as warre, Inexorable like consuming fire, As jealous of his honour as his crowne, To me his anger is like _Zephires_ breath Cast on a banke of sommer violets, But to my Love like whirlewinde to a boate Taken in midst of a tumultuous sea.

_Enter Duke of Saxonie and Fredericke_.

Alas, he comes! Montano, prethee, peace. Courage, sweete Love.

_Con_. I see our love must cease.

_Euph_. Not if my wit can helpe; it shall goe hard But Ile prevent the traitor.

_Mon_. Heare me, my Lord.

_Euph_. Heare me, my gracious father.

_Mon_. Heare me, my liege: ther's treason in your Court, I have found a peasant in the Princesse closet; And this is he that steales away her honour.

_Euph_. This villaine, gracious father, 'tis that seekes To rob me of mine honor, you your daughter.

_Mon_. Now, as you are a right heroike Prince, Be deafe unto your daughters faire[165] words.

_Euph_. Be deafe to him, as you regard your selfe.

_Duke_. What strange confusion's this that cloyes our hearing?

_Fred_. Speake, beauteous sister, who hath done thee wrong?

_Mon_. Her self.

_Euph_. This traitor.

_Fre_. Lord _Montano_?

_Euph_. Hee.

_Fred_. Villaine, thou dyest.

_Mon_. Stay, she meanes _Constantine_, He that I found infolded in her closet, Reaping the honour which a thousand Lords Have fail'd in seeking in a lawful course.

_Con_. He does me wrong, my gracious soveraigne.

_Ju_. He wrongs my Ladie, an't please your grace.

_Mon_. Ile tell the trueth.

_Euph_. Or rather let me tell it.

_Mon_. Lacivious love is ever full of sleights.

_Euph_. Villaines, that seeke by treason their desires, Want no suggestion to beguile a trueth.

_Mon_. I say, I found this peasant in her closet Kissing, imbracing, and dishonouring her.

_Euph_. I say, an't please your gracious Excellence, I found this Gentleman within my closet, There set by subornation of this Lord, And here appointed to dishonor me. Speake, is't not true?

_Con_. True, if it please your grace.

_Duke_. What say you, strumpet?

_Ju_. Since my Ladie saies so, I say and't please your Excellence--

_Duke_. Speake, woman.

_Ju_. 'Tis very true.

_Mon_. O monstrous forgerie!

_Fre_. O more then falshood to become so smooth In such a dangerous action!

_Duke_. This is strange; _Montano_ seeke the ruine of my daughter!

_Euph_. Because I would not yeeld unto his suite, Which he in rapefull manner oft hath sought, Hee set this Gentleman to doe me shame Intending by exclaimes[166] to raise the Court, But that repentance in my waiting Maide And of his sorrowfull selfe reveal'd the plot.

_Mon_. O ye gods, how am I over-reacht!

_Duke_. I know the yong man to be well discended, Of civill carriage and approved faith, How ere seduced to this enterprise.

_Con_. My conscience, would not propagate that plot.

_Ju_. Nor mine, my Lord, though gold corrupted me.

_Mon_.--Cleane from the byas! wit, by heaven rare wit! Ile tell another tale, if they have done.

_Duke_. What canst thou speake, vild[167] traitor? Thou seest thou art prevented in thy plot And therefore desperately coin'st any thing, But I am deafe to all such stratagems.

_Mon_. Will you not heare me?

_Duke_. Forgeries and lies. My daughters honour is of that high prize That I preferre it 'fore a traitors braine. Let it suffice, we know she hath deni'd thee And some denied (like devills) turne their love Into excrutiation of themselves And of the parties whom they have belov'd. Revenge begins where flatteries doe end; Being not her husband, thou wilt be no friend. Thus is thy policy by heaven prevented: Therefore henceforth we banish thee our Court; Our Court? our territorie, every place Wherein we beare the state of Royaltie. Urge no replie, the fact is plainely prov'd, And thou art hatefull where thou wert belov'd.

_Mon_. My gracious Lord--

_Duke_. We can afford no grace: Stay here, and reade thy ruine in my face.

_Mon_. I goe contented with this heavy doome; 'Twas mine owne seeking. Faire and wise, adiew; Deceit hath kil'd conceit, you know tis true. [_Exit_.[168]

_Fre_. An upright sentence of an act so vilde.

_Duk_. Remove this waiting virgin from your chamber, But let this gentleman attend on me. The best may be deceiv'd by trecherie.

_Euph_. Then so, my gracious father, may this maid.

_Duke_. Then let her keep her place; beware of gold, Honour's too precious to be baselie sold.-- Now to our dying friend, his grace of _Meath_. Daughter, prepare you; you shall ride along, For to that end we came; come, sonne, to horse: Ere we come there, our friend may prove a coarse.

_Euph_.--Twas well done both, this action rarely fell; Where women trie their wits, bad plots prove well.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Enter three Beggers_.

1. Come away, fellow louse, thou art ever eating.

2. Have I not neede, that must feede so many _Cannibals_ as will waite on me whether I will or no?

3. Heres one in my necke, I would 'twere on thy shoulder.

1. Keepe it your selfe, I have retainers enow of mine owne.

2. But whether are you going now?

1. Why, are you our King, and doe not know that?

2. Your King? I am a very roguish King and I hav a companie of lowsie subjects.

_Enter Hatto and Alfrid conferring_.

2. But looke about my ragged subjects, here comes somebody.

1. O the devills; shall we aske them an almes?

2. Why not? now the rats have eaten up their brother Bishop they will be more charitable; your vocation, you slaves.

3. For the Lord sake, be pittifull to a companie of poore men.

_Hatto_. What cry is this? beggars so neere the doore Of our deceased brother? whip them hence Or bring the Mastiffe foorth [to] worry them. They are lazie drones, 'tis pittie such should live.

1. I told you, my Lord, how we should find them; whip us! leade the way, soveraigne, weele none of your whipping.

_Hat_. Hence with these dogs! what make they neere this house?

2. He will be eaten with rats too, he looks like a piece of cheese alreadie.

_Hat_. You Rogues.

_Alf_. Good brother, stay your self from wrath; Thinke on the Bishop and his odious death.

_Hat_. What odious death, I pray?

_Alf_. Eaten with Rats, Whilest he was living, for the wrong he did Unto the poore, the branches of our God.

_Hat_. Tis true, and therefore, call the poore againe. Come hither, friends, I did forget my selfe. Pray for me, ther's some silver for thy wants.

2. Now the Lord blesse you and keep your good face[169] from being Mouse-eaten; wee came thinking wee should have some dole at the Bishops funerall, but now this shall serve our turne, wee will pray for you night and day.

_Hat_. Goe to the backe-gate, and you shall have dole.

_Om_. O the Lord save thee.
[_Exeunt Beggers_.

_Hat_. These Beggers pray and curse both in a breath. Oh wherefore should we fawne upon such curres, The mice of mankind, and the scorne of earth?

_Alf_. So said our brother.

_Hat_. And he was a Bishop, Had read the Scripture and knew what he said.

_Alf_. But he hath bought[170] that saying with his death, With such a loathsome and notorious death As while the World's a World 'twill speake of _Meath_.

_Hat_. The Lord Archbishop of _Meath_, and die by Rats!

_Alf_. He did proclaime reliefe unto the poore; Assembled them unto a private Barne And, having lockt the doore, set it on fire, Saying hee'de rid the countrie of such Mice; And Mice and Rats have rid him from the World.

_Hat_. Well, Ile not hurt the poore so publikely, But privately I'le grinde their very hearts. Torture them living, and yet have their prayers, And by such meanes that few or none shall know it.

_Al_. In such a course _Alfred_ would wind with you; For though I counsail'd you to be more calme, Twas not in pittie of their povertie But to avoide their clamour. To give nothing Will make them curse you: but to threaten them, Flie in your face, and spit upon your beard. No devill so fierce as a bread-wanting heart, Especially being baited with ill tearmes. But what course can you take to plague these dogges?

_Hat_. Why, buy up all the corne and make a dearth, So thousands of them will die under stalles.

_Alf_. And send it unto forraine nations To bring in toies to make the wealthy poore.

_Hat_. Or make our land beare woad[171] instead of wheate.

_Al_. Inclose the commons and make white meates deare.

_Hat_. Turne pasture into Park grounds and starve cattle, Or twentie other honest thriving courses. The meanest of these will beggar halfe a Kingdome.

_Al_. I have a commission drawne for making glasse. Now if the Duke come, as I thinke he will, Twill be an excellent meanes to lavish wood; And then the cold will kill them, had they bread.

_Hat_. The yron Mills are excellent for that. I have a pattent[172] drawne to that effect; If they goe up, downe goes the goodly trees; Ile make them search the earth to find new fire.

_Alf_. We two are brothers, and the Duke's our brother. Shall we be brothers in Commission? And Ile perswade him to authorize thee His substitute in _Meath_, when he enjoyes it.

_Hat_. Death, Ile get thee Regent under him In _Saxonie_, to oppresse as well as I. And we will share the profits, live like Kings, And yet seeme liberall in common things.

_Al_. Content: what, though the Rats devour'd our brother? Was not a Prophet murdered by a Lyon? King _Herod_ died of Lice, wormes doe eate us all; The Rats are wormes, then let the Rats eate me. Is the dead course prepar'd?

_Hat_. Embalm'd and coffin'd; The Citie keyes delivered to my hands; We stay but onely for his Excellence.

_Enter Constantine_.

_Con_. The Duke is comming, if it please your honors.

_Al_. And he is welcome; let the trumpets sound.

[_Second florish_.

_Enter Duke of Saxon, Euphrata, and Julia_.

_Hat_. Welcome, thrice welcome, our renowned brother. Loe, at thy feete the Cittizens of _Meath_, By us their Agents, do lay downe the keyes, And[173] by this crownet and sword resign'd The state Maiestique to your Princely hands, Discended to you by our brothers death.

_Duke_. Then with your loves and persons we receive it.-- Is then our brother the Archbishop dead?

_Hat_. Too true, my Lord.

_Euph_. I am sorry for my Uncle.

_Hat_. And of a death so publique by reporte.

_Al_. Devour'd by Rats, in strange and wonderous sort.

_Duke_. Could not this palace seated in the _Rheine_, In midst of the great River, (to the which No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats Was to be had,) free him from vermine Rats?

_Alf_. Against their kind the land Rats took the water And swomme in little armies to the house; And, though we drown'd and kild innumerable, Their numbers were like _Hydra's_ heads increasing; Ruine bred more untill our brother died.

_Duke_. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.

_Hat_. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free From all resort of Rats; for at his death, As if a trumpet sounded a retreat, They made a kind of murmure and departed.

_Duke_. Sure 'twas the hand of heaven, for his contempt Of his poore creatures.--But what writs are those?

_Hat_. Commissions (if it please your grace,) for glasse, For yron Mines, and other needful things.

_Duke_. Our selfe invested in the government, The Cities care shall lie upon your care.

_Hat. Alfred_ our brother may awaite your grace In _Saxony_, so please you to command.

_Duke_. We are now but three, and lately have bin seven, We have cause to love each other; for my part, Betweene you both we give a brothers heart. Here or at _Saxonie_, command at pleasure; I weare the corronet, be yours the treasure.

_Al_. We thanke our brother.

_Duke_. Where's my sonne _Fredericke_?

_Enter Fredericke with a glove_.

_Fre_. Father, the state of _Meath_ desire your grace To take the paines to passe unto the Senate.

_Duke_. What glove is that, son _Fred_., in your hand?

_Fre_. I found it, if it please your Excellence, Neere to the state-house: the imbroiderie Is very excellent, and the fashion rare.

_Duke_. I have not seene a prettier forme of hand. Daughter, let's see; is't not too bigge for you?

_Euph_. Sure 'tis some admirable worke of nature, If it fit any hand that owes[174] this glove, If all the rest doe parallel the hand.

_Duke_. Will it not on?

_Euph_. Not for a diadem; Ile trie no longer lest I shame my selfe.

_Duke_. Try, _Julia_.

_Ju_. My hand's bigger then my Ladies.

_Duke_. I cannot tell, but in my minde I feele A wondrous passion of I know not what.

_Fre_. The imbroidered glove may be some childs, no womans.

_Duke_. I should mistrust as much, but that this place Beares greater compasse then a childish hand. I must command it.

_Fre_. Willingly, my Lord.

_Duke_. Then to the state-house, brothers, leade the way: First our instalement [_sic_], then a funerall day.

[_Exeunt Duke and brothers and Fred_.

_Enter Otho_.

_Otho_. Yonder she goes, the mirrour of her sexe.-- Stay, beauteous _Euphrata_.

_Euph. Otho_! what, _Julia_?

_Ju_. Here, madam! what's your will?

_Euph_. Call _Constantine_; Tell him his deare friend _Otho_ is return'd.

_Ju_. I will.

_Otho_. Stay, _Julia_.

_Euph_. Doe as I bid you, goe. [_Exit Julia_.

_Otho_. I had rather have a word or twaine with you.

_Euph_. I have heard him oft enquire for thee his friend, I have heard him sigh, I have seene him weepe for thee, Imagining some mischiefe or distresse Had falne thee since the closets separation.

_Otho_.--And what a slave am I to wrong this friend!

_Enter Constantine and Julia_.

_Con_. Where is he?

_Ju_. Here.

_Con_. The welcom'st man alive. Unkind, how couldst thou stay from me so long?

_Otho_. I have bin ill at ease, pray pardon me; But I rejoyce to see my friend so well.

_Euph_. Some Ladies love hath made him melancholy.

_Otho_. Shee hath read the letter that I lately sent her In a pomegranat, by those words I hope.

_Con_. Why speake you not? is't love or melancholy?

_Otho_. If upon love my grief is melancholy?

_Con_. Ile have the best Phisitians here in _Meath_ Assay by art to cure that maladie.

_Euph_. Gainst mellancholy minds your onely Phisick Our Saxon doctors hold that principle. Now I remember you did lately send me A choice pomegranate; fetch it, _Julia_. Some of those graines well stir'd in _Gascoine_ wine Is present remedie.

_Otho_. Madam, Ile none: Of all fruits, that I hate.

_Euph_. And commended it So highly by the messenger that brought it!

_Con_. Twas well remembred, you shall take a graine.

_Otho_. You will but vexe me.

_Con_. So his melancholly Doth make him froward with his dearest friend.

_Enter Julia with the pomegranate_.

Tis well done, _Julia_, quickely cut it up; And bring a cup of wine, or let me doo't.

_Otho_. I see I shall be plagu'd with mine owne wit; Being asham'd to speake, I writ my minde.-- Were you my friends, you would not martyr me With needlesse phisicke; fie upon this trash, The very sight is loathsome.

_Con_. Take it up: But let me see, what letter's that that dropt? Came it from you, or from the _Spanish_ fruit?

_Ju_. Tis all the graines that the pomegranate had.

_Con_. Then theres some trechery within these graines: Ile breake it up. And tis directed to my _Euphrata_.

_Euph_. What may the tenure be? I pray thee read it.

[_He opens the letter & reads_.

_Otho_. O fall upon me some wind-shaken turret To hide me from the anger of my friend, O from his frowne! because he is my friend. Were he an enemie, I would be bold; But kindnes makes this wound. O, this horror! The words of friends, are stronger then their power.

_Con_. Withdraw, good _Julia_.
[_Exit Julia_.

_Euph_. Pray, what is it, love?

_Con_. Tis love indeed to thee, but to my heart Every loose sentence is a killing dart. I brought this _Gyges_[175] to my hearts delight And he hath drown'd his senses with the sight. Except thy selfe, all things to him were free: _Otho_, thou hast done me more then injurie; Well maist thou fixe thy eye upon the earth, This action sith[176] breedes a prodigious birth: It is so monstrous, and against all kinde, That the lights splendor would confound thy minde.

_Otho_. I have offended, prethee pardon me.

_Con_. What cause did move thee?

_Otho_. Her all conquering sight.

_Con_. Couldst thou usurpe upon my well known right?

_Otho_. Thinke, I am flesh and blood, and she is faire.

_Con_. Thinke how I love thee.

_Otho_. There proceeds my care.

_Con_. Our amitie hath bin of ancient dayes, During which time wrong'd I thee any wayes?

_Otho_. Never.

_Con_. But rather I have done thee good.

_Otho_. I grant you have, O rather shed my blood Then number the kind deedes betweene us past.

[_Con_.] For this unkindnesse, here I love my last.

_Euph_. He doth repent, and will renounce his suite.

_Otho_. I doe renounce it.

_Con_. O thou canst not do't.

_Otho_. Suffer me stay a while in her faire sight, 'Twill heal my wound and all love banish quite.

_Con_. The sight of the belov'd makes the desire, That burnt but slowly, flame like sparkling fire. As thou dost love me, take thee to some place Where thou maist nere see her, nor I thy face.

_Otho_. By what is deere betwixt us, by our selves, I vow hencefoorth ten thousand deaths to prove Then be a hinderance to such vertuous love.

_Con_. Breake heart, tis for thy sake.

_Otho_. When I am dead O then forget that I haue injured.

_Con_. O hell of love!

_Otho_. Or rather hell of friends!

_Con_. Firmely till they love.

_Otho_. Then thus all friendship ends.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Secundus_.

[SCENE 1.]

_Enter Duke, Fredericke, Hatto, and Alfred_.

_Hat_. Good brother, heare some Musicke, twill delight you.

_Al_. Ile call the Actors, will you see a play?

_Fre_. Or, gracious father, see me runne the race On a light footed horse, swifter then winde.

_Duke_. I pray forbeare.

_Al_. This moode will make you mad, For melancholy ushers franticke thoughts.

_Hat_. It makes hot wreaking blood turne cold and drie, And drithe and coldnesse are the signes of death.

_Duke_. You doe torment me.

_Fred_. Is it anything That I have done, offends your grace?

_Hat_. Or comes this hidden anger from my fault?

_Alf_. Heres none but gladly would resigne his life To doe you pleasure, so please you to command.

_Duke_. Ifaith you are too [_sic_] blame to vexe me thus.

_Hat_. Then grounds this sorrow on your brothers death?

_Fred_. Or rather on the glove I lately found.

_Duke_. A plague upon the glove, whats that to me? Your prating makes me almost lunatike. As you respect my welfare, leave me leave me. The sooner you depart, the sooner _I_ Shall finde some meanes to cure my maladie.

_Fred_. Our best course is to be obedient.

[_Exeunt all but the Duke_.

_Duke_. Farewell. Was ever slave besotted like to me! That Kings have lov'd those that they never saw Is nothing strange, since they have heard their praise; Birds that by painted grapes have bin deceiv'd Had yet some shadow to excuse their error; _Pigmalion_ that did love an Ivory Nimph Had an _Idea_ to delight his sence; The youth that doted on _Minerva's_[177] picture Had some contentment for his eye; [_soft Musique_. But love, or rather an infernall hagge, Envying _Saxons_ greatnes and his joyes, Hath given me nothing but a trifling glove, As if by the proportion of the case Art had the power to know the jewels nature. Or Nimph, or goddesse, woman, or faire devill, If anything thou art, within my braine Draw thine owne picture, let me see thy face: To doate thus grossely, is a grosse disgrace. [_Musique within_. I heare some Musique: O ye Deities, Send you this heavenly consort[178] from the spheares To recreate a love-perplexed heart? The more it sounds, the more it refresheth. I see no instruments, nor hands that play; And my deare brothers, durst not be so bold. 'Tis some celestiall rapture of the minde, No earthlie harmonic is of this kinde. Now it doth cease: speake, who comes there?

_Enter Fredericke, Alfred, and Hatto_.

_Fred_. Father.

_Duke_. From whence proceeds the Musicke that I heard?

_Fred_. The beauteous and the famous Curtezan, Allyed unto the banished _Montano_, Admir'd _Valentia_, with a troope of youths This day doth keepe her yeerely festivall To all her suters, and this way she past Unto her Arbor, when the Musique plaide.

_Duke_. Admir'd _Valentia_! Curtezans are strange With us in _Germanie_; except her selfe, Being a _Venetian_ borne and priviledg'd, The state allowes none here.

_Fred_. Twere good for _Meath_ She were unpriviledgd and sent to _Venice_.

_Al_. Of all the faces that mine eye beheld Hers is the brightest.

_Duke_. Is she then so faire?

_Hat_. O beyond all comparison of beautie.

_Fred_. Upon her hand, Father, I saw the fellow to your glove.

_Duke_. Then let it be restor'd. What, should a Prince retaine a strumpets glove?-- O ye eternall powers, am I insnar'd With the affection of a common trull!-- Wheres your commissions, that you would have sign'd? 'Tis time I had a president in _Saxonie_. Receive our signet, and impresse them straight; Ile remaine here, in _Meath_, some little time. Brother, have care my Dukedome be well rul'd; Here I put over my affaires to you. My sonne I leave unto the joyes of youth; Tis pittie that his minde should be opprest So soone with care of governments. Goe to your pleasures, seeke your sister foorth, Send _Constantine_ to us; so leave me all, I am best accompanied with none at all. [_Exeunt_. _Manet Duke_. Either the Plannets, that did meete together In the grand consultation of my birth, Were opposite to every good infusion, Or onely _Venus_ stood as retrograde; For, but in love of this none-loving trull, I have beene fortunate even since my birth. I feele within my breast a searching fire Which doth ascend the engine of my braine, And when I seeke by reason to suppresse The heate it gives, the greaters the excesse. I loath to looke upon a common lip Were it as corral as _Aurora's_ cheeke Died with the faire virmillion [of the] sunne. O but I love her, and they say she is faire.-- Now _Constantine_.

_Enter Constantine_.

_Con_. Your grace did send for me.

_Duke_. Lend me your habit in exchange of mine, For I must walk the Citie for a purpose.

_Con_. With all my heart, my habit and my selfe.

_Duke_. In any case, watch at the privie chamber. If any ask for me say I am not well, And though it be my sonne, let him not enter.

_Con_. I will.

_Duke_. Be carefull, gentle _Constantine_. Now, faire _Valentia, Saxon_ to thy bower Comes like a _Jove_ to raine a golden shower. [_Exit_.

_Con_. Prosper, kind Lord, what ere the action be; Counsailes of Princes should be ever free.

[_Exit_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Enter Valentia and Montano_.

_Va_. Torches and Musique there! the room's too darke.

_Mon_. Prethee, Neece, Abandon this lascivious unchaste life; It is the onely blemish of our house; Scandall unto our name; a Curtezan! O what's more odious in the eares of men?

_Val_. Then why doe men resort to Curtezans, And the best sort? I scorne inferiour groomes, Nor will I deign[179] to draw aside my maske To any meaner then a Noble man. Come,[180] can you dance? a caper and a kisse: For every turne Ile fold thee in my armes, And if thou fal'st, although[181] a-kin we be That thou maist fall[182] soft, Ile fall under thee. Oh for the lightnesse of all light heel'd girles, And I would touch the Ceeling with my lips! Why art thou sad, _Montano_?

_Mon_. On just cause, You know I am banish't from my natiue countrey.

_Val_. This citie is _Meath_, thou art of _Saxonie_.

_Mon_. But this belongs unto the _Saxons_ Duke, By the decease of the departed Bishop.

_Val_. Feare not, thou art as safe within my house As if perculliz'd in a wall of brasse. Wheres _Vandermas_?

_Enter Vandermas_.

_Van_. Madam, did you call?

_Mon_. What noble man is that, a sutor to you?

_Val_. An excellent Pander, a rare doore-keeper.[183]

_Mon_. I had thought he had bin a gentleman at least.

_Val_. Because of his attire?

_Mon_. True.

_Val_. O the attire In these corrupted daies is no true signe To shew the gentleman; peasants now weare robes, In the habilments of noblemen. The world's grown naught, such judgement then is base, For Hares and Asses weare the lion's case.[184]

_Mon_. 'Tis very costly and exceeding rich.

_Val_. Ritches to me are like trash to the poore, I have them in abundance; gold's my slave, I keep him prisoner in a three-fold chest And yet his kindred daily visit me.

_Mon_. Lord, how diligent Is this rich clothed fellow.

_Val_. Were he proud And should but dare to stand still when I call, I'de run him th[o]rough with a killing frowne.

_Mon_. Why then belike his service is for love.