Chapter VIII: Part 8

_Valen_. What, am I a Goddesse That I should fetch their flying soules from heaven And breath them once more in their clay cold bodies?

_Duke_. Thou art a witch, a damn'd sorceresse, No goddesse, but the goddesse of blacke hell, And all those devils thy followers. What makes thou, on the earth, to murder men? Will not my sonnes and daughters timelesse[216] lives, Taken away in prime of their fresh youth, Serve to suffice thee?

_Valen_. O, you are mad, my Lord.

_Duke_. How can I choose, And such a foule _Erynnis_ gase on me, Such furious legions circle me about, And my slaine Sonne and Daughters fire brands Lying so neere me, to torment my soule? Extremitie of all extremities: Take pitty on the wandering sense of mine Or it will breake the prison of my soule And like to wild fire fly about the world, Till they have no abiding in the world. I faint, I dye, my sorrowes are so great, Oh mortalitie, renounce thy seate. [_He fals down_.

_Valen_. The Duke, I feare, is slaine with extreame griefe. I that had power, to kill him, will assay henceforth My utmost industry to save his life. Looke up my Lord, 'tis not _Valentias_ voice, That Courtezan that hath betray'd thy honour, Murder'd thy childeren, and almost slaine thee: I am thy sonne, I am Prince _Fredericke_; If thou hast any liking for that name, Looke on my face, I come to comfort thee.

_Duke_. The name of _Fredericke_ is like Hermes wande Able to charme and uncharme sorrowfull men. Who nam'd _Fredericke_?

_Valen_. I pronounc't his name, That have the power to give thee thy lost Sonne, Had I like virtue to restore the other. Behold my Lord, behold thy headlesse Sonne Blest with a head, the late deceased living; As yet not fully waken'd from the sleepe, My drowsie potion kindled in his braine, But much about this houre the power should cease; And see, he wakes.

_Duke_. O happinesse, tis hee.

_Valen_. Imbrace him then, but ne're more imbrace me.

_Fred_. Where am I, in what dungeon, wheres my grave? Was I not dead, or dreamt I was dead? This am I sure, that I was poisoned.[217]

_Duke_. Thou art deceiv'd, my Sonne, but this deceit Is worth commendations; thanke my Dutchesse, Her discretion reedified thy life, But she hath prov'd her selfe a gracious wife.

_Fred_. She tempt[ed] me to lust; wast in my grave?

_Valen_. 'Twas but to try thy faith unto thy father: Let it suffice, his hand was at thy death But twas my mercie that proclaim'd thy breath.

_Fred_. To heaven and you, I render worthy thankes.

_Duke_. O liv'd my _Euphrata_ and _Constantine_, How gladly would I all my griefe resigne.

_Albert_. On that condition, and with this besides, That you be pleas'd to pardon us and them, We doe referre our persons to your mercie.

_Duke_. My daughter, my deare sonne in law, Vertuous _Alberto_? then, my friend, My joyes are at the highest, make this plaine How these sav'd drownd, as _Fredericke_ has bin slaine.

_Albert_. Presuming on the example of these friends, And know we are all actors in this plot Boldly presented your presence, with this minde, If pardoning them your grace would pardon us; If otherwise, this was the joy of either, That death's lesse painefull when friends die together.

_Duke_. We doe receive you all into our favour, And my faire Dutchesse; my unkind divorce Shall be confounded with a second marriage, I here receive thee once more as my wife.

_Val_. You have your childeren, I have paid that debt, You have divorc'd me, therefore I am free, And henceforth I will be at libertie.

_Duke_. Theres no divorce can part thee from thy Lord.

_Valen_. Like to unkindnesse there is no divorce, I will no more be won unto your bed, But take some course to lament my life mislead.

_Duke_. Canst thou live better then in sacred wedlock?

_Valen_. Wedlocke to me is unpleasing, since my Lord Hath broke the band of marriage with unkindnesse.

_Duke_. Intreate her, children, _Fredericke, Euphrata_, Let me not loose the essence of my soule.

_Fred_. Divine _Valentia_, mirrour of thy sexe, The pride of true reclaim'd incontinence, Honour of the dishonoring, yeeld I pray, And be mercifull, pitty my fathers smart, Since thy last thraldome hath neare cleft his heart.

_Euph_. 'Twas for his children that his spleene did rise, Anger a torture haunting the most wise.

_Valen_. O no I am a murderesse, an _Erinnis_, A fury sent from _Limbo_ to affright Legions of people with my horrid sight.

_Hat_. What doe you meane? be won by their intreaties.

_Alfred_. 'Tis madnesse in you to be thus perverse.

_Val_. Who ever speaks, base wretches, be you dumb; You are the catterpillers of the state, By your bad dealings he is unfortunate. Thou, honorable, true, beloved Lord, Hearken to me, and by thy antient love, I charge thee, banish these realme-sucking slaves, That build their pallace upon poore mens graves. O those are they that have wrong'd both you and me, Made this blest land a land of miserie; And since, by too much loving, your grace hath falne Into a generall hating of your subjects, Redeeme your lost estate with better dayes; So shall you merit never dying praise, So shall you gaine lives quietnesse on earth, And after death a new celestiall birth.

_Duke_. Unto thy wisedome I referre their doomes, My selfe, my Dukedome, and my crowne. Oh were there anything of higher rate, That unto [t]hee I'de wholly consecrate.

_Val_. This kind surrender shewes you are a Prince, Worthy to be an Angell in the world Of immortalitie, Which these cursed creatures never can attaine. But that this world may know how much I hate This cruell, base oppression of the poore, First, I enjoyne you for the wrongs you have done, Make restitution; and because your goods Are not sufficient so to satisfie, I doe condemn your bodies to the Mynes, Where live like golden drudges all your lives, In digging of the mettall you best love: Death is your due, but for your noble race This gentle sentence I impose on you: The Duke succeeding shall behold it done.

_Duke_. Who's that, my love?

_Valen_. Kind _Fredericke_, your sonne: The interest that your grace hath given to me, I freely doe impart.

_Duke_. We doe agree, To what my Dutchesse please.

_Valen_. The state is thine, Thy Uncles sentence, _Fredericke_, shall be mine.

_Fred_. Beare them away, what you have said shall stand, Whilst I have interest in this new given land.

_Hat_. We doe receive our judgements, with a curse.

_Valen_. Learne to pray better, or it shall be worse: Lords, see those wormes of kingdomes be destroyed. And now, to give a period to my speeche I doe intreate your grace, if that your love Be not growne colde, but that your heart desires The true societie of a chaste wife, Be pleas'd to undergoe a further doome. Wee haue liv'd too lightly, we have spent our dayes, Which should be dedicated to our God, In soule destroying pleasure, and our sloth Hath drawne upon the Realme a world of plagues.[218] Therefore hereafter let us live together In some removed cell or hermitage, Unto the which poore travellers mislead May have direction and reliefe of wants.

_Duke_. A hermetary life is better then a kingdome, So my _Valentia_ beare me company.

_Valen_. If my dread Lord will for my sake endure So strickt a calling, my bewitching haires Shall be made napkins to dry up the teares That true repentance wringeth from our hearts; Our sinnes we'l number with a thousand sighes, Fasting shall be the Steward of our Feast, Continuall prayer in stead of costly cates, And the remainder of our life a schoole To learne new lessons for the land of heaven. The will, where power is wanting, is good payment; Grace doth reject no thought, tho' nere so small, So it be good; our God is kind to all. Come, my deare Lord, this is a course more kind; No life like us that have a heavenly mind.

_Mon_. O let me be a servant in that life.

_Valen_. With all my heart, a Partner let him be There's small ambition in humility.

_Duke_. _Fredericke_, farewell, deare _Euphrata_, adue; Remember us in prayer, as we will you.

[_Exeunt D. & D_

_Fred_. A happy change: would all that step awry Would take like course in seeking pietie.

_Otho_. Two humble suites I crave of my best friend: First, pardon for my rashnesse in your love, Next this most loyall Virgin for my wife.

_Con_. With all my heart, if _Julia_ be pleas'd.

_Julia_. I have no power to disobey your grant.

_Con_. Then she is yours.

_Fred_. _Alberto_, The offices belonging to our Uncles We doe derive to you for your good service In our late warres, and in our sisters love. And now set forwards: Lords, let us be gone To solemnize two mariages in one.

_The Epilogue.

Encouragement unto the valiant Is like a golden spurre upon the heele Of a young Knight, like to a wreath of Bay To a good Poet; like a sparkeling Crowne, Unto a Kings Son. Honour and renowne Is the efficient and persevering cause Of every well deserved action. Take away some recorde, encouragement, And the World's like a_ Chaos, _all delight Buried unborne in everlasting night. Even so it fares with us, and with the rest Of the same facultie, all meerely nothing: Without your favour every labour dyes, Save such whose second springs comes from your eyes. Extend your beames of love to us at full, As the Sunne does unto the Easterne clime, And England may bring forth like India As costly spice, as orientall Jems. The earth's all one, the heate refines the moulde, And favour makes the poorest ground yielde gold_.

FINIS.

INTRODUCTION TO EVERIE WOMAN IN HER HUMOR.

This old "comical satire" has come down in a very corrupt state. A sadly tattered appearance is presented by the metrical passages. I have ventured to patch only a few of the many rents in the old coat of 1609.

The anonymous playwright owes much more than the title of the play to Ben Jonson. Acutus, overflowing with bitter and tedious moralising, is evidently modelled on Macilente in _Every Man Out of His Humour_. The very dog--Getica's dog--was suggested by Puntarvolo's dog. Indeed, throughout the play we are constantly reminded of _Every Man Out of His Humour_; but the unknown writer had some inventiveness of his own, and was not a mere copyist. The jolly fat host, with his cheery cry "merry hearts live long," is pleasant company; and his wife, the hard-working hostess, constantly repining at her lot, yet seemingly not dissatisfied at heart, has the appearance of being a faithful transcript from life. Cornutus (the hen-pecked citizen) and his gadding wife are familiar figures, but not the less welcome on that account. Getica's anxiety at the loss of her dog is amusingly depicted. In fact, the whole play would be tolerable, if the moralising were cut out and the text were free from corruptions.

EVERIE Woman in her Humor.

LONDON Printed by E.A. for _Thomas Archer_, and are to be solde at his shop in the _Popes-head-Pallace_, neere the Royall Exchange. 1609.

_Everie Woman in her_
Humor.

_Enter Flavia as a Prologue_.

Gentles of both sexes and all sortes, I am sent to bid yee welcome; I am but instead of a Prologue, for a she-prologue[219] is as rare as an Usurers Almes, _non reperitur in usu_; and the rather I come woman because men are apt to take kindelye any kinde thing at a womans hand; and wee poore foules are but too kinde if wee be kindely intreated, marry otherwise, there I make my _Aposiopesis_. The Author hath indeede made me an honest merrye wench one of his humorists, yet I am so much beholding to him, I cannot get mee a husband in his play that's worthe the having, unlesse I be better halfe of the sutor my selfe; and having imposed this audacity on me, he sends me hither first for exercise. I come among ye all, these are the Contentes: that you would heare with patience, judge with lenity, and correct with smiles; for the which our endeavour[220] shall shew it selfe, like a tall fellow in action; if we shall joyne hands, a bargaine.

As a lowely earnest, I give this curtesie before,
And in conceite I give ye twenty more.

[ACT THE FIRST.

_Scene_ 1.]

_Enter Accutus and Graccus_.

_Gra_. Nay but, _Accutus_, prethee what mis-shapen vizard of Melancholly hast thou mask't thy selfe in? Thou lookst as thou wer't changing thy religion; what? is there a breach in thy Faith? come declare, and let me set thy [my?] wits on worke to amend it.

_Acut_. Ha, ha, ha!

_Gra_. Prettie; a man's well advisd to offer good counsell, and be laught at for his labour: we shall shortly have no counsellors, but Physitians; I spend my breath to thee, and thou answerest me some half an houre after in a sem[i]breve, or like to a Sexton, with a Sobeit or Amen.

_Acu_. Condemn my Stars then!

_Grac_. I should wrong am then, as thou dost with a false inditment. I know it took not beeing at thy birth: thou hast been merrie, thou hast sounded hoopes, swallowed whiffes, walkt late, worn favours, seene whoresons; thou canst feele and understand, come thou hast bene a sinner, unloade, discharge, untune, confesse, is _Venus_ dominatrix? art not in love?

_Acut_. Yes, I love God and my neighbors.

_Grac_. Then either for God's sake or thy Neighbors, or both, be smothe, and participate; ist not some underlayer, some she Cammell, that will beare as much of her belly as three beastes on their backes? some Lanthorne-maker? Ile holde thy head; come, up with't!

_Acut_. Prethee, I hate none, but heaven hate me if I be in love with any.

_Grac_. Off with these clogs; then break prison and get out of this melancholly Gaole. Harke how the generall noise doth welcome from the _Parthian_ wars; each spirit's jocund, fraught with glee, then wrong not thine with this dull meditation.

_Accut_. Oh! how doe they then wrong my meditation! my thoughts are with themselues at a counsell; til with noise, and thou with continuall talke, hast driven them to a _nonplus_.

_Gra_. Then make me of thy counsell, and take my advice, for ile take no denyall; Ile not leave thee til the next new Almanackes be out of date; let him threaten the sharpest weather he can in Saint _Swithin_ week, or it snow on our Ladies face, ile not budge, ile be thy mid-wife til thou beest delivered of this passion.

_Accut_. Partake then, and give me the beleefe; thinkst thou or knowst thou any of this opinion, that that mooving marish element, that swels and swages as it please the Moone, to be in bignes equall to that solid lump that brings us up?

_Gra_. I was sure that thou wer't beyond the _Antipodes_; faith, I am of that faith I was brought up in, I have heard my Father say, and i'me sure, his Recordes came from his Father, that Land and Sea are in nature thus much alike; the owne [_sic_] growes by the Sunne, the other by the Moone, both by God's blessing, and the Sea rather the greater; and so thinke I.

_Acut_. Good; there we have a farther scope, and holde the sea can (as a looking glasse) answer with a meere simile[221] any mooving shape uppon the earth.

_Gra_. Nay, that's most certaine, I have heard of Sea-horses, Sea-calves, and Sea-monsters.

_Acut_. Oh, they are monstrous, madde, merrie, wenches, and they are monsters.

_Grac_.[222] They call them Sea-maides, or Mermaides, singing sweetelye, but none dares trust them; and are verie like our Land-wenches, devouring Serpents, from the middle downeward.

_Acut_. Thou hast even given me satisfaction, but hast thou this by proofe?

_Grac_. Not by my travels (so God helpe me): marrie, ile bring ye fortie Saylers, will sweare they have seene them.

_Acut_. In truth!

_Grac_. In truth or otherwise.

_Acut_. Faith they are not unlike our land-monsters, else why should this _Maximilian_ Lord, for whom these shoots [_sic_] and noises befits thus, forsake his honours to sing a Lullabye? These seeming Saints, alluring evils, That make earth _Erebus_, and mortals devils--

_Gra_. Come, thou art Sea-sicke, and will not be well at ease, til thou hast tane a vomit: up with 't.

_Acu_. Why, ifaith, I must; I can not soothe the World With velvet words and oyly flatteries, And kiss the sweatie feet of magnitude To purchace smiles or a deade mans office; I cannot holde to see a rib of man, A moytie of it selfe, commaund the whole; Bafful and bend to muliebritie. O[223] female scandal! observe, doe but observe: Heere one walks ore-growne with weeds of pride, The earth wants shape to apply a simile, A body prisoned up with walles of wyer, With bones of whales; somewhat allyed to fish, But from the wast declining, more loose doth hang Then her wanton dangling lascivious locke Thats whirld and blowne with everie lustfull breath; Her necke in chaines, all naked lyes her brest, Her body lighter than the feathered Crest. Another powtes, and scoules, and hangs the lip, Even as the banckrout[224] credit of her husband Cannot equal her with honors liverie. What does she care if, for to deck her brave, Hee's carryed from the Gate-house to his grave! Another in a rayling pulppet key, Drawes through her nose the accent of her voice, And in the presence of her good-man Goate Cries 'fye, now fye, uppon these wicked men That use such beastly and inhumane talke,' When being in private all her studies warne To make him enter into _Capricorn_. Another as she goes treads a _Canarie_[225] pace, Jets it so fine and minces so demure As mistris Bride upon her marriage day; Her heels are Corke, her body Atlas, Her Beautie bought, her soule an Atomus. Another, with a spleene-devoured face, Her eies as hollow as Anatomy,[226] Her tung more venome then a Serpents sting, Which when it wagges within her chap-faln jawes Is noise more horrid then a cry of hounds With open mouths pursuing of their game. Wants she but ritch attire or costly dyet, With her the Devill can nere live in quiet. Yet these are weaker vessels, heaven doth knowe; Lay on them ought but ease, you doe them wrong; They are as weake as water and indeede as strong, And then, like mightie ships when pellets sincke, To them lay more men, sheele never shrinke.

[_Enter[227] Getica and Boss, with a dog_.]

_Boss_. Mistris, that face wants a fresh Glosse.

_Gent_. Prethee, dib it in well, _Bos_.

_Acut_. _Pigmaleon, Pigmaleon_, I coniure thee appeare; to worke, to worke, make more Marble Ingles. Nature thou art a foole, Art is above thee; _Belzebub_, paint thy face there's some will love thee.

_Boss_. Rare, Mistris, heeres a cheeke like a Camelion or a blasing Star, you shall heere me blaze it; heere's two saucers sanguine in a sable field pomegranet, a pure pendat ready to drop out of the stable, a pin and web argent in hayre de Roy.

_Grac_. And a fooles head in the Crest.

_Bos_. In the Crest? oh sweete Vermilion mistris, tis pittie the Vermilion Wormes shoulde eate thee, ile set it with pretious stones and ye will.

_Gent_. Enough, sweete _Bosse_, throwe a little water to spurt's face and lets away.

_Bo_. Hold up; so, sir, now away. Oh Mistris, your scantling, most sweete mistriss, most derydent starre.

_Acut_. Then most rydent starre, faire fall ye.

_Grac_. Nay tis the Moone her self, for there's her man and her Dogge before.

_Bosse_. I, sir, but the man is not in the moone, and my bush is before me, _ergo_, not at my backe, _et ergo_, not moone sir.

_Gent_. What's your will sir?

_Acut_. That you would leave us.

_Boss_. Leave you! zounds, sir! we scorne their companies, come they are still, doe not open to them, we have no Conies to catch.

[_Exeunt[228] Getica and Boss, with the dog_.

_Acut_. Away, keepe no distance, even both together, for wit ye may be Coacht together. What sleeke-browde Saint can see this Idiotisme, The shape and workmanship of omnipotency To be so blinde with drugs of beastlinesse, That will not bend the browe and bite the lippe, Trouble his quiet soule with venome spleene And feare least the all over-seeer Can without vengeance see these ignomies?

_Grac_. Why, therfore are they belooved like Sargeants and entertained like Beggers; Think'st thou but any honorable Gate, But will be shut against these Butterflies?

_Acut_. Oh _Graccus_! thou beguil'st opinion: The Gates of great men stand more wide To entertaine a foole then _Cresus_ armes To hug the Golden God; and faster bard Against necessitie then _Dives_ entrance At _Olympus_ gate.

_Enter Servulus,[229] Scillicet, Philautus and boy_.

_Servu_.[230] Fa, la, sol, lasol; Boy, a Glasse.

_Boy_. Tis but one and all, sir.

_Acut_. Angels protect us, what have we heare?

_Boy_. Ye haue a good memorie, Sir, for they are five minutes ere windefall of your Glasse.

_Ser_. Sir, be credible, tis ballanst to be superlative politicke custome in these houres to dwell in shallowe accoutrements, as a defence for the abilitie of his pursse from the infringed Oath of some impudent face, that will borrowe a gentlemans revenewes if he be vestally adornd: Ile tell you sir by this bright Horrison--

_Scil_. A word, I pray yee, sir, ere ye go any further: Boy, my Tables.

_Boy_. Your Tables are ready, Sir, and all the men ye keep which is indeede halfe a Boy, _Scillicet Videlicet_.

_Scil_. I pray ye let me request that oath of you.

_Serv_. A graceful enquirie, and well observ'd: Sir, my company shall make ye copious of novelties, let your Tables befriend your memorie: write, 'by this bright Horrison.'

_Phy_. 'Here's[231] none but only I' [_sing_]; Boy, how likest thou my head of hayre?

_Boy_. Your Glasse may flatter ye, but truely I will not; your head is not a hayre better than it should be.

_Phy_. Is there any scarcitie of haire, Boy?

_Boy_. Somewhat thin and yet there is more hayre than wit.[232]

_Phy_. How, Boy?

_Boy_. Then wit of man can number sir, take it i'th right sence, I pray yee.

_Phy_. Most ingenious!

_Acu_. O muffle muffle, good _Graccus_, do not taint thy sence With sight of these infectious animalles, 'Less[233] reason in thee have the upper hand To governe sence, to see and shun the sight. Here's new discovered sins, past all the rest; Men strive to practice how to sweare the best.'

_Scil_. I have quoted it, sir; by this bright Hore, Horeson, pronounce ye, sir?

_Serv_. Horison!

_Scil_. Horison:--the Widowes mite, sir.

_Serv_. Not for the Soldans crown, sir.

_Scil_. Indeede yee shall, by this bright horison ye shall; beleeve me, if I sweare, I think myself beholding for I know it to be no common oath.

_Serv_. Were it common it past not these doores; Sir, I shift my oathes, as I wash my hands, twice in the artificial day; for in dialoguising, tis to be observ'd, your sentences, must ironically, metaphorically, and altogether figuratively, [be] mixt with your morning oathes.

_Scil_. Faith, tis verie true.

_Accu_. That he neither knowes what he saies nor thou understandest.

_Serv_. As for example, by this illuminate welkin.

_Scil_. Oh excellent! it shall be downe to.

_Accut_. There's another Ducket. He utters his oathes apace. Sure this Villaine has no soule, and for gold Heele damn his body too, hee's at peace with hell And brings his Merchandise from thence to sell.

_Boy_. I have heere two Mistresses, but if the best were chosen out, if _Poliphemus_ tother eye were out his choice might be as good as _Argus_ broade waking, so difficult is the difference.

_Phy_. Boy, sleepe wayward thoughts?

_Boy_. Sir.

_Phy_. Is it not now most amyable and faire?

_Boy_. Yes sir, God be praised.

_Phy_. What meanst thou, Boy?

_Boy_. The weather, sir.

_Phy_. I meane my haire and face, Boy.

_Boy_. Twere amiable if it would not alter.

_Phy_. Wherfore I often repaire it.

_Boy_. Me thinkes that should weare it the sooner.

_Phy_. Not so Boy, for to trimme the Hayer well is a rare qualitie; to bee rarelye quallified is to be wise; apply, Boy.

_Boy_. That you are wise in trimming your hayre, Maister?

_Phy_. Right, to be wise is to be rare, for it is rare to see a wise man.

_Boy_. True, Maister, but if youle see a foole, looke in your Glasse, maister!

_Phy_. Goe to, I must correct you, Boy.

_Boy_. You can correct no more then is your own; I am but halfe yours to commaund, if you steale away any parte that is not your owne you are so farre in daunger as the striking of an other mans servant.

_Scil_.[234] By this illuminate welkin! most sincere and singular: as a small remembrance.

_Serv_. Not for to winne the faire _Angelica_.

_Scillicet_. By this illuminate Welkin ye shall now.[235] Sir, I doe not bestowe it, for that I thinke you have neede of it; for if you had, by this bright Horizon, I would not give it, for I know tis no credit to give to the poore. By this illuminate welkin I have (since I tooke upon me this fleshie desire of a Gentleman) throwne out of a window, for a hunts-up, when I had as leef have heard the grinding of a Mustard-Mill; for those are thinges are heere too day, and gone to morrowe; this will sticke by a man, and doe him credit where ere hee goes.

_Acut_. I, when the foole is clad in clay, It will sticke sore unto thy soule for aye.

_Phy_. Signior _Scillicet_, I assure you I have discovered the most queint and new-found device for the encounter of the Ladies at the interview; tis in pricke-song.

_Scil_. That's excellent and rare.

_Phi_. I, for prick-song to Ladies is most pleasant and delightfull: as thus for your congie, All hayle to my belooved; then for your departure, sad dispaire doth drive me hence: for all must be to effect.

_Grac_. Nay, prethee raise no quarrels.

_Acut_. I can holde no longer: heare you, sir, are not you a foole? and you an Asse? and you a knave?

_Phy_. Zoundes! an Asse?

_Scil_. A Foole?

_Ser_. A Knave, without respect?

_Acut_. I, for an Asse can beare, a Foole abide, and a Knave deserve.

_Omn_. Helpe, Helpe!

_Gra_. Prethee let's away.

_Acut_. Fooles often brings wise men to trouble, Farewell, another time ile pay ye double. [_Exit_.

_Enter Host, Hostesse, and Prentises_.

_Host_. Bring your Clubs out of doores. There goe in, my fine hostes, Ile talke to the proudest; what, knaves are i'th streete, my dore is my dore, my house is my castell, goe in dame _Helena_, let thine Host alon with this; he that knocks at my hobby, while I have Ale in my house, shall pay for a Surgeon: the honest shall come in, the knaves shall go by; bring Clubs, I say.

_Scil_. Nay, sir, the heate is past, they that did it have tooke them to their heeles, for indeed heere are of us--

_Host_. Away with your Clubs then; welcome, my brave Bullies, my Guests shall take no wrong; but welcome, my Bullies.

_Scil_. Indeede sir, I am a man of few words, I have put up a little bloodshed; marrie, I hope it shall be no stain to my manhoode, if I keepe it out of my clothes.

_Host_. He shall pay for the blood-shed, my guestes shall take no wrong; mine Host will spend his Cruse as franke as an Emperor; welcome, my brave bullies.

_Ser_. Sir, be pacificall, the fellowe was possest with some critique frenzie, and wee impute it to his madnes.

_Scil_. Madde! by Gods slid, if he were as madde as a weaver, I can hardly put it up; for my blow, I care not so much, but he cald me foole; slid, if I live till I dye, the one of us shall prove it.

_Host_. Some prophane Villaine, ile warrant him.

_Scil_. Doe you thinke I may not have an action against him?

_Host_. There's so many swaggerers; but alasse, how fel ye out?

_Scil_. By the welkin, I gave him not a foule word; first he calles me foole, then he makes a full blowe at my body, and if, by good chance, I had not warded it with my head, he might have spoild me.

_Enter Prentices_.

_Host_. There, there my fine fil-pots; give the word as you passe; anon, anon, sir anon; heere and there in the twinckling, looke well at the barre, there again my little Mercuries, froath them up to the brimme, and fill as tis needeful; if their Pates be full of Wine let your Pottles be three quarters; trip and goe, here and there; now, my brave Lad, wash thy woundes with good Wine; bidde am welcom, my little Sybil; put sugar in his hole there, I must in to my guests; sleepe soundly till morning; Canarie is a Jewell, and a Figge for Browne-bastard.[236] [_Exit_.

_Hostes_. Gentlemen, ye are welcom, though my husband be a little talkative, yet truly he is an unreasonable honest man, yee shall finde his words and his sayings all one.

_Scil_. I thinke no less, yet I would desire to enter as time and place shall serve.

_Hostes_. Ile lead the way forsooth.

_Phy_. Nay, pray ye, Hostesse, a word. I say little, but i'me sure I have sustained the most wrong; by this light, I had rather he had broke my head in three places; I pray you lend me a brush, hee has put my hat quite out of fashion.

_Host_. That shall ye sir, a brush there, hoe!

_Enter[237] Boss, with the dog_.

_Bos_. _Salve, sis salvus_. I pray yee which of you five is Hostis of this house?

_Boy_. That's easily discernd, for foure weare breeches.

_Bos_. Nere the sooner for that, my diminitive youth, for women now adaies weare breeches as well as men; mary, the difference lies in the bawble.

_Hostis_. Well, sir, to open the truth, I am the Hostesse.

_Bos_. The fruit is known, by the Tree at the first view, as the Author writes, learnedly; come _basilus manus_.[238]

_Scil_. This kissing becomes a Gentleman, ile use it sure.[239]

_Bos_. Secondly, Mistris Hostesse, I would know what lodging ye have for my Lady and her traine.

_Hostis_. What will serve your turne, sir?

_Bos_. Ile call my selfe to account and specifie thus: my Lady and her Dogge, that's two visible; then there's the Dogge and my Lady, thats four invisible; then there's my Ladies dogge and I, quoth the dogge, that's six; then theres sequence of three, viz., the Dogge, and I, and my Lady; then there's a pair of Knaves, viz., the Dogge & my selfe & my Lady turnd up; viz., my Lady sequence of three, a paire of Knaves and my Lady, turn'd up to play upon:--we can have no less than five beds.

_Hostis_. Truely you must lye close together (the Servants I meane), for I am so thrust with Guest I [c]an hardly spare so many.

_Bos_. Faith, weele lie together as close as we can; there's my Lady and her dogge lye al together and I at the bed's feete, and theres all our family of Love.[240]

_Hostis_. How farre is your mistris behinde?

_Bos_. The truth is the fatall sisters have cut the thred of her Cork-shoe, & shee's stept aside in to a Coblers shop to take a true stitch, whether I mean to send myself as a Court of Guard to conduct her, but see, oh inconstant fortune! see where she comes, _solus_.

_Enter[241] Getica_.

_Gent_. _Bos_, you serve me well, to let me wait upon my selfe.

_Bos_. Of two evils, the least is to be chosen, I had a care of your puppie being less then your selfe.

_Scil_. Gentlewoman, you have an excellent Ch: [sic] I have an appetite as a man would say.

_Gent_. Whats your will, sir?

_Scil_. Truth will to light, and the truth is I have an appetite to kisse you.

_Phil_. This point would become a Gentleman, sure; I pray, who trim'd it so?

_Gent_. My man, forsooth.

_Phy_. Sir, I desire your acquaintance; tis excellent, rare.

_Gent_. You would have said so, had you seene it an houre since.

_Ser_. Heeres game for me! I hunt for fooles and have sprung a covey.

_Hostis_. Gentles, please you, draw neere? lead the way into the chambers.

_Bos_. _Bos_ is the name of a thing may be seene, felt, heard, or understood, and the nominative case goes before my Mistris the Verbe; my mistris requires an accusative case to follow, as _usus feminae proptus facit_. [_Exeunt al but Hostis_.

_Hostis_. Oh fye upont, who would be an hostis, & could do otherwise? [A] Ladie [h]as the most lascivious life, conges and kisses, the tyre, the hood, the rebato, the loose bodyed Gowne, the pin in the haire, and everie day change, when an Hostis must come and go at everye mans pleasure. And what's a Lady more then another body? Wee have legs, and hands, rowling eyes and hanging lips, sleek browes, and cherie cheeks & other things as Ladies have, but the fashion carries it away.

_Prentices passe over_. [_Re-enter[242] Host_.]

_Host_. There, there, my little Lacky boies, againe, again, my fine fil-pots! where is my fine Hostis? come, come, my little _Dido_, set your corks on a creaking, my knaves are unthrifty; dance not your Canaries heere up & down, looke about to my Guests I say.

_Hostis_. I, I have much joy, an Hostesse!

_Host_. What, abides my _Penelope_? heere stand[s] thy _Ulisses_, ile tarry with thee still, thou shall want for no cost. Ile buy thee a brave wistle; looke about to my Guestes, I say.

_Hostis_. I, Hostesses will bee knowne shortelye as their Signes; still in one weather-beaten suite, as though none weare hoodes but Monkes and Ladies, and feathers but fore-horses and Waiting Gentlewomen, or chaines but prisoners and Courtiers; no Perywigges but Players and Pictures: but the weakest must to the wall still.

_Host_. Tush, tush, these are toies; ile none of these Flipflaps, ile have no soping, no puffs, nor no Cobwebs, no busks, nor bumbarrels;[243] thou shalt weare thine own haire & fine cloath of Sheep-skins, thy colour shall be Dowlas as white as a Lillie, ile kisse these chop-cheries; thou shalt goe Gossip at Shrovetide; look about to my Guests then. [_Exit_.

_Hostis_. I, twas my hard fortune to be an Hostesse; time was I might have done other wise.

_Enter Cittizens Wife_.

_City W_. Why how now, woman, a'th olde disease still? will it never be better? cannot a Woman finde one kinde man amongst twentie? Ah the daies I have seen, when a Womans will was a lawe: If I had a mind to such a thing, or such a thing, I could have had it, but twa's never better since men were Purse-bearers.

_Hosty_. Mine is een the unnaturallist man to his Wife.

_Citie wi_. Truely, and commonly are all such fat men: ile tell thee, Gossip, I have buried sixe, I, sixe husbands, but if I should live to have as many more, as I know not what may happen, but sure Ide never have such a fatte man: they be the most unweldey men; that woman[244] shall not want a sore stomack, that's troubled with them I warrant her.

_Hosty_. And hee maintaines me heare like I knowe not what.

_City wi_. I, and what say, they are their wives head; well if he be the head, shee's the body, and the body is to beare the head, and the body is to beare the pursse.

_Hostis_. They cannot misse us, yet they regard us not.

_Citty wife_. Misse us! no faith, but would all women were of my minde, they call us weaker vessels, they should finde vessels of us, but no weake vessels, I warrant them.

_Enter[245] Prentice_.

_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister cals for ye.

_Hostis_. Goe, ile come anon, hees not so hastie to give me what I want, I warrant ye.

[_Exit[245] Prentice_.

_City w_. No, would he were; little thinkes the husband what goes through the wives hand, washing, wringing, and rubbing, up early, down late, & a thousand things they looke not too.

_Hostis_. And yet they must have the government of all.

_City w_. And great reason they have for it, but a wise man will put in a Woman's hand: what sheele save that hee spends.

_Hostis_. You have a pretty Ruffe, how deepe is it?

_City w_. Nay, this is but shallowe, marrie I have a Ruffe is a quarter deepe, measured by the yard.

_Hostis_. Indeede, by the yard.

_City w_. By the standard: you have a pretty set too, how big is the steele you set it with?

_Hostis_. As bigge as a reasonable sufficient--

_Enter Prentice_.

_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister would desire you to come in.

_Citty w_. What? she shall not come yet: if you lay down the bucklers, you lose the victorie.

_Hostis_. By my troth, I must goe, we shall have such a coyle else.

_Cittie w_. A coyle! why, have you not a tongue in your head? faith if ye win not all at that weapon, yee are not worthy to be a woman. You heare not the news abroade?

_Hostis_. No: what newes?

_City W_. No, I warrant ye, you never come abroad; this is to be troubled with a fatte man, he never comes abroad himself nor suffers his wife out of his sight: yee shall ever have a fatte Host either on his bench at the dore or in his chair at the chimney; & there he spits and spaules a roome like twentie Tobacco-takers. Oh! fye on them, beasts!

_Hostis_. I prethee, what newes?

_Citty w_. Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all conscience: they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after.

_Hostis_. A tedious time, by Lady; a month were enough.

_Cittie w_. I, halfe a month; winter nights are long and colde. Ile tell ye, I have buried sixe, and thank my good fortune I ever knewe the next ere the other was in his winding sheete.

_Pre_. Mistris, my maister is angrie, and the Guests cal for their Hostesse.

_Hostis_. Goe, I come: Gossip, when shall I see you agen?

_Citty w_. Nay, when shall I see you abroad? sildome, i'me sure.

_Hostis_. I must needes away; God buy you, Gossip.

_Cittie w_. God buy ye; Gods so, I have forgot wherefore I came: a word ere you goe, the party yee wott on commends him unto ye, he that met the other party in the white felt, the yellow scarf, and the round _Venetian_,[246] when the other party kis't you, and I broake the jest on him, when hee said kisses kindeles Coules and love searches.

_Hostis_. Oh! I remember him, yes faith, hee's prettie well set; hee ha's the right trick with the tongue in his kisse, and hee dances reasonably comely, but he fals heavie.

_Citty w_. He savours of a kinde of Gallant, but not of a Courtyer.

_Hostis_. Well weele have a night out, god be with ye, Gossip.

_Cittie wife_. God buy ye.

[_Exeunt_.

[ACT THE SECOND.

_Scene 1_.]

_Enter Lentulus and Tulley_.

_Lentu_. Not yours nor her owne, _Terentia_.--Yours in modestie, _Flavia_. See, _Tulley_, what an active passive love hath plaide; I love and am again beloved, but at the shrine Where I do offer up my Cordiall sacrifice, I am returnd with peremptorie scorne; And where I stand but as a gazer, viewing All alike, I am pursude With violent passions, a speaking eye Bindes favours and now discovering lines.[247] Thy counsell now, deere friend; for at thy direction Stands my thrall or freedome.

_Tul_. Oh my Lord, affection is unlimited, Daring all dangers, having no tipe nor figure, Beyond all arte. Then tye not that (Great Lord,) to _Tullies_ awe; Fancy forswears all reason, love all lawe.

_Lent_. How well thy power can shun that which I followe with obedience. Too true yfaith; Thou mightst as well put out the eie of day, Or cover sinne from heaven, or to erect A towre of sand on the uncertain surge, Or any thing that were more inficient, Then to remoove one doting thought of mine From her disdain. Thy aide, deere _Tulley_, Be thou an Orratour for _Lentulus_, My tongue stands tun[è]d to a harsher method; Breath in her eares, those Organs of receite, A quintessence distild of honny words, And charme with a beguiling lullabye Her free consent to thine and my request: Which done, thats done which is my sole delight, Which done, thats done that I can never quite.

_Tull_. All which to me are problematique mines, Obscurde inigmaes, and to my studies Incognite Language; yet, if my powers Have power to cloath my tongue in love, Ile be a Lover and in love so pleade As if that _Tully_ loved _Terentia_.

_Lent_. Thanks, sweete _Cicero_; This day we dine with olde _Flaminius_, The forward Father of my Aukeward love. His willing minde doth strive to make the peace Betwixt our discord thoughts; his free consent Is given to _Lentulus_; there, _Tulley_, take on holde, And, when a Sunne of thy intent shines fayre, Onset loves fort with polliticke assaults And conquer; conquest in obtaining that Where victors are repulsed. But see! our talke Hath over-tane our way; see, olde _Flaminius_ Comes to welcome us. With him a looke like[248] the bright orient verge At the uprising of _Auroraes_ shine.

_Enter Flaminius, Terentia, and Flavia_.

_Flam_. And, my good Lorde, y'are happily met. Heartily welcome; young _Tullie_, welcome to; yee come wel to ease my charge, these Ladies find fault with their Guardian, I goe too softly for them: old blood is stiffe, & young Ladies will not beare with age; I resigne, I resigne, to you that followe.

_Lent_. If they admit us for their Guardian, Weele dare dangers ere we part from them.

_Flam_. Why well saide, my Lords, Soldiers will not flye indeede; I have seene the day, I could have crackt a tree of yew, made my bowstring whisper in mine eare in[249] the twang, tost my pike lustilye. Tis since the siedge of _Parthia_: bith-'mas a great while; I was lustie then at the service was done there, yet I love the discourse. Come my Lord, I chuse your companye, leave _Tulley_ to the Ladies; he can tell them tales of _Venus_ and _Adonis_ and that best pleaseth them. Now I must heere of raps and blowes, and Bils and Guns, and swords and bucklers. I loved it once; come, our Cookes are backeward, discourse will beget stomacks; y'are like to tarrie long for leane Cates. [_Exit_.

_Lent_. Now, gentle _Tulley_, advocate my suite; Her fore-amazing person makes me mute.

_Cicero_. He beare these Ladies company if they Shall deeme acceptance. [_Exit_.

_Teren_. With interest of thankes to Cicero.

_Flav_. Faith, I like not this ods of female, an equallitie were better: yet of both twere fitter the woman should undergoe the oddes. I had rather a said three men to one woman, then two women to one man. Heeres _Tulley_ addrest to _Terentia, Terentia_ drawing neere to _Tulley_; her's smal comfot [_sic_] left for _Flavia_. Wel, gentles, ile leave ye to the Goddesse. So ho! my Lords, take me with ye.

_Teren_. Nay stay, good _Flavia_. Youle not loose the sight of _Lentulus_.

_Fla_. Nor you of _Tulley_; come, if you tel, ile blab.

_Cice_. But, sweete Lady, _Tulley_ is not heere.

_Fla_. But _Cicero_ is, his neere friend, thats as good.

_Cice_. He was, Lady, till hee changed his habit by putting on the office of an unskillful Servingman, intending to garde _Terentia_ to her father's house.

_Fla_. Then _Flavia_ must gard her self; wel use good words and good action, and stalke well before your Ladie; she's kinde, yfaith, and a little thing will please her.

_Ter_. Will it please _Flavia_ to partake?

_Fla_. Oh fye! twere an injurie I could [not] brook myself, therefore ile leave ye; but be breefe, stand not on pointes, cut them all first; & if ye fall to kissing, kisse not too long for feare ye kisse the post.

_Teren_. Goe to, youle still be a wagge, _Flavia_. But what saies _Tulley_ to _Terentia_?

[_Exit_[250] _Flavia_.

_Cicero_. Lady I must maintain my former argument. _Tullie's_ not heere but heere is _Tullies_ friend; For, ere I speake, I must intreate you wil Transforme poore _Tulley_ into _Lentulus_.

_Teren_. I have no power of Metamorphosing; If _Tulley_ be not heere, you must concede,[251] I cannot make of _Tulley Lentulus_.

_Cice_. Nor can the world make _Cicero_ so worthy. Yet for an houre['s] discourse a Pesant's shape May represent the person of a king; Then in the person of the great _Lentulus_ I doe salute Sunne-bright _Terentia_. Lady, vouchsafe a Saint-like smile on him (From that angell forme) whose honord minde Lies prostrate lowly at _Terentia's_ feete; Who hath put off a Golden victors honour And left the _Parthyan_ spoyle to _Lepido_; Whome many Ladies have bedecked with favours Of rich esteeme, oh proud he deignd to weare them, Yet guiftes and givers hee did slight esteeme; For why? the purpose of his thoughts were bent To seek the love of faire _Terentia_. The cho[i]ce is such as choiser cannot bee Even with a nimble eye; his vertues through His smile is like the Meridian Sol Discern'd a dauncing in the burbling brook; His frowne out-dares the Austerest face Of warre or Tyranny to sease upon; His shape might force the Virgine huntresse With him for ever live a vestall life; His minde is virtues over-matcht, yet this And more shall dye if this and more want force To win the love of faire _Terentia_. Then, gentle Lady, give a gentle do[o]me; Never was brest the Land-lord to a heart More loving, faithful, or more loyall then is The brest of noble--

_Teren_. _Tullie_!

_Tul_. _Lentulus_!

_Ter_. And why not _Tullie_?

_Tul_. It stands not aptly.

_Tere_. I wants a sillible.

_Tul_. It doth.

_Tere_. Then noble _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Thats too deere.

_Tere_. Gentle is as good: Then say the best of gentle _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Good Lady, wrong not your honour so To seate unworthy _Tully_ with your worth. Oh looke upon the worth of _Lentulus_, Let your faire hand be beame unto the ballance And with a stedded peyze lift up that beame. In th'one[252] scale put the worth of _Lentulus_, His state, his honors, and his revenewes; Against that heavy waite put povertie, The poore and naked name of _Cicero_, A partner of unregarded Orators; Then shall you see with what celeritie One title of his worth will soone pull up Poore _Tullies_ dignitie.

_Tere_. Just to the height of _Terentias_ heart Where I will keepe and Character that name, And to that name my heart shall adde that love That shall wey downe the worth of _Lentulus_.

_Tul_. Deare Madam.

_Tere_. Speake still, if thou wilt, but not for him; The more thou speak'st the more augments my love, If that thou can'st adde more to infinite; The more thou speakest the more decreaseth his, If thou canst take away ought from nothing; Thinke, _Tulley_, if _Lentulus_ can love me, So much and more _Terentia_ doth love thee.

_Tull_. Oh Madam, _Tulley_ is poore, and poore is counted base.

_Ter_. Vertue is ritch and blots a poore disgrace.

_Tul_. _Lentulus_ is great, his frowne's my woe, And of a friend he will become my foe.

_Ter_. As he is friend, we will intreate his love; As he is great, his threatenings shall not make me love.

_Tul_. Your fathers graunt makes _Lentulus_ your Lord.

_Teren_. But if thereto his daughter not accord, That graunt is cancel'd; fathers may commaund Life before love, for life to true love's paund.

_Tul_. How will _Flaminius_ brooke my povertie?

_Ter_. Well, when _Flaminius_ see's no remedie. Lord how woman-like are men when they are woe'd! _Tully_, weigh me not light, nere did immodest blush Colour these cheeckes, but ardent.

_Tully_. Silence, sweet Lady, heere comes _Flavia_.

_Enter_[253] _Flavia_.

_Fla_. Fie, Fie, how tedius ye are; yonders great looking for _Tulley_, the old senate has put on his spectacles, and _Lentulus_ and he are turning the leaves of a dog-hay [?], leaves of a worm-eaten Chronicle, and they want _Tullies_ judgment.

_Tul_. About what, sweet Lady?

_Fla_. To know what yeare it was the showers of raine fell in Aprill.

_Tul_. I can resolve it by rote, Lady, twas that yeare the Cuckoo sung in May: another token Lady; there raigned in Rome a great Tyrant that yeare, and many Maides lost their heads for using flesh on Fish-daies.

_Fla_. And some were sacrificed as a burnt offering to the Gods of Hospitallitie, were they not?

_Tul_. Y'are a wag, _Flavia_, but talk and you must needes have a parting blowe.

_Flav_. No matter so we stand out and close not.

_Tull_. Or part faire at the close and too't again.

_Flav_. Nay, if we should too't againe, _Terentia_ would growe jealous.

_Tul_. Ladies, I take my leave And my love.

_Ter_. Take heede ye sigh not, nor looke red at the table, _Tully_.

[_Exit [Tully]_.

_Flav_. Your shoe wrings you, Lady.

_Ter_. Goe to, ye are a wanton, _Flavia_.

_Fla_. How now _Terentia_, in your nine Muses? Theres none must pleade in your case but an Orator.

_Ter_. I want one indeede Wench, but thou hast two, and the gentle destinies may send thee three; neere blush, for smoke and the fire of a womans love cannot bee hid. Oh a fine tongue dipt in _Helicon_! a comedian tongue is the onely perswasive ornament to win a Lady; why his discourse is as pleasant--

_Fla_. As how, I prethee?

_Ter_. And keepes as good decorum; his prologue with obedience to the skirt; a rough Sceane of ciuill Warres and a clapping conclusion; perhappes a Jigge;[254] if not, the Tragicomicall tale of _Mars_ and _Venus_; then must she take the Tale by the end, where he defending _Mars_, & she _Venus_, must fall from billing to byting, from byting to blowes, to get the supremacie.

_Fla_. A good policie to praise _Cicero_, For feare I rob you of your _Lentulus_.

_Ter_. Faith, a Souldier is not for thy[255] humor; now I crie a Warrier; he fights stoutly in a field-bed, discharges his work sure, under his Curtaines would I fight. But come, our Lovers melt while we meditate; thou for thy Scholler, I for my soldier; and if we can not please them so, weele shake off this loose habit and turn Pages to suit their humors.

[_Exeunt_.

[Scene 2.]

_Enter Accutus and Graccus_.

_Grac_. Come, _Accutus_, discharge your follower; lets leave rubbing a while, since the byas runs so much the wrong way. Sirra! these bowles which we roule and turn in our lower sypher are by use made wodden worldlings right, for every one strives who shall lye neerest the mistris.[256]

_Ac_. They post indeed, as their nature is, in an even way, but they are cowards, theile abide no danger, they rub at everie mole-hil; if they tyre in going up a hill, they retire and come back againe.

_Grac_. Well let them alley, bet all, then to rest away, begone.

_Acut_.[257] S'foote _Graccus_, heeres a couple of our old gamsters. Oh! for quick conceite to beget a jest! heeres two, that either a man must be aquainted or quarrell with, & of two evils ile chose the latter; I hope I make it the lesser. If I should be acquainted, the foole will haunt me, if I quarrell I may be so blest, as to be rid of a foole.

_Grac_. I have a womans wit for a suddaine stratageme.

_Enter Scil. and Servulis_.[258]

_Scil_. No, by my troth, by this bright horrison--

_Accut_. An excellent Cuckoo, hee keepes his note in Winter.

_Scil_. I haue no appetite at all to live in the countrie any more; now, as they say, I have got a smacke on the Cittie. Slid, I thinke (as the proverbe goes) I was wrapt in my mother's smocke the day I was begotten, I thank the Goddesse _Cupid_ for it. I am so favourd of the Women, my hostes loves me execrably.

_Accut_. Good reason, fooles make good sport.

_Grac_. Sever, sever, ere wee bee discovered.

_Ser_. Sir, the respective regard of your well governed partes do challenge a mellifluous species of enduement or contumelious estimation.

_Grac_. Gentles, God save ye, well over-taken Gallants.

_Scil_. Welcome, by the welkin.

_Grac_. This is verie pleasant weather.

_Ser_. Sir the ayre is frugall.

_Grac_. Is that Gentleman of your Company?

_Scil_. Our company sir, no, we are no companions for lame Souldiers.

_Grac_. Propper man, pittie he is so regardles. A good legge, it seemes he has some greefe in it.