Chapter IX: Part 9

_Phil._ Rise Sister,
I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger
While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.

_Theo._ By those bright Stars, it is Sir.

_Phil._ For my Sister
I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us
With the dear love I ever bore your virtues
That I will be a Brother to your griefs too:
Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister
To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman
Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,
As there be growing Truths, and great ones.

_Theo._ O Sir[!]

_Phil._ Do not despair.

_Theo._ Can ye forgive?

_Phil._ Yes Sister,
Though this be no small error, a far greater.

_Theo._ And think me still your Sister?

_Phil._ My dear Sister.

_Theo._ And will you counsel me?

_Phil._ To your own peace too:
Ye shall love still.

_Theo._ How good ye are!

_Phil._ My business,
And duty to my Father: which now drew me
From _Salamanca_ I will lay aside
And only be your Agent to perswade ye
To leave both love, and him, and well retire ye.

_Theo._ Oh gentle Brother.

_Phil._ I perceive 'tis folly:
Delaies in love, more dangerous.

_Theo._ Noble Brother.

_Phil._ Fear not, I'll run your own way: and to help you,
Love havi[n]g rackt your passions beyond counsel:
I'll hazard mine own fame: whither shall we venture?

_Theo._ Alas, I know not Sir!

_Phil._ Come, 'tis bright morning
Let's walk out, and consider: you'll keep this habit.

_Theo._ I would Sir.

_Phil._ Then it shall be: what must I call ye?
Come, do not blush: pray speak, I may spoil all else.

_Theo._ Pray call me _Theodoro_.

_Enter_ Diego.

_Dieg._ Are ye ready?
The day draws on apace: once more good morrow.

_Theo._ Good morrow gentle Host: now I must thank ye:

_Phil._ Who dost thou think this is?

_Die._ Were you a wench Sir,
I think you would know before me.

_Phil._ Mine own Brother.

_Dieg._ By th' Masse your noses are akin: should I then
Have been so barbarous to have parted Brothers?

_Phi._ You knew it then.

_Dieg._ I knew 'twas necessary
You should be both together: Instinct Signior,
Is a great matter in an Host.

_Theo._ I am satisfied.

_Enter_ Pedro.

_Ped._ Is not mine Host up yet?

_Phi._ Who's that?

_Die._ I'll see.

_Phil._ Sister, withdraw your self.

_Ped._ Signior _Philippo_.

_Phil._ Noble Don _Pedro_, where have you been this way?

_Ped._ I came from Port _St. Maries_, whence the Gallies
Put this last tide, and bound for _Barcelona_,
I brought _Mark-antonie_ upon his way.

_Phi. Marc-antonie_?

_Ped._ Who is turn'd Soldier,
And entertain'd in the new Regiment,
For _Naples_.

_Phi._ Is it possible?

_Ped._ I assure you.

_Phi._ And put they in at _Barcelona_?

_Ped._ So
One of the Masters told me.

_Phi._ Which way go you Sir?

_Ped._ Home.

_Phi._ And I for _Sivil_: pray you Sir; say not
That you saw me, if you shall meet the question,
I have some little business.

_Ped._ Were it less Sir.
It shall not become me, to lose the caution:
Shall we breakfast together?

_Phi._ I'll come to you Sir:
Sister you hear this: I believe your fortune
Begins to be propitious to you: we will hire
Mules of mine Host here: if we can, himself
To be our guide, and straight to _Barcelona_,
This was as happy news, as unexpected
Stay you till I rid him away.

_Theo._ I will. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Alphonso _and a Servant_.

_Alph._ Knock at the door.

_Ser._ 'Tis open Sir.

_Alph._ That's all one,
Knock when I bid you.

_Ser._ Will not your Worship enter?

_Alph._ Will not you learn more manners Sir, and do that
Your Master bids ye; knock ye knave, or I'll knock
Such a round peal about your pate: I enter
Under his roof, or come to say god save ye
To him, the Son of whose base dealings has undone me?
Knock louder, louder yet: I'll starve, and rot first,
This open air is every mans.
_2 Ser. within._ Come in Sir.

_Enter two Servants._

_Alph._ No, no Sir, I am none of these _Come in Sirs_,
None of those visitants: bid your wise Master
Come out, I have to talk unto him: go Sir.

_2 Ser._ Your worship may be welcome.

_Alph._ Sir, I will not,
I come not to be welcome: good my three Duckets,
My pickell'd sprat a day, and no oil to't,
And once a year a cotten coat, leave prating
And tell your Master I am here.

_2 Ser._ I will Sir.
This is a strange old man. [_Exit._

_Alph._ I welcome to him?
I'll be first welcome to a Pesthouse: Sirrah
Let's have your valour now cas'd up, and quiet
When an occasion calls, 'tis wisdom in ye,
A Servingman's discretion: if you do draw,

_Enter_ Leonardo, _and Don_ Zanchio
_(carried by two Servants in a chair.)_

Draw but according to your entertainment;
Five Nobles worth of fury.

_Leo._ Signior _Alphonso_,
I hope no discontent from my Will given,
Has made ye shun my house: [I ever lov'd ye.]
An credit me amongst my fears 'tis greatest
To minister offences.

_Alph._ O good Signior
I know ye for _Italian_ breed, fair tongu'd,
Spare your Apologies, I care not for 'em,
As little for your love Sir; I can live
Without your knowledge, eat mine own, and sleep
Without dependences, or hopes upon ye.
I come to ask my Daughter.

_Leo._ Gentle Sir.

_Alph._ I am not gentle Sir, nor gentle will be
Till I have justice, my poor child restor'd
Your caper-cutting boy has run away with.
Young Signior smooth-face, he that takes up wenches
With smiles, and sweet behaviors, Songs, and Sonnets,
Your high fed Jennet, that no hedge can hold
They say you bred him for a Stallion.

_Zanch._ Fie Signior, there be times, and terms of honor
To argue these things in, descidements able
To speak ye noble Gentlemen, ways punctual
And to the life of credit, ye are too rugged.

_Alph._ I am too tame Sir.

_Leo._ Will ye hear but reason?

_Alph._ No, I will hear no reason: I come not hither
To be popt off with reason; reason then.

_Zanch._ Why Signior, in all things there must be method,
Ye choak the child of honor else, discretion,
Do you conceive an injury?

_Alph._ What then Sir?

_Zanch._ Then follow it in fair terms, let your sword bite
When time calls, not your tongue.

_Alph._ I know Sir
Both when and what to do without directions,
And where, and how, I come not to be tutor'd,
My cause is no mans but mine own: you Signior,
Will ye restore my Daughter?

_Leo._ Who detains her?

_Alph._ No more of these slight shifts.

_Leo._ Ye urge me Signior
With strange injustice: because my Son has err'd--

_Zanch._ Mark him.

_Leo._ Out of the heat of youth: dos't follow
I must be father of his crimes?

_Alph._ I say still.
Leave off your Rhetorick, and restore my Daughter.
And suddainly: bring in your rebel too,
Mountdragon, he that mounts without commission
That I may see him punished, and severely,
Or by that holy Heaven, I'll fire your house,
And there's my way of honor.

_Zanch._ Pray give me leave
Was not man made the noblest creature?

_Alph._ Well Sir.

_Zanch._ Should not his mind then answer to his making,
And to his mind his actions, if this ought to be,
Why do we run a blind way from our worths,
And cancel our discretions, doing those things
To cure offences, are the most offences?
We have rules of justice in us; to those rules
Let us apply our angers: you can consider
The want in others of these terminations
And how unfurnish'd they appear.

_Alph._ Hang others,
And where the wrongs are open, hang respects,
I come not to consider.

_Leo._ Noble Sir,
Let us argue cooly, and consider like men.

_Alph._ Like men!

_Leo._ Ye are too sudain still.

_Alph._ Like men Sir?

_Zanch._ It is fair language, and ally'd to honor.

_Alph._ Why, what strange beast would your grave reverence
Make me appear? like men!

_Zanch._ Taste but that point Sir,
And ye recover all.

_Alph._ I tell thy wisdom
I am as much a man, and as good a man.

_Leo._ All this is granted Sir.

_Alph._ As wise a man.

_Zanch._ Ye are not tainted that way.

_Alph._ And a man
Dares make thee no man; or at best, a base man.

_Zanch._ Fie, fie, here wants much carriage.

_Alph._ Hang much carriage.

_Leo._ Give me good language.

_Alph._ Sirrah Signior, Give me my Daughter.

_Leo._ I am as gentle as your self, as free born.

_Zanch._ Observe his way.

_Leo._ As much respect ow'd to me.

_Zanch._ This hangs together nobly.

_Leo._ And for Civil,
A great deal more it seems: go look your Daughter.

_Zanch._ There ye went well off Signior.

_Leo._ That rough tongue
You understand at first: you never think Sir
Out of your mightiness, of my loss: here I stand
A patient Anvil, to your burning angers
Made subject to your dangers; yet my loss equal:
Who shall bring home my Son?

_Alph._ A whipping Beadle.

_Leo._ Why, is your Daughter whorish?

_Alph._ Ha, thou dar'st not,
By heaven I know thou dar'st not.

_Leo._ I dare more Sir
If you dare be uncivil.

_Alph._ Laugh too, Pidgeon.

_Zanch._ A [f]itter time for fames sake: two weak Nurses
Would laugh at this; are there no more days coming,
No ground but this to argue on? no swords left
Nor friends to carry this, but your own furies?
Alas! it shows too weakly.

_Alph._ Let it show,
I come not here for shews: laugh at me sirrah?
I'll give ye cause to laugh.

_Leo._ Ye are as like sir
As any man in _Spain_.

_Alph._ By heaven I will,
I will brave _Leonardo_.

_Leo._ Brave _Alphonso_.
I will expect it then.

_Zanch._ Hold ye there both,
These terms are noble.

_Alph._ Ye shall hear shortly from me.

_Zanch._ Now discreetly.

_Alph._ Assure your self ye shall: do ye see this sword sir?
He has not cast his teeth yet.

_Zanch._ Rarely carried.

_Alph._ He bites deep: most times mortal: Signior
I'll hound him at the fair and home.

_Zanch._ Still nobly.

_Alph._ And at all those that dare maintain ye.

_Zanch._ Excellent.

_Leo._ How you shall please sir, so it be fair, though certain,
I had rather give you reason.

_Zanch._ Fairly urg'd too.

_Alph._ This is no age for reason; prick your reason
Upon your swords point.

_Zanch._ Admirably follow'd.

_Alph._ And there I'll hear it: so till I please, live Sir. [_Exit._

_Leo._ And so farewel, you're welcome.

_Zanch._ The end crowns all things
Signior, some little business past, this cause I'll argue
And be a peace between ye, if't so please ye,
And by the square of honor to the utmost:
I feel the old man's master'd by much passion,
And too high rackt, which makes him overshoot all
His valour should direct at, and hurt those
That stand but by as blenchers: this he must know too,
As necessary to his judgement, doting women
Are neither safe nor wise adventurers: conceive me,
If once their will[s] have wander'd; nor is't then
A time to use our rages: for why should I
Bite at the stone, when he that throws it wrongs me?
Do not we know that Women are most wooers
Though closest in their carriage? Do not all men know,
Scarce all the compass of the Globe can hold 'em
If their affections be afoot? shall I then covet
The follies of a she-fool, that by nature
Must seek her like, by reason, be a woman,
Sink a tall ship, because the sails defie me?
No, I disdain that folly; he that ventures
Whilst they are fit to put him on, has found out
The everlasting motion in his scabbard.
I doubt not to make peace: and so for this time
My best love, and remembrance.

_Leo._ Your poor Servant. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Diego, Philippo, _and_ Theodosia.

_Phil._ Where will our Horses meet us?

_Diego._ Fear not you Sir,
Some half mile hence my worships man will stay us,
How is it with my young bloods? come, be jovial,
Let's travel like a merry flock of wild Geese,
Every tongue talking.

_Phil._ We are very merry;
But do you know this way, Sir?

_Theo._ Is't not dangerous?
Methinks these woody thickets should harbor knaves.

_Die._ I fear none but fair wenches; those are thieves,
May quickly rob me of my good conditions,
If they cry Stand once: but the best is Signiors
They cannot bind my hands: for any else,
They meet an equal knave, and there's my Passport:
I have seen fine sport in this place: had these three tongues,
They would tell ye pretty matters: do not you fear, though
They are not every daies delights.

_Phil._ What sport Sir?

_Die._ Why to say true, the sport of all sports.

_Phil._ What was't?

_Die._ Such turning up of Taffataes; and you know
To what rare whistling tunes they go, far beyond
A soft wind in the shrowds: such stand there,
And down i'th' other place; such supplications
And subdivisions for those toys their honors,
One, as ye are a Ge[n]tleman in this bush,
And oh sweet Sir, what mean ye? there's a bracelet,
And use me I beseech ye like a woman;
And her petition's heard: another scratches,
And cries she will die first, and then swounds: but certain
She is brought to life again, and does well after.
Another, save mine honor, oh mine honor,
My Husband serves the Duke, Sir, in his kitchen;
I have a cold pie for ye; fie, fie, fie Gentlemen,
Will nothing satisfie, where's my Husband?
Another cries, do ye see Sir how they use me,
Is there no Law for these things?

_Theo._ And good mine Host,
Do you call these fine sports?

_Die._ What should I call 'em,
They have been so call'd these thousand years and upwards.

_Phil._ But what becomes o'th' men?

_Die._ They're stript and bound,
Like so many _Adams_, with fig-leaves afore 'em,
And there's their innocence.

_Theo._ Would we had known this!
Before we reacht this place.

_Phil._ Come, there's no danger,
These are but sometimes chances.

_Enter Bailiff._

_Host._ Now we must through.

_Theo._ Who's that?

_Host._ Stand to it Signiors.

_Phil._ No it needs not,
I know the face; 'tis honest.

_Bayl._ What mine Host:
Mine everlasting honest Host.

_Host._ Mass Baily:
Now in the name of an ill reckoning
What make you walking this round?

_Bayl._ A ---- of this round,
And of all business too, through woods, and rascals,
They have rounded me away a dozen Duckets,
Besides a fair round Cloak: Some of 'em knew me,
Else they had cased me like a Cunnie too,
As they have done the rest, and I think roasted me,
For they began to baste me soundly: my young Signiors,
You may thank heaven, and heartily, and hourly,
You set not out so early; ye had been smoak'd else
By this true hand [y]e had Sirs, finely smoak'd,
Had ye been Women, smockt too.

_Theo._ Heaven defend us.

_Bayl._ Nay, that had been no prayer, there were those
That run that prayer out of breath, yet fail'd too.
There was a Fryer, now ye talk of prayer,
With a huge bunch of Beads, like a rope of Onions:
I am sure as big, that out of fear and prayer,
In halfe an hour, wore 'em as small as Bugles,
Yet he was flead too.

_Phil._ At what hour was this?

_Bayl._ Some two hours since.

_Theo._ Do you think the passage sure now.

_Bayl._ Yes, a rope take 'em, as it will, and bless 'em,
They have done for this day sure.

_Phil._ Are many rifled?

_Bayl._ At the least a dozen,
And there left bound.

_Theo._ How came you free?

_Bayl._ A curtesie
They use out of their rogueships, to bequeath
To one, that when they give a sign from far
Which is from out of danger; he may presently
Release the rest, as I met you, I was going,
Having the sign from yonder hill to do it.

_Theo._ Alas poor men.

_Phil._ Mine Host, pray go untie 'em.

_Die._ Let me alone for cancelling: where are they?

_Bayl._ In every bush, like black birds, you cannot miss 'em.

_Die._ I need not stalk unto 'em. [_Exit._

_Bayl._ No, they'l stand ye,
My busie life for yours Sir: you would wonder
To see the several tricks and strange behaviours
Of the poor rascals in their miseries,
One weeps, another laughs at him for weeping,
A third is monstrous angry, he can laugh
And cries, go too, this is no time; he laughs still,
A fourth exhorts to patience: him a fifth man
Curses for tameness; him a Fryer schools,
All hoot the Fryer, here one sings a Ballad,
And there a little Curate confutes him,
And in this linsey-woolsey way, that would make a dog
Forget his dinner, or an old man fire,
They rub out for their ransoms: Amongst the rest,
There is a little boy rob'd, a fine child,
It seems a Page: I must confess my pitty
(As 'tis a hard thing in a man of my place)
To shew compassion, stirr'd at him, so finely
And without noise he carries his afflictions,
And looks as if he had but dreamt of losing.

_Enter Host and_ Leocadia, _and others as rob'd._

This boy's the glory of this robbery,
The rest but shame the action: now ye may hear 'em.

_Host._ Come lads, 'tis Holy-day: hang cloaths, 'tis hot,
And sweating Agues are abroad.

_1._ It seems so;
For we have met with rare Physitians
To cure us of that malady.

_Host._ Fine footing,
Light and deliver: now my boys: Master Fryer,
How does your Holiness, bear up man; what
A cup of neat Sack now and a toast: ha, Fryer,
A warm plaister to your belly Father,
There were a blessing now.

_Fryer._ Ye say your mind Sir.

_Host._ Where my fine Boy: my poynter.

_Bayl._ There's the wonder.

_Host._ A rank whore scratch their sides till the pox follow
For robbing thee, thou hast a thousand ways
To rob thy self boy, Dice, and a Chamber-Devil.

_Leo._ Ye are deceiv'd Sir.

_Host._ And thy Master too boy.

_Phil._ A sweet-fac'd boy indeed: what rogues were these?
What barbarous, brutish slaves to strip this beauty?

_Theo._ Come hither my boy: alas! he's cold, mine Host,
We must intreat your Cloak.

_Host._ Can ye intreat it.

_Phil._ We do presume so much, you have other garments.

_Host._ Will you intreat those too?

_Theo._ Your Mule must too,
To the next Town, you say 'tis near: in pitty
You cannot see this poor Boy perish.
I know ye have a better soul, we'll satisfie ye.

_Host._ 'Tis a strange foolish trick I have, but I cannot help it,
I am ever cozen'd with mine own commendations;
It is determin'd then I shall be robb'd too.
To make up vantage to this dozen: here Sir,
Heaven has provided ye a simple garment
To set ye off: pray keep it handsomer
Than you kept your own; and let me have it render'd,
Brush'd and discreetly folded.

_Leo._ I thank ye Sir.

_Host._ Who wants a Doublet?

_2._ I.

_Host._ Where will you have it?

_2._ From you Sir, if you please.

_Host._ Oh, there's the point, Sir.

_Phil._ My honest friends, I am sorry for your fortunes,
But that's but poor relief: here are ten Duckets,
And to your distribution, holy Sir,
I render 'em: and let it be your care
To see 'em, as your wants are, well divided.

_Host._ Plain dealing now my friends: and Father Fryer,
Set me the Sadle right; no wringing Fryer,
Nor tithing to the Church, these are no duties;
Scour me your conscience, if the Devil tempt ye
Off with [y]our cord, and swinge him.

_Fry._ Ye say well Sir.

_All._ Heaven keep your goodness.

_Theo._ Peace keep you, farewel friends.

_Host._ Farewel light-Horse-men. [_Ex. the rob'd._

_Phil._ Which way travel you Sir.

_Bayl._ To the next Town.

_Theo._ Do you want any thing.

_Bayl._ Only discretion to travel at good hours,
And some warm meat to moderate this matter,
For I am most outragious cruel hungry.

_Host._ I have a stomach too such as it is.
Would pose a right good pasty, I thank heaven for't.

_Bayl._ Cheese, that would break the teeth of a new handsaw,
I could endure now like an Oastrich, or salt beef,
That _Cesar_ left in pickel.

_Phil._ Take no care,
We'll have meat for you, and enough: I'th' mean time
Keep you the horse way, lest the fellow miss us,
We'll meet ye at the end o'th' wood.

_Host._ Make haste then. [_Ex. Host and Bayl._

_Theo._ My pretty Sir till your necessities
Be full supplied, so please you trust our friendships,
We must not part.

_Leo._ Ye have pull'd a charge upon ye,
Yet such a one as ever shall be thankful.

_Phil._ Ye have said enough, may I be bold to ask ye,
What Province you were bred in? and of what Parents?

_Leo._ Ye may Sir: I was born in _Andaluzia_,
My name _Francisc[o]_, son to Don _Henriques_
_De Cardinas_.

_Theo._ Our noble neighbor.

_Phil._ Son to Don _Henriques_?
I know the Gentleman: and by your leave Sir,
I know he has no son.

_Leo._ None of his own Sir,
Which makes him put that right upon his Brother
Don _Zanchio_'s child[ren]: one of which I am,
And therefore do not much err.

_Phil._ Still ye do Sir,
For neither has Don _Zanchio_ any son;
A Daughter, and a rare one is his heir,
Which though I [n]ever was so blest to see,
Yet I have heard great good of.

_Theo._ Urge no further,
He is ashamed, and blushes.

_Phil._ Sir,
If it might import you to conceal your self,
I ask your mercy, I have been so curious:

_Leo._ Alas! I must ask yours Sir: for these lies,
Yet they were useful ones; for by the claiming
Such noble parents, I believ'd your bounties
Would shew more gracious: The plain truth is Gentlemen,
I am Don _Zanchio_'s Stewards son, a wild boy,
That for the fruits of his unhappiness,
Is faign to seek the wars.

_Theo._ This is a lie too.
If I have any ears.

_Phil._ Why?

_Theo._ Mark his language,
And ye shall find it of too sweet a relish
For one of such a breed: I'll pawn my hand,
This is no boy.

_Phil._ No boy? what would you have him?

_Theo._ I know, no boy: I watcht how fearfully,
And yet how suddainly he cur'd his lies,
The right wit of a Woman: Now I am sure.

_Phil._ What are ye sure?

_Theo._ That 'tis no boy: I'll burn in't.

_Phil._ Now I consider better, and take council,
Methinks he shows more sweetness in that face,
Than his fears dare deliver.

_Theo._ No more talk on't,
There hangs some great weight by it: soon at night
I'll tell ye more.

_Phil._ Come Sir, what e'r you are
With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps
In any need you have.

_Leo._ All my poor service
Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.

_Phil._ Let's walk apace; hunger will cut their throats else.

[_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Rodorigo, Mark-antonio, _and a Ship-master,_
_two Chairs set out._

_Rod._ Call up the Master.

_Mast._ Here Sir.

_Rod._ Honest Master,
Give order all the Gallies with this tyde
Fall round, and near upon us; that the next wind
We may weigh off together, and recover
The Port of _Bar[c]elona_, without parting.

_Mast._ Your pleasure's done Sir. [_Ex._

_Rod._ Signior Mark-antonio,
Till meat be ready, let's sit here and prepare
Our stomachs with discourses.

_Mar[c]._ What you please Sir.

_Rod._ Pray ye answer me to this doubt.

_Marc._ If I can Sir.

_Rod._ Why should such plants as you are; pleasure children,
That owe their blushing years to gentle objects,
Tenderly bred, and brought up in all fulness,
Desire the stubborn wars?

_Marc._ In those 'tis wonder,
That make their ease their god, and not their honor:
But noble General my end is other,
Desire of knowledge Sir, and hope of tying
Discretion to my time, which only shews me,
And not my years, a man, and makes that more
Which we call handsome, the rest is but Boys beauty,
And with the Boy consum'd.

_Rod._ Ye argue well Sir.

_Mar._ Nor do I wear my youth, as they wear breeches,
For object, but for use: my strength for danger,
Which is the liberal part of man, not dalliance,
The wars must be my Mistress Sir.

_Rod._ Oh Signior,
You'll find her a rough wench.

_Mar._ When she is won once,
She'll show the sweeter Sir.

_Rod._ You can be pleas'd, though
Sometimes to take a tamer?

_Mar._ 'Tis a truth Sir,
So she be handsome, and not ill condition'd.

_Rod._ A Soldier should not be so curious.

_Marc._ I can make shift with any for a heat Sir.

_Rod._ Nay, there you wrong your youth too: and however
You are pleas'd to appear to me, which shews well Signior,
A tougher soul than your few years can testifie:
Yet, my young Sir, out of mine own experience
When my spring was, I am able to confute ye,
And say, y' had rather come to th' shock of eies,
And boldly march up to your Mistriss mouth,
Then to the Cannons.

_Mar._ That's as their lading is Sir.

_Rod._ There be Trenches
Fitter and warmer for your years, and safer
Than where the bullet plaies.

_Mar._ Ther's it I doubt Sir.

_Rod._ You'll easily find that faith: But come, be liberal,
What kind of Woman, could you make best wars with?

_Mar._ They are all but heavy marches.

_Rod._ Fie Marckantonio,
Beauty in no more reverence?

_Mar._ In the Sex Sir,
I honor it, and next to honor, love it,
For there is only beauty; and that sweetness
That was first meant for modesty: sever it
And put it in one woman, it appears not,
'Tis of too rare a nature, she too gross
To mingle with it.

_Rod._ This is a meer heresie.

_Mar[c]._ Which makes 'em ever mending; for that gloss
That cozens us for beauty, is but bravery,
An outward shew of things well set, no more:
For heavenly beauty, is as heaven it self Sir,
Too excellent for object, and what is seen
Is but the vail then, airy clouds; grant this
It may be seen, 'tis but like stars in twinklings.

_Rod._ 'Twas no small study in their Libraries
Brought you to this experience: But what think ye
Of that fair red and white, which we call Beauty?

_Mar._ Why? 'tis our creature Sir, we give it 'em,
Because we like those colours, else 'tis certain
A blew face with a motley nose would do it;
And be as great a beauty, so we lov'd it;
That we cannot give, which is only beauty,
Is a fair Mind.

_Rod._ By this rule, all our choices
Are to no ends.

_Marc._ Except the dull end, Doing.

_Rod._ Then all to you seem equal?

_Marc._ Very true Sir,
And that makes equal dealing: I love any
That's worth love.

_Rod._ How long love ye Signior?

_Marc._ Till I have other business.

_Rod._ Do you never
Love stedfastly one woman?

_Mar._ 'Tis a toil Sir
Like riding in one rode perpetually,
It offers no variety.

_Rod._ Right youth,
He must needs make a Soldier; nor do you think
One Woman, can love one man?

_Mar._ Yes, that may be.
Though it appear not often; they are things ignorant,
And therefore apted to that superstition
Of doting fondness; yet of late years Signior,
That worlds well mended with 'em, fewer are found now
That love at len[g]th, and to the right mark, all
Stir now [as] the time stirs; fame and fashion
Are ends they aim at now, and to make that love
That wiser ages held ambition;
They that cannot reach this may love by Index;
By every days surveying who best promises,
Who has done best, who may do, and who mended
May come to do again: who appear nearest
Either in new stampt clothes; or courtesies,
Done but from hand to mouth neither; nor love they these things
Longer than new are making, nor that succession
Beyond the next fair feather: Take the City,
There they go to't by gold weight, no gain from 'em
All they can work by fire and water to 'em,
Profit is all they point at, if there be love
'Tis shew'd ye by so dark a light, to bear out
The bracks and old stains in it, that ye may purchase
_French_ Velvet better cheap, all loves are endless.

_Rod._ Faith, if you have a Mistriss, would she heard you.

_Mar._ 'Twere but the vent'ring of my place, or swearing
I meant it but for argument, as Schoolmen
Dispute high questions.

_Rod._ What a world is this
When young men dare determine what those are
Age and the best experience ne'r could aim at.

_Marc._ They were thick ey'd then Sir; now the print is bigger
And they may read their fortunes without spectacles.

_Rod._ Did you ne'r love?

_Mar._ Faith yes, once after supper,
And the fit held till midnight.

_Rod._ Hot, or shaking.

_Mar._ To say true, both.

_Rod._ How did ye rid it?

_Mar._ Thus Sir,
I laid my hand upon my heart, and blest me
And then said over certain charms I had learn'd
Against mad dogs, for love and they are all one;
Last thought upon a windmil, and so slept,
And was well ever after.

_Rod._ A rare Physitian,
What would your practise gain ye?

_Mar._ The wars ended,
I mean to use my Art, and have these fools
Cut in the head like Cats, to save the kingdom,
Another Inquisition.

_Rod._ So old a Soldier
Out of the wars, I never knew yet practised.

_Mar._ I shall mend every day; but noble General,
Believe this, but as this you nam'd discourses.

_Rod._ Oh ye are a cunning Gamester.

_Mar._ Mirths and toys
To cosin time withal, for o' my troth Sir,
I can love; I think, well too; well enough
And think as well of women as they are,
Pretty fantastick things, some more regardful,
And some few worth a service: I am so honest,
I wish 'em all in heaven, and you know how hard Sir
'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals.

_Rod._ Well _Mark-antonio_, I would not loose thy company
For the best Galley I command.

_Marc._ Faith General,
If these discourses please ye, I shall fit ye
Once every day. [_Knock within._

_Rod._ Thou canst not please me better: hark, they call
Below to dinner: ye are my Cabbin guest,
My bosom's, so you please Sir.

_Marc._ Your poor Servant. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter second Host, and his Wife._

_Host._ Let 'em have meat enough Woman, half a Hen;
There be old rotten Pilchards, put 'em off too,
'Tis but a little new anointing of 'em.
And a strong onion, that confounds the stink.

_Host[ess]._ They call for more Sir.

_Host._ Knock a dozen eggs down,
But then beware your wenches.

_Host[ess]._ More than this too?

_Host._ Worts, worts, and make 'em porridge: pop 'em up wench
But they shall pay for Cullyses.

_Host[ess]._ All this is nothing;
They call for Kid and Partridge.

_Host._ Well remembred,
Where's the Faulconers half dog he left?

_Host[ess]._ It stinks Sir,
Past all hope that way.

_Host._ Run it o'r with Garlick,
And make a _Roman_ dish on't.

_Host[ess]._ Pray ye be patient,
And get provision in; these are fine gentlemen,
And liberal gentlemen; they have _unde quare_
No mangey Muleters, nor pinching Posts,
That feed upon the parings of Musk-millions
And Radishes, as big and tough as Rafters:
Will ye be stirring in this business? here's your brother,
Mine old Host of _Ossuna_, as wise as you are,
That is, as knavish; if ye put a trick,
Take heed he do not find it.

_Host._ I'll be wagging.

_Host[ess]._ 'Tis for your own commodity: why wenches:

[_Serv._] Anon forsooth. [_within._

_Hostess._ Who makes a fire there? and who gets in water?
Let _Oliver_ goe to the Justice, and beseech his Worship
We may have two spits going; and do you hear _Druce_,
Let him invite his Worship, and his Wives Worship,
To the left-Meat to morrow.

_Enter Bayliff._

_Bayl._ Where's this Kitchen?

_Hostess._ Even at the next door Signior: what old Don?
We meet but seldom.

_Bayl._ Prethee be patient Hostess,
And tell me where the meat is.

_Host[ess]._ Faith Master Baylie,
How have ye done? and how man?

_Bayl._ Good sweet Hostess,
What shall we have to dinner?

_Hostess._ How does your woman,
And a fine Woman she is, and a good Woman;
Lord, how you bear your years!

_Bayl._ Is't Veal or Mutton,
Beef, Bacon, Pork, Kid, Pheasant, or all these,
And are they ready all?

_Host[ess]._ The hours that have been
Between us two, the merry hours: Lord!

_Bayl._ Hostess,
Dear Hostess do but hear; I am hungry.

_Hostess._ Ye are merrily dispos'd Sir.

_Bayl._ Monstrous hungry,
And hungry after much meat, I have brought hither
Right worshipful to pay the reckoning,
Money enough too with 'em, desire enough
To have the best meat, and of that enough too:
Come to the point sweet wench, and so I kiss thee.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have any thing, and instantly
E'r you can lick your ears, Sir.

_Bayl._ Portly meat,
Bearing substantial stuff, and fit for hunger
I do beseech ye Hostess first, then some light garnish,
Two Pheasants in a dish, if ye have Leverits,
Rather for way of ornament, than appetite
They may be look'd upon, or Larks: for Fish,
As there is no great need, so I would not wish ye
To serve above four dishes, but those full ones;
Ye have no Cheese of _Parma_?

_Hostess._ Very old Sir.

_Bayl._ The less will serve us, some ten pound.

_Hostess._ Alas Sir,
We have not halfe these dainties.

_Bayl._ Peace good Hostess,
And make us hope ye have.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have all Sir,

_Bay._ That may be got for money.

_Enter_ Diego, _the Host, and a Boy_.

_Host. Diego._ Where's your Master?
Bring me your Master, Boy: I must have liquor
Fit for the _Mermydons_; no dashing now child
No conjurings by candle light, I know all;
Strike me the oldest Sack, a piece that carries
Point blank to this place boy, and batters; Hostess,
I kiss thy hands through which many a round reckoning
And things of moment have had motion.

_Hostess._ Still mine old Brother.

_Host. Die._ Set thy Seller open,
For I must enter, and advance my Colours,
I have brought th[ee] Dons indeed wench, Dons with Duckets
And those Dons must have dainty Wine, pure _Bacchus_
That bleeds the life blood: what is your cure ended?

_Bayl._ We shall have Meat man.

_Host. Die._ Then we will have Wine man,
And Wine upon Wine, cut and drawn with Wine.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have all, and more than all.

_Bay._ All, well then.

_Host. Die._ Away, about your business, you with her
For old acquaintance sake, to stay
your stomach. _Exit Hostess and Bayliff._
And Boy, be you my guide, _ad inferos_,
For I will make a full descent in equipage.

_Boy._ I'll shew you rare Wine.

_Host. Die._ Stinging geer.

_Boy._ Divine Sir.

_Host. Die._ O divine boy, march, march my child, rare Wine boy.

_Boy._ As any is in _Spain_ Sir.

_Host. Die._ Old; and strong too,
Oh my fine boy, clear too?

_Boy._ As Christal Sir, and strong as truth.

_Host. Die._ Away boy,
I am enamor'd, and I long for Dalliance,
Stay no where child, not for thy fathers blessing,
I charge thee not to save thy Sisters honor,
Nor to close thy Dames eies, were she a dying
Till we arrive, and for thy recompence
I will remember thee in my Will.

_Boy._ Ye have said Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Philippo, _and 2 Host_.

_Phi._ Mine Host, is that Apparel got ye spoke of?
Ye shall have ready money.

_2 Host._ 'Tis come in, Sir, he has it on Sir
And I think 'twill be fit, and o' my credit
'Twas never worn but once Sir, and for necessity
Pawn'd to the man I told ye of.

_Phi._ Pray bargain for it,
And I will be the pay-master.

_2 Host._ I will Sir.

_Phi._ And let our meat be ready when you please,
I mean as soon.

_2 Host._ It shall be presently.

_Phi._ How far stands _Barcelona_?

_2 Host._ But two Leagues off Sir,
You may be there by three a clock.

_Phi._ I am glad on't. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Theodosia, _and_ Leocadia.

_Theo._ Signior _Francisco_, why I draw you hither
To this remote place, marvel not, for trust me
My innocence yet never knew ill dealing,
And as ye have a noble temper, start not
Into offence, at any thing my knowledge,
And for your special good, would be inform'd of,
Nor think me vainly curious.

_Leo._ Worthy Sir,
The courtesies you and your noble Brother,
Even then when few men find the way to do 'em,
I mean in want, so freely showr'd upon me,
So truly, and so timely minister'd,
Must, if I should, suspect those minds that made 'em,
Either proclaim me an unworthy taker,
Or worse, a base beleever; Speek your mind Sir
Freely, and what you please, I am your Servant.

_The._ Then my young Sir know, since our first acquaintance
Induc'd by circumstances that deceive not
To clear some doubts I have; nay blush not Signior,
I have beheld ye narrowly: more blushes.
Sir, ye give me so much light, I find ye
A thing confest already: yet more blushes?
You would ill cover an offence might sink ye
That cannot hide your self; why do ye shake so?
I mean no trouble to ye; this fair hand
Was never made for hardness, nor those eies
(Come do not hide 'em,) for rough objects, harke ye,
Ye have betraid your self, that sigh confirms me;
Another? and a third too? then I see
These boys cloths do but pinch ye, come, be liberal,
Ye have found a friend that has found you, disguise not
That loaden soul that labors to be open:
Now you must weep, I know it, for I see
Your eies down laden to the lids, another
Manifest token that my doubts are perfect;
Yet I have found a greater; tell me this
Why were these holes left open, there was an error,
A foul one my _Francisco_, have I caught ye?
Oh pretty Sir, the custom of our Countrey
Allows men none in this place: Now the show'r comes.

_Leo._ Oh Signior _Theodoro_.

_Theo._ This sorrow shows so sweetly
I cannot choose but keep it company:
Take truce and speak Sir: and I charge your goodness
By all those perfect hopes that point at virtue
By that remembrance these fair tears are shed for,
If any sad misfortune have thus form'd ye,
That either care or counsel may redeem,
Pain, purse, or any thing within the power
And honor of free gentlemen, reveal it,
And have our labors.

_Leo._ I have found ye noble
And ye shall find me true; your doubts are certain,
Nor dare I more dissemble; I am a woman,
The great example of a wretched woman.
Here you must give me leave to shew my sex;
And now to make ye know how much your credit
Has won upon my soul, so it please your patience,
I'll tell you my unfortunate sad story.

_Theo._ Sit down and say on Lady:

_Leo._ I am born Sir
Of good and honest parents, rich, and noble,
And not to lie, the Daughter of Don _Zanchio_,
If my unhappy fortune have not lost me:
My name call'd _Leocadia_, even the same
Your worthy brother did the special honor
To name for beautiful; and without pride
I have been often made believe so Signior;
But that's impertinent: Now to my sorrows;
Not far from us a Gentleman of worth,
A neighbor and a noble visitor,
Had his abode; who often met my Father
In gentle sports of Chase, and River-Hawking
In Course and Riding; and with him often brought
A Son of his, a young and hopeful Gentleman,
Nobly train'd up, in years fit for affection,
A sprightly man, of understanding excellent,
Of speech and civil 'haviour, no less powerful;
And of all parts, else my eies lied, abundant:
We grew acquainted, and from that acquaintance
Nearer into affection; from affection
Into belief.

_Theo._ Well.

_Leo._ Then we durst kiss.

_Theo._ Go forward.

_Leo._ But oh, man, [man,] unconstant, careless man,
Oh subtle man, how many are thy mischiefs;
Oh _Mark-antonio_, I may curse those kisses.

_Theo._ What did you call him Lady?

_Leo. Mark-antonio_
The name to me of misery.

_Theo._ Pray foreward.

_Leo._ From these we bred desires sir; but lose me heaven
If mine were lustful.

_Theo._ I believe.

_L[e]o._ This nearness
Made him importunate; When to save mine honor
Love having full possession of my powers,
I got a Contract from him.

_Theo._ Sealed?

_Leo._ And sworn too;
Which since, for some offence heaven laid upon me,
I lost among my monies in the robbery,
The loss that makes me poorest: this won from him
Fool that I was, and too too credulous,
I pointed him a by-way to my chamber
The next night at an hour.

_Theo._ Pray stay there Lady;
And when the night came, came he, kept he touch with ye?
Be not so shamefac'd; had ye both your wishes?
Tell me, and tell me true, did he enjoy ye,
Were ye in one anothers arms abed? the Contract
Confirm'd in full joys there? did he lie with ye?
Answer to that; ha? did your father know this,
The good old man, or kindred privy to't?
And had ye their consents? did that nights promise
Make ye a Mother?

_Leo._ Why do you ask so nearly?
Good Sir, do's it concern you any thing?

_Theo._ No Lady.
Only the pitty why you should be used so
A little stirs me, but did he keep his promise?

_Leo._ No, no Signior,
Alas he never came, nor never meant it,
My Love was fool'd, time numbred to no end,
My expectation flouted, and ghesse you Sir,
What dor unto a doating Maid this was,
What a base breaking off!

_Theo._ All's well then Lady;
Go forward in your Story.

_Leo._ Not only fail'd Sir
Which is a curse in Love, and may he find it
When his affections are full-wing'd, and ready
To stoop upon the quarry, then when all
His full hopes are in's arms: not only thus Sir
But more injurious, faithless, treacherous,
Within two daies fame gave him far remov'd
With a new love, which much against my conscience
But more against my cause, which is my hell
I must confess a fair one, a right fair one,
Indeed of admirable sweetness, Daughter
Unto another of our noble neighbors
The thief call'd _Theodosia_; whose perfections
I am bound to ban for ever, curse to wrinckles,
As heaven I hope will make 'em soon; and aches;
For they have rob'd me poor unhappy wench
Of all, of all Sir, all that was my glory
And left me nothing but these tears, and travel:
Upon this certain news, I quit my Father
And if you be not milder in construction
I fear mine honour too: and like a Page
Stole to _Ossuna_, from that place to _Sivil_,
From thence to _Barcelona_ I was travelling
When you o'er-took my misery, in hope to hear of
Gallies bound up for Italy; for never
Will I leave off the search of this bad man
This filcher of affections, this love-Pedler,
Nor shall my curses cease to blast her beauties
And make her name as w[a]ndring as her nature
Till standing face to face before their lusts
I call heavens justice down.

_Theo._ This shows too angry
Nor can it be her fault she is belov'd,
If I give meat, must they that eat it surfeit?

_Leoc._ She loves again Sir, there's the mischief of it
And in despight of me to drown my blessings
Which she shall dearly know.

_Theo._ Ye are too violent.

_Leoc._ She has Devils in her eyes, to whose devotion
He offers all his service.

_Theo._ Who can say
But she may be forsaken too? he that once wanders
From such a perfect sweetness, as you promise
Has he not still the same rule to deceive?

_Leoc._ No, no they are together, love together
Past all deceipt of that side; sleep together,
Live, and delight together, and such deceipt
Give me in a wild desert.

_Theo._ By your leave Lady
I see no honour in this cunning.

_Leoc._ Honour?
True, none of her part, honour, she deserves none,
'Tis ceas'd with wandring Ladies such as she is,
So bold and impudent.

_Theo._ I could be angry
Extreamly angry now beyond my nature
And 'twere not for my pitty: what a man
Is this to do these wrongs: believe me Lady
I know the maid, and know she is not with him.

_Leoc._ I would you knew she were in heaven.

_Theo._ And so well know her
That I think you are cozen'd.

_Leoc._ So I say Sir.

_Theo._ I mean in her behaviour
For trust my faith so much I dare adventure for her credit
She never yet delighted to do wrong.

_Leoc._ How can she then delight in him? dare she think?
Be what she will, as excellent as Angels
My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent
That I must take her prewnings; sto[o]p at that
She has tyr'd upon; No Sir, I hold my beauty
Wash but these sorrows from it, of a sparkle
As right and rich as hers, my means as equal,
My youth as much unblown; and for our worths
And weight of virtue--

_Theo._ Do not task her so far.

_Leo._ By heaven she is cork, and clouds, light, light Sir, vapor
But I shall find her out, with all her witchcrafts,
Her paintings, and her powncings: for 'tis art
And only art preserves her, and meer spels
That work upon his powers; let her but shew me
A ruin'd cheek like mine, that holds his colour
And writes but sixteen years in spight of sorrows
An unbathed body, smiles, that give but shaddows,
And wrinkle not the face; besides she is little,
A demy dame, that makes no object.

_Theo._ Nay.
Then I must say you err; for credit me
I think she is taller than your self.

_Leoc._ Why let her
It is not that shall mate me; I but ask
My hands may reach unto her.

_Theo._ Gentle Lady
'Tis now ill time of farther argument,
For I perceive your anger voyd of counsel,
Which I could wish more temperate.

_Leoc._ Pray forgive me
If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on
See more than we that play: and I beseech ye
Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments,
If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses
You must confess are seldom ty'd to patience,
Yet I could wish I had said less.

_Theo._ No harm then;
Ye have made a full amends; our company
You may command, so please you in your travels
With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so.

_Leoc._ Ye make too great an offer.

_Theo._ Then it shall be.
Go in and rest your self, our wholsome dyet
Will be made ready straight: But heark ye Lady
One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance
That these things may be open to my Brother
For more respect and honor.

_Leoc._ Do your pleasure.

_Theo._ And do not change this habit by no means
Unless ye change your self.

_Leoc._ Which must not yet be.

_Theo._ It carries ye concealed and safe.

_Leoc._ I am counsell'd. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Philippo.

_Phil._ What's done?

_Theo._ Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman,
And of a noble strain too, ghess.

_Phil._ I cannot.

_Theo._ You have heard often of her.

_Phil._ Stay I think not.

_Theo._ Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair _Leocadia_
Daughter unto Don _Zanchio_, our noble neighbor.

_Phil._ Nay?

_Theo._ 'Tis she Sir, o' my credit.

_Phil. Leocadia_,
Pish _Leocadia_, it must not be.

_Theo._ It must be, or be nothing.

_Phil._ Pray give me leave to wonder, _Leocadia_?

_Theo._ The very same.

_Phil._ The Damsel _Leocadia_
I ghest it was a woman, and a fair one
I see it through her shape, transparent plain
But that it should be she; tell me directly.

_Theo._ By heavens 'tis she.

_Phil._ By heaven then 'tis a sweet one.

_Theo._ That's granted too.

_Phil._ But heark ye, heark ye Sister,
How came she thus disguis'd?

_Theo._ I'll tell you that too
As I came on the self-same ground, so us'd too.

_Phil._ By the same man?

_Theo._ The same too.

_Phil._ As I live
You lovers have fine fancies,
Wonderous fine ones.

_Theo._ Pray heaven you never make one.

_Phil._ Faith I know not,
But in that mind I am, I had rather cobble,
'Tis a more Christian Trade; pray tell me one thing
Are not you two now monstrous jealous
Of one another?

_Theo._ She is much of me
And has rayl'd at me most unmercifully
And to my face, and o' my conscience
Had she but known me, either she or I
Or both, had parted with strange faces
She was in such a fury.

_Phil. Leocadia?_
Do's she speak handsomly?

_Theo._ Wondrous well Sir
And all she do's becomes her, even her anger.

_Phil._ How seemed she when you found her?

_Theo._ Had you seen
How sweetly fearful her pretty self
Betray'd her self, how neat her sorrow show'd,
And in what handsome phrase she put her story,
And as occasion stirr'd her how she started
Though roughly, yet most aptly into anger
You would have wonder'd.

_Phil._ Do's she know ye?

_Theo._ No,
Nor must not by no means.

_Phil._ How stands your difference?

_Theo._ I'll tell ye that some fitter time, but trust me
My _Mark-antonio_ has too much to answer.

_Phil._ May I take knowledge of her?

_Theo._ Yes she is willing.

_Phil._ Pray use her as she is, with all respects then,
For she is a woman of a noble breeding.

_Theo._ Ye shall not find me wanting.

_Phil._ Which way bears she?

_Theo._ Our way, and to our end.

_Phil._ I am glad on't; hark ye,
She keeps her shape? [_Enter_ Leocadia.

_Theo._ Yes, and I think by this time
Has mew'd her old.

_Phil._ She is here: by heaven a rare one,
An admirable sweet one, what an eye
Of what a full command she bears, how gracious
All her aspect shows; bless me from a feaver
I am not well o'th suddain.

_Leoc._ Noble friends
Your meat and all my service waits upon ye.

_Phil._ Ye teach us manners Lady; all which service
Must now be mine to you, and all too poor too;
Blush not, we know ye, for by all our faiths
With us your honor is in sanctuary
And ever shall be.

_Leoc._ I do well believe it,
Will ye walk nearer Sir. [_Exit._

_Theo._ She shows still fairer,
Yonger in every change, and clearer, neater;
I know not, I may fool my self, and finely
Nourish a wolfe to eat my heart out; certain
As she appears now, she appears a wonder,
A thing amazes me; what would she do then
In womans helps, in ornaments apt for her
And deckings to her delicacy? without all doubt
She would be held a miracle; nor can I think
He has forsaken her: Say what she please,
I know his curious eye, or say he had,
Put case he could be so boy-blind and foolish,
Yet stil I fear she keeps the Contract with her
Not stoln as she affirms, nor lost by negligence,
She would loose her self first, 'tis her life, and there
All my hopes are dispatch'd; O noble love
That thou couldst be without this jealousie,
Without this passion of the heart, how heavenly
Wouldst thou appear unto us? Come what may come
I'll see the end on't: and since chance has cast her
Naked into my refuge, all I can
She freely shall command, except the man. [_Exit._

_Scæna Tertia_.

_Enter_ Leonardo, _and_ Don Pedro.

_Leon._ Don _Pedro_ do you think assuredly
The Galleys will come round to _Barcelona_
Within these two days?

_Ped._ Without doubt.

_Leo._ And think ye
He will be with 'em certainly?

_Ped._ He is sir
I saw him at their setting off.

_Leo._ Must they needs
Touch there for water as you say?

_Ped._ They must sir
And for fresh meat too, few or none go by it.
Beside so great a Fleet must needs want trimming
If they have met with fowl seas, and no harbor
On this side _Spain_, is able without danger
To moore 'em, but that haven.

_Leo._ Are the wars
His only end?

_Ped._ So he professes.

_Leo._ Bears he
Any command amongst 'em?

_Ped._ Good regard
With all; which quickly will prefer him.