Chapter X: Part 10

_Isab._ I'll tell ye all; and tell ye true and freely.
_Bartello_ was the end of all this jealousie,
His often visitations brought by you, first
Bred all these fits, and these suspitions:
I knew your false key, and accordingly
I fram'd my plot, to have you take him finely,
Too poor a pennance for the wrong his wife bears,
His worthy virtuous wife: I felt it sensibly
When ye took off the string, and was much pleas'd in't,
Because I wish'd his importunate dotage paid well,
And had you staid two minutes more, ye had had him.

_Lop._ This sounds like truth.

_Isab._ Because this shall be certain,
Next time he comes, as long he cannot tarry,
Your self shall see, and hear, his lewd temptatio[n]s.

_Lop._ Till then I am satisfied, and if this prove true,
Hence-forward Mistriss of your self I give ye,
And I to serve ye: For my lusty Captain,
I'll make him dance, and make him think the Devil
Claws at his breech, and yet I will not hurt him:
Come now to bed, and prove but constant this way,
I'll prove the man you ever wished.

_Isab._ You have blest me. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Silvio.

_Sil._ What labour and what travel have I run through
And through what Cities to absolve this Riddle
Diviners, Dreamers, School-men, deep Magicians,
All have I try'd, and all give several meaning,
And from all hope of any future happiness,
To this place am I come at length, the Countrey,
The people simple, plain, and harmless witty,
Whose honest labours Heaven rewards with plenty
Of Corn, Wine, Oyl, which they again as thankful,
To their new Crops, new pastimes celebrate,
And crown their joyful harvests with new voices;
By a rich Farmer here I am entertain'd,
And rank'd among the number of his servants,
Not guessing what I am, but what he would have me,
Here may be so much wit (though much I fear it)
To undo this knotty question; and would to Heaven.

_Enter_ Soto _with a Proclamation_.

My fortunes had been hatch'd with theirs, as innocent,
And never known a pitch above their plainness.

_Soto._ That it is, that it is, what's this word now? this
Is a plaguy word, that it is _r. e. a._ that it is, reason,
By your leave, Mr. _Soto_, by your leave, you are too quick, Sir,
There's a strange parlous _T._ before the reason,
A very tall _T._ which makes the word _High Treason_.

_Sil._ What Treason's that? does this fellow understand
Himself?

_Soto._ Pitch will infect, I'll meddle no more with this geer;
What a devil ails this fellow? this foolish fellow?
Being admitted to be one of us too,
That are the masters of the sports proceeding,
Thus to appear before me too, unmorris'd?
Do you know me friend?

_Sil._ You are my Masters Son, Sir.

_Soto._ And do you know what sports are now in season?

_Sil._ I hear there are some a-foot.

_Soto._ Where are your Bells then?
Your Rings, your Ribons, friend? & your clean Napkins?
Your Nosegay in your hat, pinn'd up, am not I here?
My fathers eldest Son, and at this time, Sir,
I would have ye know it, though ye be ten times his servant
A better man than my father far, Lord of this Harvest, Sir,
And shall a man of my place want attendance?

_Sil._ 'Twas want of knowledge, Sir, not duty, bred this,
I would have made Suit else for your Lordships service.

_Soto._ In some sort I am satisfied now, mend your manners,
But thou art a melancholy fellow, vengeance melancholy,
And that may breed an insurrection amongst us;
Go too, I'll lay the best part of two pots now
Thou art in love, and I can guess with whom too,
I saw the wench that twir'd and twinkled at thee,
The other day; the wench that's new come hither,
The young smug wench.

_Sil._ You know more than I feel Sir.

_Soto._ Go too, I'll be thy friend, I'll speak a good word for thee,
And thou shalt have my Lordships countenance to her;
May be I have had a snap my self, may be I, may be no,
We Lords are allow'd a little more.

_Sil._ 'Tis fit, Sir;
I humbly thank ye, you are too too tender of me,
But what Sir, I beseech ye, was that paper,
Your Lordship was so studiously imployed in,
When ye came out a-doors?

_Soto._ Thou meanest this paper.

_Sil._ That Sir, I think.

_Soto._ Why, 'tis a Proclamation,
A notable piece of villany, as ever thou heard'st in thy life,
By mine honor it is.

_Sil._ How Sir? or what concerns it?

_Soto._ It comes ye from the Dutchess, a plaguy wise woman,
To apprehend the body of one _Silvio_,
As arrant a Rascal as ever pist against a post,
And this same _Silvio_, or this foresaid rascal,
To bring before her, live or dead; for which good service
The man that brings him, has two thousand Duckets;
Is not this notable matter now?

_Sil._ 'Tis so indeed,
This Proclamation bears my bane about it;
Can no rest find me? no private place secure me?
But still my miseries like blood-hounds haunt me?
Unfortunate young man, which way now guides thee,
Guides thee from death? the Countrey's laid round for thee;
Oh _Claudio_, now I feel thy blood upon me,
Now it speaks loudly here, I am sure against me,
Time now has found it out, and truth proclaim'd it,
And Justice now cries out, I must die for it.

_Soto._ Hast thou read it?

_Sil._ Yes.

_Soto._ And dost thou know that _Silvio_.

_Sil._ I never saw him, Sir.

_Soto._ I have, and know him too,
I know him as well as I know thee, and better,
And if I light upon him, for a trick he plaid me once,
A certain kind of dog-trick, I'll so fiddle him,
Two thousand Duckets, I'll so pepper him,
And with that money I'll turn Gentleman,
Worth a brown Baker's dozen of such _Silvios_.

_Sil._ There is no staying here, this rogue will know me,
And for the money sake betray me too;
I must bethink me suddenly and safely.

_Enter Morris-dancers._

_Soto._ Mine own dear Lady, have-at-thy honey-comb,
Now, for the honor of our Town, Boyes, trace sweetly.

[_Cry within of, Arm, Arm._

Wh[at] a vengeance ails this whobub: pox refuse 'em,
Cannot they let us dance in our own defence here?

_Enter Farmer and Captain._

_Capt._ Arm, honest friends, arm suddenly and bravely,
And with your antient resolutions follow me;
Look how the Beacons show like Comets, your poor neighbors
Run maddingly affrighted through the Villages;
_Syenna's_ Duke is up, burns all before him,
And with his sword, makes thousand mothers childless.

_Soto._ What's this to our Morris-dancers?

_Sil._ This may serve my turn.

_Soto._ There's ne'r a Duke in _Christendom_ but loves a May-game.

_Capt._ At a horse you were always ceaz'd, put your Son on him,
And arm him well i' th' States name, I command ye;
And they that dare go voluntary, shall receive reward.

_Soto._ I dare go no way, Sir, this is strange, Master Captain,
You cannot be content to spoil our sport here,
Which I do not think your Worship's able to answer,
But you must set us together by the ears with I know not who too?
We are for the bodily part o' th' dance.

_Cap._ Arm him suddainly,
This is no time to fool, I shall return ye else,
A rebel to the General, State, and Duchess,
And how you'll answer then--

_Far._ I have no more Sons, Sir,
This is my only boy; I beseech ye Master Captain.

_Soto._ I am a rank coward too, to say the truth, Sir,
I never had good luck at buffets neither.

_Far._ Here's vorty shillings, spare the child.

_Cap._ I cannot.

_Soto._ Are ye a man? will ye cast away a _May_-Lord?
Shall all the wenches in the Countrey curse ye?

_Sil._ An't please you Captain, I'll supply his person,
'Tis pity their old custom should be frighted,
Let me have Horse, and good Arms, I'll serve willingly,
And if I shrink a foot of ground, Hell take me.

_Cap._ A promising Aspect, face full of courage,
I'll take this man, and thank ye too.

_Far._ There's for thee,
'Tis in a clout, but good old Gold.

_Sil._ I thank ye Sir.

_Far._ Goe saddle my fore-horse, put his feather on too,
He'll praunce it bravely, friend, he fears no Colours,
And take the Armor down, and see him dizin'd.

_Soto._ Farewel, and if thou cary'st thy self well in this matter,
I say no more, but this, there must be more _May_-Lords,
And I know who are fit.

_Sil._ Dance you, I'll fight, Sir.

_Cap._ Away, away.

_Sil._ Farewel, I am for the Captain. [_Exit._

_Far._ Now to this matter again my honest fellows,
For if this goe not forward, I foresee friends,
This war will fright our neighbors out o' th' villages;
Cheer up your hearts, we shall hear better news, boys.

_Hob._ Surely I will dance no more, 'tis most ridiculous,
I find my wives instructions now mere verities,
My learned wives, she often hath pronounc'd to me
My safety _Bomby_, defie these sports, thou art damn'd else,
This Beast of _Babylon_, I will never back again,
His pace is sure prophane, and his lewd Wi-hees,
The Sons of _Hymyn_ and _Gymyn_, in the wilderness.

_Far._ Fie neighbor _Bomby_, in your fits again,
Your zeal sweats, this is not careful, neighbor,
The Hobby-horse, is a seemly Hobby-horse.

_Soto._ And as pretty a beast on's inches, though I say it.

_Hob._ The Beast is an unseemly, and a lewd Beast,
And got at _Rome_ by the Popes Coach-Horses,
His mother was the Mare of ignorance.

_Soto._ Cobler thou ly'st, and thou wert a thousand Coblers.
His mother was an honest Mare, and a Mare of good credit,
I know the Mare, and if need be, can bring witness;
And in the way of honesty I tell thee,
Scorn'd any Coach-Horse the Pope had: thou art foolish,
And thy blind zeal makes thee abuse the Beast.

_Hob._ I do defie thee, and thy foot-cloth too,
And tell thee to thy face, this prophane riding
I feel it in my conscience, and I dare speak it,
This un-edified ambling, hath brought a scourge upon us,
This Hobby-horse sincerity we liv'd in
War, and the sword of slaughter: I renounce it,
And put the beast off; thus, the beast polluted,
And now no more shall hop on high _Bomby_,
Follow the painted pipes of high pleasures,
And with the wicked, dance the devils measures;
Away thou pamper'd jade of vanity,
Stand at the Livery of lewd delights now,
And eat the provinder of prick-ear'd folly,
My dance shall be to the pipe of persecution.

_Far._ Will you daunce no more neighbor?

_Hob._ Surely no,
Carry the Beast to his Crib: I have renounc'd him
And all his works.

_Soto._ Shall the Hobby-horse be forgot then?
The hopeful Hobby-horse, shall he lye founder'd?
If thou do'st this, thou art but a cast-away Cobler:
My anger's up, think wisely, and think quickly,
And look upon the _quondam_ beast of pleasure,
If thou dost this (mark me, thou serious Sowter)
Thou Bench-whistler of the old tribe of toe-pieces,
If thou dost this, there shall be no more shooe-mending,
Every man shall have a special care of his own soul:
And in his pocket carry his two Confessors,
His Yugel, and his Nawl: if thou dost this--

_Far._ He will dance again for certain.

_Hob._ I cry out on't,
'Twas the fore-running sin brought in those Tilt-staves,
They brandish 'gainst the Church, the devil calls _May_-poles.

_Soto._ Take up your Horse again, and girth him to ye,
And girth him handsomely, good neighbor _Bomby_.

_Hob._ I spit at him.

_Soto._ Spit in the Horse face, Cobler?
Thou out of tune, _Psalm_-singing slave; spit in his visnomy?

_Hob._ I spit again, and thus I rise against him:
Against this Beast: that signify'd destruction.
Fore-shew'd i'th' falls of Monarchies.

_Soto._ I'th' face of him?
Spit such another spit by this hand Cobler
I'll make ye set a new piece o' your nose there,
Tak't up I say, and dance without more bidding,
And dance as you were wont: you have been excellent
And art still, but for this new nicity,
And your wives learned Lectures: take up the Hobby-horse
Come, 'tis a thing thou hast lov'd with all thy heart _Bomby_,
And would'st do still but for the round-breech'd brothers:
You were not thus in the morning: tak't up I say,
Do not delay but do it: you know I am officer;
And I know 'tis unfit all these good fellows
Should wait the cooling of your zealous porridge;
Chuse whether you will dance, or have me execute:
I'll clap your neck i' th' stocks, and th[e]re I'll make ye
Dance a whole day, and dance with these at night too,
You mend old shooes well, mend your old manners better,
And suddenly see you leave off this sincereness.
This new hot Batch, borrowed from some brown Baker,
Some learned brother, or I'll so bait ye for't,
Take it quickly up.

_Hob._ I take my persecution,
And thus I am forc'd a by-word to my brethren.

_Soto._ Strike up, strike up: strike merrily.

_Far._ To it roundly,
Now to the harvest feast: then sport again boyes. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Silvio, _arm'd_.

_Sil._ What shall I do? live thus unknown, and base still?
Or thrust my self into the head o' th' Battel?
And there like that I am, a Gentleman,
And one that never fear'd the face of danger,
(So in her angry eyes s[h]e carried honor)
Fight nobly, and (to end my cares) die nobly?

Song within.

Silvio _go on, and raise thy noble mind_
_To noble ends; fling course base thoughts behind_:
Silvio, _thou Son of everliving fame,_
_Now aim at virtue, and a Noble Name_.
Silvio _consider, Honor is not won,_
_Nor virtue reach'd, till some brave thing be done_:
_Thy Countrey calls thee now; she burns, and bleeds,_
_Now raise thy self, young man, to noble deeds._
_Into the battel_ Silvio, _there seek forth_
_Danger, and blood, by them stands sacred worth._

What heavenly voice is this that follows me?
This is the second time 't has waited on me,
Since I was arm'd, and ready for the battel;
It names me often, steels my heart with courage.

_Enter_ Belvidere _deformed_.

And in a thousand sweet notes comforts me;
What Beldam's this? how old she is, and ugly,
Why does she follow me?

_Bel._ Be not dismaid Son,
I wait upon thee for thy good, and honor,
'Twas I that now sung to thee, stirr'd thy mind up,
And rais'd thy spirits to the pitch of nobleness.

_Sil._ Though she be old, and of a crooked carkass,
Her voice is like the harmony of Angels.

_Bel._ Thou art my darling, all my love dwels on thee
The Son of virtue, therefore I attend thee;
Enquire not what I am, I come to serve thee,
For if thou be'st inquisitive, thou hast lost me:
A thousand long miles hence my dwelling is,
Deep in a Cave, where but mine own, no foot treads,
There by mine Art, I found what danger (_Silvio_)
And deep distress of heart, thou wert grown into,
A thousand Leagues I have cut through empty air,
Far swifter than the sayling rack that gallops
Upon the wings of angry winds, to seek thee.
Sometimes o'er a swelling tide, on a Dolphins back I ride,
Sometimes pass the earth below, and through the unmoved Center go;
Sometimes in a flame of fire, like a Meteor I aspire,
Sometimes in mine own shape, thus, when I help the virtuous,
Men of honourable minds, command my Art in all his kinds;
Pursue the noble thought of War, from thy Guard I'll not be far,
Get thee worship on thy foe, lasting Fame is gotten so.
Single _Syennas_ Duke alone, hear thy friends, thy Countrey groan,
And with thy manly arm strike sure, then thou hast wrought
thine own free cure.

_Sil._ Some _Sybel_ sure, some soul heaven loves, and favours.
And lends her their free powers, to work their wonders?
How she incites my courage!

_Bel. Sylvio_,
I knew thee many daies ago,
Foresaw thy love to _Belvidere_, the Dutchess daughter, and her Heir;
Knew she lov'd thee, and know what past; when you were found i'
th' Castle fast
In one anothers arms; forsaw the taking of ye and the Law
And so thy innocence I loved, the deepest of my skill I proved;
Be rul'd by me, for to this hour, I have dwelt about thee with
my power.

_Sil._ I will, and in the course of all observe thee,
For thou art sure an Angel [good] sent to me.

_Bel._ Get thee gone then to the fight, longer stay but robs thy right;
When thou grow'st weary I'll be near, then think on beauteous
_Belvidere_,
For every precious thought of her, I'll lend thine honor a new spurre;
When all is done, meet here at night; Go and be happy in the fight.

[_Exit._

_Sil._ I certainly believe I shall do nobly,
And that I'll bravely reach at too, or die. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Claudio, _and_ Penurio.

_Cla._ Is she so loving still?

_Pen._ She is mad with Love,
As mad as ever unworm'd dog was, Signior,
And does so weep, and curse, for your prevention,
Your crosses in your love; it frets me too,
I am fall'n away to nothing, to a spindle,
Grown a meer man of mat, no soul within me,
Pox o' my Master, Sir, will that content ye?

_Cla._ This rogue but cozens me, and she neglects me,
Upon my life there are some other gamesters,
Nearer the wind than I, and that prevents me,
Is there no other holds acquaintance with her?
Prethee be true, be honest, do not mock me,
Thou knowest her heart, no former interest
She has vow'd a favour too? and cannot handsomely
Go off, but by regaining such a friendship?
There are a thousand handsome men, young, wealthy,
That will not stick at any rate, nor danger,
To gain so sweet a prize; nor can I blame her,
If where she finds a comfort, she deal cunningly,
I am a stranger yet.

_Pen._ Ye are all she looks for,
And if there be any other, she neglects all,
And all for you: I would you saw how grievously
And with what hourly lamentations.

_Cla._ I know thou flatter'st me; tell me but truth,
Look here, look well, the best meat in the Dukedom,
The rarest, and the choicest of all Diets,
Th[is] will I give thee, but to satisfie me;
That is, not to dissemble; this rare Lobster,
This Pheasant of the Sea, this dish for Princes,
And all this thou shalt enjoy, eat all thy self,
Have good _Greek_ Wine, or any thing belongs to it,
A wench, if it desire one.

_Pen._ All this, Signior?

_Cla._ All, and a greater far than this.

_Pen._ A greater?

_Cla._ If thou deserve by telling truth.

_Pen._ A wench too?

_Cla._ Or any thing, but if you play the knave now,
The cozening knave, besides the loss of this,
In which thou hast parted with a paradise,
I ne'er will give thee meat more, not a morsel,
No smell of meat by my means shall come near thee,
Nor name of any thing that's nourishing,
But to thy old part _Tantalus_ again,
Thou shalt return, and there snap at a shadow.

_Pen._ Upon this point, had I intended Treason,
Or any thing might call my life in question,
Follow'd with all the tortures time could think on,
Give me but time to eat this lovely Lobster,
This Alderman o'th' Sea, and give me Wine to him,
I would reveal all, and if that all were too little,
More than I knew; _Bartello_ holds in with her,
The Captain of the Cittadel, but you need not fear him,
His tongue's the stiffest weapon that he carries.
He is old, and out of use; there are some other,
Men, young enough, handsome, and bold enough,
Could they come but to make their game once, but they want Sir,
They want the _unde quare_, they are laid by then.

_Enter_ Bartello.

You only are the man shall knock the nail in--

_Bar._ How now _Penurio_?

_Pen._ Your worship's fairly met, Sir.
You shall hear further from me, steal aside, Sir.

_Cla._ Remember your Master for those Chains.

_Pen._ They are ready, Sir.

_Bart._ What young thing's this? by his habit he's a Merchant;
I fear he trades my way too, you dryed dog-fish,
What bait was that?

_Pen._ Who Sir, the thing went hence now?
A notable young whelp.

_Bart._ To what end sirrah?

_Pen._ Came to buy Chains and Rings, is to be married,
An Asse, a Coxcomb, h'as nothing in's house Sir;
I warrant you think he came to see my Mistriss?

_Bart._ I doubt it shrewdly.

_Pen._ Away, away 'tis foolish;
He has not the face to look upon a Gentlewoman,
A poor skim'd thing, his Mothers maids are fain, Sir
To teach him how to kiss, and against he is married,
To shew him on which side the stirrop stands.

_Bart._ That's a fine youth.

_Pen._ Thou wouldst hang thy self, that thou hadst half his power,
Thou empty Potgun.

_Bart._ Am I come fit _Penurio_?

_Pen._ As fit as a fiddle,
My Master's now abroad about his business.

_Bart._ When thou cam'st to me home to day, I half suspected
My wife was jealous, that she whispered to thee.

_Pen._ You deserve well the whilst, there's no such matter,
She talk'd about some toyes my Master must bring to her,
You must not know of.

_Bart._ I'll take no noat _Penurio_.

_Pen._ No, nor you shall not, till yo[u] have it soundly.
This is the bravest _Capitano Pompo_.

_Enter_ Isabella.

But I shall pump ye anon, Sir.

_Isab._ Oh my _Bartello_.

_Bart._ Ye pretty Rogue; you little Rogue, you sweet Rogue,
Away _Penurio_, go and walk i'th' Horse-Fair.

_Isab._ You do not love me?

_Bart._ Thou liest, thou little rascal;
There sirrah, to your Centry.

_Pen._ How the Colt itches.
I'll help ye to a Curry-comb shall claw ye. [_Exit._

_Isab._ And how much dost thou love me?

_Bart._ Let's go in quickly,
I'll tell thee presently, I'll measure it to thee.

_Isab._ No busses first? sit o' my knee, my brave boy,
My valiant boy; do not look so fiercely on me,
Thou wilt fright me with thy face; come buss again Chick,
Smile in my face you mad thing.

_Bart._ I am mad indeed wench,
Precious, I am all o' fire.

_Isab._ I'll warm thee better.

_Bar._ I'll warm thee too, or I'll blow out my bellows;
Ha, ye sweet rogue, you loving rogue, a boy now,
A Soldier I will get shall prove a fellow.

_Enter_ Jaquenet _and_ Penurio.

_Jaq._ Mistriss, look to your self, my Master's coming.

_Bar._ The devil come, and go with him.

_Pen._ The devil's come indeed, he brings your wife, Sir.

_Isab._ We are undone, undone then.

_Bar._ My wife with him?
Why this is a dismal day.

_Pen._ They are hard by too, Sir.

_Bar._ I must not, dare not see her.

_Isab._ Nor my Husband,
For twenty thousand pound.

_Bar._ That I were a Cat now,
Or any thing could run into a Bench-hole,
Saint _Anthonies_ Fire upon the rogue has brought her;
Where shall I be? just i'th' nick o'th' matter!
When I had her at my mercy! think for heaven sake,
My wife, all the wild furies hell has.

_Pen._ Up the Chimney.

_Bar._ They'll smoke me out there presently.

_Isab._ There, there, it must be there,
We are all undone else: it must be up the Chimney.

_Bar._ Give me a Ladder.

_Isab._ You must use your Art, Sir,
Alas, we have no Ladders.

_Bar._ Pox o'thy Husband,
Does he never mend his house?

_Pen._ No, nor himself neither:
Up nimbly, Sir, up nimbly.

_Bar._ Thou know'st I am fat,
Thou merciless lean rogue.

_Pen._ Will ye be kill'd?
For if he take ye--

_Bar._ Lend me thy shoulder.

_Pen._ Soft, Sir,
You'll tread my shoulder-bones into my sides else,
Have ye fast hold o'th' barrs?

_Bar._ A vengeance barr 'em.

_Isab._ Patience good Captain, Patience: quickly, quickly.

_Bar._ Do you think I am made of smoke?

_Pen._ Now he talks of smoke,
What if my Master should call for fire?

_Bar._ Will ye Martyr me?

_Isab._ He must needs have it.

_Bar._ Will ye make me Bacon?

_Isab._ We'll do the best we can, are all things ready?

_Pen._ All, all, I have 'em all.

[_Isab._] Go let 'em in then,
Not a word now on your life.

_Bar._ I hang like a Meteor.

_Enter_ Lopez _and_ Rhodope.

_Lop._ You are welcome Lady.

_Rho._ You are too too courteous,
But I shall make amends, fair _Isabella_.

_Isab._ Welcome my worthy friend, most kindly welcome.

_Rho._ I hear on't, and I'll fit him for his foolery.

_Lop._ Some Sweet meats wife: some Sweet meats presently.

_Bart._ Oh my sowre sauce.

_Lop._ Away quick _Isabella_. [_Exit_ Isab.
Did you hear him?

_Rho._ Yes, yes, perfectly, proceed, Sir.

_Lop._ Speak loud enough: Dare ye at length but pity me?

_Rho._ 'Faith Sir, you have us'd so many reasons to me,
And those so powerfully--

_Lop._ Keep this kiss for me.

_Bar._ And do I stand and hear this?

_Rho._ This for me, Sir,
This is some comfort now: Alas my Husband--
But why do I think of so poor a fellow,
So wretched, so debauch'd?

_Bar._ That's I, I am bound to hear it.

_Rho._ I dare not lye with him, he is so rank a Whoremaster.

_Lop._ And that's a dangerous point.

_Rho._ Upon my conscience, Sir,
He would stick a thousand base diseases on me.

_Bar._ And now must I say nothing.

_Lop._ I am sound Lady.

_Rho._ That's it that makes me love ye.

_Lop._ Let's kiss again then.

_Rho._ Do, do.

_Bar._ Do, the Devil
And the grand Pox do with ye.

_Lop._ Do ye hear him? well--

_Enter_ Penurio _and_ Isabella.

Now, what's the news with you?

_Pen._ The sound of War, Sir,
Comes still along: The Duke will charge the City,
We have lost they say.

_Lop._ What shall become of me then,
And my poor wealth?

_Bar._ Even hang'd, I hope.

_Rho._ Remove your Jewels presently,
And what you have of wealth into the Cittadel,
There all's secure.

_Lop._ I humbly thank ye Lady:
_Penurio_, get me some can climb the Chimney,
For there my Jewels are, my best, my richest,
I hid 'em, fearing such a blow.

_Pen._ Most happily:
I have two boys that use to sweep foul Chimneys,
Truly I brought 'em, Sir, to mock your worship,
For the great Fires ye keep, and the full Diet.

_Lop._ I forgive thee knave, where are they?

_Pen._ Here Sir, here:
Monsieur _Black_, will your small worship mount?

_Enter two Boys._

_1 Boy._ Madam è be com to creep up into your Chimney, and make you

[_Boy sings._

Cleane, as any Lady in de world: Ma litla, litla frera, and è,
Chanta, frere, chanta.

_Pen._ Come Monsieur, mountè, mountè, mount Monsieur Mustard-pot.

[_Boy sings._

_1 Boy._ Monsieur è have dis for votra barba, ple ta vou Monsieur.

_Pen._ Mountà Monsieur, mountà dere be some fine tings.

_1 Boy._ [M]e will creep like de Ferret Monsieur.

_Pen._ Dere in the Chimney. [_The Boy above singing._

_1 Boy._ He be de sheilde due shauson, Madam.

[_Boy goes in behind the Arras._

_Pen._ There's a Bird's nest, I wou'd have ye climb it Monsieur,
Up my fine singing Monsieur: that's a fine Monsieur.

_Lop._ Watch him, he do not steal.

_Pen._ I warrant ye Sir.

_Lop._ These Boys are knavish.

[_Boy within, Madam here be de Rat, de Rat, Madam._

_Pen._ I'll look to him ti[th]ly.

_Lop._ Lord, what comes here,
A walking apparition? [_Boy sings upon_ Bartello's _Shoulder_.

_Isab._ Saint _Christopher_.

_Rho._ Mercy o' me, what is it?
How like my Husband it looks?

_Bar._ Get ye down devil,
I'll break your neck else: was ever man thus chimnied?

_Lop._ Go pay the boys well; see them satisfied.

_Pen._ Come Monsieur Devils, come my Black-berries
I'll butter ye o' both sides.

[_Boy Exit_ [_saying Adieu Madam, adieu Madam_].

_Isab._ Nay, ev'n look Sir, are you cooled now, Captain?

_Bar._ I am cuckolled, and fool'd to boot too:
Fool'd fearfully, fool'd shamefully.

_Lop._ You are welcome Sir,
I am glad I have any thing within these doors Sir
To make ye merry: you love my wife, I thank ye.
You have shew'd your love.

_Bar._ Wife, am I this? this odd matter,
This monstrous thing?

_Rho._ You ought, but yet you are not:
I have been bold with you Sir, but yet not basely,
As I have faith I have not.

_Lop._ Sir, believe it,
'Twas all meant but to make you feel your trespass;
We knew your hour, and all this fashion'd for it.

_Bar._ Were you o'th' plot too?

_Isab._ Yes by my troth, sweet Captain.

_Bar._ You will forgive me wife?

_Rho._ You will deserve it?

_Bar._ Put that to th' venture.

_Rho._ Thus am I friends again then,
And as you ne'er had gone astray, thus kiss ye.

_Bar._ And I'll kiss you, and you too ask forgiveness,
Kiss my wife _Lopez_, 'tis but in jest remember;
And now all friends together to my Castle,
Where we'll all dine, and there discourse these stories,
And let him be Chimney-swept in's lust that glories. [_Ex._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter_ Silvio _and_ Belvidere _severally_.

_Sil._ Hail reverend Dame, heaven wait upon thy studies.

_Bel._ You are all well met Son: what is the Battel ended?

_Sil._ Mother, 'tis done.

_Bel._ How has thy honour prosper'd?

_Sil._ The Dutchess has the day, _Syenna_'s prisoner:
Arm'd with thy powerful Art, this arm dismounted him,
Receiv'd him then on foot, and in fair valour.
Forc'd him mine own, this Jewel I took from him,
It hung upon his cask, the Victors triumph:
And to the Dutchess now a Prisoner
I have render'd him: Come off again unknown, Mother.

_Bel._ 'Tis well done, let me see the Jewel Son;
'Tis a rich one, curious set, fit for a Princess Burgonet:
This rich Token late was sent, by the Dutchess with intent,
The Marriage next day to begin: Dost thou know what's hid within?
Wipe thine eyes, and then come near, see the beauteous _Belvidere_:
Now behold it.

_Sil._ Oh my Saint.

_Bel._ Wear it nobly, do not faint.

_Sil._ How blest am I in this rich spoil, this Picture,
For ever will I keep it here, here Mother,
For ever honor it: how oft, how chastly
Have I embrac'd the life of this, and kist it!

_Bel._ The day draws on that thou must home return,
And make thy answer to the Dutchess question
I know it troubles thee, for if thou fail in't.

_Sil._ Oh, I must dye.

_Bel._ Fear not, fear not, I'll be nigh,
Cast thy trouble on my back, Art nor cunning shall not lack,
To preserve thee, still to keep, what thy envious foemen seek;
Go boldly home, and let thy mind, no distrustful crosses find:
All shall happen for the best; souls walk through sorrows that
are blest.

_Sil._ Then I go confident.

_Bel._ But first my Son, a thankful service must be done,
The good old woman for her pain, when every thing stands fair again,
Must ask a poor Boon, and that granting, there's nothing to thy
journey wanting.

_Sil._ Except the trial of my soul to mischief,
And as I am a Knight, and love mine honor,
I grant it whatsoever.

_Bel._ Thy pure soul
Shall never sink for me, nor howl.

_Sil._ Then any thing.

_Bel._ When I shall ask, remember.

_Sil._ If I forget, heavens goodness forget me.

_Bel._ On thy journey then awhile, to the next cross way and stile,
I'll conduct thee, keep thee true, to thy Mistriss and thy vow,
And let all their envies fall, I'll be with thee, and quench all.

[_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter Dutchess_, Syenna, _and Lords_.

_Sy._ Lady, the stubborn war's more mild than you are,
That allows Ransom, and the Prisoner taken--

_Dutch._ We must not be too hasty: Remember Sir,
The wrong and violence you have offer'd us,
Burnt up our frontier Towns, made prey before ye
Both of our Beasts, and Corn; slain our dear subjects,
Open'd the fountain eyes of thousand widows,
That daily fling their curses on your fury;
What ordinary satisfaction can salve this?
What hasty thought-on Ransome give a remedy?
You must excuse us yet, we'll take more counsel:
In the mean time, not as a prisoner,
But as a noble Prince we entertain ye.

_Sy._ I am at your mercy Lady, 'tis my fortune,
My stubborn fate; the day is yours, you have me,
The valour of one single man has cross'd me,
Crost me and all my hope; for when the Battel's
Were at the hottest game of all their furies,
And conquest ready then to crown me Victor,
One single man broke in, one sword, one vertue,
And by his great example thousands followed,
Oh how I shame to think on't, how it shakes me!
Nor could our strongest head then stop his fury,
But like a tempest [']bore the field before him,
Till he arriv'd at me, with me he buck'lled,
A while I held him play; at length his violence
Beat me from my saddle, then on foot pursu'd me,
There triumph'd once again, then took me prisoner:
When I was gone, a fear possest my people.

_Dutch._ One single arm, in a just cause, heaven prospers.
Is not this stranger Knight as yet discover'd,
That we may give his virtue a due honor?

_Lord._ Not yet that we hear Madam, but to that purpose,
Two daies ago we publish'd Proclamations.

_Enter_ Soto _with a [T]rumpet, and_ Silvio.

_Soto._ Oh dainty Dutchess, here I bring that Knight
Before thy fragrant face, that warlike wight,
He that _Syenna's_ Duke, and all his Louts
Beat (as the Proverb seemly saies) to clouts:
He that unhors'd the man o' fame to boot,
And bootless taught his Grace to walk afoot:
He that your writings (pack'd to every pillar)
Promis'd promotion to, and store of siller,
That very man I set before thy Grace,
And once again pronounce, this man it was.

_Dutch._ A pretty foolish Squire, what must the Knight be?

_Sy._ Some Jugler or some Mad man.

_Sil._ I was not so,
When thy faint Troops in flocks I beat before me,
When, through the thickest of thy warlike horse,
I shot my self even to thy Standard Duke,
And there found thee, there singled thee, there shew'[d t]hee
The temper of my Sword. 'Tis true, thou stoodst me,
And like a noble soldier bidst me welcome;
And this I'll say, More honor in that arme,
I found and tryed, than all thy Army carried:
What follows thy imprisonment can tell thee.

_Sy._ His fair relation carries truth and virtue,
And by those Arms I see, (for such were his,
So old, so rusty) this may be he that forc'd me.

_Sil._ Do you know this Jewel, from your Cask I rent it,
Even as I clos'd, and forced ye from your saddle;
Do you now remember me?

_Sy._ This is the valour
Madam, for certain he, it must be he,
That day I wore this Jewel, you remember it.

_Dutch._ Yes, very well; not long before I sent it.

_Sy._ That day I lost this Jewel, in fight I lost it,
I felt his strokes, and felt him take it from me,
I wore it in my Cask; take it again Sir,
You won it nobly, 'tis the prize of honor.

_Soto._ My Father and my self are made for ever.

_Dutch._ Kneel down brave Sir thus my Knight first I raise ye,
Gird on a Sword; next General of my Army, [_Discovers himself._
Give him a staff; last, one in Counsel near me.
Now, make us happy with your sight: how? _Silvio_?
Have I on thee bestow'd this love, this honor?
The Treasons thou hast wrought set off with favours?
Unarm him presently: Oh thou foul Traitor,
Traitor to me, mine honor, and my Countrey,
Thou kindler of these Wars.

_Sil._ Mistake not Madam.

_Dutch._ Away with him to prison,
See him safe kept, the Law shall shortly sirrah,
Find fitter Titles for ye, than I gave ye.

_Soto._ This is the youth that kill'd me, I'll be quit with him,
What a blind rogue was I, I could never know him!
And't please your Grace, I claim the benefit
Of the Proclamation that proclaim'd him Traitor,
I brought him in.

_Dutch._ Thou shalt have thy reward for't.

_Soto._ Let him he hang'd, or drown'd then.

_Dutch._ Away with him.

_Sil._ Madam, I crave your promise first; you are tyed to it,
You have past your Princely word.

_Dutch._ Prove it, and take it.

_Sil._ This is the day appointed,
Appointed by your Grace for my appearance,
To answer to the Question.

_Dutch._ I remember it.

_Sil._ I claim it then.

_Dutch._ If you perform it not,
The penalty you claim too.

_Sil._ I not repent it;
If I absolve the words?

_Dutch._ Your life is free then,
You have drawn a speedy course above my wishes,
To my revenge, be sure ye hit it right,
Or I'll be sure you shall not scape the danger.

_Sil._ My rest is up now Madam.

_Dutch._ Then play it cunningly.

_Sil._ Now, where's the Hag? where now are all her promises,
She would be with me, strengthen me, inform me?
My death will now be double death, ridiculous:
She was wont still to be near, to feel my miseries,
And with her Art, I see her no where now;
What have I undertaken? now she fails me,
No comfort now I find, how my soul staggers!
Till this hour never fear nor doubt possest me,
She cannot come, she will not come, she has fool'd me;
Sure, she is the Devil, has drawn me on to ruine,
And now to death bequeaths me in my danger.

_Sy._ He stands distracted, and his colour changes.

_Dutch._ I have given him that will make his blood forsake him;
Shortly his life.

_Sy._ His hands and contemplation
Have motion still, the rest is earth already.

_Duc._ Come, will ye speak or pray? your time grows out Sir;
How every where he looks! he's at last cast.

_Enter_ Belvidere, _and secretly gives him a paper, and_ Exit.

_Sy._ His colour comes again fresh.

_Duc._ 'Tis a flash, Sir,
Before the flame burns out; can ye yet answer?

_Sil._ Yes Madam, now I can.

_Duc._ I fear you'll fail in't.

_Sil._ And do not think my silence a presage,
Or _Omen_ to my end, you shall not find it;
I am bred a Soldier not an Orator:
Madam, peruse this scrowl, let that speak for me,
And as you are Royal, wrong not the construction.

_Dutch._ By heaven you shall have fair play.

_Sil._ I shall look for't.

Question.

_Tell me what is that only thing,_
_For which all women long;_
_Yet having what they most desire,_
_To have it do's them wrong._

Answer.

_Tis not to be chaste, nor fair,_
_Such gifts malice may impair;_
_Richly trimm'd to walk or ride,_
_Or to wanton unespy'd;_
_To preserve an honest name,_
_And so to give it up to fame;_
_These are toys. In good or ill_
_They desire to have their Will;_
_Yet when they have it, they abuse it,_
_For they know not how to use it._

_Dutch._ You have answer'd right, and gain'd your life,
I give it.

_Sil._ Oh happy Hag! But my most gracious Madam,
Your promise ty'd a nobler favour to me.

_Duch._ 'Tis true, my Daughter too.

_Sil._ I hope you will keep it.

_Dutch._ 'Tis not in my power now, she is long since wander'd,
Stol'n from Court, and me; and what I have not
I cannot give: no man can tell me of her,
Nor no search find her out: and if not _Silvio_,
Which strongly I believe--

_Sil._ Mock me not Lady,
For as I am a servant to her virtue,
Since my first hour of exile, I ne'er saw her.

_Lord._ That she is gone, 'tis too too true, and lamentable,
Our last hope was in you.

_Sil._ What do I hear then,
And wherefore have I life bestow'd and honor?
To what end do I walk? for men to wonder at,
And fight, and fool? pray ye take your honors from me,
(My sorrows are not fit companions for 'em)
And when ye please my life: Art thou gone Mistriss,
And wander'st heaven knows where? this vow I make thee,
That till I find thee out, and see those fair eyes;
Those eyes that shed their lights, and life into me,
Never to know a friend, to seek a kindred,
To rest where pleasure dwels, and painted glory,
But through the world; the wide world, thus to wander,
The wretched world alone, no comfort with me,
But the meer meditations of thy goodness:
Honor and greatness, thus adieu.

_Enter_ Belvidere.

_Bel._ Stay _Silvio_,
And Lady sit again, I come for Justice.

_Sil._ What would she now?

_Bel._ To claim thy promise _Silvio_,
The boon thou swor'st to give me.

_Sy._ What may this be,
A Woman or a Devil?

_Duch._ 'Tis a Witch sure,
And by her means he came to untwist this Riddle.

_Sil._ That I am bound to her for my life, mine honor;
And many other thousand ways for comfort
I here confess: confess a promise too,
That what she would aske me to requite these favours,
Within the endeavour of my life to grant,
I would; and here I stand my words full master.

_Bel._ I wish no more: great Lady, witness with me,
The boon I crave for all my service to thee,
Is now to be thy wife, to grant me marriage.

_Sil._ How? for to marry thee? ask again woman,
Thou wilful woman, ask again.

_Bel._ No more Sir.

_Sil._ Ask Land, and Life.

_Bel._ I aske thee for a Husband.

_Soto._ Marry her, and beat her into Gun-powder,
She would make rare Crackers.

_Sil._ Ask a better fortune,
Thou art too old to marry: I a Soldier,
And always married to my sword.

_Bel._ Thy word Fool,
Break that, and I'll break all thy fortunes yet.

_Dutch._ He shall not,
I am witness to his faith: and I'll compel it.

_Sy._ 'Tis fit ye hold your word, Sir.

_Sil._ Oh most wretched.

_Dutch._ This was a fortune now beyond my wishes,
For now my Daughter's free, if e'er I find her.

_Sy._ But not from me.

_Dutch._ You are sharer in this happiness,
My self will wait upon this marriage,
And do the old woman all the honor possible.

_Sy._ I'll lead the Knight, and what there wants in dalliance,
We'll take it out in drink.

_Sil._ Oh wretched _Silvio_. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Lopez _and_ Isabella.

_Lop._ Hast thou sent for him?

_Isab._ Yes.

_Lop._ A young man, saist thou?

_Isab._ Yes, very young, and very amorous.

_Lop._ And handsome?

_Isab._ As the Town affords.

_Lop._ And dar'st thou
Be so far good, and Mistriss of thine honor,
To slight these?

_Isab._ For my Husband's sake to curse 'em,
And since you have made me Mistriss of my fortune,
Never to point at any joy, but Husband,
I could have cozen'd ye, but so much I love ye,
And now so much I weigh the estimation
Of an unspotted wife--

_Lop._ I dare believe thee,
And never more shall doubt torment my spirit.

_Enter_ Penurio.

_Isab._ How now _Penurio_?

_Pen._ The thing is comming, Mistriss.

_Lop._ I'll take my standing.

_Pen._ Do, and I'll take mine. [_Exit_ Lopez.

_Isab._ Where didst thou leave him?

_Pen._ I left him in a Cellar,
Where he has paid me titely, paid me home Mistriss,
We had an hundred and fifty healths to you, sweet Mistriss,
And threescore and ten damnations to my Master;
Mistriss, shall I speak a foolish word to ye?

_Isab._ What's that _Penurio_?
The fellow's drunk.

_Pen._ I would fain know your body.

_Isab._ How's that? how's that prethee?

_Pen._ I would know it carnally,
I would conglutinate.

_Isab._ The reason sirrah?

_Pen._ Lobster, sweet Mistriss, Lobster.

_Isab._ Thy Master hears.

_Pen._ Lobster, sweet Master, Lobster.

_Isab._ Thou art the most pretious rogue.

_Enter_ Claudio.

_Pen._ Most pretious Lobster.

_Isab._ Do you see who's here? go sleep ye drunken rascal.

_Pen._ Remember you refuse me arm'd in Lobster. [_Exit._

_Isab._ Oh my lost _Rugio_, welcome, welcome, welcome,
A thousand welcomes here I'll seal.

_Cla._ Pray ye stay, Lady,
Do you love me ever at this rate? or is the fit now,
By reason of some wrong done by your Husband,
More fervent on ye?

_Isab._ Can I chuse but love thee?
Thou art my Martyr, thou hast suffered for me,
My sweet, sweet _Rugio_.

_Cla._ Do you do this seriously?
'Tis true, I would be entertained thus.

_Isab._ These are nothing,
No kisses, no embraces, no endearments,
To those--

_Cla._ Do what you will.

_Isab._ Those that shall follow,
Those I will crown our love withal; why sigh ye?
Why look ye sad my dear one?

_Cla._ Nay, faith nothing,
But methinks so sweet a beauty, as yours shews to me,
And such an innocence as you may make it,
Should hold a longer Siege.

_Isab._ Ha, you speak truth, Sir.

_Cla._ I would not have it so.

_Isab._ And now methinks,
Now I consider truly what becomes me,
I have been cozen'd, fearfully abus'd,
My reason blinded.

_Cla._ Nay, I did but jest with ye.

_Isab._ I'll take ye at your word, and thank ye for't Sir;
And now I see no sweetness in that person,
Nothing to stir me to abuse a Husband,
To ruine my fair fame.

_Cla._ Good _Isabella_.

_Isab._ No handsome man, nor any thing to doat on,
No face, no tongue to catch me, poor at all points,
And I an ass.

_Cla._ Why do ye wrong me Lady?
If I were thus, and had no youth upon me,
My service of so mean a way to win ye,
(Which you your self are conscious must deserve ye,
If you had thrice the beauty you possess, must reach ye)
If in my tongue your fame lay wrack'd, and ruin'd
With every cup I drink: if in opinion
I were a lost, defam'd man: but this is common
Where we love most, where most we stake our fortunes,
There least and basest we are rewarded: fare ye well,
Know now I hate you too as much, contemn ye,
And weigh my credit at as high a value.

_Isab._ May be I did but jest.

_Cla._ Ye are a woman,
And now I see your wants, and mine own follies,
And task my self with indiscretion,
For doating on a face so poor.

_Isab._ Say ye so Sir,
(I must not lose my end) I did but jest with you,
Only fool'd thus to try your faith: my _Rugio_,
Do you think I could forget?

_Cla._ Nay, 'tis no matter.

_Isab._ Is't possible I should forsake a constancy,
So strong, so good, so sweet?

_Cla._ A subtle woman.

_Isab._ You shall forgive me, 'twas a trick to try ye,
And were I sure [y]e lov'd me--

_Cla._ Do you doubt now?

_Isab._ I do not doubt, but he that would profess this,
And bear that full affection you make shew of,
Should do--

_Cla._ What should I do?

_Isab._ I cannot shew ye.

_Cla._ I'll try thee damnedst Devil: hark ye Lady,
No man shall dare do more, no service top me,
I'll marry ye.

_Isab._ How Sir?

_Cla._ Your Husband's sentenc'd,
And he shall dye.

_Isab._ Dye?

_Cla._ Dye for ever to ye,
The danger is mine own.

_Isab._ Dye did ye tell me?

_Cla._ He shall dye, I have cast the way.

_Isab._ Oh foul man,
Malicious bloody man.

_Enter_ Lopez.

_Lop._ When shall he dye, Sir,
By whom, and how?

_Cla._ Hast thou betraid me, woman?

_Isab._ Base man, thou would'st [h]ave ruin'd me, my name too
And like a Toad, poison'd my virtuous memory:
Further than all this, dost thou see this friend here,
This only friend, shame take thy Lust and thee,
And shake thy soul, his life, the life I love thus,
My life in him, my only life thou aim'st at.

_Cla._ Am I catcht thus?

_Lop._ The Law shall catch ye better.

_Isab._ You make a trade of betraying Womens honors,
And think it noble in ye to be lustful,
Report of me hereafter--

_Cla._ Fool'd thus finely?

_Lop._ I must intreat ye walk, Sir, to the Justice,
Where if he'll bid ye kill me--

_Cla._ Pray stay awhile, Sir,
I must use a Players shift, do you know me now Lady?

_Lop._ Your brother _Claudio_ sure.

_Isab._ Oh me, 'tis he Sir,
Oh my best brother.

_Cla._ My best sister now too,
I have tryed ye, found ye so, and now I love ye,
Love ye so truly nobly.

_Lop._ Sir, I thank ye,
You have made me a most happy man.

_Cla._ Thank her Sir,
And from this hour preserve that happiness,
Be no more fool'd with jealousie.

_Lop._ I have lost it,
And take me now new born again, new natur'd.

_Isab._ I do, and to that promise tye this faith,
Never to have a false thought tempt my virtue.

_Lop._ Enough, enough, I must desire your presence,
My Cosin _Rhodope_ has sent in all haste for us,
I am sure you will be welcome.

_Cla._ I'll wait on ye.

_Lop._ What the Project is--

_Isab._ We shall know when we are there, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter Dutchess_, Syenna, _Lords_, Sylvio.

_Dutch._ Joy to you _Silvio_, and your young fair Bride,
You have stolen a day upon us; you cannot wooe, Sir.

_Sil._ The joyes of Hell hang over me, oh mischief,
To what a fortune has the Devil driven me!
Am I reserv'd for this?

_Sy._ Beshrew me, Sir,
But you have gotten you a right fair bedfellow,
Let you alone to chuse.

_Sil._ I beseech your Grace,
'Tis misery enough to have met the Devil,
Not mens reproaches too.

_Sy._ How old is she?

_Dutch._ A very Girl, her eye delivers it.

_Sy._ Her teeth are scarce come yet.

_Lord._ What goodly children
Will they two have now! she is rarely made to breed on,
What a sweet timber'd body!

_Dutch._ Knotty i' th' back,
But will hold out the stronger; What a nose!

_Sy._ I marry, such a nose, so rarely mounted,
Upon my conscience, 'twas the part he doted on.

_Dutch._ And that fine little eye to it, like an Elephant's.

_Lord._ Yes, if her feet were round, and her ears sachels.

_Sy._ For any thing we know.

_Sil._ Have ye no mercy?
No pity in your bloods to use a wretch thus?
You Princes in whose hearts the best compassions,
Nearest to those in Heaven, should find fit places,
Why do you mock at misery? fling scorns and baseness
Upon his broken back, that sinks with sorrows?
Heaven may reward you too, and an hour come,
When all [your] great designes shall shew ridiculous,
And your hearts pinch'd like mine. [_Musick in divers places._

_Dutch._ Fie Sir, so angry
Upon your wedding day? go smug your self,
The Maid will come anon: what Musick's this?

_Sy._ I warrant you some noble preparation.

_Dutch._ Let's take our places then.

_Sil._ More of these Devils dumps?
Must I be ever haunted with these witchcrafts?

_Enter a Masquerado of several shapes, and Dances, after which,_
_enter_ Belvidere _and disperses them; before the Maskers enter_
_two Presenters, among which are_ Bartello, Lopez, Claudio,
Isabella, Rhodope, Soto, Penurio, Jaquenet.

_1 Pre._ Room, room for merry spirits, room,
Hither on command we come,
From the good old Beldam sent,
Cares and sorrows to prevent.

_2._ Look up _Silvio_, smile, and sing,
After winter comes a Spring.

_1._ Fear not faint fool what may follow,
Eyes that now are sunk and hollow,
By her Art may quick return
To their flames again, and burn.

_2._ Art commands all youth, and blood,
Strength and beauty it makes good.

_1._ Fear not then, despair not, sing
Round about as we do spring:
Cares and sorrows cast away,
This is the old wives Holy-day. [_Dance here, then enter_ Belvidere.

_Dutch._ Who is this?

_Sy._ The shape of _Belvidere_.

_Bel._ Now _Silvio_,
How dost thou like me now?

_Sil._ Thus I kneel to thee.

_Bel._ Stand up, and come no nearer, mark me well too,
For if thou troublest me, I vanish instantly:
Now chuse wisely, or chuse never,
One thou must enjoy for ever.
Dost thou love me thus?

_Sil._ Most dearly.