Chapter III: Part 3

_Flo._ Fy, how dull!

2. SONG.

_How long shall I pine for love?_
_how long shall I sue in vain?_
_How long like the Turtle-Dove_
_shall I heav[i]ly thus complain?_
_Shall the sayls of my love stand still?_
_Shall the grists of my hopes be unground?_
_Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,_
_Let the Mill, let the Mill go round._

_Otr._ Prethee be calm a little,
Thou mak'st me wonder, thou that wert so strange,
And read such pious rules to my behavior
But yesternight, thou that wert made of modesty,
Shouldst in a few short minutes turn thus desperate.

_Flo._ You are too cold.

_Otr._ I do confess I freeze now,
I am another thing all over me:
It is my part to wooe, not to be courted:
Unfold this Riddle, 'tis to me a wonder,
That now [o']th' instant ere I can expect,
Ere I can turn my thoughts, and think upon
A separation of your honest carriage
From the desires of youth, thus wantonly,
Thus beyond expectation.

_Flo._ I will tell ye,
And tell ye seriously, why I appear thus,
To hold ye no more ignorant and blinded,
I have no modestie, I am truly wanton:
I am that you look for Sir; now come up roundly:
If my strict face and counterfeited sta[ied]ness
Could have won on ye, I had caught ye that way,
And you should never have come to have known who hurt ye.
Prethee (sweet Count) be more familiar with me.
How ever we are open in our natures,
And apt to more desires than you dare meet with,
Yet we affect to lay the gloss of good on't:
I saw you touch[t] not at the bait of chastity,
And that it grew distasteful to your palate
To appear so holy, therefore I take my true shape:
Is your bed ready Sir? you shall quickly find me.

3. SONG

_On the bed lie throw thee, throw thee down;_
_Down being laid, shall we be afraid_
_To try the rights that belong to love?_
_No, no, there I'll woe thee with a Crown,_
_Crown our desires, kindle the fires,_
_When love requires we should wanton prove,_
_We'll kiss, we'll sport, we'll laugh, we'll play,_
_If thou com'st short, for thee I'll stay,_
_If thou unskilful art [the] ground,_
_I'll kindly teach, we'll have the Mill go round._

_Otr._ Are ye no Maid.

_Flo._ Alas (my Lord) no certain:
I am sorry you are so innocent to think so,
Is this an age for silly Maids to thrive in?
It is so long too since I lost it Sir,
That I have no belief I ever was one:
What should you do with Maiden-heads? you hate 'em,
They are peevish, pett[ish] things, that hold no game up,
No pleasure neither, they are sport for Surgeons:
I'll warrant you I'll fit you beyond Maiden-head:
A fair and easie way men travel right in,
And with delight, discourse, and twenty pleasures,
They enjoy their journey; mad men creep through hedges.

_Otr._ I am metamorphos'd: why do you appear,
I conjure ye, beyond belief thus wanton?

_Flo._ Because I would give ye
Pleasure beyond belief.

4. SONG.

_Think me still in my Fathers Mill,_
_where I have oft been found-a_
_Thrown on my back, on a well-fill'd sack,_
_while the Mill has still gone round-a:_
_Prethe sirrah try thy skill,_
_and again let the Mill go round-a._

_Otr._ Then you have traded?

_Flo._ Traded? how should I know else how to live Sir,
And how to satisfie such Lords as you are,
Our best guests, and our richest?

_Otr._ How I shake now!
You take no base men?

_Flo._ Any that will offer,
All manner of men, and all Religions Sir,
We touch at in our time: all States and Ages,
We exempt none.

5. SONG.

_The young one, the old one, the fearful, the bold one,_
_the lame one, though nere so unsound,_
_The Jew or the Turk, have leave for to work,_
_the whilst that the Mill goes round._

_Otr._ You are a common thing then.

_Flo._ No matter since you have your private pleasure,
And have it by an Artist excellent,
Whether I am thus, or thus, your men can tell ye.

_Otr._ My Men? Defend me, how I freeze together,
And am on Ice! do I bite at such an Orange
After my men? I am preferr'd.

_Flo._ Why stay ye?
Why do we talk my Lord, and lose our time?
Pleasure was made for lips, and sweet embraces,
Let Lawyers use their tongues: pardon [me] Modesty,
This desperate way must help; or I am miserable.

_Otr._ She turns, and wipes her face, she weeps for certain,
Some new way now, she cannot be thus beastly,
She is too excellent fair to be thus impudent:
She knows the elements of common looseness,
The art of lewdness: that, that, that, how now, Sir?

_Enter a servant._

_Ser._ The King (and't please your Lordship) is alighted
Close at the gate.

_Otr._ The King?

_Ser._ And calls for ye Sir.
Means to break-fast here too.

_Flo._ Then I am happy.

_Otr._ Stol'n so suddenly? go lock her up.
Lock her up where the Courtiers may not see her,
Lock her up closely, sirrah, in my closet.

_Ser._ I will (my Lord) what does she yield yet? [_Exit._

_Otr._ Peace:
She is either a damn'd divel, or an Angel,
No noise (upon your life Dame) but all silence.

_Enter King, Lords_, Vertigo, Lisauro, Terso.

_Otr._ Your Majesty heaps too much honor on me,
With such delight to view each several corner
Of a rude pile: there's no proportion in't, Sir.

_Phil._ Me-thinks 'tis handsome, and the rooms along
Are neat, and well contriv'd: the Gallery
Stands pleasantly and sweet: what rooms are these?

_Otr._ They are sluttish ones.

_Phil._ Nay, I must see.

_Otr._ Pray ye do Sir,
They are lodging-chambers over a homely garden.

_Phil._ Fit still, and handsome; very well: and those?

_Otr._ Those lead to the other side o'th' house, and't like ye.

_Phil._ Let me see those.

_Otr._ Ye may, the dores are open.
What would this view mean? I am half suspitious.

_Phil._ This little Room?

_Otr._ 'Tis mean: a place for trash Sir,
For rubbish of the house.

_Phil._ I would see this too:
I will see all.

_Otr._ I beseech your Majesty,
The savor of it, and the course appearance.

_Phil._ 'Tis not so bad, you would not offend your house with it,
Come, let me see.

_Otr._ Faith Sir.

_Phil._ I'faith I will see.

_Otr._ My Groom has the key Sir, and 'tis ten to one--

_Phil._ But I will see it: force the lock (my Lords)
There be smiths enough to mend it: I perceive
You keep some rare things here, you would not show Sir.

Florimel _discovered_.

_Ter._ Here's a fair maid indeed.

_Phil._ By my faith is she;
A hansome girl: come forward, do not fear wench.
I marry, here's a treasure worth concealing:
Call in the Miller.

_Otr._ Then I am discover'd.
I confess all before the Miller comes Sir,
'Twas but intention, from all act I am clear yet.

_Enter_ Franio.

_Phil._ Is this your daughter?

_Fra._ Yes, and't please your Highness.
This is the shape of her, for her substance Sir,
Whether she be now honorable or dishonorable:
Whether she be a white-rose, or a canker is the question:
I thank my Lord, he made bold with my Philly,
If she be for your pace, you had best preserve her Sir,
She is tender mouth'd, let her be broken handsomly.

_Phil._ Maid, were you stoln?

_Flo._ I went not willingly,
And't please your Grace, I was never bred so boldly.

_Phil._ How has he us'd ye?

_Flo._ Yet Sir, very nobly.

_Phil._ Be sure ye tell truth, and be sure (my Lord)
You have not wrong'd her: if ye have, I tell ye
You have lost me, and your self too: speak again (wench)

_Flo._ He has not wrong'd me, Sir; I am yet a maid:
By all that's white and innocent, I am Sir,
Only I suffer'd under strong temptations
The heat of youth; but heaven deliver'd me.
My Lord, I am no whore, for all I faigned it,
And faign'd it cunningly, and made ye loath me:
'Twas time to out-do you: I had been rob'd else,
I had been miserable, but I forgive ye.

_Phil._ What recompence for this?

_Otr._ A great one Sir,
First a repentance, and a hearty one.
Forgive me sweet.

_Flo._ I do my Lord.

_Otr._ I thank ye;
The next take this, and these: all I have _Florimel_.

_Flo._ No good my Lord, these often corrupt Maidens:
I dare not touch at these; they are lime for Virgins;
But if you'll give me.

_Otr._ Any thing in my power.
Or in my purchase.

_Flo._ Take heed (noble Sir)
You'll make me a bold asker.

_Otr._ Ask me freely.

_Flo._ Ask you? I do ask you, and I deserve ye,
I have kept ye from a crying sin would damn ye
To Men and Time: I have preserv'd your credit,
That would have died to all posterity:
Curses of maids shall never now afflict ye,
Nor Parents bitter tears make your name barren:
If he deserves well that redeems his Countrey,
And as a Patriot be remembred nobly,
Nay, set the highest: may not I be worthy
To be your friend, that have preserv'd your honor?

_Otr._ You are, and thus I take ye: thus I seal ye
Mine own, and only mine.

_Phil. Count_, she deserves ye,
And let it be my happiness to give ye,
I have given a virtuous maid, now I dare say it,
'Tis more then blood; I'll pay her portion Sir,
And't shall be worthy you.

_Fra._ I'll sell my Mill,
I'll pay some too: I'll pay the Fidlers.
And we'll have all i'th'Country at this wedding,
Pray let me give her too, here my Lord take her,
Take her with all my heart, and kiss her freely,
Would I could give you all this hand has stol'n too,
In portion with her, 'twould make her a little whiter.
The wind blows fair now, get me a young Miller.

_Ver._ She must have new clothes.

_Tir._ Yes.

_Vir._ Yes marry must she.
If't please ye (Madam) let me see the state of your body.
I'll fit you instantly.

_Phil._ Art not thou gone yet?

_Ver._ And't please your Grace, a gown, a handsome gown now,
An orient gown.

_Phil._ Nay, take thy pleasure of her.

_Ver._ Of cloth of Tissew I can fit ye (Madam)
My Lords, stand out o'th' light, a curious body,
The neatest body in _Spain_ this day: with embroidered flow'rs,
A clinquant Petticoat of some rich stuffe,
To catch the eye: I have a thousand fashions.
O sleeve, O sleeve: I'll study all night (Madam)
To magnifie your sleeve.

_Otr._ Do, superstitious Tailor,
When ye have more time.

_Flo._ Make me no more then woman,
And I am thine.

_Otr._ Sir, haply my Wardrobe with your help
May fit her instantly: will you try her?

_Ver._ If I fit her not, your Wardrobe cannot.
But if the fashion be not there, you marre her.

_Enter_ Antonio, _Constable, Officers_.

_Ant._ Is my offence so great, ere I be convict,
To be torn with Rascals? If it be Law,
Let 'em be wild horses rather than these.

_Phil._ What's that?

_Con._ This is a man suspected of murther, if it please your Grace.

_Phil._ It pleases me not (friend). But who suspects him?

_Const._ We that are your Highness extraordinary officers,
We that have taken our oaths to maintain you in peace.

_Phil._ 'Twill be a great charge to you.

_Const._ 'Tis a great charge indeed; but then we call our
neighbors to help us. This Gentleman and another were
fallen out (yet that's more then I am able to say, for I heard
no words between 'em, but what their weapons spoke, Clash,
and Clatter) which we seeing, came with our Bills of government,
and first knock'd down their weapons, and then the men.

_Phil._ And this you did to keep the peace?

_Const._ Yes, and't like your Grace, we knock'd 'em down
to keep the peace: this we laid hold on, the other we set in
the stocks. That I could do by mine own power, without
your Majesty.

_Enter_ Aminta.

_Phil._ How so, Sir?

_Const._ I am a Shoo-maker by my Trade.

_Am._ Oh my Husband!
Why stands my husband as a man endanger'd?
Restore him me, as you are merciful,
I'll answer for him.

_Ant._ What woman's this? what husband? hold thy bawling,
I know thee for no wife.

_Am._ You married me last night.

_Ant._ Thou lyest: I neither was in Church nor house
Last night, nor saw I thee: a thing that was my friend,
I scorn to name now, was with _Ismenia_,
Like a thief, and there he violated
A sacred trust. This thou mayst know (_Aminta._)

_Am._ Are not you he?

_Ant._ No; nor a friend of his:
Would I had kill'd him: I hope I have.

_Am._ That was my Husband (Royal Sir) that man,
That excellent man.

_Enter_ Bellides.

_Ant._ That villain, that thief.

_Bel._ Have I caught you Sir? well overtaken.
This is mine enemy: pardon, (my Soveraign.)

_Phil._ Good charity, to crave pardon for your enemy.

_Bel._ Mine own pardon (Sir) for my joyes rudeness:
In what place better could I meet my foe,
And both of us so well provided too?
He with some black blood-thirsty crime upon him,
That (ere the horse-leech burst) will suck him dry:
I with a second accusation,
Enough to break his neck, if need should be,
And then to have even Justice it self to right us:
How should I make my joyes a little civil,
They might not keep this noyse?

_Ant._ Here is some hope.
Should the ax be dull, the halter's preparing.

_Phil._ What's your accusation, Sir? We have heard the former.

_Enter_ Julio.

_Bel._ Mine (my Lord?) a strong one.

_Jul._ A false one, Sir.
At least malicious: an evidence
Of hatred and despight: He would accuse
My poor kinsman of that he never dream'd of,
Nor waking saw; the stealing of his daughter,
She whom, I know, he would not look upon.
Speak _Antonio_, Didst thou ever see her?

_Ant._ Yes Sir, I have seen her.

_Bel._ Ah ha, friend _Julio_.

_Jul._ He might, but how? with an unheedful eye,
An accidental view, as men see multitudes
That the next day dare not precisely say
They saw that face, or that amongst 'em all.
Didst thou so look on her?

_Bel._ Guilty, guilty:
His looks hang themselves.

_Phil._ Your patience (Gen[t]leman.)
I pray you tell me if I be in errour,
I may speak often when I should but hear:
This is some show you would present us with,
And I do interrupt it: Pray you speak,
(It seems no more) Is't any thing but a show?

_Bel._ My Lord, this Gentlewoman can show you all,
So could my daughter too: if she were here;
By this time they are both immodest enough:
Shee's fled me, and I accuse this thief for't.
Don _Martin_, his own friend's my testimony:
A practis'd night-work.

_Phil._ That _Martin_'s the other
In your custodie; he was forgotten:
Fetch him hither.

_Const._ Wee'll bring the Stocks and all else, and't please
your Grace.

_Enter_ Bustofa _and_ Ismenia.

_Am._ That man's my husband certain, instead of this:
Both would have deceiv'd, and both beguil'd.

_Bust._ Soh hoh, Miller, Miller, look out Miller: is there
n'ere a Miller amongst you here, Gentlemen?

_[T]ir._ Yes Sir, here is a Miller amongst Gentlemen, A
Gentleman Miller.

_Bust._ I should not be far off then; there went but a pair of
sheers and a bodkin between us. Will you to work Miller? Here's
a maid has a sack full of news for you: shall your stones walk?
will you grind Miller?

_Phil._ This your son, _Franio_?

_Fra._ My ungratious, my disobedient,
My unnatural, my rebel son (my Lord.)

_Bust._ Fie, your hopper runs over, Miller.

_Fra._ This villain (of my own flesh and blood) was accessary
To the stealing of my daughter.

_Bust._ Oh Mountain,
Shalt thou call a molehill a scab upon the face
Of the earth? though a man be a thief, shall a Miller call
Him so? Oh egregious!

_Jul._ Remember Sirrha, who you speak before.

_Bust._ I speak before a Miller.
A thief in grain; for he steals corn: He that steals
A wench, is a true man to him.

_Phil._ Can you prove that? you may help another cause
that was in pleading.

_Bust._ I'll prove it strongly.
He that steals corn, steals the bread of the Common-wealth;
He that steals a wench, steals but the flesh.

_Phil._ And how is the bread stealing more criminal then the flesh?

_Bust._ He that steals bread, steals that which is lawful every day:
He that steals flesh, steals nothing from the fasting day:
_Ergo_ to steal the bread is the arranter theft.

_Phil._ This is to some purpose.

_Bust._ Again, he that steals flesh steals for his own belly full:
He that steals bread, robs the guts of others:
_Ergo_, The arranter thief the bread-stealer.

Again he that steals flesh, steals once, and gives over; yes,
and often pays for it: the other steals every day, without
satisfaction. To conclude, Bread-stealing is the more capital
crime: for what he steals he puts it in at the head: he that
steals flesh (as the Dutch Author says) puts it in at the foot
(the lower member.) Will you go as you are now, Miller?

_Phil._ How has this satisfied you, Don _Bellides_?

_Bel._ Nothing (my Lord) my cause is serious.
I claim a daughter from that loving thiefe there.

_Ant._ I would I had her for you, Sir.

_Bel._ Ah ha, _Julio_.

_Jul._ How said you, _Antonio_? Wish you, you had his daughter?

_Ant._ With my soul I wish her; and my body
Shall perish, but I'll injoy my souls wish.
I would have slain my friend for his deceit,
But I do find his own deceit hath paid him.

_Jul._ Will you vex my soul forth? no other choice
But where my hate is rooted? Come hither Girl,
Whose pretty maid art thou?

_Ism._ The child of a poor man, Sir.

_Jul._ The better for it. With my Soveraigns leave,
I'll wed thee to this man, will he, nill he.

_Phil._ Pardon me, Sir, I'll be no Love enforcer:
I use no power of mine unto those ends.

_Jul._ Wilt thou have him?

_Ism._ Not unless he love me.

_Ant._ I do love thee: Farewell all other Beauties:
I settle here: you are _Ismenia_.

_Ism._ The same I was: better nor worse, (_Antonio_)

_Ant._ I shall have your consent here, I'm sure, Sir.

_Bel._ With all my heart, Sir. Nay, if you accept it,
I'll do this kindness to mine enemy,
And give her as a Father.

_Ant._ Shee'll thank you as a Daughter.
Will you not, _Ismenia_?

_Bel._ How? _Ismenia?_

_Ism._ Your daughter, Sir.

_Bel._ Is't possible? Away you feeble witted things,
You thought you had caught the old ones: you wade, you wade
In shallow fords: we can swim, we: look here,
We made the match: we are all friends good friends;
Thin, thin: why the fool knew all this, this fool.

_Bust._ Keep that to your self, Sir; What I knew I knew:
This sack is a witness. Miller, this is not for your thumming.
Here's gold lace: you may see her in her holliday clothes if
you will; I was her ward-robe-man.

_Enter_ Martin, Aminta, _Constable, Officers_.

_Ant._ You beguil'd me well, Sir.

_Mar._ Did you speak to me, Sir?

_Ant._ It might seem to you, _Martin_, your conscience
Has quick ears.

_Mar._ My sight was a little dim i'th' dark indeed,
So was my feeling cozen'd; yet I'm content:
I am the better understander now,
I know my wife wants nothing of a woman;
There y'are my _Junior_.

_Ant._ You are not hurt?

_Mar._ Not shrewdly hurt; I [h]ave good flesh to heal, you see,
Good round flesh: these cherries will be worth chopping,
Crack stones and all; I should not give much to boot
To ride in your new, and you in my old ones now.

_Ant._ You mistake the weapon: are you not hurt?

_Mar._ A little scratch: but I shall claw it off well enough.

_Enter_ Gillian.

_Gill._ I can no longer own what is not mine
With a free conscience: My Liege, your pardon.

_Phil._ For what? who knows this woman?

_Fra._ I best, my Lord,
I have been acquainted with her these forty Summers,
And as many Winters, were it Spring agen;
She's like the Gout I can get no cure for her.

_Phil._ Oh, your Wife, _Franio_?

_Fra._ 'Tis oh my wife indeed, my Lord,
A painful stitch to my side; would it were pick'd out.

_Phil._ Well Sir, your silence.

_Bust._ Will you be older and older every day than other? the
longer you live the older still? Must his Majesty command your
silence ere you'l hold your tongue?

_Phil._ Your reprehension runs into the same fault:
'Pray Sir, will you be silent.

_Bust._ I have told him of this before now, my Liege, but
Age will have his course, and his weaknesses.

_Phil._ Good Sir, your forbearance.

_Bust._ And his frailties, and his follies, as I may say, that
cannot hold his tongue ere he be bidden.

_Phil._ Why Sirha?

_Bust._ But I believe your Majesty will not be long troubled
with him: I hope that woman has something to confess will hang
them both.

_Phil._ Sirha, you'll pull your desteny upon you
If you cease not the sooner.

_Bust._ Nay, I have done, my Liege, yet it grieves me that I
should call that man Father, that should be so shameless, that
being commanded to hold his tongue.

_Phil._ To th'Porters Lodge with him.

_Bust._ I thank your Grace, I have a friend there.

_Phil._ Speak woman, if any interruption meet thee more,
It shall be punish'd sharply.

_Gill._ Good my Liege, (I dare not)
Ask you the question why that old man weeps.

_Phil._ Who? Count _Julio_? I observ'd it not.
You hear the question Sir, will you give the cause?

_Jul._ Oh my Lord, it hardly will get passage,
It is a sorrow of that greatness grown,
'Less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels.

_Gill._ I'll help you Sir, in the delivery,
And bring you forth a joy. You lost a daughter.

_Jul._ 'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.

_Gill._ Shee's found again. Know you this mantle Sir?

_Jul._ Hah?

_Gill._ Nay leave your wonder, I'll explain it to you.
This did enwrap your child, whom ever since
I have call'd mine, when Nurse _Amaranta_
In a remove from _Mora_ to _Corduba_
Was seiz'd on by a fierce and hungry Bear,
She was the Ravins prey, as heaven so would,
He with his booty fill'd, forsook the babe:
All this was in my sight: and so long I saw,
Untill the cruel creature left my sight,
At which advantage I adventur'd me
To rescue the sweet Lamb: I did it Sir,
And ever since I have kept back your joy,
And made it mine: but age hath wearied me,
And bids me back restore unto the owner
What I unjustly kept these fourteen years.

_Jul._ Oh, thou hast ta'n so many years from me,
And made me young as was her birth day to me.
Oh (good my Liege) give my joys a pardon,
I must go power a blessing on my child,
Which here would be too rude and troublesome. [_Exit._

_Phil. Franio_, you knew this before.

_Bust._ Oh, oh; _Item_ for you Miller.

_Fra._ I did (my Liege) I must confess I did,
And I confess, I ne'r would have confess'd,
Had not that womans tongue begun to me:
We poor ones love, and would have comforts, Sir,
As well as great: this is no strange fault, Sir,
There's many men keep other mens children
As though they were their own.

_Bust._ It may stretch farther yet, I beseech you (my Liege)
let this woman be a little farther examin'd; let the words of
her conscience be search'd, I would know how she came by me: I
am a lost child, if I be theirs: though I have been brought up
in a Mill, yet I had ever a mind (methought) to be a greater
man.

_Phil._ She will resolve you sure.

_Gill._ I, I Boy: thou art mine own flesh and blood,
Born of mine own body.

_Bust._ 'Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me;
There's no trust in these Millers. Woman, tell the truth: my
father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was, were he Knight,
Squire, or Captain; less he should not be.

_Gill._ Thou art mine own child, Boy.

_Bust._ And was the Miller my Father?

_Gill._ Wouldst thou make thy Mother a whore, Knave?

_Bust._ I, if she make me a Bastard. The rack must make her
confess (my Lord) I shall never come to know who I am else. I
have a worshipful mind in me sure: methinks I do scorn poor
folks.

_Enter_ Otrante, Florimel _and_ Julio, _&c._

_Phil._ Here comes the brightest glory of the day:
Love yoak'd with love, the best equality,
Without the level of estate or person.

_Jul._ You both shall be rewarded bountifully,
Wee'll be akin too; Brother and Sister
Shall be chang'd with us ever.

_Bust._ Thank you (Unkle) my sister is my cosen yet at the
last cast: Farewell sister foster. If I had known the Civil
Law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of
Husband then thou hast: but much good do thee; I'll dance at
thy wedding, kiss the Bride, and so.

_Jul._ Why, how now sirha?

_Bust._ 'Tis lawful now, she's none of my Sister.
It was a Miller and a Lord
That had a scabbard and a sword
He put it up in the Countrey word
The Miller and his daughter.
She has a face, and she can sing,
She has a Grace, and she can spring,
She has a place with another thing
Tradoodle.

_Fra._ A knavish Brother of yours (my Lord.)

_Bust._ Would I were acquainted with your Taylor (Noble
Brother.)

_Otr._ You may: there he is: mine, newly entertain'd.

_Ver._ If you have any work for me, I can fit you Sir, I fitted
the Lady.

_Bust._ My Sister (Tailor,) what fits her will hardly fit me.

_Ver._ Who fits her may fit you Sir, the Tailor can do both.

_Bust._ You have a true yard (Tailor.)

_Ver._ Ne'r a whit too long, I warrant you.

_Bust._ Then (Tailor) march with me away
I scorn these robes I must be gay,
My noble Brother he shall pay
_Tom_ Tailor. [_Exeunt._

_Phil._ Your recovered friendships are sound, Gentlemen?

_Bel._ At heart, at heart (my Lord) the worm shall not
Beyond many ages find a breach to enter at.

_Phil._ These Lovers unities I will not doubt of:
How happy have you made our progress then,
To be the witness of such fair Accords!
Come, now we'll eat with you (my Lord _Otrante_,)
'Tis a charge sav'd: you must not grudge your guest,
'Tis both my welcome, and your Wedding-Feast. [_Exeunt._

The Knight of Malta.

The Persons Represented in the Play.

Valetta, _The Grand Master of_ Malta.
Miranda, _An_ Italian _Gentleman, the Knight of_ Malta.
Astorius }
Castriot } _Two Knights of the Order_.
Montferrat, _A Knight of the Order, but a villain_.
Gomera, _A deserving Spanish Gentleman_.
Norandine, _A valiant merry_ Dane, _Commander in chief of the
Gallies of_ Malta.
Collona alias Angelo, _A Captive redeemed from the Gallies, and
beloved of_ Miranda.
Rocca, _Servant and Instrument to_ Montferrat.
_2 Bishops._
_Soldiers._
_Corporal._
_Prisoners._
_2 Marshals._
_Doctor._
_1 Of the Esguard._
_Servants._

WOMEN.

Oriana, _Sister to_ Valetta, _and Wife of_ Gomera.
Velleda, _Attendant on_ Oriana.
Zanthia alias Abdella, _a Moore Servant to_ Oriana.
Luscinda, _A beautiful Turkish Woman, contracted to_ Angelo,
_Prisoner to_ Miranda.
_Two Gentlewomen_.

The Scene Malta.

The principal Actors were

_Rich. Burbadge_,
_Nathan Field_,
_John Underwood_,
_Rich. Sharpe_,
_Henry Condel_,
_Robert Benfield_,
_John Lowin_,
_Thomas Holcome_.

ACT I THE KNIGHT OF MALTA

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Mountferrat.

_Mount._ Dares she dispise me thus? me that with spoil
And hazardous exploits, full sixteen years
Have led (as hand-maids) Fortune, Victory
Whom the _Maltezi_ call my servitors?
Tempests I have subdued, and fought them calm,
Out-lighten'd lightning in my Chivalry;
Rid (tame as patience) billows that kick'd heaven,
Whistl'd enraged _Boreas_ till his gusts
Were grown so gentle, that he seem'd to sigh,
Because he could not show the ayr my keel,
And yet I cannot conquer her bright eyes,
Which though they blaze both comfort, and invite
Neither by force, nor fraud pass through her ear
(Whose guard is only blushing Innocence)
To take the least possession of her heart,
Did I attempt her with a thred-bare name--unapt with
meritorious actions,
She might with colour dis-allow my suit:
But by the honor of this Christian cross
(In blood of Infidels so often dy'd)
Which mine own Soul and Sword hath fixed here
And neither favor, nor births priviledge
_Oriana_ shall confess, although she be
_Valettas_ Sister our Grand-master here,
The wages of scorn'd Love is baneful hate,
And if I rule not her, I'le rule her fate.
_Rocca_, my trusty Servant, welcome.

_Enter_ Rocca.

_Roc._ Sir,
I wish my news deserv'd it: hapless I
That being lov'd, and trusted fail to bring
The loving answer that you do expect.

_Mount._ Why speak'st thou from me: thy pleas'd eyes send forth
Beams brighter than the star that ushers day,
Thy smiles, restore sick expectation.

_Roc._ I bring you Sir, her smiles, not mine.

_Mount._ Her smiles?
Why they are presents for Kings eldest Sons,
Great _Solyman_ that wearies his hot eyes,
But to peruse his deck'd _Seraglio_,
When from the number of his Concubines
He chooseth one for that night in his pride
Of them, wives, wealth, is not so rich as I
In this one smile, from _Oriana_ sent.

_Roc._ Sir, fare ye well.

_Mount._ Oh _Rocca_! thou art wise,
And woul[d]'st not have the torrent of my joy
Ruine me headlong; aptly thou conceiv'st
If one reviving smile can raise me thus,
What trances will the sweet words which thou bring'st
Cast me into? I felt (my dearest friend,
No more my Servant) when I imployed thee
That knew'st to look, and speak as Lovers should,
And carry faithfully thy Masters sighs,
That it must work some heat in her cold heart,
And all my labors now come fraughted home
With ten fold prize.

_Roc._ Will you yet hear me?

_Mount._ Yes,
But take heed (gentle _Rocca_) that thou do'st
Tenderly by degrees assault mine ears
With her consent, now to embrace my love,
For thou well know'st I have been so plung'd, so torn
With her resolv'd reject, and neglect:
That to report her soft acceptance now,
Will stupifie sense in me, if not kill:
Why shew'st thou this distemper?

_Roc._ Draw your sword,
And when I with my breath have blasted you,
Kill me with it:
I bring you smiles of pitty, not affection:
For such she sent.

_Mount._ Oh! can she pitty me?
Of all the paths lead to a womans love,
Pitties the streightest.

_Roc._ Waken Sir, and know
That her contempt (if you can name it so)
Continues still: she bids you throw your Pearl
Into strong streams, and hope to turn them so,
Ere her too foul dishonor, writ[e] your plaints
In rocks of Coral grow'n above the Sea,
Them hope to soften to compassion,
Or change their modest blush to love sick pale,
Ere work her to your impious requests;
All your loose thoughts she chides you home again,
But with such calm behaviour, and mild looks,
She gentlier denies than others grant,
For just as others love so doth she hate:
She says, that by your order you are bound
From marrying ever, and much marvels then
You would thus violate her and your own faith,
That being the virgin you should now protect,
Hitherto she professes she has conceal'd
Your lustful Batteries, but the next she vowes,
(In open Hall, before the honor'd cross
And her great Brother) she will quite disclose
Calling for justice, to your utter shame.

_Mount._ Hence, find the Blackamore that waits upon her,
Bring her unto me, she doth love me yet,
And I must her now, at least seem to do:
_Cupid_, thy brands that glow thus in my veins,
I will with blood extinguish--ar't not gone?
Shall my desires, like beggars wait at dore
Whil'st any others revel in her breast?
Sweat on my spirits: know thou trickt up toy,
My love's a violent flood, where art thou faln,
Playing with which tide thou'dst been gently toss'd,
But crossing it, thou art or'whelm'd, and lost.

_Enter_ Astorius _and_ Castriot.

_Cast._ Monsieur, good day.

_Ast._ Good morrow valiant Knight,
What, are you for this great solemnity
This morn intended?

_Mount._ What solemnity?

_Ast._ The investing of the Martial _Spaniard_,
_Peter Gomera_, with our _Christian_ Badge.

_Cast._ And young _Miranda_ the _Italian_,
Both which with wondrous prowess, and great luck
Have dar'd and done for _Malta_, such high feats,
That not one Fort in it, but rings their names
As loud as any mans.

_Mount._ As any mans?
Why, we have fought for _Malta_.

_Ast._ Yes _Mountferrat_.
No bold Knight ever past you, but we wear
The dignity of Christians on our breasts,
And have a long time triumph'd for our conquests;
These conquer'd a long time, not triumph'd yet.

_Mount. Astori[u]s_, you are a most indulgent Knight,
Detracting from your self, to add to others,
You know this title is the period
To all our labors, the extremity
Of that tall pyramid, where hon[ou]r hangs,
Which we with sweat and agony have reach'd,
And should not then so easily impart
So bright a wreath to every cheap desert.

_Cast._ How is this French man chang'd _Astorius_!
Some sullen discontent possesses him,
That makes him envy, what he heretofore
Did most ingeniously but emulate.

_Mount._ Oh furious desire, how like a whirl-wind
Thou hurriest me beyond mine honors point!
Out of my heart, base lust, or heart, I vow
Those flames that heat me thus, I'll burn thee in.

_Ast._ Do' ye observe him?

_Mount._ What news of the _Dane_,
That valiant Captain _Norandine_?

_Cast._ He fights still,
In view oth' Town; he playes the devil with 'em,
And they the _Turks_ with him.

_Mount._ They'r well met then, 'twere sin to sever 'em
Pish--woman.--Memory--
Would one of ye would leave me:

_Ast._ Six fresh Gallies
I in St. _Angelo_ from the promontory
This morne descride, making a Girdle for him,
But our great Master doth intend relief
This present meeting: will you walk along?

_Mount._ Humh--I have read, Ladies enjoy'd, have been
The gulphs of worthiest men, buried their names,
Their former valor, bounty, beauty, virtue,
And sent 'em stinking to untimely graves.
I that cannot enjoy, by her disdain,
Am like to prove as wretched; woman then
Checking or granting, is the grave of men.

_Ast._ He's saying of his prayers sure.

_Cast._ Will you go Sir?

_Mount._ I cry you mercy: I am so transported
(Your pardon, noble Brothers) with a business
That doth concern all _Malta_, that I am
(Anon you'l hear't) almost blind, and deaf.
Lust neither sees nor hears ought but it self:
But I will follow instantly: your cross.

_Ast._ Not mine. [_dropt._

_Cast._ Nor mine, 'tis yours.

_Ast. Cast._ Good morrow Brother. [_Exeunt._

_Mount._ White innocent sign, thou do'st abhor to dwell,
So near the dim thoughts of this troubled breast,
[And grace these graceless projects of my heart.]

_Enter_ Zanthia, alias Abdella, _with two Letters_.

Yet I must wear thee to protect my crimes,
If not for conscience, for hypocrisie,
Some Churchmen so wear Cassocks: Oh my _Zan_.
My Pearl, that scornes a stain! I mu[ch] repent
All my neglect: let me _Ixion_ like,
Embrace my black cloud, since my _Juno_ is
So wrathful, and averse; thou art more soft
And full of dalliance than the fairest flesh,
And far more loving.

_Zan._ I, you say so now,
But like a property, when I have serv'd
Your turns, you'll cast me off, or hang me up
For a sign, somewhere.

_Mount._ May my life then forsake me
Or from my expected bliss, be cast to hell.

_Zan._ My tongue Sir, cannot lisp to meet you so,
Nor my black cheeck put on a feigned blush,
To make me seem more modest than I am.
This ground-work, will not bear adulterate red,
Nor artificial white, to cozen love.
These dark locks, are not purchas'd, nor these teeth,
For every night, they are my bed-fellows;
No bath, no blanching water; smoothing oyles,
Doth mend me up; and yet _Mountferrat_, know,
I am as full of pleasure in the touch
As ere a white fac'd puppet of 'em all,
Juicy, and firm, unfledge 'em of their tyres,
Their wires, their partlets; pins, and Periwigs,
And they appear like bald cootes, in the nest;
I can as blithly work in my loves bed,
And deck thy fair neck, with these Jetty chains,
Sing thee asleep, being wearied, and refresh'd,
With the same organ, steal sleep off again.

_Mount._ Oh my black swan, sleeker then Cignets plush,
Sweeter than is the sweet of Pomander,
Breath'd like curl'd _Zephyrus_, cooling Lymon-trees,
Straight as young pines, or Cedars in the grove,
Quickly discend lovers best Canopie
Still night, for _Zanthia_ doth enamour me
Beyond all continence perpetrate (deer wench)
What thou hast promis'd, and I vow by heaven
_Malta_, I'll leave [in it] my honours here,
And in some other Country (_Zanthia_) make
My wife, and my best fortune.

_Zan._ From this hope,
Here is an answer to that Letter, which
I lately shew'd you sent from _Tripoly_,
By the great Basha, which importunes her
Love unto him, and treachery to the Island,
Which will she undertake, by _Mahomet_
The _Turk_ there vowes, on his blest _Alcharon_,
Marriage unto her: this the Master knows,
But is resolv'd of her integrity
(As well [he] may) sweet Lady yet for love,
For love of thee _Mountferrat_, (Oh! what Chains
Of deity, or duty can hold love?)
I have this answer fram'd, so like her hand
As if it had been moulded off: returning
The Bashas Letter safe into her pocket;
What will you do with it, your self best knows,
Farewel, keep my true heart, keep true your vows. [_Exit Zan._

_Mount._ Till I be dust, my _Zanthia_ be confirm'd.
Sparrows, and Doves, sit coupling twixt thy lips,
It is not love, but strong _Libidinous_ will
That triumphs o're me, and to satiate that,
What difference twixt this _Moore_, and her fair Dame?
Night makes their hews alike, their use is so,
Whose hand is so subtle, he can colours name,
If he do winck, and touch 'em? lust being blind,
Never in women did distinction find. [_Exit._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter two Gentlewomen._

1. But yfaith dost thou think my Lady was never in love?

2. I rather think she was ever in love: in perfect charity. I
mean, with all the world.

[1]. A most Christian answer I promise you: but I mean in Love
with a man.

2. With a man? what else? would'st have her in love with a
beast?

1. You are somewhat quick: but if she were, it were no
President: did you never read of _Europa_, the fair, that leapt
A bull, that leapt the Sea, that swoom to land, and then leapt
her?

2. Oh heavens, a bull?

1. Yes, a white bull.

2. Lord, how could she sit him? where did she hold?

1. Why, by the horn, since which time, no woman (almost) is
Contented, till she have a horn of her own, to hold by.

2. Thou art very knavish.

1. And thou very foolish: but sirah, why dost not thou marry?

2. Because I would be no mans looking-glase?

1. As how?

2. As thus, there is no Wife, if she be good, and true, will
honor, and obey, but must reflect the true countenance of her
husband upon him; if he look sad upon her she must not look
merrily upon him: if he look merrily, she must not sorrowfully,
else she is a false glass, and fit for nothing but breaking:
his anger [must] be her discontent; his pleasure, her delight:
if he weep, she must cry: if he laugh, she must show her teeth:
if he be sick, she must not be in health; if he eat Cawdles,
she must eat pottage, she must have no proper passion of her
own; and is not this a tyranny?

1. Yes, yfaith, Marriage may well be called a yoak; Wives then
are but like superficial lines in Geometry, that have no proper
motion of their own, but as their bodies their husbands move,
yet I know some Wives, that are never freely merry, nor truly
pleased, but when they are farthest off their husbands.

2. That's because the Moon governs 'em which hath most light
and shines brightest, the more remote it is from the Sun; and
contrary is more sullen, dim, and showes least splendor, when
it is neerest.

1. But if I were to marry I would marry a fair effeminate fool.

2. Why?

1. Because I would lead the blind whither I list.

2. And I the wisest man I could get for money, because I had
rather follow the cleer-sighted: bless me from a husband That
sales by his Wives compass!

1. Why?

2. Why 'tis ten to one but she breaks his head in her youth,
and when she is old shee'l never leave till she has broke his
back too--

But what scurvy Knight have you here in _Malta, &c._

_Enter_ Zanthia.

_Zan._ Hist, wenches: my Lady calls, she's entring
The Tarrase, to see the show.

1. Oh black pudding.

2. My little labor in vain.

1. But what scurvy Knights have we here in _Malta_, that
when they are dubd take their oath of allegiance to live poor,
and chastly ever after!

2. 'Faith many Knights in other Nations (I have heard)
are as poor as ours: marry where one of 'em has taken the
Oath of chastity, we want a new _Columbus_ to find out. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ (_above_) Oriana, Zanchia, _two Gentlewomen_, (_beneath_)
Valetta, Mountferrat, Astorius, Castriot, Gomera,
Miranda, _Attendants of Knights_, &c.

_Mount._ Are you there Lady?

_Ori._ Thou art a naughty Man,
Heaven mend thee.

_Val._ Our greet meeting princely brothers,
Ye holy Souldiers of the _Christian Cross_,
Is to relieve our Captain _Norandine_,
Now fighting for _Valetta_ with the _Turk_,
A valliant Gentleman, a noble _Dane_
As ere the Countrey bred, endangered now
By fresh supply of head-bound Infidels.
Much means, much blood this warlike _Dane_ hath spent
To advance our flag, above their horned moons,
And oft hath brought in profitable conquest:
We must not see him perish in our view:
How far off fight they?

_Mir._ Sir, within a League.

_Val._ 'Tis well: our next occasion of conventing
Are these [two] gentlemen, standing in your sight.
(Ye are noble props of _Malta_) royally
Descended are they both, valiant as war,
_Miranda_, and _Gomera_, full ten years
They have serv'd this Island, perfected exploits
Matchless, and infinite, they are honest, wise,
Not empty of one ornament of man:
Most eminent agents were they in that slaughter
That great marvelous slaughter of the _Turks_,
Before St. _Elme_, where five and twenty thousand
Fell, for five thousand of our _Christians_:
These ripe considerations moving us
(Having had your allowance on their worths)
Here we would call 'em to our Brotherhood;
If any therefore can their manners tax,
Their faith, their chastity, any part of life,
Let 'em speak now.

_Ast._ None do's.

_All._ None can, great Master.

_Val._ The dignity then dignifie, by them,
As their reward: tender _Miranda_ first
(Because he is to succor _Norandine_)
Our sacred Robe of Knight-hood, our white Cross,
The holy cognizance of him we serve,
The sword, the spurs.

_Mir._ Grave, and most honor'd Master,
With humble duty, and my souls best thanks
To you, and all this famous Conventicle,
Let me, with modesty refuse acceptance
Of this high order: I (alass) am yet
Unworthy, and uncapable of such honor,
That merit, which with favor you enlarge
Is far, far short, of this propos'd reward.
Who take upon him such a charge as this,
Must come with pure thoughts, and a gathered mind
That time, nor all occasions ever may
After disperse, or stain; did this title here
Of Knighthood, ask no other ornaments
Then other Countries glittring show, poor pride,
A gingling spur, a feather, a white hand,
A frizled hayr, powder'd, perfumes, and lust,
Drinking sweet wines, surfeits, and ignorance,
Rashly, and easily should I venture on't,
But this requires an other kind of man.

_Mount._ A staid, and mature judgement; speak on sir.

_Mir._ May it please you then to allow me some small time
To rectifie my self, for that high seat,
Or give my reasons to the contrary.
Ith mean space, to dismiss me to the ayd
Of _Norandine_: my Ships ride in the bay
Ready to disembogue, tack'led, and mann'd
Even to my wishes.

_Mount._ His request
Is fair and honest.

_Val._ At your pleasure go.

_Mir._ I humbly take my leave of all: of you
My noble friend _Mountferrat_; gratious Mistriss,
Oh that auspitious smile doth arm your souldier,
Who fights for those eyes, and this sacred Cross,
Can neither meet sad accident, nor loss. [_Exit._

_Ori._ The mighty master of that Livory,
Conduct thee safely to these eyes again.

_Mount._ Blowes the wind that way?

_Val._ Equally belov'd,
Equally meriting, _Gomera_, you
Without excuse receive that dignity:
Which our provincial chapter hath decreed you.

_Gom._ Great Master of _Jerusalems_ Hospital,
From whence to _Rhodes_ this blest Fraternity
Was driven, but now among the _Maltois_ stands,
Long may it flourish, whilst _Gomera_ serves it,
But dares not enter farther.

_All._ This is strange.

_Val._ What do ye object?

_Gom._ Nothing against it, but my self (fair Knights)
I may not wear this Robe.

_Val._ Express your reasons;
Doth any hid sin goar your conscience?

_Ast._ Are you unstedfast in Religion?

_Cast._ Or do ye intend to forsake _Malta_ now,
And visit your own Countrey fruitful _Spaine_.

_Gom._ Never good sir.

_Val._ Then explicate your thoughts.

_Gom._ This then: I should be perjur'd to receive it,
Once in _Melita_, your next City here,
When I was yonger, read I the decrees
Touching this point, being ambitious then
To approach it once, none but a Gentleman
Can be admitted.

_Val._ That's no obstacle
In you.

_Gom._ I should be sorry that were it,
No married man.

_Mount._ You never felt that yoak.

_Gom._ None, that hath been contracted.

_Cast._ Were you ever?

_Gom._ Nor married, nor contracted, none that ever
Hath vowed his love to any woman kind,
Or finds that secret fire within his thoughts:
Here I am cast, this Article my heart
Objects against the title of my fame,
I am in love; laugh not: though time hath set
Some wrinkles in this face, and these curl'd locks
Will shortly dye into an other hew,
Yet, yet I am in love: (yfaith [you] smile)
What age, what sex, or what profession
Divine, or humane, from the man that cries
For Almes the high way, to him that sings
At the high Altar, and doth sacrifice,
Can truly say he knows not what is Love?

_Val._ 'Tis honestly profest; with whom _Gomera_?
Name the Lady, that with all [advantage]
We may advance your suit.

_Gom._ But will you Sir?

_Val._ Now by our holy rock were it our Sister:
_Spaniard_, I hold thee worthy, freely name her.

_Gom._ Be master of your word: it is she Sir,
The matchless _Oriana_.

_Val._ Come down Lady,
You have made her blush, let her consent I will
Make good my oath.

_Mount._ Is't so? stay: I do love
So tenderly _Gomera_ your bright flame,
As not to suffer your perdition.

_Gom._ What means _Mountferrat_?

_Enter Guard._

_Mount._ This whole _auberge_ hath
(A Guard upon this Lady) wonder not,
'Tane publick notice of the _Bassaes_ love
Of _Tripoli_ unto her, and consented
She should return this answer, as he writ
For her conversion, and betraying _Malta_,
She should advise him betray _Tripoli_,
And turning _Christian_, he should marry her.

_All._ All this was so.

_Mount._ How weakly do's this court then
Send Vessels forth to Sea, to guard the Land
Taking such special care to save one Bark,
Or strive to add fam'd men unto our cloak,
When they lurk in our bosomes would subvert
This State, and us, presuming on their blood,
And partial indulgence to their sex?

_Val._ Who can this be?

_Mount._ Your Sister, great _Valetta_,
Which thus I prove: demand the _Bassa's_ Letter.

_Ori._ 'Tis here, nor from this pocket hath been mov'd
Nor answer'd, nor perus'd by ----

_Mount._ Do not swear
Cast not away your fair soul, to your treason
Add not foul perjury: is this your hand?

_Ori._ 'Tis very like it.

_Mount._ May it please the Master,
Confer these Letters, and then read her answer,
Which I have intercepted; pardon me
Reverend _Valetta_, that am made the means
To punish this most beautious Treachery;
Even in your Sister, since in it I save
_Malta_ from ruine: I am bolder in't,
Because it is so palpable and withall
Know our great Master to this Countrey, firm.
As was the _Roman Marcus_, who spar'd not
As dear a Sister in the publique cause.

_Val._ I am amaz'd; attend me.

_Reads the Letter._

_Let your Forces by the next even be ready, my Brother feasts_
_then; put in at_ St. Michaels, _the ascent at that Port is
easiest; the Keys of the Castle, you shall receive at my
hands: that possest, you are Lord of_ Malta, _and may soon
destroy all by fire, then which I am hotter, till I embrace
you_,

_Farewell_,

Your Wife
ORIANA.

From this time let me never read again.

[_Gent. W._] 'Tis certain her hand.

_Val._ This Letter too
So close kept by her self, could not be answered
To every period thus, but by her self.

_Ori._ Sir, hear me.

_Val._ Peace, thou fair sweet bank of flowers,
Under whose beauty Scorpions lie, and kill;
Wert thou a kin to me, in some new name
Dearer than Sister, Mother, or all blood,
I would not hear thee speak: bear her to prison,
So gross is this, it needs no formal course,
Prepare thy self, to morrow thou shalt dye.

_Ori._ I dye a Martyr then, and a poor maid,
Almost yfaith as innocent as born,
Thou know'st thou art wicked, Frenchman heaven forgive thee [_Ex._

_All._ This Scene is strangely turn'd.

_Val._ Yet can nature be
So dead in me? I would my charge were off,
_Mountferrat_ should perceive my Sister had
A Brother would not live to see her dye
Unfought for, since the statutes of our state
Allow (in case of accusations)
A Champion to defend a Ladies truth.
_Peter Gomera_, thou hast lost thy wife,
Death pleads a precontract.

_Gom._ I have lost my Tongue,
My sence, my heart, and every faculty:
_Mountferrat_ go not up: with reverence
To our great Master, and this consistory
(I have considered it, it cannot be)
Thou art a villain, and a forger.
A blood-sucker of innocence, an hypocrite,
A most unworthy wearer of our Cross;
To make which good take (if thou dar'st) that gage
And arm'd at all points like a Gentleman
Meet me to morrow morning, where the Master,
And this fraternity shall design, where I
Will cram this slander back into thy throat,
And with my swords point thrust it to thy heart,
The very nest, where lust and slander breeds.
Pardon my passion; I will tear those spurs
Off from thy heels, and stik 'em in thy front
As a mark'd villain.

_Mount._ This I look'd not for:
Ten times more villain, I return my gage,
And crave the Law of Arms.

_Gom._ 'Tis that I crave.

_All._ It cannot be denide.

_Gom._ Do not I know
With thousand gifts, and importunacies,
Thou often hast sollicited this Lady
(Contrary to thy oath of chastity)
Who ne'r disclosing this thy hot reign'd lust,
Yet tender to prevent a publique scandal,
That _Christendom_ might justly have impos'd,
Upon this holy institution,
Thou now hast drawn this practise 'gainst her life
To quit her charity.

_Mount. Spaniard_, thou liest.

_Ast._ No more _Gomera,_ thou art granted combat,
And you _Mountferrat_ must prepare against
To morrow morning in the valley here
Adjoyning to _St. Georg[e]s_ Port: a Lady
In case of life 'gainst whom one witness comes
May have her champion.

_Val._ And who hath most right [_Florish_
With, or against our Sister, speed in fight. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Rocca.

_Mount. Rocca_, the first news of _Mirandas_ service
Let me have notice of.

_Roc._ You shall: The _Moore_
Waites you without.