Chapter VI: Part 6

_Py._ Stay, no, he must not stay, no talk of staying,
These are no times to stay; are not these rascals?
Speak, I beseech ye speak, are they not Rogues?
Think some abominable names--are they not devils?
But the devil's a great deal too good for 'em--fusty villains.

_Ch._ They are a kind of hounds.

_Py._ Hounds were their fathers;
Old blear-ey'd bob-tail'd hounds--Lord, where's my Uncle?

_Soz._ But what shall be done, Sir?

_Py._ Done?

_Soz._ Yes, to relieve him;
If it be not sudden they may take his life too.

_Py._ They dare as soon take fire and swallow it,
Take stakes and thrust into their tails for glisters:
His life, why 'tis a thing worth all the Islands,
And they know will be rated at that value;
His very imprisonment will make the Town stink,
And shake and stink, I have physick in my hand for 'em
Shall give the goblins such a purge--

_Enter_ Ruy Dias.

_Ped._ Your Uncle.

_Ru._ I hear strange news, and have been seeking ye;
They say _Armusia_'s prisoner.

_Py._ 'Tis most certain.

_Ru._ Upon what cause?

_Py._ He has deserv'd too much, Sir;
The old heathen policie has light upon him.
And paid him home.

_Ru._ A most unnoble dealing.

_Py._ You are the next, if you can carry it tamely,
He has deserved of all.

_Ru._ I must confess it,
Of me so nobly too.

_Py._ I am glad to hear it,
You have a time now to make good your confession,
Your faith will shew but cold else, and for fashion,
Now to redeem all, now to thank his courtesie,
Now to make those believe that held you backward,
And an ill instrument, you are a Gentleman,
An honest man, and you dare love your Natio[n],
Dare stick to virtue, though she be opprest,
And for her own fair sake, step to her rescue:
If you live ages, Sir, and lose this hour,
Not now redeem, and vindicate your honor
Your life will be a murmure, and no man in't.

_Ru._ I thank ye nephew, come along with me Gentlemen,
We'll make 'em dancing sport immediately:
We are Masters of the Fort yet, we shall see
What that can do.

_Py._ Let it but spit fire finely,
And play their turrets, and their painted Palaces,
A frisking round or two, that they may trip it;
And caper in the air.

_Ru._ Come, we'll do something
Shall make 'em look about, we'll send 'em plums,
If they be not too hard for their teeth.

_Py._ And fine Potatoes
Rosted in Gunpowder, such a Banquet, Sir
Will prepare their unmannerly stomachs.

_Ru._ They shall see
There is no safe retreat in villany;
Come, be high-hearted all.

_Omnes._ We are all on fire, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter King and Governor._

_King._ I am ungrateful, and a wretch, perswade me not,
Forgetful of the mercy he shew'd me,
The timely noble pity--why should I
See him fast bound and fetter'd, whose true courtesie,
Whose manhood, and whose mighty hand set me free?
Why should it come from me? why I command this?
Shall not all tongues and truths call me unthankful?

_Gov._ Had the offence been thrown on you, 'tis certain
It had been in your power, and your discretion
To have turn'd it into mercy, and forgiven it,
And then it had shew'd a virtuous point of gratitude,
Timely, and nobly taken; but since the cause
Concerns the honor of our gods, and their Title,
And so transcends your power, and your compassion,
A little your own safety, if you saw it too,
If your too fond indulgence did not dazle you,
It cannot now admit a private pitty;
'Tis in their Wills, their Mercies, or Revenges,
And these revolts in you, shew mere rebellions.

_King._ They are mild and pittiful.

_Gov._ To those repent.

_King._ Their nature's soft and tender.

_Gov._ To true hearts.
That feel compunction for their trespasses:
This man defies 'em still, threatens destruction
And demolition of their Arms and Worship,
Spits at their powers; take heed ye be not found, Sir,
And mark'd a favourer of their dishonor;
They use no common justice.

_King._ What shall I do
To deserve of this man--

_Gov._ If ye more bemoan him,
Or mitigate your power to preserve him,
I'll curse ye from the gods, call up their vengeance.

_Enter_ Quisara _with her hands bound_, Quisana, Panura.

And fling it on your Land and you, I have charge [for't;]
I hope to wrack you all.

_King._ What ails my Sister?
Why, is she bound? why looks she so distractedly?
Who does do this?

_Quisan._ We did it, pardon Sir,
And for her preservation--She is grown wild,
And raving on the strangers love and honor,
Sometimes crying out help, help, they will torture him,
They will take his life, they will murder him presently,
If we had not prevented violently
Have laid hands on her own life.

_Gov._ These are tokens,
The gods displeasure is gone out, be quick,
And e'r it fall, doe something to appease 'em.
You know the sacrifice--I am glad it works thus.

_Quisa._ How low and base thou lookst now, that wert noble!
No figure of a King, methinks shews on you.
No face of Majesty, foul, swarth ingratitude
Has taken off thy sweetness, base forgetfulness
Of mighty benefits, has turned thee Devil:
Thou hast persecuted goodness, innocence;
And laid a hard and violent hand on virtue,
On that fair virtue that should teach and guide us;
Thou hast wrong'd thine own preserver, whose least merit,
Pois'd with thy main Estate, thou canst not satisfie,
Nay, put thy life in too, 'twill be too light still:
What hast thou done?

_Gov._ Goe for him presently,
And once more we'll try if we can win him fairly:
If not, let nothing she says hinder ye, or stir ye;
She speaks distractedly--Do that the gods command ye,
Do you know what ye say Lady?

_Quisar._ I could curse thee too,
Religion and severity has steel'd thee,
Has turn'd thy heart to stone; thou hast made the gods hard too,
Against their sweet and patient natures, cruel:
None of ye feel what bravery ye tread on?
What innocence? what beauty?

_King._ Pray be patient.

_Quisar._ What honourable things ye cast behind [ye]?
What monuments of man?

_Enter_ Armusia _and Guard_.

_King._ Once more _Armusia_,
Because I love ye tenderly and dearly,
And would be glad to win ye mine, I wish ye,
Even from my heart I wish and wooe ye--

_Ar._ What Sir,
Take heed how ye perswade me falsly, then ye hate me:
Take heed how ye intrap me.

_King._ I advise ye,
And tenderly and truly I advise ye,
Both for your souls health, and your safety.

_Ar._ Stay,
And name my soul no more, she is too precious,
Too glorious for you[r] flatteries, too secure too.

_Gov._ Consider the reward, Sir, and the honor
That is prepared, the glory you shall grow to.

_Arm._ They are not to be consider'd in these cases,
Not to be nam'd when souls are question'd;
They are vain and flying vapors--touch my life,
'Tis ready for ye, put it to what test
It shall please ye, I am patient; but for the rest
You may remove Rocks with your little fingers,
Or blow a Mountain out o' th' way, with bellows,
As soon as stir my faith; use no more arguments.

_Gov._ We must use tortures then.

_Arm._ Your worst and painfull'st
I am joyful to accept.

_Gov._ You must the sharpest,
For such has been your hate against our Deities
Delivered openly, your threats and scornings,
And either your repentance must be mighty,
Which is your free conversion to our customs,
Or equal punishment which is your life, Sir.

_Arm._ I am glad I have it for ye, take it Priest,
And all the miseries that shall attend it:
Let the gods glut themselves with Christian bloud,
It will be ask'd again, and so far followed,
So far reveng'd, and with such holy justice,
Your gods of gold shall melt and sink before it;
Your Altars and your Temples shake to nothing;
And you false worshipers, blind fools of ceremony,
Shall seek for holes to hide your heads, and fears in,
For seas to swallow you from this destruction,
Darkness to dwell about ye, and conceal ye;
Your mothers womb agen--

_Gov._ Make the fires ready,
And bring the several tortures out.

_Quisar._ Stand fast, Sir,
And fear 'em not, you that have stept so nobly
Into this pious Trial, start not now,
Keep on your way, a Virgin will assist ye,
A Virgin won by your fair constancy,
And glorying that she is won so, will dye by ye:
I have touch'd ye every way, tried ye most honest,
Perfect, and good, chaste, blushing chaste, and temperate,
Valiant, without vain-glory, modest, stayed,
No rage, or light affection ruling in you:
Indeed, the perfect school of worth I find ye,
The temple of true honor.

_Arm._ Whether will she?
What do you infer by this fair argument, Lady?

_Quisar._ Your Faith, and your Religion must be like ye,
They that can shew you these, must be pure mirrors,
When the streams flow clear and fair, what are the fountains?
I do embrace your faith, Sir, and your fortune;
Go on, I will assist ye, I feel a sparkle here,
A lively spark that kindles my affection,
And tells me it will rise to flames of glory:
Let 'em put on their angers, suffer nobly,
Shew me the way, and when I faint, instruct me;
And if I follow not--

_Arm._ Oh blessed Lady,
Since thou art won, let me begin my triumph,
Come clap your terrors on.

_Quisar._ All your fell tortures.
For there is nothing he shall suffer, brother,
I swear by a new faith, which is most sacred,
And I will keep it so, but I will follow in,
And follow to a scruple of affliction,
In spight of all your gods without prevention.

_Gov._ Death! she amazes me.

_King._ What shall be done now?

_Gov._ They must dye both,
And suddenly, they will corrupt all else;
This woman makes me weary of my mischief,
She shakes me, and she staggers me, go in Sir,
I'll see the execution.

_Kin._ Not so suddain:
If they go, all my Friends and Sisters perish.

_Gov._ Wou'd I were safe at home agen.

_Enter Messenger._

_Mes._ Arm, arm, Sir,
Seek for defence, the Castle plays and thunders,
The Town Rocks, and the houses fly i' th' air,
The people dye for fear--Captain _Ruy Dias_,
Has made an oath he will not leave a stone here;
No, not the memory, here has stood a City,
Unless _Armusia_ be deliver'd fairly.

_King._ I have my fears: what can our gods do now for us?

_Gov._ Be patient, but keep him still: he is a cure, Sir,
Against both Rage and Cannon: goe and fortifie,
Call in the Princess, make the Palace sure,
And let 'em know you are a King: look nobly;
And take you[r] courage to ye; keep close the prisoner,
And under command, we are betraid else.

_Ar._ How joyfully I goe!

_Quisar._ Take my heart with thee.

_Gov._ I hold a Wolf by the ear now:
Fortune free me. [_Exeunt._

_Enter four Towns-men._

_1._ Heaven bless us,
What a thund'ring's here! what fire-spitting!
We cannot drink, but our Cans are mauld amongst us.

_2._ I wou'd they would mall our scores too:
Shame o' their Guns, I thought they had been bird-pots,
Or great Candle-cases, how devilishly they bounce,
And how the Bullets borrow a piece of a house here,
There another, and mend those up agen
With another Parish; here flies a poudring-tub,
The meat ready rosted, and there a barrel pissing vinegar,
And they two over-taking the top of a high Steeple,
Newly slic'd off for a Sallet.

_3._ A vengeance fire 'em.

_2._ Nay, they fire fast enough;
You need not help 'em.

_4._ Are these the _Portugal_ Bulls--
How loud they bellow!

_2._ Their horns are plaguy strong, they push down Palaces
They toss our little habitations like whelps,
Like grindle-tails, with their heels upward;
All the windows i'th Town dance a new Trenchmore,
'Tis like to prove a blessed age for Glasiers,
I met a hand, and a Letter in't, in great haste,
And by and by, a single leg running after it,
As if the arm had forgot part of his errand,
Heads flie like Foot-balls every where.

_1._ What shall we do?

_2._ I care not, my shop's cancell'd,
And all the Pots, and earthen Pans in't vanish't:
There was a single Bullet, and they together by the ears;
You would have thought _Tom Tumbler_ had been there,
And all his troop of devils.

_3._ Let's to the King,
And get this Gentleman deliver'd handsomly:
By this hand, there's no walking above ground else.

_2._ By this leg--let me swear nimbly by it,
For I know not how long I shall owe it,
If I were out o'th' Town once, if I came in agen to
Fetch my breakfast, I will give 'em leave to cramm me
With a _Portugal_ Pudding: Come; let's doe any thing
To appease this thunder. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Pyniero _and_ Panura.

_Py._ Art sure it was that blind Priest?

_Pan._ Yes most certain,
He has provok'd all this; the King is merciful,
And wond'rous loving; but he fires him on still,
And when he cools, enrages him, I know it:
Threatens new vengeance, and the gods fierce justice
When he but looks with fair eyes on _Armusia_,
Will lend him no time to relent; my royal Mistriss,
She has entertain'd a _Christian_ hope.

_Py._ Speak truly.

_Pan._ Nay, 'tis most true, but Lord! how he lies at her,
And threatens her, and flatters her, and damns her,
And I fear, if not speedily prevented,
If she continue stout, both shall be executed,

_Py._ I'll kiss thee for this news, nay more _Panura_,
If thou wilt give me leave I'll get thee with _Christian_,
The best way to convert thee.

_Pan._ Make me believe so?

_Py._ I will y'faith. But which way cam'st thou hither?
The Pallace is close guarded, and barricado'd.

_Pan._ I came through a private vault, which few there know of;
It rises in a Temple not far hence,
Close by the Castle here.

_Py._ How--To what end?

_Pan._ A good one:
To give ye knowledge of my new-born Mistriss;
And in what doubt _Armusia_ stands,
Think any present means, or hope to stop 'em
From their fell ends: the Princes are come in too,
And they are harden'd also.

_Py._ The damn'd Priest--

_Pan._ Sure he's a cruel man, methinks Religion
Should teach more temperate Lessons.

_Py._ He the fire-brand?
He dare to touch at such fair lives as theirs are?
Well Prophet, I shall prophesie, I shall catch ye,
When all your Prophecies will not redeem ye?
Wilt thou do one thing bravely?

_Pa._ Any good I am able.

_Py._ And by thine own white hand, I'll swear thou art virtuous,
And a brave wench, durst thou but guide me presently,
Through the same vault thou cam'st, into the Pallace
And those I shall appoint, such as I think fit.

_Pa._ Yes I will do it, and suddainly, and truly.

_Py._ I wou'd fain behold this Prophet.

_Pa._ Now I have ye:
And shall bring ye where ye shall behold him,
Alone too, and unfurnish'd of defences:
That shall be my care; but you must not betray me.

_Py._ Dost thou think we are so base, such slaves, rogues?

_Pa._ I do not:
And you shall see how fairly I'll work for ye.

_Py._ I must needs steal that Priest,
Steal him, and hang him.

_Pa._ Do any thing to remove his mischief, strangle him--

_Py._ Come prethee love.

_Pa._ You'll offer me no foul play?
The Vault is dark.

_Py._ 'Twas well remember'd.

_Pa._ And ye may--
But I hold ye honest.

_Py._ Honest enough I warrant thee.

_Pa._ I am but a poor weak wench; and what with the place,
And your perswasions Sir--but I hope you will not;
You know we are often cozen'd.

_Py._ If thou dost fear me,
Why dost thou put me in mind?

_Pa._ To let you know Sir,
Though it be in your power, and things fitting to it,
Yet a true Gent--

_Py._ I know what he'll do:
Come and remember me, and I'll answer thee,
I'll answer thee to the full; we'll call at th' Castle,
And then my good guide, do thy Will; sha't find me
A very tractable man!

_Pa._ I hope I shall Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Bakam, Syana, _and Soldiers_.

_Bak._ Let my men guard the Gates.

_Syan._ And mine the Temple,
For fear the honor of our gods should suffer,
And on your lives be watchful.

_Ba._ And be valiant;
And let's see, if these _Portugals_ dare enter;
What their high hearts dare do: Let's see how readily,
The great _Ruy Dias_ will redeem his Countrey-men;
He speaks proud words, and threatens.

_Sy._ He is approv'd, Sir,
And will put fair for what he promises;
I could wish friendlier terms,
Yet for our liberties and for our gods,
We are bound in our best service
Even in the hazard of our lives.

_Enter the King above._

_King._ Come up Princes,
And give your counsels, and your helps: the Fort still
Plays fearfully upon us, beats our buildings,
And turns our people wild with fears.

_Ba._ Send for the prisoner,
And give us leave to argue. [_Exit_ Ba. _and_ Sy. _then_,

_Enter_ Ruy Dias, Emanuel, Christoph. Pedro, _with Sold_.

_Ru._ Come on nobly,
And let the Fort play still, we are
Strong enough to look upon 'em,
And return at pleasure; it may
Be on our view they will return him.

_Chr._ We will return 'em such thanks else,
Shall make 'em scratch where it itches not.

_Em._ How the people stare,
And some cry, some pray, and some curse heartily:
But it is the King--

_Enter_ Syana, Bakam, Quisara, Armusia, _with Soldiers above_.

_Ruy._ I cannot blame their wisdoms.
They are all above, _Armusia_ chain'd and bound too?
Oh, these are tha[n]kful Squires.

_Ba._ Hear us _Ruy Di[a]s_,
Be wise and hear us, and give speedy answer,
Command thy Cannon presently to cease,
No more to trouble the afflicted people,
Or suddainly _Armusia's_ head goes off;
As suddainly as said.

_Em._ Stay Sir, be moderate.

_Arm._ Do nothing that's dishonourable _Ruy Dyas_
Let not the fear of me, master thy valour;
Pursue 'em still, they are base malicious people.

_King._ Friend, be not desperate.

_Ar._ I scorn your courtesies;
Strike when you dare, a fair arm guide the Gunner
And may he let flie still with fortune: friend,
Do me the honor of a Soldiers funerals,
The last fair _Christian_ right, see me i'th' ground,
And let the Palace burn first, then the Temples,
And on their scorn'd gods, erect my monument:
Touch not the Princess, as you are a Soldier.

_Quisar._ Which way you goe, Sir,
I must follow necessary.
One life, and one death.

_King._ Will you take a truce yet?

_Enter_ Pyniero, Soza, _and Soldiers_, _with the Governor_.

_Py._ No, no, go on:
Look here, your god, your prophet.

_King._ How came he taken?

_Py._ I conjur'd for him, King.
I am a sure Curr at an old blind Prophet.
I'll haunt ye such a false knave admirably,
A terrier I; I eartht him, and then snapt him.

_Soz._ Saving the reverence of your grace, we stole him,
E'en out of the next chamber to ye.

_Py._ Come, come, begin King,
Begin this bloudy matter when you dare;
And yet I scorn my sword should touch the rascal,
I'll tear him thus before ye. Ha?
What art thou? {_Pulls his Beard and hair off._

_King._ How's this!
Art thou a Prophet?

_Ru._ Come down Princes.

_King._ We are abus'd--
Oh my most dear _Armusia_--
Off with his chains. And now my noble Sister,
Rejoyce with me, I know ye are pleas'd as I am.

_Py._ This is a precious Prophet. Why Don Governor,
What make you here, how long have you taken Orders?

_Ruy._ Why what a wretch
Art thou to work this mischief?
To assume this holy shape to ruine honor,
Honor and chastity?

_Enter King, and all from above._

_Gov._ I had paid you all,
But fortune plaid the slut. Come,
Give me my doom.

_King._ I cannot speak for wonder.

_Gov._ Nay, 'tis I Sir,
And here I stay your sentence.

_King._ Take her friend,
You have half perswaded me to be a _Christian_,
And with her all the joyes, and all the blessings.
Why what dream have we dwelt in?

_Ru._ All peace to ye,
And all the happiness of heart dwell with ye,
Children as sweet and noble as their Parents.

_Py._ And Kings at least.

_Ar._ Good Sir, forget my rashness.
And noble Princess[e], for I was once angry,
And out of that, might utter some distemper,
Think not 'tis my nature.

_Sya._ Your joy is ours, Sir.
And nothing we find in ye, but most noble.

_King._ To prison with this dog, there let him houl,
And if he can repent, sigh out his villanies:
His Island we shall seize into our hands,
His Father and himself have both usurp'd it,
And kept it by oppression; the Town and Castle,
In which I lay my self most miserable,
Till my most honourable friend redeem'd me,
Signior _Pyniero_, I bestow on you,
The rest of next command upon these Gentlemen,
Upon ye, all my love.

_Arm._ Oh brave _Ruy Dias_,
You have started now beyond me. I must thank ye,
And thank ye for my life, my wife and honor.

_Ruy._ I am glad I had her for you, Sir.

_King._ Come Princes,
Come Friends and Lovers all, come noble Gentlemen,
No more Guns now, nor hates, but joyes and triumphs,
An universal gladness fly about us:
And know however subtle men dare cast,
And promise wrack, the gods give peace at last. [_Exeunt._

THE
NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Monsieur Marine, _the Noble Gent. but none of the wisest_.
Jaques, _an old servant to_ Marine's _family_.
Clerimont, _a Gull_, _Cosin to Monsieur_ Marine.
A Gentleman, _Servant to_ Marine's _wife_.
Lo[n]gueville, } _two Courtiers that plot
Beaufort, } to abuse_ Marine.
Shattillion, _a Lord_, _mad for Love_.
Doctor.
Page.
Gentlemen.
Servants.
Duke.

WOMEN.

Marine's _Wife_, _a witty wanton_.
Clerimont's _Wife_, _a simple countrey Gentlewoman_.
Shattillion's _Mistriss_, _a virtuous Virgin_.
Maria, _Servant to_ Marine's _wife_.

The Scene France.

PROLOGUE.

_Wit is become an Antick, and puts on
As many shapes of variation,
To court the times applause, as the times dare,
Change several fashions, nothing is thought rare
Which is not new, and follow'd, yet we know
That what was worn some twenty years agoe,
Comes into grace again, and we pursue
That custom, by presenting to your view
A Play in fashion then, not doubting now
But 'twill appear the same, if you allow
Worth to their noble memory, whose name,
Beyond all power of death, live in their fame._

_Actus Primus. Scaena Prima._

_Enter Gentleman a[n]d_ Jaques.

_Gent._ What happiness waits on the life at Court,
What dear content, greatness, delight and ease!
What ever-springing hopes, what tides of honor!
That raise their fortunes to the height of wishes!
What can be more in man, what more in nature,
Than to be great and fear'd? A Courtier,
A noble Courtier, 'Tis a name that draws
Wonder and duty from all eyes and knees.

_Jaq._ And so your Worships Land within the Walls,
Where you shall have it all inclos'd, and sure.

_Gent._ Peace knave; dull creature, bred of sweat and smoke,
These mysteries are far above thy faith:
But thou shalt see--

_Jaq._ And then I shall believe;
Your fair revenues, turn'd into fair suits;
I shall believe your Tenant's bruis'd and rent
Under the weight of Coaches, all your state
Drawn through the streets in triumph, suits for places
Plied with a Mine of Gold, and being got
Fed with a great stream. I shall believe all this.

_Gent._ You shall believe, and know me glorious.
Cosin, good day and health.

_Enter Cosin._

_Cosin._ The same to you, Sir,
And more, without my wishes, could you know
What calm content dwels in a private house:
Yet look into your self, retire: this place
Of promises, and protestations, fits
Minds only bent [t]o ruin, you should know this,
You have their language perfect, you have tutors
I do not doubt, sufficient: but beware.

_Gent._ You are merry Cosin:

_Cosin._ Yet your patience,
You shall learn that too, but not like it self,
Where it is held a virtue; tell me Sir,
Have you cast up your State, rated your Land,
And find it able to endure the change
Of time and fashion? is it always harvest?
Always vintage? have you Ships at Sea,
To bring you Gold and Stone from rich _Peru_,
Monthly returning Treasure? doth the King
Open his large Exchequer to your hands
And bid ye be a great man? can your wife
Coin off her beauty? or the week allow
Suits to each day? and know no ebb in honor?
If these be possible, and can hold out,
Then be a Courtier still, and still be wasting.

_Gent._ Cosin, pray give me leave:

_Cos._ I have done.

_Gent._ I could requite your gall, and in a strain
As bitter, and as full of Rubarb, preach
Against your Countrey life, but 'tis below me
And only subject to my pitty, know
The eminent Court, to them that can be wise,
And fasten on her blessings, is a Sun
That draws men up from course and earthly Being,
I mean these men of merit that have power
And reason to make good her benefits,
Learns them a manly boldness, gives their tongues
Sweetness of Language, makes them apt to please;
Files of all rudeness, and uncivil haviour,
Shews them as neat in carriage, as in cloaths;
Cosin, have you ever seen the Court?

_Cos._ No Sir,
Nor am I yet in travel with that longing.

_Gent._ Oh the state and greatness of that place
Where men are found
Only to give the first creation glory!
Those are the models of the antient world
Left like the _Roman_ Statues to stir up
Our following hopes, the place it self puts on
The brow of Majesty, and flings her lustre
Like the air newly light'ned; Form, and Order,
Are only there themselves, unforc'd, and sound,
As they were first created to this place.

_Cos._ You nobly came, but will goe from thence base.

_Gent._ 'Twas very pretty, and a good conceit;
You have a wit good Cosin, I do joy in't,
Keep it for Court: but to my self again,
When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes,
And with some taste of superstition,
Look'd on the wealth of Nature, the fair dames,
Beauties, that light the Court, and make it shew
Like a fair heaven, in a frosty night:
And 'mongst these mine, not poorest, 'tis for tongues
Of blessed Poets, such as _Orpheus_ was,
To give their worth and praises; Oh dear Cosin:
You have a wife, and fair, bring her hither,
Let her not live to be the Mistriss of a Farmers heir
And be confin'd ever to a searge,
Far courser than my horse-cloth.
Let her have Velvets, Tiffinies, Jewels, Pearls,
A Coach, an Usher, and her two Lacquies,
And I will send my wife to give her rules,
And read the rudiments of Court to her.

_Cos._ Sir, I had rather send her to _Virginia_
To help to propagate the _English_ Nation.

_Enter Servant._

_Gent._ Sirrah, how slept your Mistriss, and what visitants
Are to pay service?

_Serv._ As I came out,
Two Counts were newly ent'red.

_Gent._ This is greatness,
But few such servants wait a Countrey beauty.

_Cos._ They are the more to thank their modesty,
God keep my Wife, and all my Issue Female
From such uprisings.

_Enter a Doctor._

_Gent._ What? my learned Doctor?
You will be welcome, give her health and youth
And I will give you gold. [_Exit Doctor._
Cosin, how savors this? is it not sweet
And very great, tasts it not of Nobleness?

_Cos._ Faith Sir, my pallat is too dull and lazie
I cannot taste it, 'tis not for my relish,
But be so still.
Since your own misery must first reclaim ye,
To which I leave you, Sir,
If you will, yet be happy, leave the humor
And base subjection to your Wife, be wise,
And let her know with speed, you are her Husband,
I shall be glad to hear it.
My horse is sent for. [_Exit._

_Gent._ Even such another countrey thing as this
Was I, such a piece of dirt, so heavy,
So provident to heap up ignorance,
And be an ass: such musty cloaths wore I,
So old and thred-bare, I do yet remember
Divers young Gallants lighting at my Gate,
To see my honoured Wife, have offered pence,
And bid me walk their horses, such a slave
Was I in shew then: but my eyes are open'd.

_Enter Gent. Wife._

Many sweet morrows to my worthy Wife.

_Wife._ 'Tis well, and aptly given, as much for you,
But to my present business, which is money--

_Gent._ Lady, I have none left.

_Wife._ I hope you dare not say so, nor imagine so base and low,
A thought: I have none left?
Are these words fitting for a man of worth,
And one of your full credit? Do you know
The place you live in? me? and what I labour
For, you? and your advancement?

_Gent._ Yes my dearest.

_Wife._ And do you pop me off with this slight answer,
In troth I have none left? in troth you must have;
Nay stare not, 'tis most true, send speedily
To all that love you, let your people flye
Like thunder, through the City,
And not return under five thousand Crowns.
Try all, take all, let not a [wealthy] Merchant be untempted
Or any one that hath the name of Money,
Take up at any Use, give Band, or Land,
Or mighty Statutes, able by their strength,
To tye up _Sampson_, were he now alive,
There must be money gotten; for be perswaded,
If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink,
Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin,
And then good night to all, (but our disgrace)
Farewel the hope of coming happiness,
And all the aims we levied at so long.
Are ye not mov'd at this? no sense of want,
Towards your self yet breeding? be old,
And common; jaded to the eyes
Of Grooms, and Pages, Chamber-maids, and Guarders,
And when you have done, put your poor house in order
And hang your self, for such must be the end
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin.
All that I say is certain, if ye fail
Do not [impute] me with it, I am clear.

_Gent._ Now heaven forbid I should do wrong to you
My dearest Wife, and Madam; yet give leave
To your poor creature to unfold himself.
You know my debts are many more than means,
My bands not taken in, my friends at home
Drawn dry with these expences, my poor Tenants
More full of want than we, then what new course
Can I beget, to raise those crowns by? speak,
And I shall execute.

_Wife._ Pray tell me true,
Have you not Land in the Countrey?

_Gent._ Pardon me, I had forgot it.

_Wife._ Sir, you must remember it,
There is no remedy, this Land must be,
In _Paris_ e'r to morrow night.

_Gent._ It shall, let me consider, some 300 acres
Will serve the turn.

_Wife._ 'Twill furnish at all points,
Now you speak like your self, and know like him,
That means to be a man, suspect no less
For the return will give ye five for one,
You shall be great to morrow, I have said it.
Farewel, and see this business be a-foot,
With expedition. [_Exit Wife._

_Gent._ Health, all joy, and honor
Wait on my lovely Wife. What? _Jaques_, _Jaques_.

_Enter_ Jaques.

_Jaq._ Sir, did you call?

_Gent._ I did so, hie thee _Jaques_.
Down to the Bank, and there to some good Merchant
(Conceive me well, good _Jaques_, and be private)
Offer 300 acres of my Land:
Say it is choice and fertile, ask upon it
Five thousand Crowns, this is the business
I must employ thee in, be wise and speedy.

_Jaq._ Sir, do not do this.

_Gent._ Knave, I must have money.

_Jaq._ If you have money thus, your knave must tell ye
You will not have a foot of Land left, be more wary,
And more friend to your self, this honest Land
Your Worship has discarded, has been true,
And done you loyal service.

_Gent._ Gentle _Jaques_,
You have a merry wit, employ it well
About the business you have now in hand.
When ye come back, enquire me in the Presence,
If not in the Tennis-Court, or at my house. [_Exit._

_Jaq._ If this vain hold, I know where to enquire ye.
Five thousand Crowns! this, with good husbandry,
May hold a month out, then 5000 more,
And more Land a bleeding for't, as many more,
And more Land laid aside. God and _St. Dennis_
Keep honest minded young men batchelors.
'Tis strange, my Master should be yet so young
A puppy, that he cannot see his fall
And got so near the Sun. I'll to his Cosin.
And once more tell him on't, if he fail,
Then to my Mortgage, next unto my sale. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Longovile, Bewford, _and the Servant_.

_Serv._ Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while,
I shall return with knowledge how and where
We shall have best access unto my Mistriss
To tender your devotions. [_Exit._

_Long._ Be it so:
Now to our first discourse.

_Bew._ I prethee peace;
Thou canst not be so bad, or make me know
Such things are living, do not give thy self
So common and so idle, so open vile,
So great a wronger of thy worth, so low,
I cannot, nor I must not credit thee.

_Lon._ Now by this light I am a whoremaster,
An open, and an excellent whormaster,
And take a special glory that I am so:
I thank my Stars I am a whoremaster,
And such a one as dare be known and seen,
And pointed at to be a noble wencher.

_Bew._ Do not let all ears hear this, hark [y]e Sir,
I am my self a whoremaster, I am
Believe it Sir (in private be it spoken)
I love a whore directly, most men are wenchers,
And have profest the Science, few men
That look upon ye now, but whoremasters,
Or have a full desire to be so.

_Lon._ This is noble.

_Bew._ It is without all question, being private,
And held as needful as intelligence,
But being once discover'd, blown abroad,
And known to common senses, 'tis no more
Than geometrical rules in Carpenters,
That only know some measure of an Art,
But are not grounded: be no more deceived,
I have a conscience to reclaim you, Sir.
Mistake me not: I do not bid you leave your whore
Or less to love her; forbid it,
I should be such a villain to my friend,
Or so unnatural: 'twas never harbor'd here,
Learn to be secret first, then strike your Deer.

_Lon._ Your fair instructions, _Mo[n]sieur_, I shall learn.

_Bew._ And you shall have them; I desire your care.

_Lon._ They are your servants.

_Bew._ You must not love.

_Lon._ How Sir?

_Bew._ I mean a Lady, there's danger.
She hath an Usher and a Waiting Gentlewoman,
A Page, a Coach-man, these are fee'd and fee'd
And yet for all that will be prating.

_Lon._ So.

_Bew._ You understand me Sir, they will discover't,
And there is a loss of credit, Table-talk
Will be the end of this, or worse, than that;
Will this be worthy of a Gentleman?

_Long._ Proceed good Sir.

_Bew._ Next leave your City Dame;
The best of that Tribe, are most meerly coy,
Or most extreamly foolish, both which vices
Are no great stirrers up, unless in Husbands
That owe this Cattle, fearing her that's coy
To be but seeming, her that's fool too forward.

_Lon._ This is the rarest fellow, and the soundest,
I mean in knowledge, that e'r wore a Codpiece,
H'as found out that will pass all _Italy_,
All _France_ and _England_; to their shames I speak,
And to the griefs of all their Gentlemen,
The noble Theory of Luxury.

_Bew._ Your patience,
And I will lay before your eyes a course
That I my self found out, 'tis excellent,
Easie, and full of freedome.

_Long._ O good Sir,
You rack me till I know it.

_Bew._ This it is,
When your desire is up, your blood well heated
And apt for sweet encounter, chuse the night,
And with the night your Wench, the streets have store,
There seize upon her, get her to your chamber,
Give her a cardecew, 'tis royal payment;
When ye are dull, dismiss her, no man knows,
Nor she her self, who hath encountred her.

_Lon._ O but their faces.

_Bew._ Nere talke of faces:
The night allows her equal with a Dutchess,
Imagination doth all think her fair,
And great, clapt in Velvet, she is so,
Sir, I have tryed those, and do find it certain
It never failes me, 'tis but twelve nights since
My last experience.

_Lon._ O my meiching Varlet, I'll fit ye as I live.
'Tis excellent, I'll be your Scholar Sir.

_Enter_ Lady _and_ Servant.

_Wife._ You are fairly welcome both: troth Gentlemen
You have been strangers, I could chide you for't,
And taxe ye with unkindness, What's the news?
The Town was never empty of some novelty;
Servant, What's your intelligence?

_Ser._ Faith nothing.
I have not heard of any worth relating.

_Bew._ Nor I sweet Lady.

_Lon._ Then give me attention,
_Monsieur Shattillion's_ mad.

_Wife._ Mad?

_Lon._ Mad as May-butter,
And which is more, mad for a Wench.

_Lady._ 'Tis strange, and full of pity.

_Lon._ All that comes near him
He thinks are come of purpose to betray him,
Being full of strange conceit: the wench he loved
Stood very near the Crown.

_Lady._ Alass good _Monsieur_;
A' was a proper man, and fair demean'd,
A Person worthy of a better temper.

_Lon._ He is strong opinion'd that the Wench he lov'd
Remains close prisoner by the Kings command:
Fearing her title, when the poor grieved Gentlewoman
Follows him much lamenting, and much loving
In hope to make him well, he knows her not,
Nor any else that comes to visit him.

_Lady._ Let's walk in Gentlemen, and there discourse
His further miseries, you shall stay dinner,
In truth you must obey.

_Om._ We are your servants. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Couzen._

_Cous._ There's no good to be done, no cure to be wrought
Upon my desperate Kinsman: I'll to horse
And leave him to the fools whip, misery.
I shall recover twenty miles this night,
My horse stands ready, I'll away with speed.

_Enter_ Shattillion.

_Shat._ Sir, may I crave your name?

_Cous._ Yes Sir you may:
My name is _Cleremont_.

_Shat._ 'Tis well, your faction?
What party knit you with?

_Cous._ I know no parties,
Nor no Factions, Sir.

_Shat._ Then weare this Cross of white:
And where you see the like they are my friends,
Observe them well, the time is dangerous.

_Cous._ Sir keep your cross, I'll weare none, sure this fellow
Is much beside himself, grown mad.

_Shat._ A word Sir;
You can pick nothing out of this, this cross
Is nothing but a cross, a very cross,
Plain, without spell, or witchcraft, search it,
You may suspect, and well, there's poyson in't,
Powder, or wild-fire, but 'tis nothing so.

_Cous._ I do believe you, Sir, 'tis a plain cross.

_Shat._ Then do your worst, I care not, tell the King,
Let him know all this, as I am sure he shall;
When you have spit your venome, then will I
Stand up a faithful, and a loyal Subject,
And so God save His Grace, this is no Treason.

_Cous._ He is March mad, farewell _Monsieur_. [_Exit Couzen._

_Shat._ Farewel;
I shall be here attending, 'tis my life
They aime at, there's no way to save it, well
Let 'em spread all their nets: they shall not draw me
Into any open Treason, I can see,
And can beware, I have my wits about me,
I thank heaven for't.

_Enter_ Love.

_Love._ There he goes,
That was the fairest hope the _French_ Court bred,
The worthiest and the sweetest temper'd spirit,
The truest, and the valiantest, the best of judgment,
Till most unhappy I: sever'd those virtues,
And turn'd his wit wild with a coy denial,
Which heaven forgive me, and be pleas'd, O heaven
To give again his senses: that my love
May strike off all my follies.

_Shat._ Lady.

_Love._ I Sir.

_Shat._ Your will with me sweet Lady.

_Love._ Sir, I come.

_Shat._ From the dread sovereign King, I know it Lady,
He is a gracious Prince, long may he live,
Pertain you to his chamber?

_Lov._ No indeed Sir,
That place is not for women, Do you know me?

_Shat._ Yes, I do know you.

_Lov._ What's my name? pray you speak.

_Shat._ That's all one, I do know you and your business,
You are discover'd Lady, I am wary,
It stands upon my life; pray excuse me,
The best man of this Kingdom sent you hither,
To dive into me, have I toucht you? ha?

_Lov._ You are deceiv'd Sir, I come from your love,
That sends you fair commends, and many kisses.

_Shat._ Alass, poor soul, How does she? Is she living?
Keeps she her bed still?

_Lov._ Still Sir, She is living,
And well, and shall do so.

_Shat._ Are ye in counsel?

_Lov._ No Sir, nor any of my sex.

_Shat._ Why so,
If you had been in counsel, you would know,
Her time to be but slender; she must die.

_Lov._ I do believe it, Sir.

_Shat._ And suddenly,
She stands too near a fortune.

_Lov._ Sir?

_Shat._ 'Tis so,
There is no jesting with a Princes Title,
Would we had both been born of common parents,
And liv'd a private and retir'd life,
In homely cottage, we had then enjoyed,
Our loves, and our embraces, these are things,
That cannot tend to Treason--

_Lov._ I am wretched.

_Shat._ O I pray as often for the King as any,
And with as true a heart, for's continuance,
And do moreover pray his heirs may live;
And their fair issues, then as I am bound
For all the states and commons: if these prayers
Be any wayes ambitious, I submit,
And lay my head down, let 'em take it off;
You may informe against me, but withall
Remember my obedience to the Crown,
And service to the State.

_Lov._ Good Sir, I love ye.

_Shat._ Then love the gracious King, and say with me.

_Lov._ Heaven save his Grace.

_Shat._ This is strange--
A woman should be sent to undermine me,
And buz love into me to try my spirit;
Offer me kisses, and enticing follies,
To make me open, and betray my self;
It was a subtile and a dangerous plot,
And very soundly followed, farewel Lady,
Let me have equal hearing, and relate
I am an honest Man. Heaven save the King. [_Exit._

_Love._ I'll never leave him, till, by art or prayer,
I have restor'd his senses, If I make
Him perfect Man again, he's mine, till when,
I here abjure all loves of other men. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Cozen, _and_ Jaques.

_Jaques._ Nay, good Sir be perswaded, go but back,
And tell him hee's undone, say nothing else;
And you shall see how things will work upon't.

_Cozen._ Not so good _Jaques_, I am held an asse,
A Countrey Fool, good to converse with dirt,
And eate course bread, weare the worst Wooll,
Know nothing but the high-way to _Paris_,
And wouldst thou have me bring these stains,
And imperfections to the rising view
Of the right worshipful thy worthy Master?
They must be bright, and shine, their cloaths
Soft Velvet, and the _Tyrian_ Purple
Like the _Arabian_ gums, hung like the Sun,
Their golden beames on all sides;
Such as these may come and know
Thy Master, I am base, and dare not speak unto him,
Hee's above me.

_Ja._ If ever you did love him, or his state,
His name, his issue, or your self, go back:
'Twill be an honest and a noble part
Worthy a Kinsman; save 300 Acres
From present execution; they have had sentence,
And cannot be repriev'd, be merciful.

_Co._ Have I not urg'd already all the reasons,
I had to draw him from his will? his ruin?
But all in vain, no counsel will prevail;
H'as fixt himself, there's no removing, _Jaques_,
'Twill prove but breath and labor spent in vain,
I'll to my horse, farewell.

_Ja._ For Gods sake, Sir,
As ever you have hope of joy, turn back;
I'll be your slave for ever, do but go,
And I will lay such fair directions to you
That if he be not doting on his fall,
He shall recover sight, and see his danger,
And ye shall tell him of his Wives abuses,
I fear, too foul against him; how she plots,
With our young Mounsiers, to milk-dry her husband,
And lay it on their backs; the next her pride;
Then what his debts are, and how infinite
The curses of his Tenants, this will work
I'll pawn my life and head, he cries away,
I'll to my house in the Countrey.

_Co._ Come, I'll go, and once more try him,
If he yield not, so,
The next that tryes him shall be want and woe. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scaena Prima._

_Enter Gentleman, Solus._

_Gent._ _Jaques._

_Jaq._ Sir. [_Within._

_Gent._ Rise _Jaques_ 'tis grown day,
The Country life is best, where quietly,
Free from the clamor of the troubled Court,
We may enjoy our own green shadowed walks,
And keep a moderate diet without art.
Why did I leave my house, and bring my Wife,
To know the manner of this subtile place?
I would, when first the lust to fame and honor,
Possest me, I had met with any evil,
But that; had I been tied to stay at home,
And earn the bread for the whole family,
With my own hand, happy had I been.

_Enter_ Jaques.

_Jaq._ Sir, this is from your wonted course at home,
When did ye there keep such inordinate hours?
Goe to bed late? start thrice? and call on me?
Would you were from this place; our Countrey sleeps,
Although they were but of that moderate length
That might maintain us in our daily work,
Yet were they sound and sweet.

_Gent._ I _Jaques_, there we dreamt not of our Wives, we lay together;
And needed not; now at length my Cozens words,
So truly meant, mixt with thy timely prayers
So often urged, to keep me at my home,
Condemn me quite.

_Ja._ 'Twas not your fathers course:
He liv'd and dy'd in _Orleance_, where he had
His Vines as fruitful as experience
(Which is the art of Husbandry) could make;
He had his presses for 'em, and his wines
Were held the best, and out-sold other Mens,
His corn and cattel serv'd the neighbor Towns
With plentiful provision, yet his thrift
Could miss one Beast amongst the heard;
He rul'd more where he liv'd, than ever you will here.

_Gent._ 'Tis true, why should my Wife then, 'gainst my good,
Perswade me to continue in this course?

_Ja._ Why did you bring her hither at the first,
Before you warm'd her blood with new delights?
Our Countrey sports could have contented her;
When you first married her a puppet-play
Pleas'd her as well as now the tilting doth.
She thought her self brave in a bugle chain,
Where Orient pearl will scarce content her now.

_Gent._ Sure _Jaques_, she sees something for my good
More than I do; she oft will talk to me
Of Offices, and that she shortly hopes,
By her acquaintance with the friends she hath,
To get a place shall many times outweigh
Our great expences, and if this be so--

_Ja._ Think better of her words, she doth deceive you,
And only for her vain and sensual ends
Perswade ye thus. Let me be set to dwell
For ever naked in the barest soil,
So you will dwell from hence.

_Gent._ I see my folly,
Pack up my stuffe, I will away this morne.
Haste--haste.

_Ja._ I, now I see your Father's honors
Trebling upon you, and the many prayers
The Countrey spent for him, which almost now
Begun to turn to curses, turning back,
And falling like a [timely] shower
Upon ye.

_Gent._ Goe, call [up] my Wife.

_Ja._ But shall she not prevail,
And sway you, as she oft hath done before?

_Gent._ I will not hear her, but raile on her,
Till I be ten miles off.

_Ja._ If you be forty,
'Twill not be worse Sir:

_Gent._ Call her up.

_Ja._ I will Sir. [_Exit._

_Gent._ Why what an Ass was I that such a thing
As a Wife is could rule me!
Know not I that woman was created for the man,
That her desires, nay all her thoughts should be
As his are? is my sense restor'd at length?
Now she shall know, that which she should desire,
She hath a husband that can govern her,

_Enter Wife._

If her desires leads me against my will;
Are you come?

_Wife._ What sad unwonted course
Makes you raise me so soon, that went to bed
So late last-night.

_Gent._ O you shall goe to bed sooner hereafter,
And be rais'd again at thrifty hours:
In Summer time wee'l walk
An hour after our Supper, and to bed,
In Winter you shall have a set at Cards,
And set your Maids to work.

_Wife._ What do you mean?

_Gent._ I will no more of your new tricks, your honors,
Your Offices, and all your large preferments,
Which still you beat into my ears, hang o'er me,
I'll leave behind for others, the great sway
Which I shall bear at Court: my living here
With countenance of your honoured friends,
I'll be content to lose: for you speak this
Only that you may still continue here
In wanton ease: and draw me to consume,
In cloaths and other things idle for shew,
That which my Father got with honest thrift.

_Wife._ Why, who hath been with you Sir,
That you talk thus out of Frame.

_Gent._ You make a fool of me:
You provide one to bid me forth to supper,
And make me promise; then must some one or other
Invite you forth, if you have born your self
Loosely to any Gentleman in my sight
At home, you ask me how I like the carriage,
Whether it were not rarely for my good,
And open'd not a way to my preferment?
Come, I perceive all: talk not, we'll away.

_Wife._ Why Sir, you'll stay till the next triumph
Day be past?

_Gent._ I, you have kept me here triumphing
This seven years, and I have ridden through the streets,
And bought embroyder'd hose and foot-cloths too,
To shew a subjects zeal, I rode before
In this most gorgeous habit, and saluted
All the acquaintance I could espie
From any window, these are wayes ye told me
To raise me; I see all: make you ready straight,
And in that Gown which you came first to Town in,
Your safe-guard, cloak, and your hood sutable:
Thus on a double gelding shall you amble,
And my man _Jaques_ shall be set before you.

_Wife._ But will you goe?

_Gent._ I will.

_Wife._ And shall I too?

_Gent._ And you shall too.

_Wife._ But shall I by this light?

_Gent._ Why by this light you shall.

_Wife._ Then by this light
You have no care of your Estate, and mine.
Have we been seven years venturing in a Ship,
And now upon return, with a fair wind,
And a calm Sea, full fraught with our own wishes,
Laden with wealth and honor to the brim,
And shall we flye away and not receive it?
Have we been tilling, sowing, labouring,
With pain and charge a long and tedious winter,
And when we see the corn above the ground,
Youthful as is the Morn and the full eare,
That promises to stuffe our spacious garners,
Shall we then let it rot, and never reap it?

_Gent._ Wife talke no more, your Rhetorick comes too late,
I am inflixible; and how dare you
Adventure to direct my course of life?
Was not the husband made to rule the Wife?

_Wife._ 'Tis true: but where the man doth miss his way,
It is the Womans part to set him right;
So Fathers have a power to guide their Sons
In all their courses, yet you oft have seen
Poor little children, that have both their eyes,
Lead their blind Fathers.

_Gen._ She has a plaguy wit,
I say you'r but a little piece of man.