Chapter X: Part 10

_Char._ You have pretty fancies, Sir, but married once,
This charity will fall home to your self.

_Mont._ I would it would, I am afraid my looseness
Is yet scarce stopt, though it have nought to work on
But the meer air of what I have had.

_Char._ Pretty.

_Mont._ I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me,
I can see nothing in my self deserves it,
Unless the handsome wearing of a band,
For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters;
Necessity will not let me loose.

_Char._ I see Sir, a great deal more, a handsome man, a Husband,
To make a right good woman truly happy.

_Mont._ Lord, where are my eyes, either you are foolish
As wenches once a year are, or far worse,
Extreamly virtuous, can you love a poor man
That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings,
One only suit to his back, which now is mewing?
But what will be the next coat will pose _Tristram_.
If I should leavy from my friends a fortune:
I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.

_Char._ I'll do that duty; 'tis not means nor money
Makes me pursue your love; were your mind bankrupt,
I would never love you.

_Enter_ Lamira.

_Mont._ Peace wench, here's my Lady.

_Lam._ Nay, never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence;
D'ye find her willing _Montague_?

_Mont._ Willing Madam?

_Lam._ How dainty you make of it, do not I know
You two love one another?

_Mont._ Certain Madam, I think ye'ave revelations of these matters:
Your Ladyship cannot tell me when I kist her.

_Lam._ But she can, Sir.

_Mont._ But she will not Madam;
For when they talk once, 'tis like Fairy-Money,
They get no more close kisses.

_Lam._ Thou art wanton.

_Mont._ [God] knows I need not, yet I would be lusty:
But ---- my Provender scarce pricks me.

_Lam._ It shall be mended _Montague_, I am glad you are
grown so merry.

_Mont._ So am I too Madam.

_Lam._ You two will make a pretty handsome Consort.

_Mont._ Yes Madam, if my Fiddle fail me not.

_Lam._ Your Fiddle? why your Fiddle? I warrant thou
meanest madly:

_Mont._ Can you blame me? alas I am in love.

_Char._ 'Tis very well, Sir.

_Lam._ How long have you been thus?

_Mont._ How thus in love?

_Lam._ You are very quick, Sir: no, I mean thus pleasant.

_Mont._ --Ever since I was poor.

_Lam._ A little wealth would change you then?

_Mont._ Yes Lady, into another suit, but never more
Into another man: I'll bar that mainly,
The wealth I get hence-forward shall be charm'd
For ever hurting me, I'll spend it fasting:
As I live noble Lady, there is nothing
I have found directly, cures the melancholy,
But want and wedlock; when I had store of money,
I simper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous wise,
But never laught out-right; now I am empty,
My heart sounds like a Bell, and strikes at both sides.

_Lam._ You are finely temper'd, _Montague_.

_Mont._ Pardon Lady, if any way my free mirth have offended,
'Twas meant to please you: if it prove too saucy,
Give it a frown, and I am ever silenc'd.

_Lam._ I like it passing well; pray follow it:
This is my day of choice, and shall be yours too,
'Twere pity to delay ye: call to the Steward,
And tell him 'tis my pleasure he should give you
Five hundred Crowns: make your self handsome _Montague_,
Let none wear better cloaths, 'tis for my credit;
But pray be merry still.

_Mont._ If I be not, and make a fool of twice as many hundreds,
Clap me in Canvas, Lady. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ La-poop, Laverdine, _and_ Malycorne.

_Lav._ I am strangely glad, I have found the mystery
Of this disguised boy out: I ever trusted
It was a woman; and how happily
I have found it so; and for my self, I am sure,
One that would offer me a thousand pound now
(And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger)
In ready Gold for this concealment, could not
Buy my hope of her, she's a dainty wench,
And such a one I find I want extreamly,
To bring me into credit: beauty does it.

_Mal._ Say we should all meach here, and stay the Feast, now, what
can the worst be? we have plaid the knaves, that's without question.

_La-p._ True, and as I take it, this is the first truth
We told these ten years, and for any thing
I know, may be the last: but grant we are knaves,
Both base and beastly knaves--

_Mal._ Say so then.

_Lav._ Well.

_La-p._ And likewise let it be considered, we have wrong'd,
And most maliciously, this Gentlewoman
We cast to stay with, what must we expect now?

_Mal._ I, there's the point, we would expect good eating.

_La-p._ I know we would, but we may find good beating.

_Lav._ You say true Gentlemen, and by----
Though I love meat as well as any man,
I care not what he be, if a eat a Gods name;
Such a crab-sauce to my meat will turn my pallate.

_Mal._ There's all the hazard, for the frozen _Montague_
Has now got spring again, and warmth in him,
And without doubt, dares beat us terribly.
For not to mint the matter, we are cowards,
And have, and shall be beaten, when men please
To call us into cudgeling.

_La-p._ I feel we are very prone that way.

_Lav._ The sons of _Adam_.

_La-p._ Now, here then rests the state o'th' question;
Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner
To a sound dog-whip, for I promise ye,
If men be given to correction,
We can expect no less; or quietly
Take a hard Egg or two, and ten mile hence
Bait in a ditch, this we may do securely;
For, to stay hereabout will be all one,
If once our moral mischiefs come in memory.

_Mal._ But pray ye hear me, is not this the day
The Virgin Lady doth elect her Husband?

_Lav._ The dinner is to that end.

_Mal._ Very well then, say we all stay, and say we all scape this
whipping, and be well entertained, and one of us carry the Lady.

_La-p._ 'Tis a seemly saying, I must confess, but if we stay, how fitly
We may apply it to our selves (i'th' end)
Will ask a _Christian_ fear; I cannot see,
If I say true, what special ornaments
Of Art or Nature, (lay aside our lying
Whoring and drinking, which are no great virtues)
We are endued withal, to win this Lady.

_Mal._ Yet Women go not by the best parts ever; that I have found
directly.

_Lav._ Why should we fear then? they choose men
As they feed; sometimes they settle
Upon a White broth'd face, a sweet smooth gallant,
And him they make an end of in a night;
Sometimes a Goose, sometimes a grosser meat,
A rump of Beef will serve 'em at some season,
And fill their bellies too, though without doubt
They are great devourers: Stock-fish is a dish,
If it be well drest, for the tuffness sake
Will make the proud'st of 'em long and leap for't.
They'll run mad for a Pudding, e'r they'll starve.

_La-p._ For my own part I care not, come what can come,
If I be whipt, why so be it; if cudgell'd,
I hope I shall out-live it, I am sure
'Tis not the hundredth time I have been serv'd so,
And yet I thank [God] I am here.

_Mal._ Here's resolution.

_La-p._ A little patience, and a rotten Apple
Cures twenty worse diseases; what say you, Sir?

_Lav._ Marry I say Sir, if I had been acquainted
With lamming in my youth, as you have been
With whipping, and such benefits of nature,
I should do better: as I am, I'll venture,
And if it be my luck to have the Lady,
I'll use my fortune modestly; if beaten,
You shall not hear a word, one I am sure of,
And if the worst fall, she shall be my Physick.
Lets go then, and a merry wind be with us.

_Mal._ Captain, your shooes are old, pray put 'em off,
And let one fling 'em after us; be bold, Sirs,
And howsoever our fortune falls, lets bear
An equal burden; if there be an odd lash,
We'll part it afterwards.

_La-p_. I am arm'd at all points. [_Exeunt._

_Enter four serving in a Banquet._

_1._ Then my Lady will have a bedfellow to night.

_2._ So she says; Heaven! what a dainty arm-full shall he enjoy,
that has the launching of her, what a fight she'll make.

_3._ I marry boys, there will be sport indeed, there will be
grapling, she has a murderer lies in her prow, I am afraid will
fright his main Mast, _Robin_.

_4._ Who dost thou think shall have her of thy conscience, thou art
a wise man?

_3._ If she go the old way, the way of lot, the longest cut sweeps
all without question.

_1._ She has lost a friend of me else; what think ye of the
Courtier?

_2._ Hang him Hedge-hog: h'as nothing in him but a piece of
_Euphues_, and twenty dozen of twelvepenny ribond, all about him,
he is but one _Pedlers_ shop of Gloves and Garters, pick-teeth and
pomander.

_3._ The Courtier, marry God bless her _Steven_, she is not mad
yet, she knows that trindle-tail too well, he's crestfall'n, and
pin-buttock't, with leaping Landresses.

_4._ The Merchant, sure she will not be so base to have him.

_1._ I hope so _Robin_, he'll sell us all to the Moors to make
Mummy; nor the Captain.

_4._ Who _Potgun_? that's a sweet youth indeed, will he stay, think
ye?

_3._ Yes, without question, and have halfe din'd too, e'r the Grace
be done; he's good for nothing in the world but eating, lying and
sleeping; what other men devour in drink, he takes in potage, they
say h'as been at Sea, a Herring-fishing, for without doubt he dares
not hale an Eel-boat i'th' way of War.

_2._ I think so, they would beat him off with Butter.

_3._ When he brings in a prize, unless it be Cockles, or _Callis_
sand to scour with, I'll renounce my Five Mark a year, and all
the hidden Art I have in carving, to teach young Birds to whistle
_Walsingham_; leave him to the Lime-Boats; now, what think you of
the brave _Amiens_?

_1._ That's a thought indeed.

_2._ I marry, there's a person fit to feed upon a dish so dainty,
and he'll do't I warrant him i'th' nick boys, has a body world
without end.

_4._ And such a one my Lady will make no little of; but is not
_Montague_ married to day?

_3._ Yes faith, honest _Montague_ must have his bout too.

_2._ He's as good a lad as ever turn'd a trencher; must we leave
him?

_3._ He's too good for us, _Steven_, I'll give him health to his
good luck to night i'th' old Beaker, and it shall be Sack too.

_4._ I must have a Garter; and boys I have bespoke a Posset, some
body shall give me thanks fort, 'tas a few toys in't will rase
commotions in a bed, lad.

_1._ Away; my Lady. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Orleance _and his Lady, arm in arm_, Amiens, Lamira,
Charlotte, _like a Bride_, Montague _brave_, Laverdine,
Longaville, Dubois, Mallycorn, La-poop.

_Lam._ Seat your selves noble Lords and Gentlemen,
You know your places; many royal welcomes
I give your Grace; how lovely shews this change!
My house is honor'd in this reconcilement.

_Orl._ Thus Madam must you do, my Lady now shall see
You made a Woman;
And give you some short lessons for your voyage.
Take her instructions Lady, she knows much.

_Lam._ This becomes you, Sir.

_L[a]._ My Lord must have his Will.

_Orl._ 'Tis all I can do now, sweet-heart, fair Lady;
This to your happy choice, brother _Amiens_,
You are the man I mean it to.

_Ami._ I'll pledge you.

_Orl._ And with my heart.

_Ami._ With all my love I take it.

_Lam._ Noble Lords, I am proud ye have done this day, so much
content, and me such estimation, that this hour (In this poor
house) shall be a league for ever, For so I know ye mean it.

_Ami._ I do Lady.

_Orl._ And I my Lord.

_Omnes._ Y'ave done a work of honor.

_Ami._ Give me the Cup, where this health stops, let
That man be either very sick, or very simple;
Or I am very angry; Sir, to you;
Madam, methinks this Gentleman might sit too;
He would become the best on's.

_Orl._ Pray sit down, Sir, I know the Lady of the Feast expects not
this day so much old custom.

_Ami._ Sit down _Montague_; nay, never blush for the matter.

_Mont._ Noble Madam, I have t[w]o reasons [a]gainst it, and I dare
not; duty to you first, as you are my Lady, and I your poorest
servant; next the custom of this days ceremony.

_Lam._ As you are my servant, I may command you then.

_Mont._ To my life, Lady.

_Lam._ Sit down, and here, I'll have it so.

_Ami._ Sit down man, never refuse so fair a Ladies offer.

_Mont._ It is your pleasure, Madam, not my pride,
And I obey; I'll pledge ye now my Lord, Monsieur _Longaville_.

_Long._ I thank you, Sir.

_Mont._ This to my Lady, and her fair choice to day, and happiness.

_Lon._ 'Tis a fair health, I'll pledge you though I sink for't.

_Lam. Montague_ you are too modest; come, I'll add a little more
wine t'yee, 'twill make you merry, this to the good I wish.----

_Mont._ Honour'd Lady, I shall forget my self with this great
bounty.

_Lam._ You shall not Sir, give him some Vine.

_Ami._ By Heaven you are a worthy woman, and that
Man is blest can come near such a Lady.

_Lami._ Such a blessing wet weather washes.

_Mont._ At all, I will not go a lip less, my Lord.

_Orl._ 'Tis well cast, Sir.

_Mal._ If _Montague_ get more Wine, we are all like to hear on't.

_Lav._ I do not like that sitting there.

_Mal._ Nor I, methinks he looks lik[e] a Judge.

_La-p._ Now have I a kind of grudging of a beating on me, I fear my
hot fit:

_Mal._ Drink apace, there's nothing allays a cudgel like it.

_Lami. Montague_, now I'll put my choice to you; who do you hold
in all this honor'd company a Husband fit to enjoy thy Lady? speak
directly.

_Mont._ Shall I speak, Madam?

_Lami. Montague_ you shall.

_Mont._ Then as I have a soul, I'll speak my conscience,
Give me more Wine, in _vino veritas_,
Here's to my self, and _Montague_ have a care.

_Lami._ Speak to th' cause.

_Mont._ Yes Madam, first I'll begin to thee.

_Lav._ Have at us.

_La-p._ Now for a Psalm of mercy.

_Mont._ You good Monsieur, you that belye the noble name of
Courtier, and think your claim good here, hold up your hand; your
Worship is endited here, for a vain glorious fool.

_Lav._ Good, oh Sir.

_Mont._ For one whose wit
Lies in a ten pound wastcoat; yet not warm;
Ye have travell'd like a Fidler to make faces,
And brought home nothing but a case of tooth-picks.
You would be married, and no less than Ladies,
And of the best sort can serve you; thou Silk-worm,
What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman?
Name but the poorest piece of man, good manners,
There's nothing sound about thee, faith, th'ast none,
It lies pawn'd at thy Silk-man's, for so much Lace;
Thy credit with his wife cannot redeem it,
Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so
Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting,
Let who will take the t'other, thou wert never christen'd
(Upon my conscience) but in Barbers water;
Thou art never out o'th' Bason, thou art rotten,
And if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt confess it;
---- Thy skin
Looks of a Chesnut colour, greaz'd with Amber,
All women that on earth do dwell, thou lov'st,
Yet none that understand love thee again,
But those that love the Spittle; get thee home
Poor painted Butter-flie, th[y] Summers past;
Go sweat, and eat dry Mutton, thou may'st live
To do so well yet; a bruis'd Chamber-Maid
May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies.
You have your sentence; now it follows Captain,
I treat of you.

_La-p._ Pray [God] I may deserve it.

_Orl._ Beshrew my heart, he speaks plain.

_Ami._ That's plain dealing.

_Mont._ You are a rascal Captain.

_La-p._ A fine Calling.

_Mont._ A Water-coward.

_Ami._ He would make a pretty stuff.

_Mont._ May I speak freely, Madam?

_Lami._ Here's none ties you.

_Mont._ Why shouldst thou dare come hither with a thought
To find a wife here fit for thee? are all
Thy single money whores that fed on Carrots,
And fill'd the high Grass with familiars
Fall'n off to Footmen; prethee tell me truly,
For now I know thou dar'st not lie, couldst thou not
Wish thy self beaten well with all thy heart now,
And out of pain? say that I broke a rib,
Or cut thy nose off, wer't not merciful for this ambition?

_La-p._ Do your pleasure, Sir, beggars must not be choosers.

_Orl._ He longs for beating.

_Mont._ But that I have nobler thoughts possess my soul,
Than such brown Bisket, such a piece of Dog-fish,
Such a most maungy Mackril eater as thou art,
That dares do nothing that belongs to th' Sea,
But spue, and catch Rats, and fear men of War,
Though thou hast nothing in the world to loose
Aboord thee, but one piece of Beef, one Musket
Without a cock for peace sake, and a Pitch-barrel,
I'll tell thee, if my time were not more pretious
Than thus to loose it, I would rattle thee,
It may be beat thee, and thy pure fellow,
The Merchant there of Catskins, till my words,
Or blows, or both, made ye two branded wretches
To all the world hereafter; you would fain to
Venture your Bils of lading for this Lady;
What would you give now for her? some five frayl
Of rotten Figs, good Godson, would you not, Sir?
Or a Parrot that speaks _High Dutch_? can all thou ever saw'st
Of thine own fraughts from Sea, or cosenage
(At which thou art as expert as the Devil)
Nay, sell thy soul for wealth to, as thou wilt do,
Forfeit thy friends, and raise a mint of Money,
Make thee dream all these double, could procure
A kiss from this good Lady? canst thou hope
She would lye with such a nook of Hell as thou art,
And hatch young Merchant-furies? oh ye dog-bolts!
That fear no [God] but _Dunkirk_, I shall see you
Serve in a lowsy Lime-boat, e'r I dye,
For mouldy Cheese and Butter, _Billingsgate_
Would not endure, or bring in rotten Pippins
To cure blew eyes, and swear they came from _China_.

_Lami._ Vex 'em no more, alas they shake:

_Mont._ Down quickly on your marrow-bones, and thank this Lady.
I would not leave you thus else, there are blankets,
And such delights for such knaves; but fear still;
'Twill be revenge enough to keep you waking.
Ye have no mind of marriage, ha' ye?

_La-p._ Surely no great mind now.

_Mont._ Nor you.

_Mal._ Nor I, I take it.

_Mont._ Two eager suitors.

_L[a]v._ Troth 'tis wondrous hot, [God] bless us from him.

_Lami._ You have told me _Montag[u]e_
Who are not fit to have me, let me know
The man you would point out for me.

_Mont._ There he sits; my Lord of _Amiens_, Madam, is my choice,
he's noble every way, and worthy a wife with all the dowries of--

_Ami._ Do you speak Sir, out of your friendship to me?

_Mont._ Yes my Lord, and out of truth, for I could never flatter.

_Ami._ I would not say how much I owe you for it,
For that were but a promise, but I'll thank ye,
As now I find you, in despite of fortune,
A fair and noble Gentleman.

_Lami._ My Lords, I must confess the choice this man hath made
Is every way a great one, if not too great,
And no way to be slighted: yet because
We love to have our own eyes sometimes n[o]w,
Give me a little liberty to see,
How I could fit my self, if I were put to't.

_Ami._ Madam we must.

_Lami._ Are ye all agreed?

_Omnes._ We be.

_Lami._ Then as I am a Maid, I shall choose here.
_Montague_ I must have thee.

_Mont._ Why Madam, I have learnt to suffer more
Than you can (out of pity) mock me with this way especially.

_Lami._ Thou think'st I jest now;
But by the love I bear thee, I will have thee.

_Mont._ If you could be so weak to love a fall'n man,
He must deserve more than I ever can,
Or ever shall (dear Lady;) look but this way
Upon that Lord, and you will tell me then
Your eyes are no true choosers of good men.

_Ami._ Do you love him truly?

_Lam._ Yes my Lord, I will obey him truly, for I'll marry him, and
justly think he that has so well serv'd me with his obedience,
being born to greatness, must use me nobly of necessity, when I
shall serve him.

_Ami._ 'Twere a deep sin to cross ye, noble _Montague_,
I wish ye all content, and am as happy
In my friends good as it were meerly mine.

_Mont._ Your Lordship does ill to give up your right;
I am not capable of this great goodness,
There sits my wife that holds my troth.

_Cha._ I'll end all, I wooed you for my Lady, and now give up my
Title, alas poor wench, my aims are lower far.

_Mont._ How's this sweet-heart?

_Lami._ Sweet-heart 'tis so, the drift was mine to hide
My purpose till it struck home.

_Omnes._ [God g]ive you joy.

_Lami._ Prethee leave wondring, by this kiss I'll have thee.

_Mont._ Then by this kiss, and this, I'll ever serve ye.

_Long._ This Gentleman and I Sir, must needs hope once more to
follow ye.

_Mont._ As friends and fellows, never as servants more.

_Long. Dub._ You make us happy.

_Orl._ Friend _Montague_, ye have taught me so much honor, I have
found a fault in my self, but thus I'll purge my conscience of
it, the late Land I took by false play, from you, with as much
contrition, and entireness of affection to this most happy day
again, I render; be master of your own, forget my malice, and make
me worthy of your love, L. _Montague_.

_Mont._ You have won me and honor to your name.

_Mal._ Since your Lordship has begun good deeds, we'll follow; good
Sir forgive us, we are now those men fear you for goodness sake;
those sums of money unjustly we detain from you, on your pardon
shall be restor'd again, and we your servants.

_La-p._ You are very forward Sir, it seems you have money, I pray
you lay out, I'll pay you, or pray for you, as the Sea works.

_Lav._ Their pennance Sir, I'll undertake, so please ye
To grant me one concealment.

_Long._ A right Courtier, still a begging.

_Mont._ What is it Sir?

_Lav._ A Gentlewoman.

_Mont._ In my gift?

_Lav._ Yes Sir, in yours.

_Mont._ Why, bring her forth, and take her.

_Lami._ What wench would he have?

_Mont._ Any wench I think.

_Enter_ Laverdine _and_ Veramour _like a woman_.

_Lav._ This is the Gentlewoman.

_Mont._ 'Tis my Page, Sir.

_Ver._ No Sir, I am a poor disguis'd Lady,
That like a Page have followed you full long for love god-wot.

_Omnes._ A Lady--_Laverdine_--yes, yes, 'tis a Lady.

_Mont._ It may be so, and yet we have lain together,
But by my troth I never found her, Lady.

_L. Orl._ Why wore you boys cloaths?

_Ver._ I'll tell you, Madam,
I took example by two or three Plays, that methought
Concerned me.

_Mont._ Why made you not me acquainted with it?

_Ver._ Indeed Sir, I knew it not my self,
Until this Gentleman open'd my dull eyes,
And by perswasion made me see it.

_Ami._ Could his power in words make such a change?

_Ver._ Yes, as truly woman as your self, my Lord.

_Lav._ Why, but hark you, are not you a woman?

_Ver._ If hands and face make it not evident, you shall see more.

_Mai._ Breeches, breeches, _Laverdine_.

_La-p._ 'Tis not enough, women may wear those cases.
Search further Courtier.

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha.

_La-p._ Oh thou fresh-water Gudgeon, wouldst thou come
To point of Marriage with an _Ignoramus_?
Thou shouldst have had her Urin to the Doctors,
The foolishest Physitian could have made plain
The liquid _Epicæne_; a blind man by the hand
Could have discovered the ring from the stone.
Boy, come, to Sea with me, I'll teach thee to climb,
And come down by the Rope, nay to eat Rats.

_Ver._ I shall devour my Master before the prison then,
Sir, I have began my Trade.

_Mal._ Trade? to the City, child, a flat-cap will become thee.

_Mont._ Gentlemen, I beseech you molest your selves no further,
For his preferment it is determin'd.

_Lav._ I am much ashamed, and if my cheek
Gives not satisfaction, break my head.

_Mont._ Your shame's enough, Sir.

_Ami. Montague_, much joy attend thy marriage-bed;
By thy example of true goodness, envy is exil'd,
And to all honest men that truth intend,
I wish good luck, fair fate be still thy friend. [_Exeunt._

Upon an Honest Man's Fortune.

By Mr. _JOHN FLETCHER_.

_You that can look through Heaven, and tell the Stars,_
_Observe their kind conjunctions, and their wars;_
_Find out new Lights, and give them where you please,_
_To those men honors, pleasures, to those ease;_
_You that are God's Surveyers, and can show_
_How far, and when, and why the wind doth blow;_
_Know all the charges of the dreadful thunder,_
_And when it will shoot over, or fall under:_
_Tell me, by all your Art I conjure ye,_
_Yes, and by truth, what shall become of me?_
_Find out my Star, if each one, as you say,_
_Have his peculiar Angel, and his way;_
_Observe my fate, next fall into your dreams,_
_Sweep clean your houses, and new line your Sceames,_
_Then say your worst: or have I none at all?_
_Or is it burnt out lately? or did fall?_
_Or am I poor? not able, no full flame?_
_My Star, like me, unworthy of a name?_
_Is it your Art can only work on those,_
_That deal with dangers, dignities, and cloaths?_
_With Love, or new Opinions? you all lye,_
_A Fish-wife hath a fate, and so have I,_
_But far above your finding; he that gives,_
_Out of his providence, to all that lives,_
_And no man knows his treasure, no, not you:_
_He that made_ Egypt _blind, from whence you grew_
_Scabby and lowzie, that the world might see_
_Your Calculations are as blind as ye:_
_He that made all the Stars, you daily read,_
_And from thence filtch a knowledge how to feed;_
_Hath hid this from you, your conjectures all_
_Are drunken things, not how, but when they fall:_
_Man is his own Star, and the soul that can_
_Render an honest, and a perfect man,_
_Commands all light, all influence, all fate,_
_Nothing to him falls early, or too late._
_Our Acts our Angels are, or good or ill,_
_Our fatal shadows that walk by us still,_
_And when the Stars are labouring, we believe_
_It is not that they govern, but they grieve_
_For stuborn ignorance; all things that are_
_Made for our general uses, are at war,_
_Even we among our selves, and from the strife,_
_Tour first unlike opinions got a life._
_Oh man! thou Image of thy Makers good,_
_What canst thou fear, when breathed into thy bloud,_
_His spirit is, that built thee? what dull sence_
_Makes thee suspect, in need, that Providence?_
_Who made the morning, and who plac'd the light_
_Guide to thy labours? who call'd up the night,_
_And bid her fall upon thee like sweet showers_
_In hollow murmurs, to lock up thy powers?_
_Who gave thee knowledge, who so trusted thee,_
_To let thee grow so near himself, the Tree?_
_Must he then be distrusted? shall his frame_
_Discourse with him, why thus, and thus I am?_
_He made the Angels thine, thy fellows all,_
_Nay, even thy servants, when Devotions call._
_Oh! canst thou be so stupid then, so dim,_
_To seek a saving influence, and loose him?_
_Can Stars protect thee? or can poverty,_
_Which is the light to Heaven, put out his eye?_
_He is my Star, in him all truth I find,_
_All influence, all fate, and when my mind_
_Is furnish'd with his fullness, my poor story_
_Shall out-live all their age, and all their glory,_
_The hand of danger cannot fall amiss,_
_When I know what, and in whose power it is._
_[N]or want, the cause of man, shall make me groan,_
_A Holy Hermit is a mind alone._
_Doth not experience teach us all we can,_
_To work our selves into a glorious man?_
_Love's but an exhalation to best eyes_
_The matter spent, and then the fools fire dies?_
_Were I in love, and could that bright Star bring_
_Increase to Wealth, Honor, and every thing:_
_Were she as perfect good, as we can aim,_
_The first was so, and yet she lost the Game._
_My Mistriss then be knowledge and fair truth;_
_So I enjoy all beauty and all youth,_
_And though to time her Lights, and Laws she lends,_
_She knows no Age, that to corruption bends._
_Friends promises may lead me to believe,_
_But he that [is] his own friend, knows to live._
_Affliction, when I know it is but this,_
_A deep allay, whereby man tougher is_
_To [b]ear the hammer, and the deeper still,_
_We still arise more image of his Will._
_Sickness, an humorous cloud 'twixt us and light_
_And death, at longest but another night._
_Man is his own Star, and that soul that can_
_Be honest, is the only perfect man._

FINIS.

THE

MASQUE of the Gentlemen

OF

_GRAYS-INNE_ and the _INNER-TEMPLE_;

_Performed before the KING in the_ Banqueting-House _in_
White-Hall, at the Marriage of the Illustrious _Frederick_ and
_Elizabeth_, Prince and Princess Palatine of the _Rhine_.

Written by _FRANCIS BEAMONT_ Gent.

_Enter_ Iris _running_, Mercury _following, and catching hold of her_.

_Mercury._
Stay Light-[f]oot _Iris_, for thou striv'st in vain,
My wings are nimbler than thy feet.

_Iris._ Away,
Dissembling _Mercury_, my messages
Ask honest haste, not like those wanton ones,
Your thundering Father sends.

_Mer._ Stay foolish Maid,
Or I will take my rise upon a hill,
When I perceive thee seated in a cloud,
In all the painted glory that thou hast,
And never cease to clap my willing wing[s],
Till I catch hold o[f] thy discolour'd Bow,
And shiver it beyond the angry power
Of your [curst] Mistriss to make up again.

_Iris. Hermes_ forbear, _Juno_ will chide and strike;
Is great _Jove_ jealous that I am imploy'd
On her Love-errands? she did never yet
Claspe weak mortality in her white arms,
As he has often done; I only come
To celebrate the long wish'd Nuptials
Here in _Olympia_, which are now perform'd
Betwixt two goodly Rivers, [which] have mixt
Their gentle [ris]ing waves, and are to grow
Into a thousand streams, great as themselves.
I need not name them, for the sound is loud
In Heaven and Earth, and I am sent from her
The Queen of marriage, that was present here,
And smil'd to see them joyn, and hath not chid
Since it was done. Good _Hermes_ let me goe.

_Merc._ Nay, you must stay, _Jove's_ message is the same;
Whose eyes are lightning, and whose voice is thunder,
Whose breath is a[n]y wind, he will, who knows
How to be first [o]n Earth, as well as Heaven.

_Iris._ But what hath he to do with Nuptial rites?
Let him [keepe state] upon his Starry throne,
And fright poor mortals with his Thunder-bolts,
Leaving to us the mutual darts of eyes.

_Merc._ Alas, when ever offer'd he t'abridge
Your Ladies power, but only now in these,
Whose match concerns [his] general government?
Hath not each God a part in these high joyes?
And shall not he the King of gods presume
Without proud _Juno's_ licence? let her know,
That when enamour'd _Jove_ fir[st] gave her power
To link soft hearts in undissolv[ed] b[o]nds,
He then foresaw, and to himself reserv'd
The honor of this marriage: thou shalt stand
Still as a Rock, while I to bless this Feast
Will summon up with mine all-charming rod
The Nymphs of Fountains, from whose watry locks,
(Hung with the dew of blessing and increase)
The greedy Rivers take their nourishment.
Y[ou] Nymphs, who bathing in your loved Springs,
Beheld these Rivers in their infancy.
And joy'd to see them, when their circled heads
Refresh'd the Air, and spread the ground with Flowers;
Rise from your Wells, and with your nimble feet
Perform that office to this happy pair,
Which in these Plains you to _Alpheus_ did,
When passing hence, through many Seas unmixt,
He gain'd the favour of his _Arethuse_.

[_The Nymphs rise, and dance a little, and then make a stand._

_Iris._ Is _Hermes_ grown a Lover? by what power
Unknown to us, calls he the [Naiades]?

_Merc._ Presumptuous _Iris_, I could make thee dance,
Till thou forgetst thy Ladies messages,
And rann'st back crying to her; thou shalt know
My power is more, only my breath, and this
Shall move fix'd Stars, and force the Firmament
To yield the Hyades, who govern showers,
And dewy clouds, in whose dispersed drops
Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitful Bow.
Y[ou] Maids, who yearly at appointed times
Advance with kindly tears, the gentle floods
Discend, and pour your blessing on these streams,
Which rolling down from Heaven-aspiring hills,
And now united in the fruitful vales,
Bear all before them, ravish'd with their joy,
And swell in glory, till they know no bounds.

[_The Cloud discends with the Hyades, at which the Maids seem to
be rejoyced; they all dance a while together, then make another
stand, as if they wanted something._

_Iris._ Great Wit and Power hath _Hermes_ to contrive
A livel[esse] dance, which of one sex consists.

_Merc._ Alas poor _Iris_! _Venus_ hath in store
A secret ambush of her winged boys,
Who lurking long within these pleasant groves,
First stuck these Lovers with their equal darts;
Those _Cupids_ shall come forth, and joyn with these,
To honor that which they themselves began.

[_The_ Cupids _come forth and dance, they are weary with their
blind pursuing the Nymphs, and th[e] Nymphs weary with flying
them_.

_Iris._ Behold the Statues which wild Vulcan plac'd
Under the Altar of Olympian _Jove_,
And gave to them an artificial life:
[Shall daunce for joy of these great Nuptialls:]
See how they move, drawn by this Heavenly joy,
Like the wild Trees, which followed _Orpheus_ Harp.

[_The Statues come down, and they all dance, till the Nymphs
out-run them, and lose them, then the_ Cupids _go off, and last the
Statues_.

_Merc._ And what will _Juno's Iris_ do for her?

_Iris._ Just match this shew, or m[y] inventio[n] fail[es],
Had it been worthier, I would have invok'd
The blazing Comets, Clouds, and falling Stars,
And all my kindred Meteors of the air,
To have excell'd it; but I now must strive
To imitate confusion; therefore thou
Delightful _Flora_; if thou ever feltst
Increase of sweetness in those blooming Plants,
On which the horns of my fair Bow decline,
Send hither all th[e] rural company,
Which deck the May-games with their [Countrey] sports;
_Juno_ will have it so.

[_The second Anti-Masque [rush] in, [dance] their measure, and as
rudely depart._

_Merc. Iris_, we strive
Like winds at liberty, who should do worst
E'r we return. If _Juno_ be the Queen
Of Marriages, let her give happy way
To what is done in honor of the State
She governs.

_Iris. Hermes_, so it may be done
Meerly in honor of the State, and th[e]se
That now have prov'd it; not to satisfy
The lust of _Jupiter_, in having thanks
More than his _Juno_; if thy Snaky rod
Have power to search the Heaven, or sound the Sea,
Or call together all the ends of earth,
To bring [in] any thing that may do grace
To us, and these, do it, we shall be pleas'd.

_Merc._ Then know that from the mouth of _Jove_ himself,
Whose words have wings, and need not to be born,
I took a message, and I b[a]re it through
A thousand yielding clouds, and never staid
Till his high Will was done: the _Olympian_ games,
Which long ha[ve] slept, at these wish'd Nuptials,
He pleas'd to have renew'd, and all his Knights
Are gather'd hither, who within their Tents
Rest on this hill, upon whose rising head

[_The Altar is discovered with the Pri[e]sts about it, and the
Statues under it, and the Knights lying in their Tents on each
side, near the top of the hill._

Behold _Jove's_ Altar, and his blessed Priests
Moving about it; come you Holy men,
And with your voices draw these youths along,
That till _Jove's_ Musick call them to their games.
Their active sports may give a blest content
To those, for whom they are again begun.

The first Song, when the Priests descend, and the Knights follow
them.

_Shake off your heavy trance,_
_and leap into a dance,_
_Such as no mortals use to tread,_
_fit only for_ Apollo
_To play to, for the Moon to lead,_
_And all the Stars to follow_.

The second Song at the end of the first Dance.

_On blessed youths, for_ Jove _doth pause,_
_Laying aside his graver Laws_
_For this device:_
_And at the wedding such a pair,_
_Each dance is taken for a prayer,_
_Each Song a Sacrifice._

The third Song, after their many Dances, when they are to take out
the Ladies.

Single.

_More pleasing were these sweet delights,_
_If Ladies mov'd as well as Knights_;
_Run every one of you and catch_
_A Nymph, in honor of his match;_
_And whisper boldly in her ear,_
Jove _will but laugh, if you forswear._

All.

_And this days sins he doth resolve,_
_That we his Priests should all absolve._

The fourth Song, when they have parted with the Ladies, a shrill
Musick sounds, supposed to be that which calls them to the
Olympian games, at which they all make a seeming preparation to
depart.

_Y[e] should stay longer if we durst,_
_Away, alas! that he that first_
_Gave time wild wings to fly away,_
_H[ath] now no power to make him stay._
_[But] though these games must needs be plaid,_
_I would th[is] pair, when they are laid,_
_And not a creature nigh 'em,_
_[Could] catch his sithe, as he doth pass,_
_And [cut] his wings, and break his glass,_
_And keep him ever by 'em._

The fifth Song, when all is done, as they ascend

_Peace and silence be the guide_
_To the Man, and to the Bride:_
_If there be a joy y[e]t new_
_In marriage, let it fall on you,_
_That all the world may wonder:_
_If we should stay, we should do worse,_
_And turn our blessings to a curse,_
_By keeping you asunder._

Four PLAYS in One.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Emanuel, _King of_ Portugal, & Castile.
Isabella, _his Queen_.
Lords.
Frigoso, _a Courtier_. } _Spectators of the Play at the_
Rinaldo, _his acquaintance_. } _celebration of their Nuptials._

The Triumph of Honor.

Martius, _a Roman General_.
Valerius, _his Brother_.
Nicodemus, _a cowardly Corporal_.
Cornelius, _a wittal Sutler_.
Captain.
Sophocles, _Duke of_ Athens.

WOMEN.

Diana.
Dorigen, Sophocles _wife, the example of Chastity_.
Florence, _Wife to_ Cornelius.

The Triumph of Love.

Cupid.
Rinaldo, _Duke of_ Milan.
Benvoglio, } _Brothers, Lords of_
Randulpho, } Milan
Gerard, } _Sons of the Duke, supposed_
Ferdinand, } _lost._

WOMEN.

Angelina, _Wife to_ Benvoglio.
Violante, _her Daughter_, Gerard's _Mistriss_.
Dorothea, Violante's _Attendant_.
Cornelia, _the obscured Duchess_.

The Triumph of Death.

Duke _of_ Anjou.
Lavall, _his lustful Heir_.
Gentille, _a Courtier, Father to_ Perolot.
Perolot, _contracted to_ Gabriella.
Two Gentlemen.
A Spirit.
Shalloone, _servant to_ Lavall.

WOMEN.

Gabriella, _the despised wife of_ Lavall.
Hellena, _his second wife_.
Casta, _Daughter to_ Gentille.
Maria, _a servant attending on_ Gabriella.

The Triumph of Time.

Jupiter.
Mercurie.
Plutus.
Time.
Atropos.
Desire.
Vain Delight.
Bounty.
Poverty.
Honesty.
Simplicity.
Fame.

Four

PLAYS

OR

Moral Representations

IN ONE.

_Enter Don_ Frigozo.

_Frig._ [_Noise within._ Away with those bald-pated Rascals there,
their wits are bound up in Vellom, they are not currant here. Down
with those City-Gentlemen, &c. Out with those ---- I say, and in
with their wives at the back door. Worship and place, I am weary of
ye, ye lye on my shoulders lik a load of Gold on an Asses back. A
man in Authority, is but as a candle in the wind, sooner wasted or
blown out, than under a bushel. How now, what's the matter?

Who are you, Sir?

_Enter_ Rinaldo.

_Rin._ Who am I, Sir? why, do y' not know me?

_Frig._ No by my ---- do I not.

_Rin._ I am sure we din'd together to day.

_Frig._ That's all one: as I din'd with you in the City, and as you
paid for my dinner there, I do know you, and am beholding to you:
But as my mind is since transmigrated into my office, and as you
come to Court to have me pay you again, and be beholding to me, I
know you not, I know you not.

_Rin._ Nay, but look ye, Sir.

_Frig._ Pardon me: If you had been my bed-fellow these seven
years, and lent me money to buy my place, I must not transgress
principles: This very talking with you is an ill example.

_Rin._ Pish, you are too punctual a Courtier, Sir: why, I am a
Courtier too, yet never understood the place or name to be so
infectious to humanity and manners, as to cast a man into a burning
pride and arrogance, for which there is no cure. I am a Courtier,
and yet I will know my friends, I tell you.

_Frig._ And I tell you, you will thrive accordingly, I warrant you.

_Rin._ But hark ye, Signior _Frigozo_, you shall first understand,
I have no friends with me to trouble you.

_Frig._ Humh: That's a good motive.

_Rin._ No[r] to borrow money of you.

_Frig._ That's an excellent motive.

_Rin._ No my sweet Don, nor to ask what you owe me.

_Frig._ Why, that is the very motive of motives, why I ought and
will know thee: and if I had not wound thee up to this promise, I
would not have known thee these fifteen years, no more than the
errantst, or most founder'd _Castillian_ that followed our new
Queens Carriages a-foot.

_Rin._ Nor for any thing, dear Don, but that you would place me
conveniently to see the Play to night.

_Frig._ That shall I, Signior _Rinaldo_: but would you had come
sooner: you see how full the Scaffolds are, there is scant room for
a Lovers thought here. Gentlewomen sit close for shame: Has none of
ye a little corner for this Gentleman? I'll place ye, fear not. And
how did our brave King of _Portugal_, _Emanuel_, bear himself to
day? You saw the solemnity of the marriage.

_Rin._ Why, like a fit Husband for so gracious and excellent a
Princess, as his worthy mate _Isabella_, the King of _Castiles_
Daughter doth in her very external li[ne]aments, mixture of
colours, and joyning Dove-like behaviour assure her self to be.
And I protest (my dear Don) seriously, I can sing prophetically
nothing but blessed Hymns, and happy occasions to this sacred union
of _Portugal_ and _Castile_, which have so wisely and mutually
conjoyned two such virtuous and beautiful Princes as these are; and
in all opinion like to multiply to their very last minute.

_Frig._ The King is entring: Signior, hover here about, and as soon
as the Train is set, clap into me, we'll stand near the State. If
you have any Creditors here, they shall renew bonds a Twelvemonth
on such a sight: but to touch the pomel of the King's Chair in
the sight of a Citizen, is better security for a thousand double
Duckets, than three of the best Merchants in _Lisbon_. Besides,
Signior, we will censure, not only the King in the Play here, that
Reigns his two hours; but the King himself, that is to rule his
life time: Take my counsel: I have one word to say to this noble
Assembly, and I am for you.

_Rin._ Your method shall govern me.

Frig. _Prologues are bad Huishers before the wise;_
_Why may not then an Huisher Prologize?_
_Here's a fair sight, and were ye oftner seen_
_Thus gather'd here, 'twould please our King and Queen_
_Upon my conscience, ye are welcome all_
_To_ Lisbon, _and the Court of_ Portugal;
_Where your fair eyes shall feed on no worse sights_
_Than preparations made for Kings delights._
_We wish to men content, the manliest treasure,_
_And to the Women, their own wish'd for pleasure._ [Flourish.

_Enter King and Queen, Emanuel and Isabella,_
_Lords and attendants._

_Em._ Fair fountain of my life, from whose pure streams
The propagation of two Kingdoms flowes,
Never contention rise in eithers brest,
But contestation whose love shall be best.

_Isab._ Majestick Ocean, that with plenty feeds
Me, thy poor tributary Rivolet,
Sun of my beauty, that with radiant beams
Dost gild, and dance upon these humble streams,
Curst be my birth-hour, and my ending day,
When back your love-floods I forget to pay:
Or if this brest of mine, your crystall brook,
Ever take other form in, other look
But yours, or ere produce unto your grace
A strange reflection, or anothers face,
But be your love-book clasp'd, open'd to none
But you, nor hold a storie, but your own;
A water fix'd, that ebbs nor floods pursue,
Frozen to all, onely dissolv'd to you.

_Em._ O, who shall tel the sweetness of our love
To future times, and not be thought to lye?
I look through this hour like a perspective,
And far off see millions of prosperous seeds,
That our reciprocall affection breeds.
Thus my white rib, close in my brest with me,
Which nought shall tear hence, but mortalitie.

_Lords._ Be Kingdoms blest in you, you blest in them.

_Frig._ Whist, Seignior; my strong imagination shews me
Love (me thinks) bathing in milk, and wine in her cheeks:
O! how she clips him, like a plant of Ivie.

_Rin._ I; Could not you be content to be an Owl in such an
ivie-bush, or one of the Oaks of the City to be so clipt?

_Frig._ Equivocal Don, though I like the clipping well, I could not
be content either to be your Owl, or your Ox of the City. The Play
begins. [_Flourish._

_Enter a Poet with a garland._

Poet Prologue. _Low at your sacred feet our poor Muse layes_
_Her, and her thunder-fearless virdant Bayes._
_Four severall_ Triumphs _to your Princely eyes,_
_Of_ Honor, Love, Death, _and_ Time _do rise_
_From our approaching subject, which we move_
_Towards you with fear, since that a sweeter_ Love,
_A brighter_ Honor, _purer_ Chastitie
_March in your brests this day triumphantly,_
_Then our weak Scenes can show: then how dare we_
_Present like Apes and Zanies, things that be_
_Exemplifi'd in you, but that we know,_
_We ne'r crav'd grace, which you did not bestow_?

_Enter in triumph with Drums, Trumpets, Colours_, Martius,
Valerius, Sophocles _bound_, Nicodemus, Cornelius, _Captains
and Soldiers_.

_Mar._ What means proud _Sophocles_?

_Soph._ To go even with _Martius_,
And not to follow him like his Officer:
I never waited yet on any man.

_Mar._ Why poor _Athenian_ Duke, thou art my slave,
My blows have conquerd thee.

_Soph._ Thy slave? proud _Martius_,
_Cato_ thy countrey-man (whose constancie,
Of all the Romans, I did honor most)
Rip'd himself twice to avoid slavery,
Making himself his own Anatomie.
But look thee _Martius_, not a vein runs here
From head to foot, but _Sophocles_ would unseame, and
Like a spring garden shoot his scornfull blood
Into their eyes, durst come to tread on him:
As for thy blows, they did [not] conquer me:
Seven Battailes have I met thee face to face,
And given thee blow for blow, and wound for wound,
And till thou taught'st me, knew not to retire;
Thy sword was then as bold, thy arm as strong;
Thy blows then _Martius_, cannot conquer me.

_Val._ What is it then?

_Soph._ Fortune.

_Val._ Why, yet in that
Thou art the worse man, and must follow him.

_Soph._ Young Sir, you erre: If Fortune could be call'd
Or his, or your's, or mine, in good or evill
For any certain space, thou hadst spoke truth:
But she but jests with man, and in mischance
Abhors all constancie, flowting him still
With some small touch of good, or seeming good
Midst of his mischief: which vicissitude
Makes him strait doff his armour, and his fence
He had prepar'd before, to break her strokes.
So from the very Zenith of her wheel,
When she has dandled some choice favorite,
Given him his boons in women, honor, wealth,
And all the various delecacies of earth;
That the fool scorns the gods in his excess,
She whirls, and leaves him at th' _Antipodes_.

_Mar._ Art sure we have taken him? Is this _Sophocles_?
His fettred arms say no; his free soul, I.
This _Athens_ nurseth Arts, as well as Arms.

_Soph._ Nor glory _Martius_, in this day of thine,
'Tis behind yesterday, but before to morrow:
Who knows what Fortune then will do with thee?
She never yet could make the better man,
The better chance she has: the man that's best
She still contends with, and doth favor least.

_Mar._ Me thinks a graver thunder then the skies
Breaks from his lips; I am amaz'd to hear,
And _Athens_ words, more then her swords doth fear.

_Soph. Martius_, slave _Sophocles_, couldst thou acquire
(And did thy Roman gods so love thy prayers,
And solemn sacrifice, to grant thy suit)
To gather all the valour of the _Cæsars_
Thy Predecessors, and what is to come,
And by their influence fling it on thee now,
Thou couldst not make my mind go less, not pare
With all their swords one virtue from my soul:
How am I vassall'd then? Make such thy slaves,
As dare not keep their goodness past their graves.
Know General, we two are chances on
The die of Fate; now thrown, thy six is up,
And my poor one beneath thee, next th[y] throw
May set me upmost, and cast thee below.

_Mar._ Yet will I trie thee more: Calamitie
Is mans true touchstone: Listen insolent Prince,
That dar'st contemn the Master of thy life,
Which I will force here 'fore thy City walls
With barbarous crueltie, and call thy wife
To see it, and then after send her--

_Soph._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Mar._ And then demolish _Athens_ to the ground,
Depopulate her, fright away her fame,
And leave succession neither stone nor name.

_Soph._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Mar._ Dost thou deride me?

_Val._ Kneel, ask _Martius_
For mercy, _Sophocles_, and live happy still.

_Soph._ Kneel, and ask mercie? (_Roman_) art a god?
I never kneel'd, or begg'd of any else.
Thou art a fool, and I will loose no more
Instructions on thee: now I find thy eares [_Solemn Musick._

_Enter Dorigen, Ladyes bearing a sword._

Are foolish, like thy tongue. My _Dorigen_?
Oh! must she see me bound?

_1 Cap._ There's the first sigh
He breath'd since he was born, I think.

_2 Cap._ Forbear,
All but the Lady his wife.

_Soph._ How my heart chides
The manacles of my hands, that let them not
Embrace my _Dorigen_.

_Val._ Turn but thy face.
And ask thy life of _Martius_ thus, and thou
(With thy fair wife) shalt live; _Athens_ shall stand,
And all her priviledges augmented be.

_Soph._ 'Twere better _Athens_ perish'd, and my wife
Which (Romans) I do know a worthie one,
Then _Sophocles_ should shrink of _Sophocles_,
Commit profane Idolatry, by giving
The reverence due to gods to thee blown man.

_Mar._ Rough, stubborn Cynick.

_Soph._ Thou art rougher far,
And of a couser wale, fuller of pride,
Less temperate to bear prosperity.
Thou seest my meer neglect hath rais'd in thee
A storm more boystrous then the Oceans,
My virtue, Patience, makes thee vitious.

_Mar._ Why, fair-ey'd Lady, do you kneel?