Chapter V: Part 5

Where to live neere,
And planted there,
Is to live, and still live new;
Where to gain a favour is
More then light, perpetual blisse,
Make me live by serving you.

Deare again backe recal
to this light,
A stranger to himselfe and all;
Both the wonder and the story
Shall be yours, and eke the Glory,
I am your servant, and your thrall._

_Mir._ Speake such another Ode, and take all yet. What say ye to the Scholar now? _Ang._ I wonder; Is he your brother, Sir? _Bust._ Yes, would he were buried, I feare hee'l make an asse of me a younger.

_Ang._ Speake not so softly Sir, tis very likely.

_Bri._ Come leave your finical talke, and let's dispatch, _Charles_.

_Cha._ Dispatch? What? _Bri._ Why the land. _Cha._ You are deceiv'd, Sir, Now I perceive what 'tis that woes a woman, And what maintaines her when shee's woo'd: Ile stop here. A wilfull poverty nere made a beauty, Nor want of meanes maintain'd it vertuously: Though land and monies be no happinesse, Yet they are counted good additions. That use Ile make; He that neglects a blessing, Though he want present knowledge how to use it, Neglects himself; May be I have done you wrong Lady, Whose love and hope went hand in hand together; May be my brother, that has long expected The happie houre and blest my ignorance; Pray give me leave Sir, I shall cleare all doubts. Why did they shew me you? Pray tell me that?

(_Mir._ Hee'l talke thee into a pension for thy knaverie)

_Cha._ You happie you, why did you breake unto me? The rosie sugred morne nere broke so sweetly: I am a man, and have desires within me, Affections too, though they were drown'd a while, And lay dead, till the Spring of beautie rais'd them; Till I saw those eyes, I was but a lump; A Chaos of confusedness dwelt in me; Then from those eyes shot Love, and he distinguisht, And into forme he drew my faculties; And now I know my Land, and now I love too.

_Bri._ We had best remove the Maide. _Cha._ It is too late Sir. I have her figure here. Nay frowne not _Eustace_, There are lesse worthie soules for younger brothers; This is no forme of silk but sanctitie, Which wilde lascivious hearts can never dignifie. Remove her where you will, I walk along still; For like the light we make no separation; You may sooner part the billowes of the Sea, And put a barre betwixt their fellowships, Than blot out my remembrance; sooner shut Old time into a Den, and stay his motion, Wash off the swift houres from his downie wings, Or steale eternitie to stop his glasse, Than shut the sweet Idea I have in me. Roome for an elder brother, pray give place, Sir.

_Mir._ Has studied duel too, take heed, hee'l beat thee. Has frighted the old Justice into a fever; I hope hee'l disinherit him too for an asse; For though he be grave with yeeres, hee's a great babie.

_Cha._ Doe not you think me mad? _Ang._ No certain, Sir, I have heard nothing from you but things excellent.

_Cha._ You looke upon my cloathes and laugh at me, My scurvie clothes! _Ang._ They have rich linings Sir. I would your brother-- _Cha._ His are gold and gawdie.

_Ang._ But touch 'em inwardlie, they smell of Copper.

_Cha._ Can ye love me? I am an heire, sweet Ladie, How ever I appeare a poore dependant; Love you with honour, I shall love so ever; Is your eye ambitious? I may be a great man. Is't wealth or lands you covet? my father must dye.

_Mir._ That was well put in, I hope hee'l take it deepely.

_Cha._ Old men are not immortal, as I take it; Is it, you looke for, youth and handsomness? I doe confess my brother's a handsome Gentleman, But he shall give me leave to lead the way Ladie, Can you love for love, and make that the reward? The old man shall not love his heapes of gold With a more doting superstition, Than Ile love you. The young man his delights, The merchant when he ploughs the angrie sea up, And sees the mountaine billows failling on him, As if all Elements, and all their angers Were turn'd into one vow'd destruction; Shall not with greater joy embrace his safetie. Wee'l live together like two wanton Vines, Circling our soules and loves in one another, Wee'l spring together and weel beare one fruit; One joy shall make us smile, and one griefe mourne; One age go with us, and one houre of death Shall shut our eyes, and one grave make us happie.

_Ang._ And one hand scale the match, Ime yours for ever.

_Lew._ Nay, stay, stay, stay. _Ang._ Nay certainly, tis done Sir.

_Bri._ There was a contract. _Ang._ Onely conditional, That if he had the Land, he had my love too; This Gentleman's the heire, and hee'll maintaine it. Pray be not angrie Sir at what I say; Or if you be, tis at your owne adventure. You have the out side of a pretty Gentleman, But by my troth you[r] inside is but barren; Tis not a face I onely am in love with, Nor will I say your face is excellent, A reasonable hunting face to Court the winde with; Nor th'are not words unlesse they be well plac'd too, Nor your sweete Dam-mes, nor your hired verses, Nor telling me of Cloathes, nor Coach and horses, No nor your visits each day in new suites, Nor you[r] black patches you weare variouslie, Some cut like starres, some in halfe Moones, some Lozenges, (All which but shew you still a younger brother.)

_Mir._ Gramercie Wench, thou hast a noble soule too.

_Ang._ Nor you[r] long travailes, not your little knowledge, Can make me doate upon you. Faith goe studie, And gleane some goodness, that you may shew manlie; Your Brother at my suit Ime sure will teach you; Or onely studie how to get a wife Sir, Y'are cast far behind, tis good you should be melancholie, It shewes like a Gamester that had lost his money, And t'is the fashon to weare your arme in a skarfe Sir, For you have had a shrewd cut ore the fingers.

_Lew._ But are y' in earnest? _Ang._ Yes, beleeve me father, You shall nere choose for me, y'are old and dim Sir, And th' shaddow of the earth ecclips'd your judgement, Y'have had your time without controwle deare father, And you must give me leave to take mine now Sir.

_Bri._ This is the last time of asking, Will you set your hand to?

_Cha._ This is the last time of answering, I will never.

_Bris._ Out of my doores. _Char._ Most willingly. _Miram._ He shall Jew, Thou of the Tribe of _Man-y-asses_ Coxcombe, And never trouble thee more till thy chops be cold foole.

_Ang._ Must I be gone too? _Lew._ I will never know thee.

_Ang._ Then this man will; what fortune he shall run, father, Bee't good or bad, I must partake it with him.

_Enter_ Egremont.

When shall the Masque begins? _Eust._ Tis done alreadie, All, all, is broken off, I am undone friend, My brother's wise againe, and has spoil'd all, Will not release the land, has wone the Wench too.

_Egre._ Could he not stay till th' Masque was past? W'are ready. What a skirvie trick's this? _Mir._ O you may vanish, Performe it at some Hall, where the Citizens wives May see't for six pence a peece, and a cold supper. Come let's goe _Charles_; And now my noble Daughter, Ile sell the tiles of my house ere thou shall want Wench. Rate up your dinner Sir, and sell it cheape, Some younger brother will take 't up in commodities. Send you joy, Nephew _Eustace_, if you studie the Law, Keep your great pippin-pies, they'l goe far with ye.

_Cha._ Ide have your blessing. _Bri._ No, no, meet me no more, Farewell, thou wilt blast mine eyes else. _Cha._ I will not.

_Lew._ Nor send not you for Gownes. _Ang._ Ile weare course flannel first.

_Bri._ Come let's goe take some counsel. _Lew._ Tis too late.

_Bri._ Then stay and dine, It may be we shall vexe 'em. _Exeunt._

_Actus 4. Scaena 1._

_Enter_ Brisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.

Nere talke to me, you are no men but Masquers, Shapes, shadowes, and the signes of men, Court bubbles, That every breath or breakes or blowes away, You have no soules, no metal in your bloods, No heat to stir ye when ye have occasion, Frozen dull things that must be turn'd with leavers; Are you the Courtiers and the travail'd Gallants? The spritely fellowes, that the people talk of? Ye have no more Spirit than three sleepy sops.

_Eust._ What would ye have me doe, Sir? _Bri._ Follow your brother, And get ye out of doores, and seeke your fortune, Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged Dotard, A haire-brain'd puppie, and a bookish boy, That never knew a blade above a penknife, And how to cut his meat in Characters, Crosse my designe, and take thine owne Wench from thee, In mine owne house too? Thou dispis'd poore fellow!

_Eust._ The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir, Then to my Uncle, with whom't had been but sawcinesse T'have been so rough-- _Egre._ And we not seeing him Strive in his owne cause, that was principal, And should have led us on, thought it ill manners To begin a quarrel here. _Bri._ You dare doe nothing. Doe you make your care the excuse of your cowardlinesse? Three boyes on hobbie-horses with three penny halberts, Would beat you all. _Cow._ You must not say so. _Bri._ Yes, And sing it too. _Cow._ You are a man of peace, Therefore we must give way. _Bri._ Ile make my way; And therefore quickly leave me, or Ile force you; And having first torne off your flaunting feathers, Ile tramble on 'em; and if that cannot teach you To quit my house, Ile kick ye out of my gates; You gawdie glow-wormes carrying seeming fire, Yet have no heat within ye. _Cow._ O blest travaile! How much we owe thee for our power to suffer?

_Egre._ Some spleenative youths now that had never seen More than thy Countrie smoak, will grow in choler. It would shew fine in us. _Eust._ Yes marry would it, That are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers, But give thankes for our injuries, if we purpose To hold our places. _Bri._ Will you find the doore? And finde it suddenlie, you shall lead the way, Sir, With your perfum'd retinew, and cover The now lost _Angellina_, or build on it, I will adopt some beggers doubtful issue Before thou shall inherit. _Eust._ Wee'l to councel, And what may be done by mans wit or valour Wee'l put in execution. _Bri._ Doe, or never Hope I shall know thee. _Le._ O Sir, have I found you? [_Exeunt._ _Ent. Lewis._

_Bri._ I never hid my selfe, whence flows this fury? With which as it appeares, you come to fright me.

_Lew._ I smell a plot, meere conspiracy Among ye all to defeate me of my daughter, And if she be not suddenly delivered, Untainted in her reputation too, The best of France shall know how I am juggled with. She is my heire, and if she may be ravisht Thus from my care, farewel Nobilitie; Honour and blood are meer neglected nothings.

_Bri._ Nay then, my Lord you go too far, and tax him Whose innocencie understands not what feare is; If your unconstant daughter will not dwell On certainties, must you thenceforth conclude, That I am fickle? What have I omitted, To make good my integritie and truth? Nor can her lightnesse, nor your supposition Cast an aspersion on me. _Lew._ I am wounded In fact, nor can words cure it: doe not trifle, But speedilie, once more I doe repeate it, Restore my daughter as I brought her hither. Or you shall heare from me in such a kinde, As you will blush to answer. _Bri._ all the world I think conspires to vex me, yet I will not Torment my selfe; some spriteful mirth must banish The rage and melancholie which hath almost choak'd me, T'a knowing man tis Physick, and tis thought on, One merrie houre Ile have in spight of fortune, To cheare my heart, and this is that appointed, This night Ile hugge my _Lilly_ in mine armes, Provocatives are sent before to cheare me; We old men need 'em, and though we pay deare, For our stolne pleasures, so it be done securely; The charge much like a sharp sawce gives 'm relish. Well honest _Andrew_, I gave you a farme, And it shall have a beacon to give warning To my other Tenants when the Foe approaches; And presently, you being bestowed else where, Ile graffe it with dexteritie on your forehead; Indeed I will _Lilly_. I come poore _Andrew_. _Exit._

_Actus IV. Scaena II._

_Enter_ Miramont, Andrew.

Do they chafe roundly? _And._ As they were rubb'd with soap, Sir, And now they sweare alowd, now calme again, Like a ring of bells whose sound the wind still alters, And then they sit in councel what to doe, And then they jar againe what shall be done; They talke of Warrants from the Parliament, Complaints to the King, and forces from the Province, They have a thousand heads in a thousand minutes, Yet nere a one head worth a head of garlick.

_Mir._ Long may they chafe, and long may we laugh at 'em, A couple of pure puppies yok'd together. But what sayes the young Courtier Master _Eustace_, And his two warlike friends? _And._ They say but little, How much they think I know not; they looke ruefully, As if they had newly come from a vaulting house, And had beene quite shot through 'tween winde and water By a she Dunkirke, and had sprung a leake, Sir. Certaine my master was too blame. _Mir._ Why _Andrew_?

_And._ To take away the Wench oth' sudden from him, And give him no lawful warning, he is tender; And of a young girles constitution, Sir, Readie to get the greene sickness with conceit; Had he but tane his leave innavailing language, Or bought an Elegie of his condolement, That th' world might have tane notice, he had beene An Asse, 't had beene some favour. _Mir._ Thou sayest true, Wise _Andrew_, but these Schollars are such things When they can prattle. _And._ Very parlous things Sir.

_Mir._ And when they gaine the Libertie to distinguish The difference 'twixt a father and a foole, To looke below and spie a younger brother Pruning up and dressing up his expectations In a rare glasse of beauty, too good for him: Those dreaming Scholars then turne Tyrants, _Andrew_, And shew no mercy. _And._ The more's the pittie, Sir.

_Mir._ Thou told'st me of a trick to catch my brother, And anger him a little farther, _Andrew_, It shall be onely anger I assure thee, And little shame. _And._ And I can fit you, Sir; Hark in your eare. _Mir._ Thy wife? _And._ So I assure ye; This night at twelve a clock. _Mir._ Tis neat and handsome; There are twentie Crownes due to thy project _Andrew_; I've time to visit _Charles_, and see what Lecture He reades to his Mistresse. That done, Ile not faile To be with you. _And._ Nor I to watch my Master-- _Exeunt._

_Actus IV. Scaena III._

Angellina, Sylvia, _with a taper._

I'me worse than ere I was; for now I feare, That that I love, that that I onely dote on; He followes me through every roome I passe, And with a strong set eye he gazes on me, As if his spark of innocence were blowne Into a flame of lust; Vertue defend me. His Uncle to is absent, and 'tis night; And what these opportunities may teach him-- What feare and endlesse care tis to be honest! To be a maide, what miserie, what mischiefe! Would I were rid of it, so it were fairlie.

_Syl._ You need not feare that, will you be a childe still? He followes you, but still to looke upon you; Or if he did desire to lie with ye, Tis but your owne desire, you love for that end; Ile lay my life, if he were now abed w'ye, He is so modest, he would fall a sleepe straight.

_Ang_. Dare you venter that? _Syl_. Let him consent, and have at ye; I feare him not, he knowes not what a woman is, Nor how to find the mysterie men aime at. Are you afraid of your own shadow, Madam?

_Ang_. He followes still, yet with a sober face; Would I might know the worst, and then I were satisfied.

_Syl_. You may both, and let him but goe with ye.

_Cha_. Why doe you fle me? What have I so ill About me or within me to deserve it?

_Ang_. I am going to bed Sir. _Cha_. And I am come to light ye; I am a maide, and 'tis a maidens office.

_Ang_. You may have me to bed Sir, without a scruple, And yet I am charie too who comes about me. Two Innocents should not feare one another.

_Syl_. The Gentleman sayes true. Pluck up your heart, Madam.

_Cha_. The glorious Sun both rising and declining We boldly looke upon; even then sweet Ladie, When like a modest bride he drawes nights curtaines, Even then he blushes, that men should behold him.

_Ang_. I feare he will perswade me to mistake him.

_Syl_. Tis easily done, if you will give your minde to't.

_Ang_. Pray ye to your bed. _Cha_. Why not to yours, dear Mistress, One heart and one bed. _Ang_. True Sir, when 'tis lawful; But yet you know-- _Cha_. I would not know, forget it; Those are but sickly loves that hang on Ceremonie, Nurst up with doubts and feares, ours high and healthful, Full of beleefe, and fit to teach the Priest; Love shall seale first, then hands confirme the bargaine.

_Ang_. I shall be an Heretique if this continue. What would you doe a bed? you make me blush, Sir.

_Cha_. Ide see you sleepe, for sure your sleepes are excellent You that are waking such a noted wonder, Must in your slumber prove an admiration: I would behold your dreames too, if't were possible; Those were rich showes. _Ang_. I am becomming Traitor.

_Cha_. Then like blew _Neptune_ courting of an Hand, Where all the perfumes and the pretious things That wait upon great Nature are laid up, Ide clip it in mine armes, and chastly kiss it, Dwell in your bosome like your dearest thoughts, And sigh and weepe. _Ang_. I've too much woman in me.

_Cha_. And those true teares falling on your pure Chrystals, Should turne to armelets for great Queenes 't adore.

_Ang_. I must be gone. _Cha_. Do not, I will not hurt ye; This is to let you know, my worthiest Lady, Y'have clear'd my mind, and I can speak of love too; Feare not my manners, though I never knew Before these few houres what a beautie was, And such a one that fires all hearts that feele it; Yet I have read of vertuous temperance, And studied it among my other secrets, And sooner would I force a separation Betwixt this Spirit and the case of flesh, Than but conceive one rudeness against chastitie.

_An[g]_. Then we may walk. _Cha_. And talk of any thing, Any thing fit for your eares, and my language; Though I was bred up dull I was ever civil; Tis true, I have found it hard to looke on you, And not desire; Twil prove a wise mans task; Yet those desires I have so mingled still And tempered with the quality of honour, That if you should yeeld, I should hate you for't. I am no Courtier of a light condition, Apt to take fire at every beautious face. That onely serves his will and wantonness, And lets the serious part run by As thin neglected sand. Whitness of name, You must be mine; why should I robbe my selfe Of that that lawfully must make me happy? Why should I seeke to cuckold my delights, And widow all those sweets I aime at in you? We'l loose our selves in _Venus_ groves of mirtle Where every little bird shall be a _Cupid_, And sing of love and youth, each winde that blowes And curles the velvet leaves shall breed delights, The wanton springs shall call us to their bankes, And on the perfum'd flowers wee'l feast our senses, Yet wee'l walk by untainted of their pleasures, And as they were pure Temples wee'l talk in them.

_Ang_. To bed, and pray then, we may have a faire end Of our faire loves; would I [w]ere worthy of you, Or of such parents that might give you thankes; But I am poore in all but in your love. Once more, good night. _Cha_. A good night t'ye, and may The dew of sleepe fall gently on you, sweet one, And lock up those faire lights in pleasing slumbers; No dreames but chast and cleare attempt your fancie, And break betimes sweet morne, I've lost my light else.

_Ang_. Let it be ever night when I lose you.

_Syl_. This Scholar never went to a Free-Schoo[le], he's so simple

[Enter a servant.]

_Ser_. Your brother with two Gallants is at dore, Sir And they're so violent, they'l take no denial.

_Ang_. this is no time of night. _Cha_. Let 'em in Mistresse.

_Serv_. They stay no leave; Shall I raise the house on 'm?

_Cha_. Not a man, nor make no murmur of't, I charge ye.

_Enter_ Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.

Th'are here, my Uncle absent, stand close to me. How doe you brother with your curious story? Have you not read her yet sufficiently?

_Cha_. No, brother, no, I stay yet in the Preface; The stile's too hard for you. _Eust_. I must entreat her. Shee's parcel of my goods. _Cha_. Shee's all when you have her.

_Ang._ Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir; Nor I, nor what I have depend on you.

_Cha._ Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; doe not Trouble your selfe with Ladies, they are too light; Let out your land, and get a provident Steward.

_Ang._ I cannot love ye, let that satisfie you; Such vanities as you are to be laught at.

_Eust._ Nay, Then you must goe, I must claime mine owne.

_Both._ A way, a way with her. _Cha._ Let her alone, [_She strikes off Eustace's hat_] Pray let her alone, and take your coxcombe up: Let me talk civilly a while with you brother. It may be on some termes I may part with her.

_Eust._ O; is your heart come downe? what are your termes, Sir? Put up, put up. _Cha._ This is the first and cheifest, [_Snatches away his sword._] Let's walk a turne; now stand off fooles, I advise ye, Stand as far off as you would hope for mercy: This is the first sword yet I ever handled, And a sword's a beauteous thing to looke upon, And if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence: Tis sharp I'm sure, and if I put it home, Tis ten to one I shall new pink your Sattins: I find I have spirit enough to dispose of it, And will enough to make ye all examples; Let me tosse it round, I have the full command on't: Fetch me a native Fencer, I defie him; I feele the fire of ten strong spirits in me. Doe you watch me when my Uncle is absent? This is my griefe, I shall be flesht on Cowards; Teach me to fight, I willing am to learne. Are ye all gilded flies, nothing but shew in ye? Why stand ye gaping? who now touches her? Who calls her his, or who dares name her to me? But name her as his owne; who dares look on her? That shall be mortal too; but think, 'tis dangerous. Art thou a fit man to inherit land, And hast no wit nor spirit to maintaine it? Stand still thou signe of man, and pray for thy friends, Pray heartilie, good prayers may restore ye.

_Ang._ But doe not kill 'em Sir. _Cha._ You speak too late, Deare, It is my first fight, and I must doe bravely, I must not looke with partial eyes on any; I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen; Did life lye in their heel _Achilles_ like, Ide shoot my anger at those parts and kill 'um. Who waits within? _Ser._ Sir. _Cha._ View all these, view 'em well Goe round a bout 'em and still view their faces, Round about yet; See how death waits upon 'em, For thou shall never view 'em more. _Eust._ Pray hold, Sir.

_Cha._ I cannot hold, you stand so fair before me, I must not hold 'twill darken all my glories. Goe to my Uncle, bid him poste to the King, And get my pardon instantly, I have need on't.

_Eust._ Are you so unnatural? _Cha._ You shall die last Sir, Ile talke thee dead, thou art no man to fight with. Come, will ye come? me thinkes I've fought whole battailes.

_Cow_. We have no quarel to you, that we know on, Sir.

_Egre_. Wee'l quit the house and ask ye mercie too: Good Ladie, let no murther be done here; We came but to parly. _Cha_. How my sword Thirsts after them? stand away Sweet. _Eust._ Pray Sir, Take my submission, and I disclaime for ever.

_Cha_. Away ye poore things, ye despicable Creatures! Doe you come poste to fetch a Ladie from me, From a poore Schoole-boy that ye scorn'd of late? And grow lame in your hearts when you should execute? Pray take her, take her, I am weary of her; What did ye bring to carrie her. _Egre_. A Coach and four horses.

_Cha_. But are they good? _Egre_. As good as _France_ can shew Sir.

_Cha_. Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties? Speak quickly. _Eust_. Yes with all our hearts. _Cha_. Tis done then. Many have got one horse, I've got foure by th' bargaine.

_Enter_ Miramont.

_Mi._ How Now, who's here. _Ser_. Nay Now, y'are gon without bail.

_Mir_. What, drawne my friends! Fetch me my two-hand sword; I will not leave a head on your shoulders, Wretches.

_Eust_. In troth Sir, I came but to doe my dutie.

_Both_. And we to renew our loves. _Mir_. Bring me a blanket. What came they for? _Ang_. To borrow me a while, Sir; But one that never fought yet has so curried, So bastina[d]o'd them with manly carriage, They stand like things _Gorgon_ had turn'd to stone; They watch'd your being absent, and then thought They might doe wonders here, and they have done so? For by my troth, I wonder at their coldness, The nipping North or frost never came neere them, St. _George_ upon a Signe would grow more sensible: If the name of honour were for ever to be lost, These were the most sufficient men to doe it In all the world, and yet they are but young, What will they rise to? They're as full of fire As a frozen Glo-wormes ratle, and shine as goodly; Nobilitie and patience are match'd rarely In these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't; They'l stand still for an houre and be beaten. These are the Anagrammes of three great Worthies.

_Mir_. They will infect my house with cowardize, If they breathe longer in it; my roofe covers No baffl'd Monsieurs, walk and aire your selves; As I live, they stay not here, while liver'd wretches Without one word to ask a reason why, Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed, For if I take ye in hand I shall dissect you, And read upon your flegmatick dull carcases. My horse againe there: I have other business, Which you shall heare hereafter and laugh at it. Good night _Charles_, faire goodness to you dear Ladie Tis late, 'tis late. _Ang._ Pray Sir be careful of us.

_Mir._ It is enough, my best care shall attend ye. _Exeunt._

_Actus IV. Scaena IV._

_Enter_ Andrew.

Are you come old Master? very good, your horse Is well set up, but ere ye part, Ile ride you And spur your reverend Justiceship such a question, As I shall make the sides of your reputation bleed, Trulie I will. Now must I play at Bo-peep-- A banquet--well, Potatoes and Eringoes, And as I take it, Cantharides,--Excellent, A Priapisme followes, and as Ile handle it, It shall old lecherous Goat in authoritie. Now they begin to bill; how he slavers her! [G]ramercie _Lilly_, she spits his kisses out, And now he offers to fumble she fals off, (That's a good Wench) and cries fair play above boord Who are they in the corner? As I live, A covey of _Fidlers_; I shall have some musick yet At my making free oth' Companie of Horners; There's the comfort, and a Song too! He beckons for one-- Sure 'tis no Anthem nor no borrowed rhymes Out of the Schoole of vertue; I will listen-- A _Song._ This was never penn'd at _Geneva_, the note's too spritely. So, so, the musicke's paid for, and now what followes? O that Monsieur _Miramont_ would but keep his word. Here were a feast to make him fat with laughter, At the most 'tis not six minutes riding from his house, Nor will he break I hope--O are you come Sir? The prey is in the net and will break in Upon occasion. _Mir._ Thou shall rule me _Andrew_. O th' infinite fright that will assaile this Gentleman! The quarterns, tertians, and quotidians That will hang like Sargeants on his worships shoulders! The humiliation of the flesh of this man! This grave austere man will be wondred at. How will those solemne lookes appeare to me; And that severe face, that speak chaines and shackles? Now I take him in the nick, ere I done with him, He had better have stood between two panes of wainscot; And made his recantation in the market, Than heare me conjure him. _And._ He must passe this way, To th' onely bed I have, he comes, stand close.

_Bri._ Well done, well done, give me my night-cap. So. Quick, quick, untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee; Come Wench a kiss between each point; kiss close; It is a sweet Parenthesis. _Lil._ Y'are merry Sir.

_Bri._ Merry I will be anon, and thou shall feele it, Thou shall my _Lilly_. _Lil._ Shall I aire your bed, Sir?

_Bri._ No, no, Ile use no warming pan but thine, Girle; That's all; Come kiss me again. _Lil._ Ha'ye done yet?

_Bri._ No, but I will doe, and doe wonders, _Lilly_. Shew me the way. _Lil._ You cannot misse it, Sir; You shall have a Cawdle in the morning, for Your worships breakfast. _Bri._ How, ith' morning. _Lilly_? Th'art such a wittie thing to draw me on. Leave fooling, _Lilly_, I am hungry now, And th' hast another Kickshaw, I must tast it.

_Lil._ Twill make you surfet, I am tender of you: Y'have all y'are like to have. _And._ And can this be earnest?

_Mir._ it seemes so, and she honest. _Bri._ Have I not Thy promise _Lilly_? _Lil._ Yes and I have performed Enough to a man of your yeares, this is truth, And you shall find Sir, you have kist and tows'd me, Handled my legg and foote, what would you more, Sir,? As for the rest, it requires youth and strength, And the labour in an old man would breed Agues, Sciaticaes, and Cramps; you shall not curse me, For taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir: Be good unto your selfe, y'ave tane alreadie All you can take with ease; you are past threshing, It is a worke too boisterous for you; leave Such drudgerie to _Andrew_. _Mir._ How she jeeres him?

_Lil._ Let _Andrew_ alone with his owne tillage, Hee's tough, and can manure it. _Bri._ Y'are a queane, A scoffing jeering quean. _Lil._ It may be so, but I'me sure, Ile nere be yours. _Bri._ Doe not provoke me, If thou do'st, Ile have my Farm againe, and turne Thee out a begging. _Lil._ Though you have the will, And want of honestie to deny your Deed, Sir, Yet I hope _Andrew_ has got so much learning From my young Master, as to keep his own; At the worst, Ile tell a short tale to the Judges, For what grave ends you sign'd your Lease, and on What termes you would revoke it. _Bri._ Whore thou dar'st not. Yeeld or Ile have thee whipt; How my bloud boiles, As if t'were ore a furnace! _Mir._ I shall coole it.

_Bri._ Yet gentle _Lilly_, pitie and forgive me, Ile be a friend t'ye, such a loving bountiful friend--

_Lil._ To avoid suites in Law, I would grant a litle, But should fierce _Andrew_ know it, what would become Of me? _And._ A whore, a whore! _Bri._ Nothing but well Wench, I will put such a strong bit in his mouth, As thou shalt ride him how thou wilt, my _Lilly_: Nay, he shall hold the doore, as I will worke him, And thank thee for the office. _Mir._ Take heed _Andrew_, These are shrewd temptations. _And._ Pray you know Your Cue, and second me Sir; By your Worships favour.

_Bri._ _Andrew_! _And._ I come in time to take possession Of th' office you assigne me; hold the doore, Alas 'tis nothing for a simple man To stay without when a deepe understanding Holds conference within, say with his wife: A trifle Sir, I know I hold my farme In Cuckolds Tenure: you are Lord o'the soile Sir, _Lilly_ is a Weft, a Straie shee's yours, to use Sir, I claime no interest in her. _Bri._ Art thou serious? Speak honest _Andrew_, since thou hast oreheard us, And wink at small faults, man; I'me but a pidler, A little will serve my turne; thou'lt finde enough When I've my bellyfull; wilt thou be private And silent? _And._ By all meanes, Ile onely have A Ballad made of't, sung to some lewd Tune, And the name of it shall be _Justice Trap_, It will sell rarely with your Worships name, And _Lillies_ on the top. _Bri._ Seek not the ruine O' my reputation, _Andrew_. _And._ Tis for your credit, Monsieur _Brisac_ printed in capital letters, Then pasted upon all the posts in _Paris_.

_Bri._ No mercy, _Andrew_? _And._ O, it will proclaim you From th' Citie to the Court, and prove sport royal.

_Bri._ Thou shall keep thy Farm. _Mir._ He does afflict him rarely.

_And._ You trouble me. Then his intent arriving, The vizard of his hypocrisie poll'd off To the Judge criminal. _Bri._ O, I am undone.

_And._ Hee's put out of Commission with disgrace, And held uncapable of bearing Office Ever hereafter. This is my revenge, And this Ile put in practice. _Bri._ Doe but heare me.

_And._ To bring me back from my Grammer to my horne-book, It is unpardonable. _Bri._ Do not play the Tyrant; Accept of composition. _Lil._ Heare him, _Andrew_.

_And._ What composition? _Bri._ Ile confirme thy farme, And add unto't an hundred acres more Adjoyning to it. _And._ Umb, This mollifies, But y'are so fickle: and will again denie this, There being no witness by. _Bri._ Call any witness, Ile presently assure it. _And._ Say you so, Troth there's a friend of mine Sir, within hearing, That is familiar with all that's past, His testimonie will be authentical.

_Bri._ will he be secret? _And._ You may tye his tongue up. As you would doe your purse-strings. _Br._ _Miramont. M._ Ha, Ha, Ha.

_And._ this is my witness. Lord how you are troubled? Sure, y'have an ague, you shake so with choler; Hee's your loving brother Sir, and will tell no bodie But all he meets, that you have eate a snake, And are grown young, gamesom, and rampant. _Bri._ Caught thus?

_And._ If he were one that would make jests of you, Or plague ye with making your religious gravitie Ridiculous to your neighbours, Then you had Some cause to be perplex'd. _Bri._ I shall become Discourse for Clowns and Tapsters. _And._ Quick, _Lilly_, Quick, Hee's now past kissing, between point and point. He swounds, fetch him some Cordiall--Now put in Sir.

_Mir._ Who may this be? sure this is some mistake: Let me see his face, weares he not a false beard? It cannot be _Brisac_ that worthie Gentleman, The pillar and the patron of his Countrie; He is too prudent and too cautelous, Experience hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries, He is the punisher and not the doer, Besides hee's old and cold, unfit for woman; This is some Counterfeit, he shall be whipt for't, Some base abuser of my worthie brother.

_Bri._ Open the doores, will ye'imprison me? are ye my Judges?

_Mir._ The man raves! This is not judicious _Brisac_: Yet now I think on't, a' has a kinde of dog looke Like my brother, a guiltie hanging face.

_Bri._ Ile suffer bravely, doe your worst, doe, doe.

_Mir._ Why, it's manly in you. _Bri._ Nor will I raile nor curse, You slave, you whore, I will not meddle with you, But all the torments that ere fell on men, That fed on mischiefe, fall heavily on you all. _Exit._

_Lil._ You have giv'n him a heat, Sir. _Mir._ He will ride you The better, Lil. _And._ Wee'l teach him to meddle with Scholars.

_Mir._ he shall make good his promise t'increase thy Farm, _Andrew_ Or Ile jeere him to death, feare nothing _Lilly_, I am thy Champion. This jeast goes to _Charles_, And then Ile hunt him out, and Monsieur _Eustace_ The gallant Courtier, and laugh heartily To see'm mourne together. _And._ Twill be rare, Sir. _Exeunt._

_Actus 5. Scaena 1._

Eustace, Egremont. Cowsy.

Turn'd out of doores and baffled! _Egre._ We share with you In the affront. _Cow._ Yet beare it not like you With such dejection. _Eust._ My Coach and horses made The ransome of our cowardize. _Lew._ _Cow._ Pish, that's nothing, Tis _Damnum reparabile_, and soone recover'd.

_Egre._ It is but feeding a suitor with false hopes, And after squeeze him with a dozen of oathes. You are new rigg'd, and this no more remembred.

_Eust._ And does the Court that should be the example And Oracle of the Kingdome, read to us No other doctrine! _Egre._ None that thrives so well As that, within my knowledge. _Cow._ Flatterie rubbes out, But since great men learne to admire themselves, Tis something crest-falne. _Egre._ To be of no Religion, Argues a subtle moral understanding, And it is often cherisht. _Eust._ Pietie then, And valour, nor to doe nor suffer wrong, Are they no vertues? _Egre._ Rather vices, _Eustace_; Fighting! What's fighting? It may be in fashion, Among Provant swords, and buffe-jerkin men: But w'us that swim in choice of silkes and Tissues; Though in defence of that word reputation, Which is indeed a kind of glorious nothing, To lose a dram of blood must needs appeare As coarse as to be honest. _Eust._ And all this You seriously beleeve. _Cow._ It is a faith, That we will die in, since from the black guard To the grim Sir in office, there are few Hold other Tenets. _Eust._ [N]ow my eyes are open, And I behold a strong necessity That keepes me knave and coward. _Cow._ Y'are the wiser.

_Eust._ Nor can I change my copy, if I purpose To be of your society. _Egre._ By no meanes.

_Eust._ Honour is nothing with you? _Cow._ A meere bubble, For what's growne common, is no more regarded.

_Eust._ My sword forc'd from me too, and still detain'd, You think's no blemish. _Egre._ Get me a battoone? Tis twenty times more courtlike, and less trouble.

_Eust._ And yet you weare a sword. _Cow._ Yes, and a good one, A Millan hilt, and a Damasco blade, For ornament, no use the Court allowes it.

_Eust._ Wil't not fight of it selfe? _Cow._ I nere tri'd this, Yet I have worne as faire as any man, I'me sure I've made my Cutler rich, and paid For several weapons, Turkish and Toledo's, Two thousand Crownes, and yet could never light Upon a fighting one. _Eust._ Ile borrow this, I like it well. _Cow._ Tis at your service Sir, A lath in a velvet scabbard will serve my turne.

_Eust._ And now I have it leave me; y'are infectious, The plague and leprosie of your baseness spreading On all that doe come neere you; such as you Render the Throne of Majesty, the Court Suspected and contemptible, you are Scarabee's That batten in her dung, and have no pallats To taste her curious viands, and like Owles Can onely see her night deformities, But with the glorious splendor of her beauties You are struck blinde as Moles, that undermine The sumptuous building that allow'd you shelter, You stick like running ulcers on her face, And taint the pureness of her native candor, And being bad servants, cause your masters goodness To be disputed of; you make the Court That is the abstract of all Academies, To teach and practice noble undertakings, (Where courage sits triumphant crown'd with Lawrel, And wisedome loaded with the weight of honour) A Schoole of vices. _Egre._ What sudden rapture's this?

_Eust._ A heavenly one that raising me from sloth and ignorance, (In which your conversation long hath charm'd me) Carries me up into the aire of action, And knowledge of my selfe; even now I feele But pleading onely in the Courts defence, (Though far[r]e short of her merits and bright lustre) A happy alteration, and full strength To stand her Champion against all the world, That throw aspersions on her. _Cow._ Sure hee'l beat us, I see it in his eyes. _Egre._ A second _Charles_; Pray look not Sir so furiously. _Eust._ Recant What you have said, ye Mungrils, and licke up The vomit you have cast upon the Court, Where you unworthily have had warmth and breeding, And sweare that you like Spiders, have made poyson Of that which was a saving antidote.

_Egre._ We will sweare any thing. _Cow._ We honour the Court As a most sacred place. _Egre._ And will make oath, If you enjoyne us to't, nor knave nor fool, Nor Coward living in it. _Eust._ Except you two, You Rascals! _Cow._ Yes, we are all these, and more, If you will have it so. _Eust._ And that until You are again reform'd and growne new men, You nere presume to name the Court, or presse Into the Porters Lodge but for a penance, To be disciplin'd for your roguery, and this done With true contrition. _Both._ Yes Sir. _Eust._ You againe May eat scraps and be thankful. _Cow._ Here's a cold breakfast After a sharpe nights walking. _Eust._ Keepe your oathes, And without grumbling vanish. _Both._ We are gone, Sir. _Exeunt._

_Eust._ May all the poorenesse of my spirit goe with you, The fetters of my thraldome are filed off: And I at libertie to right my selfe, And though my hope in _Angellina's_ little, My honour (unto which compar'd shee's nothing) Shall like the Sun disperse those lowring Clouds That yet obscure and dimme it; not the name Of brother shall divert me, but from him, That in the worlds opinion ruin'd me, I will seek reparation, and call him Unto a strict accompt. Ha! 'tis neere day, And if the Muses friend rose-cheek'd _Aurora_, Invite him to this solitary grove, As I much hope she will, he seldome missing To pay his vowes here to her, I shall hazard To hinder his devotions--The doore opens-- _Enter Charles._ Tis he most certain, and by's side my sword, Blest opportunity. _Cha._ I have oreslept my selfe, And lost part of the morne, but Ile recover it: Before I went to bed, I wrote some notes Within my table-book, which I will now consider. Ha! What meanes this? What do I with a sword? Learn'd _Mercurie_ needs not th'aide of _Mars_, and innocence Is to it selfe a guard, yet since armes ever Protect arts, I may justly weare and use it; For since't was made my prize, I know not how I'me growne in love with't and cannot eate nor study, And much lesse walke without it: but I trifle, Matters of more weight ask my judgement. _Eust._ Now Sir, Treate of no other Theme, Ile keep you to it, And see y'expound it well. _Cha._ _Eustace_! _Eust._ The same Sir, Your younger brother, who as duty bindes him, Hath all this night (turn'd out of doores) attended, To bid good morrow t'ye. _Cha._ This not in scorne, Commands me to returne it; Would you ought else?

_Eust._ O much, Sir, here I end not, but begin; I must speak to you in another straine, Than yet I ever us'd, and if the language Appeare in the delivery rough and harsh, You (being my Tutor) must condemne your selfe, From whom I learn'd it. _Cha._ When I understand (Bee't in what stile you please) what's your demand, I shall endeavour in the self same phrase To make an answer to the point. _Eust._ I come not To lay claime to your birthright, 'tis your owne, And 'tis fit you enjoy it, nor ask I from you Your learning and deepe knowledge; (though I am not A Schollar as you are) I know them Diamonds By your sole industry, patience and labour Forc'd from steepe rocks, and with much toile attended, And but to few that prize their value granted, And therefore without rival freely weare them.

_Cha._ These not repin'd at (as you seeme t'informe me) The motion must be of a strange condition, If I refuse to yeeld to't; therefore _Eustace_, Without this tempest in your lookes propound it, And feare not a denial. _Eust._ I require then, (As from an enemy, and not a brother) The reputation of a man of honour, Not by a faire war wonne when I was waking, But in my sleepe of folly ravish'd from me; With these, the restitution of my sword, With large acknowledgement of satisfaction, My Coach, my Horses; I will part with life, Ere lose one haire of them, and what concludes all, My Mistress _Angellina_, as she was Before the Musical Magick of thy tongue Inchanted and seduc'd her. These perform'd, And with submission, and done publiquely, At my fathers and my Uncles intercession, (That I put in too) I perhaps may listen To termes of reconcilement; but if these In every circumstance are not subscrib'd to, To th' last gasp I defie thee. _Cha._ These are strict Conditions to a brother. _Eust._ My rest is up, Nor will I give less. _Cha._ I'me no Gamester, _Eustace_, Yet I can guesse your resolution stands To win or loose all; I rejoyce to find ye Thus tender of your honour, and that at length You understand what a wretched thing you were, How deeply wounded by your selfe, and made Almost incurable, in your owne hopes, The dead flesh of pale cowardise growing over Your festred reputation, which no balme Or gentle unguent ever could make way to, And I am happy, that I was the Surgeon That did apply those burning corrosives That render you already sensible O th' danger you were plung'd in, in teaching you, And by a faire gradation, how far[r]e, And with what curious respect and care The peace and credit of a man within, (Which you nere thought till now) should be preferr'd Before a gawdy outside; pray you fix here, For so farre I go with you. _Eust._ This discourse Is from the subject. _Cha._ Ile come to it brother, But if you think to build upon my ruines, You'l find a false foundation your high offers Taught by the Masters of dependancies, That by compounding differences 'tween others Supply their owne necessities, with me Will never carry't; As you are my brother, I would dispence a little, but no more Than honour can give way to; nor must I Destroy that in my selfe I love in you; And therefore let not hopes nor threats perswade you I will descend to any composition For which I may be censur'd. _Eust._ You shall fight then.

_Cha._ With much unwillingness with you, but if There's no evasion-- _Eust._ None. _Cha._ Heare yet a word As for the sword and other fripperies, In a faire way send for them, you shall have 'em. But rather than surrender _Angellina_, Or heare it againe mention'd, I oppose My breast unto lowd thunder, cast behinde me All ties of Nature. _Eust._ She detain'd, I'me deafe To all perswasion. _Cha._ Guard thy selfe then _Eustace_, I use no other Rhetorick. _Mir._ Clashing of swords [_Enter Miram._] So neere my house? brother oppos'd to brother! Here is no fencing at halfe sword; hold, hold, _Charles, Eustace_. _Eust._ Second him, or call in more helpe. Come not betweene us, Ile not know nor spare you; D'ye fight by th' booke? _Cha._ Tis you that wrong me, off Sir, And suddenly, Ile conjure down the Spirit That I have raised in him. _Eust._ Never, _Charles_, Tis thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me.

_Mir._ I'me out of breath, yet trust not too much to't boyes, For if you pawse not suddenly, and heare reason, Doe, kill your Uncle, doe, but that I'me patient, And not a cholerick old teasty foole, Like your father, Ide daunce a matachin with you, Should make you sweat your best blood for't; I would, And it may be I will, _Charles_ I command thee, And _Eustace_ I entreat thee, th'art a brave Spark, A true tough-metal'd blade, and I begin To love thee heartily, give me a fighting Courtier, Ile cherish him for example; in our age Th'are not born every day. _Cha._ You of late Sir, In me lov'd learning. _Mir._ True, but take me w'ye, _Charles_, 'Twas when yong _Eustace_ wore his heart in's breeches, And fought his battailes in Complements and Cringes, When's understanding wav'd in a flaunting feather, And his best contemplation look'd no further Than a new-fashion'd doublet, I confess then The lofty noise your Greek made onely pleas'd me; But now hee's turn'd an _Oliver_ and a _Rowland_, Nay the whole dozen of peeres are bound up in him: Let me remember, when I was of his yeeres, I did looke very like him; and did you see My picture as I was then, you would sweare That gallant _Eustace_ (I meane, now he dares fight) Was the true substance and the perfect figure. Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough _Charles_.

_Cha._ Sure Sir, I shall not need addition from him.

_Eust._ Nor I from any, this shall decide my interest, Though I am lost to all deserving men, To all that men call good, for suffering tamely Insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted By yeelding to a minute of delay In my revenge, and from that made a stranger Unto my fathers house and favour, orewhelm'd With all disgraces, yet I will mount upward, And force my selfe a fortune, though my birth And breeding doe deny it. _Cha._ Seek not _Eustace_, By violence, what will be offerd to you On easier composition; though I was not Allied unto your weakness, you shall find me A brother to your bravery of spirit, And one that not compell'd to't by your sword, (Which I must never feare) will share it with you In all but _Angellina_. _Mir._ Nobly said _Charles_, And learne from my experience, you may heare reason And never maime your fighting; for your credit Which you think you have lost, spare, _Charles_, and swinge me, And soundly; three or foure walking cloakes That weare no swords to guard 'em, yet deserve it, Thou art made up againe. _Eust._ All this is lip-salve.

_Mir._ It shall be Hearts-ease, _Eustace_, ere I've done; As for thy fathers anger, now thou dar'st fight, Nere feare't, for I've the dowcets of his gravity Fast in a string, I will so pinch and wring him, That spight of his authority, thou shalt make Thine owne conditions with him. _Eust._ Ile take leave A little to consider. _Cha._ Here comes _Andrew_.

_Mir._ But without his Comical and learned face; What sad disaster, _Andrew_? _And._ You may read Sir, A Tragedy in my face. _Mir._ Art thou in earnest?

_And._ Yes, by my life Sir, and if now you help not, And speedily, by force or by persuasion, My good old Master (for now I pitie him) is Ruin'd for ever. _Cha._ Ha, my father! _And._ He Sir.

_Mir._ By what meanes? speake. _And._ At the suit of Monsieur _Lewis_ His house is seiz'd upon, and he in person Is under guard, (I saw it with these eyes Sir) To be convey'd to _Paris_, and there sentenc'd.

_Mir._ Nay, then there is no jesting. _Cha._ Doe I live, And know my father injur'd? _And._ And what's worse Sir, My Lady _Angellina_-- _Eust._ What of her?