THE LOVERS PROGRESS.

Previous
Francis Beaumont

A
TRAGEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

  • King of France.
  • Cleander, Husband to Calista.
  • Lidian, Brother to Calista, {both in love with Olinda.
  • Clarange, Rival to Lidian, {
  • Dorilaus, Father to Lidian and Calista, a merry old man.
  • Lisander, a noble Gentleman, in love with Calista.
  • Alcidon, a friend, and second to Lidian.
  • Beronte, Brother to Cleander.
  • Lem[ure], a noble Courtier.
  • Leon, a Villain, Lover of Clarinda.
  • Mallfort, a foolish Steward of Cleander.
  • Lancelot, Servant to Lisander.
  • Fryar.
  • Hosts ghost.
  • Chamberlain.
  • Servants.

WOMEN.

  • Calista, a vertuous Lady, Wife to Cleander.
  • Olinda, a noble Maid, and rich Heir, Mistress to Lidian and Clarange.
  • Clarinda, a lustful Wench, Calista's waiting woman.

The Scene France.

The principal Actors were,

  • Joseph Taylor.
  • Robert Benfield.
  • Thomas Polard.
  • George Birch.
  • John Lowin.
  • John Underwood.
  • Richard Sharpe.
  • John Thomson.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Leon, and Mallfort.

Mal. And as I told you, Sir.
Leon. I understand you,
 Clarinda's still perverse.
Mal. She's worse, obdurate,
 Flinty, relentless, my love-passions jeer'd at,
 My Presents scorn'd.
Leon. 'Tis strange a waiting-woman,
 In her condition apt to yield, should hold out,
 A man of your place, reverend Beard and shape,
 Besieging her.
Mal. You might add too my wealth,
 Which she contemns, five hundred Crowns per annum,
 For which I have ventur'd hard, my Conscience knows it,
 Not thought upon, though offer'd for a Joynture;
 This Chain which my Lords Pesants worship, flouted;
 My solemn hums and ha's, the servants quake at,
 No Rhetorick with her; every hour she hangs out
 Some new Flag of defiance to torment me;
 Last Lent, my Lady call'd me her Poor John,
 But now I am grown a walking Skeleton,
 You may see through, and through me.
Leon. Indeed you are much faln away.
Mal. I am a kind of nothing,
 As she hath made me; Love's a terrible Clyster,
 And if some Cordial of her favours help not,
 I shall like an Italian, dye backward,
 And breathe my last the wrong way.
Leon. As I live, you have my pity; but this is cold comfort,
 And in a friend lip-physick; and now I think on't,
 I should do more, and will, so you deny not
 Your self the means of comfort.
Mal. I'll be hang'd first; one dram of't I beseech you.
Leon. You are not jealous of any mans access to her?
Mal. I would not receive the Dor, but as a bosome friend
 You shall direct me, still provided that
 I understand who is the man, and what
 His purpose, that pleads for me.
Leon. By all means:
 First, for the undertaker, I am he;
 The means that I will practise, thus—
Mal. Pray you forward.
Leon. You know your Lady, chaste Calista loves her.
Mal. Too well, that makes her proud.
Leon. Nay, give me leave,
 This beauteous Lady, I may stile her so,
 (Being the paragon of France for feature)
 Is not alone contented in her self
 To seem, and be good, but desires to make
 All such as have dependance on her, like her;
 For this Clarinda's liberty is restrain'd;
 And though her kinsman, the gate's shut against me;
 Now if you please to make your self the door,
 For my conveyance to her, though you run
 The hazard of a check for't, 'tis no matter.
Mal. It being for mine own ends.
Leon. I'll give it o'r,
 If that you make the least doubt otherwise:
 Study upon't: good morrow.
Mal. Pray you stay, Sir;
 You are my friend; yet as the Proverb says,
 When love puts in, friendship is gone: suppose
 You should your self affect her?
Leon. Do you think I'll commit incest? for it is no less,
 She being my Cousin German. Fare you well, Sir.
Mal. I had forgot that, for this once forgive me.
 Only to ease the throbbing of my heart,
 (For I do feel strange pangs) instruct me what
 You will say for me.
Leon. First, I'll tell her that
 She hath so far besotted you, that you have
 Almost forgot to cast accompt.
Mal. Meer truth, Sir.
Leon. That of a wise and provident Steward,
 You are turn'd stark Ass.
Mal. Urge that point home, I am so.
Leon. That you adore the ground she treads upon,
 And kiss her footsteps.
Mal. As I do when I find their print in the snow.
Leon. A loving fool I know it,
 By your bloudless frosty lips; then having related
 How much you suffer for her, and how well
 You do deserve it—
Mal. How? to suffer?
Leon. No, Sir, to have your love return'd.
Mal. That's good, I thank you.
Leon. I will deliver her an Inventory
 Of your good parts: as this, your precious nose
 Dropping affection; your high forehead reaching
 Almost to the Crown of your head; your slender waste,
 And a back not like a threshers, but a bending,
 And Court-like back, and so forth, for your Body.
 But when I touch your mind, for that must take her,
 (Since your out-side promises little) I'll enlarge it,
 (Though ne'r so narrow) as your arts to thrive,
 Your composition with the Cook and Butler
 For Cony-Skins and Chippings, and half a share
 With all the under Officers of the house,
 In strangers bounties, that she shall have all,
 And you as 'twere her Bailiff.
Mal. As I will be.
Leon. As you shall, so I'll promise. Then your qualities,
 As playing on a Gyttern, or a Jews-Trump.
Mal. A little too on the Viol.
Leon. Fear you nothing.
 Then singing her asleep with curious Catches
 Of your own making; for as I have heard,
 You are Poetical.
Mal. Something given that way;
 Yet my works seldom thrive: and the main reason
 The Poets urge for't, is, because I am not
 As poor as they are.
Leon. Very likely; fetch her
 While I am in the vein.
Mal. 'Tis an apt time, my Lady being at her Prayers.
Leon. Let her pray on.
 Nay go, and if upon my intercession
 She do you not some favour, I'll disclaim her;
 I'll ruminate on't the while.
Mal. A hundred Crowns is your reward.
Leon. Without 'em—nay no trifling. [Ex. Mal.
 That this dull clod of ignorance should know
 How to get money, yet want eyes to see
 How grosly he's abus'd, and wrought upon!
 When he should make his will, the Rogue's turn'd rampant,
 As he had renew'd his youth; a handsome wench,
 Love one a spittle-whore would run away from?
 Well, Master Steward, I will plead for you
 In such a method, as it shall appear
 You are fit to be a property.

Enter Malfort, and Clarinda.

Mal. Yonder he walks
 That knows my worth and value, though you scorn it.
Clar. If my Lady know not this—
Mal. I'll answer it:
 If you were a Nun I hope your Cousin German
 Might talk with you through a grate, but you are none,
 And therefore may come closer; ne'r hang off,
 As I live you shall bill; ye may salute as strangers,
 Custom allows it. Now, now, come upon her
 With all your Oratory, [tickle her to the quick,]
 As a young Advocate should, and leave no Vertue
 Of mine unmentioned, I'll stand centinel;
 Nay keep the door my self. [Exit.
Clar. How have you work'd
 This piece of motley to your ends?
Leon. Of that at leasure, Mistriss. [Kissing.
Clar. Lower, you are too loud,
 Though the fool be deaf, some of the house may hear you.
Leon. Suppose they should, I am a Gentleman,
 And held your Kinsman, under that I hope
 I may be free.
Clar. I grant it, but with caution;
 But be not seen to talk with me familiarly,
 But at fit distance, or not seen at all,
 It were the better; you know my Ladies humour,
 She is all honour, and compos'd of goodness,
 (As she pretends) and you having no business,
 How jealous may she grow?
Leon. I will be rul'd.
 But you have promis'd, and I must enjoy you.
Clar. We shall find time for that; you are too hasty,
 Make your self fit and I shall make occasion,
 Deliberation makes best in that business,
 And contents every way.
Leon. But you must feed
 This foolish Steward with some shadow of
 A future favour, that we may preserve him
 To be our instrument.
Clar. Hang him.
Leon. For my sake, Sweet,
 I undertook to speak for him, any Bauble,
 Or slight employment in the way of service,
 Will feed him fat.

Enter Malfort.

Enter Calista.

Malf. She frowns.
Clar. I thank you for this visit cousin,
 But without leave hereafter from my Lady,
 I dare not change discourse with you.
Malf. Pray you take your mornings draught.
Leon. I thank you: [Exeunt Leon, Malf.
 Happiness attend your honour.
Calist. Who gave warrant to this private parle?
Clar. My innocence; I hope
 My conference with a kinsman cannot call
 Your anger on me.
Calist. Kinsman? Let me have
 No more of this, as you desire you may continue mine.
Clar. Why madam (under pardon)
 Suppose him otherwise: yet coming in
 A lawfull way, it is excusable.
Calist. How's this?
Clar. I grant you are made of pureness,
 And that your tenderness of honour holds
 The soveraigntie o're your passions. Yet you have
 A noble Husband, with allow'd embraces,
 To quench lascivious fires, should such flame in you,
 As I must ne're believe. Were I the wife
 Of one that could but zanie brave Cleander,
 Even in his least perfections, (excuse
 My o're-bold inference) I should desire
 To meet no other object.
Cal. You grow saucie. Do I look further?
Clar. No, dear Madam: and
 It is my wonder or astonishment rather,
 You could deny the service of Lisander;
 A man without a rival: one the King
 And Kingdom gazes on with admiration,
 For all the excellencies a Mother could
 Wish in her only Son.
Cal. Did not mine honour
 And obligation to Cleander, force me
 To be deaf to his complaints?
Clar. 'Tis true; but yet
 Your rigor to command him from your presence,
 Argu'd but small compassion; the Groves
 Witness his grievous sufferings, your fair name
 Upon the rinde of every gentle Poplar,
 And amorous Myrtle, (trees to Venus sacred)
 With adoration carv'd, and knee[l']d unto,
 This you (unseen of him) both saw and heard
 Without compassion, and what receiv'd he
 For his true sorrows? but the heavy knowledge,
 That 'twas your peremptory will and pleasure,
 (How e're my Lord liv'd in him) he should quit
 Your sight and house for ever.
Cal. I confess I gave him a strong potion to work
 Upon his hot bloud, and I hope 'twill cure him:
 Yet I could wish the cause had concern'd others,
 I might have met his sorrows with more pity;
 At least have lent some counsel to his miseries,
 Though now for honours sake, I must forget him,
 And never know the name more of Lisander:
 Yet in my justice I am bound to grant him,
 (Laying his love aside) most truely noble.
 But mention him no more, this instant hour
 My Brother Lidian, new return'd from travel,
 And his brave friend Clarange, long since rivals
 For fair and rich Olinda, are to hear
 Her absolute determination, whom
 She pleases to elect: see all things ready
 To entertain 'em: and on my displeasure
 No more words of Lisander.
Clar. She endures to hear him nam'd by no tongue but her own:
 How e're she carries it, I know she loves him. [Exit.
Cal. Hard nature: hard condition of poor women!
 That where we are most su'd to, we must flye most.
 The trees grow up, and mix together freely,
 The Oak's not envious of the sailing Cedar,
 The lustie Vine not jealous of the Ivie
 Because she clips the Elm; the flowers shoot up,
 And wantonly kiss one another hourly,
 This blossome glorying in the others beauty,
 And yet they smell as sweet, and look as lovely:
 But we are ty'd to grow alone. O honour,
 Thou hard Law to our lives, chain to our freedoms
 He that invented thee had many curses;
 How is my soul divided! O Cleander,
 My best deserving husband! O Lisander,
 The truest lover that e're sacrific'd
 To Cupid against Hymen! O mine honour;
 A Tyrant, yet to be obey'd! and 'tis
 But justice we should thy strict Laws endure,
 Since our obedience to thee keeps us pure. [Exit.

Enter Cle[a]nder, Lidian, and Clarange.

Clean. How insupportable the difference
 Of dear friends is, the sorrow that I feel
 For my Lisanders absence, one that stamps
 A reverend print on friendship, does assure me.
 You are rivals for a Lady, a fair Lady,
 And in the acquisition of her favours,
 Hazard the cutting of that Gordian knot
 From your first childhood to this present hour,
 By all the tyes of love and amity fasten'd.
 I am blest in a wife (Heaven make me thankfull)
 Inferiour to none (sans pride I speak it)
 Yet if I were a free-man, and could purchase
 At any rate the certainty to enjoy
 Lisanders conversation while I liv'd,
 Forgive me my Calista, and the Sex,
 I never would seek change.
Lid. My Lord and Brother,
 I dare not blame your choice, Lisanders worth
 Being a Mistris to be ever courted;
 Nor shall our equal suit to fair Olinda
 Weaken, but adde strength to our true affection,
 With zeal so long continued.
Claran. When we know
 Whom she prefers, as she can choose but one,
 By our so long tri'd friendship we have vow'd
 The other shall desist.
Clea. 'Tis yet your purpose,
 But how this resolution will hold
 In him that is refus'd, is not alone
 Doubtfull, but dangerous.

Enter Malfort.

Malf. The rich heir is come Sir.
Cleand. Madam Olinda?
Malf. Yes Sir, and makes choice,
 After some little conference with my Lady,
 Of this room to give answer to her suitors.
Cle. Already both look pale, between your hopes
 To win the prize, and your despair to lose
 What you contended for.
Lid. No Sir, I am arm'd.
Clar. I confident of my interest.
Cle. I'le believe ye when you have endur'd the test.

Enter Calista, Olinda, and Clarinda.

Malf. Is not your garter
 Unty'd? you promis'd that I should grow higher
 In doing you service.
Clar. Fall off or you lose me. [Exit Malfort.
Cle. Nay take your place, no Paris now sits judge
 On the contending goddesses. You are
 The Deitie that must make curst or happy
 One of your languish[i]ng servants.
Ol. I thus look with equal eyes on both; either deserves
 A fairer fortune than they can in reason
 Hope for from me; from Lidian I expect,
 When I have made him mine, all pleasures that
 The sweetness of his manners, youth, and vertues
 Can give assurance of: but turning this way
 To brave Clarange, in his face appears
 A kind of Majesty which should command,
 Not sue for favour. If the fairest Lady
 Of France, set forth with natures best endowments
 Nay should I adde a Princess of the bloud,
 Did now lay claim to either for a husband,
 So vehement my affection is to both,
 My envie at her happiness would kill me.
Cle. The strangest love I ever heard.
Cal. You can enjoy but one.
Clar. The more I say the merrier.
Oli. Witness these tears I love both, as I know
 You burn with equal flames, and so affect me;
 Abundance makes me poor; such is the hard
 Condition of my fortune; be your own judges;
 If I should favour both, 'twill taint my honour,
 And that before my life I must prefer;
 If one I lean to, the other is disvalued;
 You are fierie both, and love will make you warmer.
Clar. The warmer still the fitter. You are a fool Lady.
Oli. To what may love, and the Devil jealousie spur you
 Is too apparent: my name's call'd in question:
 Your swords flie out, your angers range at large:
 Then what a murther of my modesty follows?
Clar. Take heed of that by any means: O innocent,
 That will deny a blessing when 'tis offer'd,
 Would I were murther'd so, I would thank my modesty.
Cle. What pause you on?
Oli. It is at length resolv'd.
Clar. We are on the Rack, uncertain expectation
 The greatest torture.
Lidi. Command what you please,
 And you shall see how willingly we will execute.
Oli. Then hear what for your satisfaction,
 And to preserve your friendship I resolve
 Against my self, and 'tis not to be alter'd:
 You are both brave gentlemen, I'le still profess it,
 Both noble servants, for whose gentle offers,
 The undeserving, and the poor Olinda
 Is ever bound; you love both, fair, and vertuously;
 Would I could be so happy to content both:
 Which since I cannot, take this resolute answer;
 Go from me both contentedly, and he
 That last makes his return, and comes to visit,
 Comes to my bed. You know my will: farewel;
 My heart's too big to utter more: come friend.
Cal. I'le wait on you to your Coach.

[Exeunt Olinda, Calista, Clarinda.

Cle. You both look blank, I cannot blame you.
Lid. We have our dispatches.
Clara. I'le home.
Lid. And I'le abroad again, Farewel.
Clara. Farewel to ye.

[Exeunt Clarange, and Lidian.

Cle. Their blunted departure troubles me: I fear
 A suddain and a dangerous division
 Of their long love will follow: have you took
 Your leave of fair Olinda?

Enter Calista, with a purse.

C[al]. She is gone Sir.
Cle. Had you brought news Lisander were return'd too,
 I were most happy.
Cal. Still upon Lisander?
Cle. I know he loves me, as he loves his health:
 And Heaven knows I love him.
Cal. I find it so:
 For me you have forgot, and what I am to you.
Cle. O think not so. If you had lost a Sister
 You lock'd all your delights in, it would grieve you:
 A little you would wander from the fondness
 You ow'd your husband: I have lost a friend,
 A noble friend, all that was excellent
 In man, or man-kind, was contain'd within him,
 That loss my wife—

Enter Malfort.

Malf. Madam, your noble Father—
 A fee for my good news.
Cal. Why? what of him Sir?
Mal. Is lighted at the door, and longs to see you.
Calist. Attend him hither.
Clean. O my dear Lisander.
 But I'le be merry: let's meet him my Calista.
Cal. I hope Lisanders love will now be buried:
 My Father will bring joy enough for one moneth,
 To put him out of memorie.

Enter Dorilaus, his arm in a scarff.

Dor. How do you Son?
 Bless my fair child, I am come to visit yee,
 To see what house you keep, they say you are bountifull,
 I like the noise well, and I come to trie it.
 Ne're a great belly yet? how have you trifl'd?
 If I had done so (Son) I should have heard on't
 On both sides by Saint Denis.
Clean. You are nobly welcom Sir:
 We have time enough for that.
Dorilaus. See how she blushes!
 'Tis a good sign you'l mend your fault, how dost thou,
 My good Calista?
Cal. Well, now I see you Sir;
 I hope you bring a fruitfulness along with ye.
Dor. Good luck, I never miss, I was ever good at it:
 Your mother groan'd for't wench, so did some other,
 But I durst never tell.
Cal. How does your arm Sir?
Cle. Have you been let bloud of late?
Dor. Against my will Sir.
Cal. A fall dear Father?
Dor. No, a Gun, dear Daughter;
 Two or three Guns; I have one here in my buttock,
 'Twould trouble a Surgeons teeth to pull it out.
Cal. O me! O me!
Dor. Nay, if you fall to fainting,
 'Tis time for me to trudge: art such a coward,
 At the meer name of hurt to change thy colour?
 I have been shot that men might see clean through me,
 And yet I fainted not: besides my self,
 Here are an hospital of hurt men for ye.

Enter Servants, wounded in several places.

Clean. What should this wonder be?
Cal. I am amaz'd at it.
Doril. What think ye of these? they are every one hurt soundly,
 Hurt to the proof, they are through, and through I assure ye;
 And that's good game, they scorn your puling scratches.
Cal. Who did this Sir?
Dor. Leave crying, and I'le tell you,
 And get your plaisters, and your warm stupes ready:
 Have you ne're a Shepheard that can tarr us over?
 'Twill prove a business else, we are so many.
 Coming to see you, I was set upon,
 I and my men, as we were singing frolickly,
 Not dreaming of an ambush of base Rogues,
 Set on i'th' forest, I have forgot the name—
Cle. 'Twixt this, and Fountaine-Bleau,
 In the wild Forest?
Dor. The same, the same, in that accursed Forest,
 Set on by villains, that make boot of all men,
 The Peers of France are pillage there, they shot at us,
 Hurt us, un-hors'd us, came to the sword, there pli'd us,
 Opprest us with fresh multitudes, fresh shot still,
 Rogues that would hang themselves for a fresh doublet,
 And for a Scarlet Cassock kill their Fathers.
Cle. Lighted you among these?
Dor. Among these murtherers,
 Our poor blouds were ingag'd: yet we strook bravely,
 And more than once or twice we made them shun us,
 And shrink their rugged heads: but we were hurt all.
Cle. How came you off? for I even long to hear that.
Dor. After our prayers made to Heaven to help us,
 Or to be mercifull unto our souls;
 So near we were. Alas poor wench, wipe, wipe.
 See Heaven sends remedy.
Cal. I am glad 'tis come Sir,
 My heart was even a bleeding in my body.
Dor. A curl'd hair Gentleman stept in, a stranger,
 As he rod by, belike he heard our bickering,
 Saw our distresses, drew his sword, and prov'd
 He came to execute, and not to argue.
 Lord what a lightning methought flew about him,
 When he once toss'd his blade! in face Adonis,
 While peace inhabited between his eye-brows:
 But when his noble anger stirr'd his metal,
 And blew his fierie parts into a flame,
 Like Pallas, when she sits between two armies,
 Viewing with horrid brows their sad events,
 Such then he look'd: and as her shield had arm'd him.
Cal. This man Sir were a friend to give an age for.
 This Gentleman I must love naturally:
 Nothing can keep me off; I pray you go on Sir.
Dor. I will, for now you please me: this brave youth,
 This bud of Mars, for yet he is no riper,
 When once he had drawn bloud, and flesh'd his sword,
 Fitted his manly metal to his spirit,
 How he bestirr'd him! what a lane he made!
 And through their fierie Bullets thrust securely:
 The hardned villains wondring at his confidence,
 Lame as I was I follow'd, and admir'd too,
 And stirr'd, and laid about me with new spirit,
 My men too with new hearts thrust into action,
 And down the Rogues went.
Cle. I am struck with wonder.
Dor. Remember but the storie of strong Hector,
 When like to lightning he broke through his vanguard,
 How the Greeks frighted ran away by Troops,
 And trod down Troops to save their lives: so this man
 Dispers'd these slaves: had they been more and mightier,
 He had come off the greater, and more wonder.
Cle. Where is the man, good Sir, that we may honour him?
Cal. That we may fall in superstition to him.
Dor. I know not that, from me he late departed,
 But not without that pious care to see safe
 Me, and my weak men lodg'd, and dress'd; I urg'd him
 First hither, that I might more freely thank him:
 He told me he had business, crav'd my pardon,
 Business of much import.
Cle. Know you his name?
Dor. That he deny'd me too: a vow had bar'd him.
Cal. In that he was not noble to be nameless.
Dor. Daughter you must remember him when I am dead,
 And in a noble sort requite his piety,
 'Twas his desire to dedicate this service
 To your fair thoughts.
Cal. He knows me then?
Dor. I nam'd you,
 And nam'd you mine: I think that's all his knowledge.
Cle. No name, no being?
Cal. Now I am mad to know him:
 Saving mine honour, any thing I had now
 But to enjoy his sight, but his bare picture;
 Make me his Saint, I must needs honour him.
Serv. I know his name.
Cal. There's thy reward for't; speak it.
Ser. His man told me, but he desir'd my silence.
Cal. O Jasper speak, 'tis thy good Masters cause too:
 We all are bound in gratitude to compel thee.
Ser. Lisander? Yes, I am sure it was Lisander,
Cal. Lisander? 'twas Lisander.
Cle. 'Tis Lisander. O my base thoughts! my wicked!
 To make question this act could be another mans:
 'Tis Lisander, a handsome timber'd man?
Ser. Yes.
Cle. My Lisander! Was this friends absence to be mourn'd?
Cal. I grant it:
 I'le mourn his going now, and mourn it seriously:
 When you weep for him, Sir, I'le bear you company.
 That so much honour, so much honesty
 Should be in one man, to do things thus bravely,
 Make me his Saint, to me give this brave service:
 What may I do to recompence his goodness?
 I cannot tell.
Cle. Come Sir, I know you are sickly, so are your men.
Dor. I must confess I am weak,
 And fitter for a bed than long discourses.
Cle. You shall hear to morrow, to morrow provide Surgeons.
Dor. Lisander—
Cal. What new fire is this? Lisander— [Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Lisander, and Lancelot.

Lis. Prethee good Lancelot remember that
 Thy Master's life is in thy trust, and therefore
 Be very carefull.
Lanc. I will lose mine own, rather than hazard yours.
Lisa. Take what disguise
 You in your own discretion shall think fittest,
 To keep your self unknown.
Lanc. I warrant ye;
 'Tis not the first time I have gone invisible:
 I am as fine a Fairie in a business
 Concerning night-work—
Lisa. Leave your vanities:
 With this purse (which deliver'd,
 You may spare your Oratory) convey this Letter to
 Calista's woman.
Lanc. 'Tis a handsom girle, Mistris Clarinda.
Lisa. I have made her mine. You know your work.
Lan. And if I sweat not in it,
 At my return discard me. [Exit.
Lisa. O Calista! the fairest! cruellest!

Enter Clarange.

Clar. So early stirring? a good day to you.
Lisa. I was viewing Sir,
 The site of your house, and the handsomness about it:
 Believe me it stands healthfully and sweetly.
Clar. The house and Master of it really
 Are ever at your service.
Lisa. I return it:
 Now if you please go forward in your storie
 Of your dear friend and Mistris.
Clar. I will tell it,
 And tell it short, because 'tis breakfast time,
 (And love is a tedious thing to a quick stomach)
 You eat not yester-night.
Lisa. I shall endure Sir.
Clara. My self (and as I then deliver'd to you)
 A Gentleman of noble hope, one Lidian,
 Both brought up from our infancy together,
 One company, one friendship, and one exercise
 Ever affecting, one bed holding us,
 One grief, and one joy parted still between us,
 More than companions, twins in all our actions,
 We grew up till we were men, held one heart still:
 Time call'd us on to Arms, we were one Souldier,
 Alike we sought our dangers and our honours,
 Gloried alike one in anothers nobleness:
 When Arms had made us fit, we were one lover,
 We lov'd one woman, lov'd without division,
 And woo'd a long time with one fair affection;
 And she, as it appears, loves us alike too.
 At length considering what our love must grow to,
 And covet in the end, this one was parted,
 Rivals and honours make men stand at distance.
 We then woo'd with advantage, but were friends still,
 Saluted fairly, kept the peace of love,
 We could not both enjoy the Ladies favour,
 Without some scandal to her reputation,
 We put it to her choice, this was her sentence,
 To part both from her, and the last returning
 Should be her Lord; we obey'd, and now you know it;
 And for my part, (so truely I am touch'd with't)
 I will go far enough, and be the last too,
 Or ne're return.
Lisa. A sentence of much cruelty;
 But mild, compar'd with what's pronounc'd on me.
 Our loving youth is born to many miseries.
 What is that Lidian pray ye?
Clar. Calista's Brother, if ever you have heard of that fair Lady.
Lisa. I have seen her Sir.
Clar. Then you have seen a wonder.
Lisa. I do confess: of what years is this Lidian?
Clar. About my years: there is not much between us.
Lisa. I long to know him.
Clar. 'Tis a vertuous longing,
 As many hopes hang on his noble head,
 As blossoms on a bough in May, and sweet ones.
Lisa. Ye are a fair storie of your friend.
Clar. Of truth Sir: now, what's the matter?

Enter a Servant.

Serv. There is a Gentleman
 At door, would speak with you on private business.
Clar. With me?
Serv. He saies so, and brings haste about him.
Clar. Wait on him in. [Exit Servant.
Lisa. I will retire the while, to the next room.
Clar. We shall not long disturb you.

Enter Alcidon.

Alci. Save ye, Sir.
Clara. The like to you, fair Sir: pray you come near.
Alci. Pray you instruct me for I know you not.
 With Monsieur Clarange I would speak.
Clar. I am he, Sir:
 Ye are nobly welcome; I wait your business.
Alci. This will inform you.
Clar. Will you please to sit down? [Reads.
 He shall command me Sir, I'le wait upon him
 Within this hour.
Alci. Y'are a noble Gentleman,
 Wil't please you bring a friend? we are two of us,
 And pity either, Sir, should be unfurnish'd.
Clar. I have none now, and the time is set so short,
 'Twill not be possible.
Alci. Do me the honour:
 I know you are so full of brave acquaintance,
 And worthy friends, you cannot want a partner:
 I would be loth to stand still, Sir; besides,
 You know the custom, and the vantage of it,
 If you come in alone.
Clar. And I must meet it.
Alci. Send, we'l defer an hour, let us be equal:
 Games won and lost on equal terms shew fairest.
Clar. 'Tis to no purpose to send any whither,
 Unless men be at home by Revelation:
 So please you breath a while; when I have done with him,
 You may be exercis'd too: I'le trouble no man.

Enter Lisander.

Lisa. They are very loud. Now what's the news?
Clar. I must leave you,
 Leave you a while, two hours hence I'le return friend.
Lisa. Why, what's the matter?
Clar. A little business.
Lisa. And't be but a little, you may take me with ye.
Clar. 'Twill be a trouble to you.
Lisa. No indeed, to do you service, I account a pleasure.
Clar. I must alone.
Lisa. Why?
Clar. 'Tis necessity—
 Before you pass the walks, and back again,
 I will be with ye.
Lisa. If it be not unmannerly
 To press you, I would go.
Clar. I'le tell you true, Sir,
 This Gentleman and I upon appointment,
 Are going to visit a Lady.
Lisa. I am no Capuchin, why should not I go?
Alci. Take the Gentleman,
 Come he may see the Gentlewoman too,
 And be most welcom, I do beseech you take him.
Lis. By any means, I love to see a Gentlewoman,
 A prettie wench too.
Clar. Well, Sir, we'll meet you,
 And at the place: My service to the Lady.
Alci. I kiss your hand. [Exit.
Clar. Prethee read o're her Letter.

Lisander reads.

Monsieur,

I Know you have considered the dark sentence Olinda gave us, and that (however she disguis'd it) it pointed more at our swords edges than our bodies banishments; the last must injoy her: if we retire, our youths are lost in wandring; in emulation we shall grow old men, and feeble, which is the scorn of love, and rust of honour, and so return more fit to wed our Sepulchers, than the Saint we aim at; let us therefore make our journey short, and our hearts ready, and with our swords in our hands put it to fortune, which shall be worthy to receive that blessing, I'le stay you on the mountain, our old hunting place, this Gentleman alone runs the hazard with me, and so I kiss your hand.

Your Servant Lidian.

Is this your wench? you'l find her a sharp Mistris.
 What have I thrust my self into? is this that Lidian
 You told me of?
Clar. The same.
Lisa. My Ladies Brother?
 No cause to heave my sword against but his?
 To save the Father yesterday, and this morning,
 To help to kill the Son? this is most courteous!
 The only way to make the Daughter doat on me.
Clar. Why do you muse? would ye go off?
Lisa. No, no, I must on now; this will be kindly taken;
 No life to sacrifice, but part of hers?
 Do you fight straight?
Clara. Yes, presently.
Lisan. To morrow then,
 The balefull tidings of this day will break out,
 And this nights Sun will set in bloud; I am troubl'd:
 If I am kill'd, I am happy.
Clar. Will you go friend?
Lis. I am ready Sir, fortune thou hast made me monstrous.

[Exeunt.

Enter Malfort, and Clarinda.

Malf. Your cousin, and my true friend, lusty Leon,
 Shall know how you use me.
Clar. Be more temperate,
 Or I will never use, nor know you more
 I'th' way of a servant: all the house takes notice
 Of your ridiculous fopperie; I have no sooner
 Perform'd my duties in my Ladies chamber,
 And she scarce down the stairs, but you appear
 Like my evil spirit to me.
Malf. Can the fish live out of the water, or the Salamander
 Out of the fire? or I live warm, but in
 The frying-pan of your favour?
Cla. Pray you forget
 Your curious comparisons, borrowed from
 The pond, and kitchin, and remember what
 My Ladies pleasure is for th' entertainment
 Of her noble Father.
Ma. I would learn the art of memory in your table book.
Cla. Very good sir, no more but up and ride, I apprehend
 Your meaning, soft fire makes sweet mault Sir:
 I'le answer you in a Proverb.
Mal. But one kiss from thy hony lip.
Cla. You fight too high, my hand is
 A fair ascent from my foot, his slavering kisses
 Spoil me more gloves,—enough for once, you'l surfeit
 With too much grace.
Mal. Have you no imployment for me?
C[la]. Yes, yes, go send for Leon, and convey him
 Into the private Arbour, from his mouth
 I hear your praises with more faith.
Ma. I am gone; yet one thing e're I go, there's at the door
 The rarest Fortune-teller, he hath told me
 The strangest things; he knows ye are my Mistris,
 And under seal deliver'd how many Children
 I shall beget on you, pray you give him hearing,
 He'l make it good to you.
Cla. A cunning man
 Of your own making, howsoe'r I'le hear him
 At your intreaty.
Mal. Now I perceive ye love me,
 At my entreaty, come in friend—remember
 To speak as I directed, he knows his lesson,
 And the right way to please her; this it is
 To have a head-piece. [Exit.

Enter Lancelot, like a Fortune-teller, with a Purse, and two Letters in it.

Enter Lidian, Alcidon, (at one door) Lisander, Clarange, (at another.)

Lid. You're welcom.
Alci. Let us do our office first,
 And then make choice of a new piece of ground
 To try our fortunes.
Lisa. All's fair here.
Alci. And here, their swords are equal.
Lisa. If there be any odds in mine, we will exchange.
Alci. We'l talk of that
 When we are farther off, farewel.
Lisa. Farewel friend. [Ex. Lisander, and Alcidon.
Lidi. Come let us not be idle.
Cla. I will find you imployment, fear not.
Lid. You know Sir, the cause that brings [u]s hither.
Cla. There needs no more discoursing,
 No time, nor place for repetition now.
Lid. Let our swords argue, and I wish Clarange,
 The proud Olinda saw us.
Cla. Would she did;
 What ever estimation she holds of me,
 She should behold me like a man fight for her.
Lid. 'Tis nobly said; set on love; and my fortune—
Cla. The same for me, come home brave Lidian,
 'Twas manly thrust, this token to the Lady,
 Ye have it Sir, deliver it, take breath,
 I see ye bleed apace, ye shall have fair play.

Enter Lisander.

Lis. You must lye there a while, I cannot help you.
Lid. Nay, then my fortune's gone, I know I must dye:
 Yet dearly will I sell my love, come on both,
 And use your fortunes, I expect no favour;
 Weak as I am, my confidence shall meet ye.
Cla. Yield up your cause and live.
Lid. What dost thou hold me?
 A recreant, that prefers life before credit?
 Though I bleed hard, my honour finds no Issue,
 That's constant to my heart.
Cla. Have at your life then.
Lis. Hold, or I'le turn, and bend my sword against ye;
 My cause Clarange too, view this brave Gentleman,
 That yet may live to kill you, he stands nobly,
 And has as great a promise of the day
 As you can tye unto your self, he's ready,
 His sword as sharp, view him with that remembrance,
 That you deliver'd him to me Clarange:
 And with those eyes, that clearness will become ye:
 View him, as you reported him; survey him,
 Fix on your friendship Sir, I know you are noble,
 And step but inward to your old affection;
 Examine but that soul grew to your bosom,
 And try then if your sword will bite, it cannot,
 The edge will turn again, asham'd, and blunted;
 Lidian, you are the pattern of fair friendship,
 Exampled for your love, and imitated,
 The Temple of true hearts, stor'd with affections,
 For sweetness of your spirit made a Saint,
 Can you decline this nobleness to anger?
 To mortal anger? 'gainst the man ye love most?
 Have ye the name of vertuous, not the nature?
Lid. I will sit down.
Clar. And I'le sit by you, Lidian.
Lis. And I'le go on, can Heaven be pleas'd with these things?
 To see two hearts that have been twin'd together,
 Married in friendship to the world, to wonder,
 Of one growth, of one nourishment, one health,
 Thus mortally divorc'd for one weak woman?
 Can love be pleas'd? love is a gentle spirit,
 The wind that blows the April flowers, not softer;
 She is drawn with doves to shew her peacefulness,
 Lions and bloody Pards are Mars's servants;
 Would ye serve love? do it with humbleness,
 Without a noise, with still prayers, and soft murmurs;
 Upon her Altars offer your obedience,
 And not your brawls; she's won with tears, not terrors:
 That fire ye kindle to her deity
 Is only gratefull when it's blown with sighs,
 And holy Incense flung with white hand-innocence;
 Ye wound her now; ye are too superstitious,
 No sacrifice of bloud, or death she longs for.
Lid. Came he from Heaven?
Clar. He tells us truth good Lidian.
Lisa. That part of noble love which is most sweet,
 And gives eternal being to fair beauty,
 Honour, you hack i' pieces with your swords,
 And that ye fight to crown, ye kill, fair credit.
Clar. Thus we embrace, no more fight, but all friendship,
 And where love pleases to bestow his benefits,
 Let us not argue.
Lid. Nay, brave Sir, come in too;
 You may love also, and may hope, if ye do,
 And not rewarded for't, there is no justice;
 Farewel friend, here let's part upon our pilgrimage,
 It must be so, Cupid draws on our sorrows.
 And where the lot lights—
Clar. I shall count it happiness,
 Farewel, dear friend.
Lis. First, let's relieve the Gentleman
 That lyes hurt in your cause, and bring him off,
 And take some care for your hurts, then I will part too,
 A third unfortunate, and willing wanderer. [Exeunt.

Enter Olinda, and Calista.

Oli. My fears foresaw 'twould come to this.
Cal. I would your sentence had been milder.
Olln. 'Tis past help now.
Cal. I share in your despair, and yet my hopes
 Have not quite left me, since all possible means
 Are practised to prevent the mischief following
 Their mortal meeting, my Lord is coasted one way,
 My Father, though his hurts forbad his travel,
 Hath took another, my Brother in Law Beronte
 A third, and every minute we must look for
 The certain knowledge, which we must endure
 With that calm patience heav'n shall please to lend us.

Enter Dorilaus, and Cleander, severally.

Dor. Dead both?
Clea. Such is the rumour, and 'tis general.
Olin. I hear my passing bell.
Cal. I am in a fevour.
Cle. They say their seconds too; but what they are,
 Is not known yet, some worthy fellows certain.
Dor. Where had you knowledge?
Clea. Of the Country people, 'tis spoken every where.
Dor. I heard it so too;
 And 'tis so common, I do half believe it,
 You have lost a Brother, wench, he lov'd you well,
 And might have liv'd to have done his country service,
 But he is gone, thou fell'st untimely, Lidian,
 But by a valiant hand, that's some small comfort,
 And took him with thee too, thou lov'st brave company,
 Weeping will do no good, you lost a servant,
 He might have liv'd to have been your Master, Lady,
 But you fear'd that.
Olin. Good Sir, be tender to me,
 The news is bad enough, you need not press it,
 I lov'd him well, I lov'd 'em both.
Dor. It seems so.
 How many more have you to love so Lady?
 They were both fools to fight for such a Fiddle;
 Certain there was a dearth of noble anger,
 When a slight woman was thought worth a quarrel.
Olin. Pray you think nobler.
Dor. I'le tell thee what I think, the plague, war, famine,
 Nay put in dice and drunkenness (and those
 You'l grant are pretty helps) kill not so many
 (I mean so many noble) as your loves do,
 Rather your lewdness, I crave your mercy, women,
 Be not offended if I anger ye.
 I am sure ye have touch'd me deep, I came to be merry,
 And with my children, but to see one ruin'd
 By this fell accident—are they all dead?
 If they be, speak?
Clean. What news?

Enter Beronte, Alcidon, Clarinda, following with a Letter.

Ber. What, dead? ye pose me;
 I understand you not.
Clea. My Brother Lidian, Clarange, and their seconds.
Ber. Here is one of 'em, and sure this Gentleman's alive.
Alci. I hope so, so is your Son, Sir, so is brave Clarange:
 They fought indeed, and they were hurt sufficiently;
 We were all hurt, that bred the general rumour,
 But friends again all, and like friends we parted.
Clea. Heard ye of Lisander?
Ber. Yes, and miss'd him narrowly:
 He was one of the combatants, fought with this Gentleman,
 Second against your Brother, by his wisdom
 (For certainly good fortune follows him)
 All was made peace, I'le tell you the rest at dinner,
 For we are hungry.
Alci. I before I eat
 Must pay a vow I am sworn to; my life, Madam,
 Was at Lisander's mercy, I live by it;
 And for the noble favour, he desir'd me
 To kiss your fair hand for him, offering
 This second service as a Sacrifice
 At the Altar of your vertues.
Dor. Come joy on all sides;
 Heaven will not suffer honest men to perish.
Clea. Be proud of such a friend.
Dor. Forgive me, Madam,
 It was a grief might have concern'd you near too.
Clea. No work of excellence but still Lisander,
 Go thy waies, Worthy.
Olin. We'l be merry too,
 Were I to speak again, I would be wiser.

[Ex. Manent Cal. Clarin.

Cal. Too much of this rare cordial makes me sick,
 However I obey you.
Clarin. Now or never is an apt time to move her, Madam.
Cal. Who's that?
Clarin. Your servant, I would speak with your Ladyship.
C[al]. Why dost thou look about?
Clarin. I have private business
 That none must hear but your Lisander—
Cal. Where?
Clar. Nay, is not here, but would entreat this favour,
 Some of your Balsam from your own hand given,
 For he is much hurt, and that he thinks would cure him.
Cal. He shall have all, my Prayers too.
Clar. But conceive me,
 It must be from your self immediately,
 Pity so brave a Gentleman should perish,
 He is superstitious, and he holds your hand
 Of infinite power; I would not urge this, Madam,
 But only in a mans extreams to help him.
Cal. Let him come (good wench) 'tis that I wish, I am happy in't,
 My husband his true friend, my noble father,
 The fair Olinda, all desire to see him;
 He shall have many hands.
Clar. That he desires not,
 Nor eyes but yours, to look upon his miseries,
 For then he thinks 'twould be no perfect cure, Madam,
 He would come private.
Cal. How can that be here?
 I shall do wrong unto all those that honour him,
 Besides my credit.
Clar. Dare ye not trust a hurt man?
 Not strain a courtesie to save a Gentleman?
 To save his life that has sav'd all your family?
 A man that comes like a poor mortifi'd Pilgrim,
 Only to beg a Blessing and depart again?
 He would but see you, that he thinks would cure him.
 But since you find fit reasons to the contrary,
 And that it cannot stand with your clear honour,
 Though you best know how well he has deserv'd of ye:
 I'll send him word back though I grieve to do it,
 Grieve at my soul, for certainly 'twill kill him,
 What your will is.
Cal. Stay, I will think upon't; where is he, Wench?
Clar. If you desire to see him,
 Let not that trouble you, he shall be with you,
 And in that time that no man shall suspect ye;
 Your honour, Madam, is in your own free keeping;
 Your care in me; in him all honesty;
 If ye desire him not, let him pass by ye,
 And all this business reckon but a dream.
C[a]l, Go in, and counsel me, I would fain see him,
 And willingly comfort him.
Clar. 'Tis in your power;
 And if you dare trust me, you shall do it safely,
 Read that, and let that tell you, how he honours you.

[Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Clarinda with a Key, and Leon.

Leon. This happy Night. [Kisses her.
Clar. Preserve this eagerness
 Till we meet nearer, there is something done
 Will give us opportunity.
Leon. Witty Girl, the plot?
Clar. You shall hear that at leisure,
 The whole house reels with joy at the report
 Of Lidians safety, and that joy encreas'd
 From their affection to the brave Lisander,
 In being made the happy instrument to compound
 The bloudy difference.
Leon. They will hear shortly that
 Will turn their mirth to mourning, he was then
 The principal means to save two lives, but since
 There are two faln, and by his single hand,
 For which his life must answer, if the King,
 Whose arm is long, can reach him.
Clar. We have now no spare time to hear stories, take this Key,
 'Twill make your passage to the banquetting house
 I'th' Garden free.
Leon. You will not fail to come?
Clar. For mine own sake ne'r doubt it; now for Lisander.

[Exit.

Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Servants with lights.

Dor. To bed, to bed, 'tis very late.
Clean. To bed all, I have drunk a health too much.
Dor. You'll sleep the better,
 My usual physick that way.
Clean. Where's your Mistriss?
Clar. She is above, but very ill, and aguish;
 The late fright of her Brother has much troubl'd her:
 She would entreat to lye alone.
Clean. Her pleasure.
Dor. Commend my love to her, and my Prayers for her health,
 I'll see her ere I go. [Exeunt; manet Clarinda.
Clar. All good rest to ye;
 Now to my watch for Lisander, when he is furnish'd,
 For mine own friend, since I stand Centinel,
 I love to laugh i'th' evenings too, and may,
 The priviledg of my place will warrant it. [Exit.

Enter Lisander, and Lancelot.

Lis. You have done well hitherto; where are we now?
Lanc. Not far from the house, I hear by th' Owls,
 There are many of your Welch falkoners about it;
 Here were a night to chuse to run away with
 Another mans Wife, and do the feat.
Lis. Peace Knave,
 The house is here before us, and some may hear us;
 The Candles are all out.
Lanc. But one i'th' Parlour,
 I see it simper hither, pray come this way.
Lis. Step to the Garden-door, and feel and't be open.
Lan. I am going, luck deliver me from the saw-pits,
 Or I am buried quick; I hear a Dog,
 No, 'tis a Cricket, ha? here's a Cuckold buried,
 Take heed of his horns, Sir, here's the door, 'tis open.
[Clarinda at the door.
Clar. Who's there?
Lis. Friend.
Clar. Sir, Lisander?
Lis. I.
Clar. Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise.
Lis. Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, Sirrah,
 And be sure ye sleep not.

[Exeunt Lisander, Clarinda.

Lan. Send me out the Dairy-maid
 To play at trump with me, and keep me waking,
 My fellow horse and I must now discourse
 Like two learned Almanack-Makers, of the Stars,
 And tell what a plentiful year 'twill prove of Drunkards.
 If I had but a pottle of Sack, like a sharp prickle,
 To knock my Nose against when I am nodding,
 I should sing like a Nightingale, but I must
 Keep watch without it, I am apt to dance,
 Good fortune guide me from the Faries Circles. [Exit.

Enter Clarinda with a Taper, and Lisander with a Pistol, two Chairs set out.

Clar. Come near, [Calista sitting behind a Curtain.
 I'll leave ye now, draw but that Curtain,
 And have your wish; now, Leon, I am for thee;
 We that are servants must make use of stoln hours,
 And be glad of snatch'd occasions. [Exit.
Lis. She is asleep,
 Fierce Love hath clos'd his lights, I may look on her,
 Within her eyes 'has lockt the graces up,
 I may behold and live; how sweet she breaths!
 The orient morning breaking out in odours
 Is not so full of perfumes, as her breath is;
 She is the abstract of all Excellence, and scorns a Parallel.
Cal. Who's there?
Lis. Your servant, your most obedient slave (adored Lady)
 That comes but to behold those eyes again,
 And pay some Vows I have to sacred Beauty,
 And so pass by; I am blind as ignorance,
 And know not where I wander, how I live,
 Till I receive from their bright influence
 Light to direct me, for Devotions sake,
 You are the Saint I tread these holy steps to,
 And holy Saints are all relenting sweetness,
 Be not enrag'd, nor be not angry with me;
 The greatest attribute of Heaven is mercy;
 And 'tis the Crown of Justice, and the glory
 Where it may kill with right, to save with pity.
Cal. Why do you kneel? I know you come to mock me,
 T'upbraid me with the benefits you have giv'n me,
 Which are too many, and too mighty, Sir,
 For my return; and I confess 'tis justice,
 That for my cruelty you should despise me,
 And I expect however you are calm now,
 A foyl you strive to set your cause upon,
 It will break out; Calista is unworthy,
 Coy, proud, disdainful, I acknowledge all,
 Colder of Comfort than the frozen North is,
 And more a stranger to Lisanders worth,
 His youth and faith, than it becomes her gratitude,
 I blush to grant it, yet take this along,
 A soveraign medicine to allay displeasure,
 May be an argument to bring me off too;
 She is married, and she is chaste; how sweet that sounds!
 How it perfumes all air 'tis spoken in!
 O dear Lisander! would you break this union?
Lis. No, I adore it; let me kiss your hand,
 And seal the fair faith of a Gentleman on it.
Cal. You are truly valiant, would it not afflict ye
 To have the horrid name of Coward touch you?
 Such is the Whore to me.
Lis. I nobly thank ye;
 And may I be the same when I dishonour ye;
 This I may do again. [Kissing her hand.
Cal. Ye may, and worthily;
 Such comforts Maids may grant with modesty,
 And neither make her poor nor wrong her bounty;
 Noble Lisander, how fond now am I of ye!
 I heard you were hurt.
Lis. You dare not heal me, Lady?
 I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes!
 Excellent Objects kill our sight, she blinds me;
 The Roses in the pride of May shew pale to her;
 O Tyrant, Custom! and O Coward, Honour!
 How ye compel me to put on mine own Chains!
 May I not kiss ye now in superstition?
 For you appear a thing that I would kneel to;
 Let me err that way. [Kisses her.
Cal. Ye shall err for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you,
 Among your manly sufferings, make this most,
 To err no farther in desire, for then, Sir,
 You add unto the gratitudes I owe you;
 And after death, your dear friends soul shall bless you.
Lis. I am wondrous honest.
Cal. I dare try. [Kisses.
Lis. I have tasted a blessedness too great for dull mortality,
 Once more, and let me dye.
Cal. I dare not murther,
 How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses!
 And young men flye th' embraces of fair Virgins?
 Come, pray sit down, but let's talk temperately.
Lis. Is my dear friend abed?
Cal. Yes, and asleep;
 Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too, Lisander,
 Speak not so loud.
Lis. You see I am a Statue,
 I could not stand else as I had eaten Ice,
 Or took into my bloud a drowzie Poyson,
 And Natures noblest, brightest flame burns in me;
 Midnight? and I stand quietly to behold it so?
 The Alarm rung, and I sleep like a Coward?
 I am worn away, my faith, my dull obedience
 Like Crutches, carry my decayed Body
 Down to the Grave, I have no youth within me,
 Yet happily you love too.
Cal. Love with honour.
Lis. Honour? what's that? 'tis but a specious title
 We should not prize too high.
Cal. Dearer than life.
Lis. The value of it is as time hath made it,
 And time and custome have too far insulted,
 We are no gods, to be always tyed to strictness,
 'Tis a presumption to shew too like 'em;
 March but an hour or two under Loves Ensigns,
 We have Examples of great memories—
Cal. But foul ones too, that greatness cannot cover,
 That Wife that by Example sins, sins double,
 And pulls the Curtain open to her shame too;
 Methinks to enjoy you thus—
Lis. 'Tis no joy, Lady,
 A longing Bride if she stop here, would cry,
 The Bridegroom too, and with just cause curse Hymen;
 But yield a little, be one hour a Woman,
 (I do not speak this to compel you, Lady)
 And give your Will but motion, let it stir
 But in the taste of that weak fears call evil,
 Try it to understand it, we'll do nothing,
 You'll ne'r come to know pure good else.
Cal. Fie, Sir.
Lis. I have found a way, let's slip into this errour
 As Innocents, that know not what we did;
 As we were dreaming both, let us embrace;
 The sin is none of ours then, but our fancies;
 What have I said? what blasphemy to honour?
 O my base thoughts! pray ye take this and shoot me.
 My Villain thoughts! [Noise within.
Cal. I weep your miseries, and would to heaven—what noise?
Lis. It comes on louder.
 Kill me, and save your self; save your fair honour,
 And lay the fault on me, let my life perish,
 My base lascivious life, shoot quickly, Lady.
Cal. Not for the World, retire behind the hangings,
 And there stand close—my husband, close, Lisander.

Enter Cleander with a Taper.

Clean. Dearest, are you well?
Cal. O my sad heart, my head, my head.
Clean. Alas, poor soul! what do you do out of your bed?
 You take cold, my Calista; how do ye?
Cal. Not so well, Sir, to lie by ye, my Brothers fright—
Clean. I had a frightful dream too,
 A very frightful dream, my best Calista;
 Methought there came a Dragon to your Chamber,
 A furious Dragon (Wife) I yet shake at it;
 Are all things well?
Lis. Shall I shoot him?
Cal. No, all well, Sir,
 'Twas but your care of me, your loving care,
 Which always watches.
Clean. And methought he came
 As if he had risen thus out of his Den,
 As I do from these Hangings.
Lis. Dead.
Cal. Hold, good Sir.
Clean. And forc'd ye in his arms thus.
Cal. 'Twas but fancy
 That troubled ye, here's nothing to disturb me,
 Good Sir, to rest again, and I am now drowzie,
 And will to bed; make no noise, dear Husband,
 But let me sleep; before you can call any body, I am abed.
Clean. This, and sweet rest dwell with ye. [Exit.
Cal. Come out again, and as you love, Lisander,
 Make haste away, you see his mind is troubled;
 Do you know the door ye came in at?
Lis. Well, sweet Lady.
Cal. And can ye hit it readily?
Lis. I warrant ye;
 And must I go? Must here end all my happiness?
 Here in a dream, as if it had no substance?
Cal. For this time, friend, or here begin our ruins;
 We are both miserable.
Lis. This is some comfort
 In my afflictions; they are so full already,
 They can find no encrease.
Cal. Dear, speak no more.
Lis. You must be silent then.
Cal. Farewel, Lisander, thou joy of man, farewel.
Lis. Farewel, bright Lady,
 Honour of woman-kind, a heavenly blessing.
Cal. Be ever honest.
Lis. I will be a dog else;
 The vertues of your mind I'll make my Library,
 In which I'll study the celestial beauty;
 Your Constancy, my Armour that I'll fight in;
 And on my Sword your Chastity shall sit,
 Terrour to rebel bloud.
Cal. Once more, farewel; [Noise within.
 O that my modesty cou'd hold you still, Sir—he comes again.
Lis. Heaven keep my hand from murther,
 Murther of him I love.
Cal. Away, dear friend,
 Down to the Garden stairs, that way, Lisander,
 We are betray'd else.

Enter Cleander.

Lis. Honour guard the innocent. [Exit Lisander.
Clean. Still up? I fear'd your health.
Cal. 'Has miss'd him happily;
 I am going now, I have done my meditations,
 My heart's almost at peace.
Clean. To my warm Bed then.
Cal. I will, pray ye lead. [A Pistol shot within.
Clean. A Pistol shot i'th' house?
 At these hours? sure some thief, some murtherer;
 Rise, ho! rise all, I am betray'd.
Cal. O Fortune!
 O giddy thing! he has met some opposition,
 And kill'd; I am confounded, lost for ever.

Enter Dorilaus.

Dor. Now, what's the matter?
Clean. Thieves, my noble Father, Villains and Rogues.
Dor. Indeed! I heard a Pistol, let's search about.

Enter Malfort, Clarinda, and Servants.

Mal. To bed again, they are gone, Sir,
 I will not bid you thank my valour for't;
 Gone at the Garden door; there were a dozen,
 And bravely arm'd, I saw 'em.
Clar. I am glad, glad at the heart.
Serv. One shot at me, and miss'd me.
Mal. No, 'twas at me, the Bullet flew close by me,
 Close by my ear; another had a huge Sword,
 Flourish'd it thus; but at the point I met him,
 But the Rogue taking me to be your Lordship,
 (As sure your Name is terrible, and we
 Not much unlike in the dark) roar'd out aloud,
 'Tis the kill-Crow, Dorilaus, and away
 They ran as they had flown; now you must love me,
 Or fear me for my Courage, Wench.
Clar. O Rogue!
 O lying Rogue, Lisander stumbled, Madam,
 At the Stairs-head, and in the fall the shot went off;
 Was gone before they rose.
Cal. I thank Heaven for't.
Clar. I was frighted too, it spoil'd my game with Leon.
Cle. You must sit up; and they had come to your Chamber
 What pranks would they have plaid! how came the door open?
Ma. I heard 'em when they forc'd it; up I rose,
 Took Durindana in my hand; and like
 Orlando, issu'd forth.
Clar. I know you are valiant.
Clean. To bed again,
 And be you henceforth provident, at sun-rising
 We must part for a while.
Dor. When you are a bed,
 Take leave of her, there 'twill be worth the taking;
 Here 'tis but a cold Ceremony, ere long
 We'll find Lisander, or we have ill-fortune.
Clean. Lock all the doors fast.
Mal. Though they all stood open,
 My name writ on the door, they dare not enter. [Exeunt.

Enter Clarange, Fryar with a letter.

A Song by the Novice.

Adieu fond love, farewel you wanton powers,
 I am free again;
 Thou dull Disease of bloud, and idle hours;
 Bewitching pain,
 Flye to the Fools that sigh away their time,
 My nobler love to Heaven doth climb,
 And there behold Beauty still young,
 That Time can ne'r corrupt, nor Death destroy;
 Immortal sweetness by fair Angels sung,
 And honour'd by Eternity and Joy:
 There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire,
 Fond love declines, this heavenly [love] grows higher.
Fri. How do ye approve it?
Clar. To its due desert,
 It is a Heavenly Hymn, no ditty Father,
 It passes through my ears unto my soul,
 And works divinely on it; give me leave
 A little to consider; shall I be
 Outdone in all things? nor good of my self,
 Nor by example? shall my loose hope still,
 The viands of a fond affection, feed me
 As I were a sensual beast? spiritual food
 Refus'd by my sick palat? 'tis resolv'd.
 How far off Father, doth this new made Hermit
 Make his abode?
Fri. Some two dayes journey Son.
Clar. Having reveal'd my fair intentions to ye,
 I hope your piety will not deny me
 Your aids to further 'em?
Fri. That were against a good mans charity.
Clar. My first request is,
 You would some time, for reasons I will shew you,
 Defer delivery of Lidians Letters
 To fair Olinda.
Fri. Well Sir.
Clar. For what follows,
 You shall direct me; something I will do,
 A new born zeal, and friendship prompts me to. [Ex.

Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Chamberlain, Table, Tapers, and three stools.

Clea. We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready,
 We must be stirring early.
Cham. They are made Sir.
Dor. I cannot sleep yet, where's the jovial host
 You told me of? 'thas been my custom ever
 To parley with mine host.
Clea. He's a good fellow,
 And such a one I know you love to laugh with;
 Go call your Master up.
Cham. He cannot come Sir.
Dor. Is he a bed with his wife?
Cham. No certainly.
Dor. Or with some other guests?
Cham. Neither and't like ye.
Clea. Why then he shall come by your leave my friend,
 I'le fetch him up my self.
Cham. Indeed you'l fail Sir.
Dor. Is he i'th' house?
Cham. No, but he is hard by Sir;
 He is fast in's grave, he has been dead these three weeks.
Dor. Then o' my conscience he will come but lamely,
 And discourse worse.
Clean. Farewel mine honest Host then,
 Mine honest merry Host; will you to bed yet?
Dor. No, not this hour, I prethee sit and chat by me.
Clean. Give us a quart of wine then, we'l be merry.
Dor. A match my Son; pray let your wine be living,
 Or lay it by your Master.
Cham. It shall be quick Sir. [Exit.
Dor. Has not mine Host a wife?
[Clean.] A good old woman.
Dor. Another coffin, that is not so handsom;
 Your Hostesses in Innes should be blith things,
 Pretty, and young to draw in passengers;
 She'l never fill her beds well, if she be not beauteous.
Clean. And courteous too.

Enter Chamberlain, with wine.

Dor. I, I, and a good fellow,
 That will mistake sometimes a Gentleman
 For her good man; well done; here's to Lisander.
Clean. My full love meets it; make fire in our lodgings,
 We'l trouble thee no farther; to your Son. [Ex. Cham.
Dor. Put in Clarange too; off with't, I thank ye;
 This wine drinks merrier still, O for mine Host now,
 Were he alive again, and well dispos'd,
 I would so claw his pate.
Clean. Y'are a hard drinker.
Dor. I love to make mine Host drunk, he will lye then
 The rarest, and the roundest, of his friends,
 His quarrels, and his guests, and they are the best bauds too,
 Take 'em in that tune.
Clean. You know all.
Dor. I did Son, but time, and arms have worn me out.
Clea. 'Tis late Sir, I hear none stirring. [A lute is struck.
Dor. Hark, what's that, a Lute?
 'Tis at the door I think.
Clean. The doors are shut fast.
Dor. 'Tis morning sure, the Fiddlers are got up
 To fright mens sleeps, have we ne're a pispot ready?
Clean. Now I remember, I have heard mine Host that's dead
 Touch a lute rarely, and as rarely sing too,
 A brave still mean.
Dor. I would give a brace of French Crowns
 To see him rise and Fiddle—Hark, a Song.

A SONG.

'Tis late and cold, stir up the fire;
 Sit close, and draw the Table nigher;
 Be merry, and drink wine that's old,
 A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold.
 Your bed of wanton down's the best,
 Where you shall tumble to your rest;
 I could wish you wenches too,
 But I am dead and cannot do;
 Call for the best the house may ring,
 Sack, White, and Claret let them bring,
 And drink apace while breath you have,
 You'l find but cold drink in the grave;
 Plover, Partridge for your dinner,
 And a Capon for the sinner,
 You shall find ready when you are up,
 And your horse shall have his sup:
 Welcom welcom shall flye round,
 And I shall smile though under ground.
Clean. Now as I live, it is his voice.
Dor. He sings well, the Devil has a pleasant pipe.
Clean. The fellow lyed sure.

Enter Host.

He is not dead, he's here: how pale he looks!
Dor. Is this he?
Clean. Yes.
Host. You are welcom noble Gentlemen,
 My brave old guest most welcom.
Clean. Lying knaves,
 To tell us you were dead, come sit down by us,
 We thank ye for your Song.
Host. Would 't had been better.
Dor. Speak, are ye dead?
Host. Yes indeed am I Gentlemen,
 I have been dead these three weeks.
Dor. Then here's to ye, to comfort your cold body.
Clean. What do ye mean? stand further off.
Dor. I will stand nearer to him,
 Shall he come out on's coffin to bear us company,
 And we not bid him welcom? come mine Host,
 Mine honest Host, here's to ye.
Host. Spirits Sir, drink not.
Clea. Why do ye appear?
Host. To wait upon ye Gentlemen,
 'Thas been my duty living, now my farewel;
 I fear ye are not us'd accordingly.
Dor. I could wish you warmer company mine Host,
 How ever we are us'd.
Host. Next to entreat a courtesie,
 And then I go to peace.
Clea. Is't in our power?
Host. Yes and 'tis this, to see my body buried
 In holy ground, for now I lye unhallowed,
 By the clarks fault; let my new grave be made
 Amongst good fellows, that have died before me,
 And merry Hostes of my kind.
Clea. It shall be done.
Dor. And forty stoops of wine drank at thy funeral.
Clea. Do you know our travel?
Host. Yes, to seek your friends,
 That in afflictions wander now.
Clean. Alas!
Host. Seek 'em no farther, but be confident
 They shall return in peace.
Dor. There's comfort yet.
Clea. Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host,
 Answer me softly, some hours before my death,
 To give me warning?
Host. I cannot tell ye truly,
 But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye,
 I will appear again, adieu. [Exit.
Dor. Adieu, Sir.
Cle. I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are
 For the most part fatal.
Dor. This if told, will not
 Find credit, the light breaks apace, let's lie down
 And take some little rest, an hour or two,
 Then do mine host's desire, and so return,
 I do believe him.
Clean. So do I, to rest, Sir. [Exeunt.

Enter Calista, and Clarinda.

Cal. Clarinda?
Clarin. Madam.
Cal. Is the house well ordered?
 The doors look'd to now in your Masters absence?
 Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants?
Clarin. I am stirring, Madam.
Cal. So thou art, Clarinda,
 More than thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush?
Clarin. I do not blush.
Cal. Why dost thou hang thy head wench?
Clarin. Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright,
 I understand ye not: she has spied Leon, [Aside.
 Shame of his want of caution.
Cal. Look on me; what, blush again?
Clarin. 'Tis more than I know, Madam;
 I have no cause that I find yet.
Cal. Examine then.
Clarin. Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me.
Cal. Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night?
 What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye.
Clarin. Madam, they did.
Cal. 'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then,
 And wore a sword; and sure I keep no Amazons;
 Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty;
 Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives,
 They draw offences nearer still, and greater:
 Come, tell the truth.
Clarin. You are the strangest Lady
 To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd, Madam?
 And which of all my careful services deserves these shames?
Cal. Leave facing, 'twill not serve ye,
 This impudence becomes thee worse than lying.
 I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of't;
 But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts; who was't?
 Honest repentance yet will make the fault less.
Clarin. Do ye compel me? do you stand so strict too?
 Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore, Madam,
 (Since ye provoke me) will but vex your Ladyship;
 Let me alone.
Cal. I will know.
Clarin. For your own peace,
 The peace of your own conscience ask no farther;
 Walk in, and let me alone.
Cal. No, I will know all.
Clar. Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with,
 Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam,
 And usual too, a proper man I lay with;
 Why should you vex at that? young as Lisander,
 And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure,
 Why should you stir at mine? I steal none from ye.
Cal. And dost thou glory in this sin?
Cla. I am glad on't, to glory in't is for a mighty Lady
 That may command.
Cal. Why didst thou name Lisander?
Clari. Does it anger ye? does it a little gall ye?
 I know it does, why would ye urge me Lady?
 Why would ye be so curious to compel me?
 I nam'd Lisander as my president,
 The rule I err'd by, you love him, I know it,
 I grudg'd not at it, but am pleas'd it is so;
 And by my care and diligence you enjoy'd him,
 Shall I for keeping counsel, have no comfort?
 Will you have all your self? ingross all pleasure
 Are ye so hard hearted? why do ye blush now, Madam?
Cal. My anger blushes, not my shame, base woman.
Clari. I'le make your shame blush, since you put me to't.
 Who lay with you t'other night?
Cal. With me? ye monster.
Clari. Whose sweet embraces circled ye? not your husbands;
 I wonder ye dare touch me in this point, Madam?
 Stir her against ye in whose hand your life lies?
 More than your life, your honour? what smug Amazon
 Was that I brought you? that maid had ne're a petticoat?
Cal. She'l half perswade me anon, I am a beast too,
 And I mistrust my self, though I am honest
 For giving her the Helm, thou knowest, Clarinda,
 (Ev'n in thy conscience) I was ever vertuous;
 As far from lust in meeting with Lisander,
 As the pure wind in welcoming the morning;
 In all the co[n]versation I had with him,
 As free, and innocent, as yon fair Heaven;
 Didst not thou perswade me too?
Clarin. Yes, I had reason for't,
 And now you are perswaded I'le make use on't.
Cal. If I had sin'd thus, and my youth entic'd me,
 The nobleness and beauty of his person,
 Beside the mighty benefits I am bound to,
 Is this sufficient warrant for thy weakness?
 If I had been a whore, and crav'd thy counsel
 In the conveyance of my fault and faithfulness,
 Thy secrecie, and truth in hiding of it;
 Is it thy justice to repay me thus?
 To be the Master sinner to compel me?
 And build thy lusts security on mine honour?
Cla. They that love this sin, love their security;
 Prevention, Madam, is the nail I knock'd at,
 And I have hit it home, and so I'le hold it,
 And you must pardon me, and be silent too,
 And suffer what ye see, and suffer patiently;
 I shall do worse else.
Cal. Thou canst not touch my credit:
 Truth will not suffer me to be abus'd thus.
Clarin. Do not you stick to truth, she is seldom heard, Madam,
 A poor weak tongue she has, and that is hoarse too
 With pleading at the bars, none understand[s] her,
 Or if you had her, what can she say for ye?
 Must she not swear he came at midnight to ye,
 The door left open, and your husband cozen'd
 With a feign'd sickness?
Cal. But by my soul I was honest, thou know'st I was honest.
Clarin. That's all one what I know,
 What I will testifie is that shall vex ye;
 Trust not a guilty rage with likelihoods,
 And on apparent proof, take heed of that, Madam;
 If you were innocent (as it may be ye are)
 I do not know, I leave it to your conscience,
 It were the weakest and the poorest part of ye,
 Men being so willing to believe the worst,
 So open eyed in this age to all infamie,
 To put your fame in this weak bark to the venture.
Cal. What do I suffer! O my precious honour,
 Into what box of evils have I lock'd thee!
 Yet rather than be thus outbrav'd, and by
 My drudg, my footstool, one that sued to be so;
 Perish both life, and honour. Devil thus
 I dare thy worst, defie thee, spit at thee,
 And in my vertuous rage, thus trample on thee;
 Awe me thy Mistris, whore, to be thy baud?
 Out of my house, proclaim all that thou knowest,
 Or malice can invent, fetch jealousie
 From Hell, and like a furie breath it in
 The bosom of my Lord; and to thy utmost
 Blast my fair fame, yet thou shalt feel with horror
 To thy sear'd conscience, my truth is built
 On such a firm base, that if e're it can
 Be forc'd, or undermin'd by thy base scandals,
 Heaven keeps no guard on innocence. [Exit.
Clarin. I am lost,
 In my own hopes forsaken, and must fall
 The greatest torment to a guilty woman
 Without revenge, till I can fashion it
 I must submit, at least appear as if
 I did repent, and would offend no farther.
 Monsieur Beronte my Lords Brother is
 Oblig'd unto me for a private favour;
 'Tis he must mediate for me; but when time
 And opportunity bids me strike, my wreak
 Shall pour it self on her nice chastitie
 Like to a torrent, deeds, not words shall speak me. [Exit.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Alcidon, and Beronte, severally.

Alci. Ye are opportunely [m]et.
Ber. Your countenance expresses hast mixt with some fear.
Alci. You'l share with me in both, as soon as you are made
 Acquainted with the cause, if you love vertue,
 In danger not secure; I have no time
 For circumstance, instruct me if Lisander
 Be in your Brothers house?
Ber. Upon my knowledge he is not there.
Alci. I am glad on't.
Ber. Why good Sir?
 (Without offence I speak it) there's no place
 In which he is more honour'd, or more safe,
 Than with his friend Cleander.
Alci. In your votes
 I grant it true, but as it now stands with him,
 I can give reason to make satisfaction
 For what I speak; you cannot but remember
 The ancient difference between Lisander
 And Cloridon, a man in grace at Court?
Ber. I do; and the foul plot of Cloridons kinsman
 Upon Lisanders life, for a fall given to Cloridon
 'Fore the King, as they encountred at a solemn tilting.
Alci. It is now reveng'd:
 In brief, a challenge was brought to Lisander
 By one Chrysant[h]es; and as far as valour
 Would give him leave, declin'd by bold Lisander:
 But peace refus'd, and braves on braves heap'd on him,
 Alone he met the opposites, ending the quarrel
 With both their lives.
Ber. I am truly sorry for't.
Alci. The King incensed for his favorites death,
 Hath set a price upon Lisanders head,
 As a reward to any man that brings it
 Alive, or dead; to gain this, every where
 He is pursu'd, and laid for; and the friendship
 Between him and your noble Brother known,
 His house in reason cannot pass unsearcht,
 And that's the principal cause that drew me hither,
 To hasten his remove, if he had chosen
 This Castle for his sanctuary.
Ber. 'Twas done nobly,
 And you most welcom; this night pray you take
 A lodging with us; and at my intreaty
 Conceal this from my Brother, he is grown
 Exceeding sad of late; and the hard fortune
 Of one he values at so high a rate,
 Will much encrease his melancholy.
Alci. I am tutor'd: pray you lead the way.
Ber. To serve you I will shew it. [Exeunt.

Enter Cleander, with a Book.

Cle. Nothing more certain than to dye, but when
 Is most uncertain: if so, every hour
 We should prepare us for the journey, which
 Is not to be put off, I must submit
 To the divine decree, not argue it,
 And chearfully I welcom it: I have
 Dispos'd of my estate, confess'd my sins,
 And have remission from my Ghost[l]y Father,
 Being at peace too here: the apparition
 Proceeded not from fancy, Dorilaus
 Saw it, and heard it with me, it made answer
 To our demands, and promis'd, if 'twere not
 Deny'd to him by fate, he would forewarn me
 Of my approaching end, I feel no symptome
 Of sickness, yet I know not how a dulness
 Invades me all over. Ha?

Enter Host.

Host. I come Sir,
 To keep my promise; and as far as spirits
 Are sensible of sorrow for the living,
 I grieve to be the messenger to tell you,
 E're many hours pass, you must resolve
 To fill a grave.
Cle. And feast the worms?
Host. Even so Sir.
Clea. I hear it like a man.
Host. It well becomes you, there's no evading it.
Cle. Can you discover by whose means I must dye?
Host. That is deny'd me:
 But my prediction is too sure; prepare
 To make your peace with heaven. So farewel Sir. [Ex.
Cle. I see no enemy near; and yet I tremble
 Like a pale coward: my sad doom pronounc'd
 By this aerial voice, as in a glass
 Shews me my death in its most dreadfull shape.
 What rampire can my humane frailty raise
 Against the assault of fate? I do begin
 To fear my self, my inward strengths forsake me,
 I must call out for help. Within there? haste,
 And break in to my rescue.
Enter Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda, Beronte, Alcidon,
 Servants, and Clarinda, at several doors.
Dor. Rescue? where? shew me your danger.
Cal. I will interpose
 My loyall breast between you and all hazard.
Ber. Your Brothers Sword secures you.
Alci. A true friend will dye in your defence.
Clean. I thank ye,
 To all my thanks. Encompass'd thus with friends
 How can I fear? and yet I do, I am wounded,
 Mortally wounded: nay it is within,
 I am hurt in my minde: One word—
Dor. A thousand.
Cle. I shall not live to speak so many to you.
Dor. Why? what forbids you?
Cle. But even now the spirit
 Of my dead Host appear'd, and told me, that
 This night I should be with him: did you not meet it?
 It went out at that door.
Dor. A vain Chimera
 Of your imagination: can you think
 Mine Host would not as well have spoke to me now,
 As he did in the Inn? these waking dreams
 Not alone trouble you, but strike a strange
 Distraction in your Family: see the tears
 Of my poor Daughter, fair Olinda's sadness,
 Your Brothers, and your friends grief, servants sorrow.
 Good Son bear up, you have many years to live
 A comfort to us all: let's in to supper;
 Ghosts never walk till after mid-night, if
 I may believe my Grannam. We will wash
 These thoughts away with Wine, spight of Hobgoblins.
Cle. You reprehend me justly: gentle Madam,
 And all the rest, forgive me, I'le endeavour
 To be merry with you.
Dor. That's well said.
Beron. I have procur'd your pardon.
Cal. Once more I receive you
 Into my service: but take especial care
 You fall no further.
Clar. Never Madam: Sir,
 When you shall find fit time to call me to it,
 I will make good what I have said.
Ber. Till when, upon your life be silent.
Dor. We will have a health unto Lisander.
Cle. His name, Sir,
 Somewhat revives me; but his sight would cure me.
 How ever let's to supper.
Olin. Would Clarange
 And Lidian were here too, as they should be,
 If wishes cou'd prevail.
Cal. They are fruitless, Madam. [Ex.

Enter Leon.

Leon. If that report speak truth, Clarinda is
 Discharg'd her Ladies service, and what burthen
 I then have drawn upon me is apparent,
 The crop she reapt from her attendance was
 Her best Revenue, and my principal means
 Clarinda's bounty, though I labour'd hard for't,
 A younger Brother's fortune: must I now
 Have soure sawce after sweet meats? and be driv'n
 To leavie half a Crown a week, besides
 Clouts, Sope, and Candles, for my heir Apparent,
 If she prove, as she swears she is with child;
 Such as live this way, find like me, though wenching
 Hath a fair face, there's a Dragon in the tail of't
 That stings to th' quick. I must skulk here, until
 I am resolv'd: how my heart pants between
 My hopes and fears! she's come; are we in the Port?
 If not, let's sink together.

Enter Clarinda.

Clar. Things go better
 Than you deserve; you carry things so openly,
 I must bear every way, I am once more
 In my Ladies grace.
Leon. And I in yours.
Clar. It may be; but I have sworn unto my Lady never
 To sin again.
Leon. To be surpriz'd—the sin
 Is in it self excusable; to be taken
 Is a crime, as the Poet writes.
Clar. You know my weakness,
 And that makes you so confident. You have got
 A fair sword; was it not Lisanders?
Leon. Yes Wench,
 And I grown valiant by the wearing of it:
 It hath been the death of two. With this Lisander
 Slew Clor[id]on, and Chrysanthes. I took it up,
 Broken in the handle, but that is reform'd,
 And now in my possession; the late Master
 Dares never come to challenge it: this sword,
 And all the weapons that I have, are ever
 Devoted to thy service: Shall we bill?
 I am very gamesome.
Clar. I must first dispose of
 The fool Malfort; he hath smoak'd you, and is not,
 But by some new device to be kept from me:
 I have it here shall fit him: you know where
 You must expect me, with all possible silence
 Get thither.
Leon. You will follow?
Clar. Will I live?
 She that is forfeited to lust must dye,
 That humour being unfed; begone, here comes [Exit Le.

Enter Malfort in Armour.

My champion in Armour.
Malf. What adventure
 I am bound upon I know not, but it is
 My Mistresses pleasure that I should appear thus.
 I may perhaps be terrible to others,
 But as I am, I am sure my shadow frights me,
 The clashing of my Armour in my ears,
 Sounds like a passing-bell; and my Buckler, puts me
 In mind of a Bier; this my broad Sword a pick-axe
 To dig my grave: O love, abominable love,
 What Monsters issue from thy dismal den,
 Clarinda's placket, which I must encounter,
 Or never hope to enter?
Clar. Here's a Knight errant, Monsieur Malfort.
Malf. Stand, stand, or I'le fall for ye.
Clar. Know ye not my voice?
Malf. Yes, 'twas at that I trembl'd.
 But were my false friend Leon here—
Clar. 'Tis he.
Malf. Where? where?
Clar. He is not come yet.
Malf. 'Tis well for him,
 I am so full of wrath.
Clar. Or fear—This Leon,
 How e're my Kinsman, hath abus'd you grosly,
 And this night vowes to take me hence perforce,
 And marry me to another: 'twas for this,
 (Presuming on your love) I did entreat you
 To put your armour on, that with more safety
 You might defend me.
Mal. And I'le do it bravely.
Clar. You must stand here to beat him off, and suffer
 No humane thing to pass you, though it appear
 In my Lords shape, or Ladies: be not cozen'd
 With a disguise.
Mal. I have been fool'd already, but now I am wise.
Clar. You must swear not to stir hence.
Mal. Upon these lips.
Clar. Nor move untill I call you?
Mal. I'le grow here rather.
Clar. This nights task well ended,
 I am yours to morrow. Keep sure guard. [Exit Clar.
Malf. Adieu;
 My honey-comb how sweet thou art, did not
 A nest of Hornets keep it! what impossibilities
 Love makes me undertake! I know my self
 A natural Coward, and should Leon come,
 Though this were Cannon proof, I should deliver
 The wench before he ask'd her. I hear some footing:
 'Tis he; where shall I hide my self? that is
 My best defence.

Enter Cleander.

Enter Clarinda and Leon, running. Cleander following.

Clar. 'Tis my Lord,
 Shift for your self.
Leon. His life
 Shall first make answer [Kills Cleander.
 For this intrusion.
Malf. I am going away,
 I am gone already. [Falls in a swoon.
Clean. Heaven take mercy on
 My soul; too true presaging Host.
Clar. He's dead,
 And this wretch little better:
 Do you stare upon your
 Handy-work?
Leon. I am amaz'd.
Clar. Get o're the Garden wall, flye for your life,
 But leave your sword behind; enquire not why:
 I'le fashion something out of it, though I perish,
 Shall make way for revenge.
Leon. These are the fruits
 Of lust, Clarinda.
Puts the sword in Malfort's hand.
Clar. Hence, repenting Milk-sop. [Exit Leon.
 Now 'tis too late. Lisanders sword, I that,
 That is the Base I'le build on. So, I'le raise
 The house. Help, murther, a most horrid
 Murther. Monsieur Beronte, noble Dorilaus,
 All buried in sleep? Aye me a murther,
 A most unheard-of murther.

Enter Dorilaus as from bed.

Dor. More lights Knaves;
 Beronte, Alcidon; more lights.

Enter Beronte, Alcidon, and Servants with lights.

Clar. By this I see too much.
Dor. My Son Cleander bathing
 In his own gore. The Devil, to tell truth, i'th' shape of
 An Host!
Ber. My Brother?
Malf. I have been
 I'th' other world, in Hell I think, these Devils
 With fire-brands in their paws sent to torment me,
 Though I never did the deed, for my lewd purpose
 To be a Whore-master.
Dor. Who's that?
Alci. 'Tis one in Armour. A bloudy sword in his hand.
Dor. Sans question the murtherer.
Malf. Who I? you do me wrong,
 I never had the heart to kill a Chicken;
 Nor do I know this sword.
Alc. I do, too well.
Ber. I have seen Lisander wear it.
Clar. This confirms
 What yester-night I whisper'd: let it work,
 The circumstance may make it good.
Malf. My Lord? and I his murtherer?
Ber. Drag the villain hence,
 The Rack shall force a free confession from him.
Malf. I am struck dumb;
 You need not stop my mouth.
Ber. Away with him. [Exit with Malfort.

Enter Calista, and Olinda.

Cal. Where is my Lord?
Dor. All that
 Remains of him lies there: look on this object,
 And then turn marble.
Cal. I am so already,
 Made fit to be his Monument: but wherefore
 Do you, that have both life and motion left you,
 Stand sad spectators of his death.
 And not bring forth his murtherer?
Ber. That lies in you: you must, and shall produce him.
Dor. She, Beronte?
Ber. None else.
Dor. Thou ly'st, I'le prove it on thy head,
 Or write it on thy heart.
Alc. Forbear, there is
 Too much blood shed already.
Ber. Let not choler
 Stifle your judgment; many an honest Father
 Hath got a wicked Daughter. If I prove not
 With evident proofs her hand was in the bloud
 Of my dear Brother, (too good a Husband for her)
 Give your revenge the reins, and spur it forward.
Dor. In any circumstance but shew her guilty,
 I'le strike the first stroak at her.
Ber. Let me ask
 A question calmly: do you know this Sword?
 Have you not seen Lisander often wear it?
Dor. The same with which he rescued me.
Cal. I do, what inference from this to make me guilty?
Ber. Was he not with you in the house to-night?
Cal. No on my soul.
Ber. Nor ever heretofore
 In private with you, when you feign'd a sickness,
 To keep your Husband absent?
Cal. Never, Sir, to a dishonest end.
Ber. Was not this Woman
 Your instrument? her silence does confess it:
 Here lyes Cleander dead, and here the sword
 Of false Lisander, too long cover'd with
 A masque of seeming truth.
Dor. And is this all
 The proof you can alledge? Lisander guilty,
 Or my poor Daughter an Adulteress?
 Suppose that she had chang'd discourse with one
 To whom she ow'd much more?
Cal. Thou hast thy ends, wicked Clarinda. [She falls.
Oli. Help, the Lady sinks, malice hath kill'd her.
Dor. I would have her live,
 Since I dare swear she's innocent: 'tis no time
 Or place to argue now: this cause must be
 Decided by the Judge; and though a Father,
 I will deliver her into the hands
 Of Justice. If she prove true gold when try'd,
 She's mine: if not, with curses I'le disclaim her:
 Take up your part of sorrow, mine shall be
 Ready to answer with her life the fact
 That she is charg'd with.
Ber. Sir, I look upon you as on a Father.
Dor. With the eyes of sorrow
 I see you as a Brother: let your witnesses
 Be ready.
Ber. 'Tis my care.
Alc. I am for Lidian.
 This accident no doubt will draw him from
 His Hermits life.
Clar. Things yet go right, persist, Sir. [Exeunt.

Enter Lisander, and Lancelot.

Lisan. Are the horses dead?
Lanc. Out-right. If you ride at this rate,
 You must resolve to kill your two a day,
 And that's a large proportion.
Lisan. Will you please
 At any price, and speedily, to get fresh ones.
 You know my danger, and the penalty
 That follows it, should I be apprehended.
 Your duty in obeying my commands,
 Will in a better language speak your service,
 Than your unnecessary, and untimely care of my expence.
Lanc. I am gone, Sir. [Exit.
Lisan. In this thicket
 I will expect you: Here yet I have leisure
 To call my self unto a strict account
 For my pass'd life, how vainly spent: I would
 I stood no farther guilty: but I have
 A heavier reckoning to make: This hand
 Of late as white as innocence, and unspotted,
 Now wears a purple colour, dy'd in gore,
 My soul of the same tincture; pur-blind passion,
 With flattering hopes, would keep me from despair,
 Pleading I was provok'd to it; but my reason
 Breaking such thin and weak defences, tells me
 I have done a double murther; and for what?
 Was it in service of the King? his Edicts
 Command the contrary: or for my Country?
 Her Genius, like a mourning mother, answers
 In Cloridon, and Chrysanthes she hath lost
 Two hopeful sons, that might have done their parts,
 To guard her from Invasion: for what cause then?
 To keep th' opinion of my valour upright,
 I'th' popular breath, a sandy ground to build on;
 Bought with the Kings displeasure, as the breach
 Of Heavens decrees, the loss of my true comforts,
 In Parents, Kinsmen, Friends, as the fruition
 Of all that I was born to, and that sits
 Like to a hill of Lead here, in my exile,
 (Never to be repeal'd, if I escape so)
 I have cut off all hopes ever to look on

Enter Lidian, like a Hermite.

Divine Calista, from her sight, and converse,
 For ever banish'd.
Lid. I should know this voice,
 His naming too my Sister, whom Lisander
 Honour'd, but in a noble way, assures me
 That it can be no other: I stand bound
 To comfort any man I find distress'd:
 But to aid him that sav'd my life, Religion
 And Thankfulness commands, and it may be
 High providence for this good end hath brought him
 Into my solitary walk. Lisander, noble Lisander.
Lis. Whatsoe'er thou art,
 That honorable attribute thou giv'st me,
 I can pretend no right to: come not near me,
 I am infectious, the sanctity
 Of thy profession (for thou appearest
 A reverend Hermite) if thou flye not from me,
 As from the Plague or Leprosie, cannot keep thee
 From being polluted.
Lid. With good counsel, Sir,
 And holy prayers to boot I may cure you,
 Though both wayes so infected. You look wildly,
 Peace to your conscience, Sir, and stare upon me,
 As if you never saw me: hath my habit
 Alter'd my face so much, that yet you know not
 Your servant Lidian?
Lis. I am amaz'd!
 So young, and so religious?
Lid. I purpose (Heaven make me thankful for't) to leave the world:
 I have made some trial of my strengths in this
 My solitary life; and yet I find not
 A faintness to go on.
Lis. Above belief: do you inhabit here?
Lid. Mine own free choice, Sir:
 I live here poorly, but contentedly,
 Because I find enough to feed my fortunes;
 Indeed too much: these wild fields are my gardens,
 The Crystal Rivers they afford their waters,
 And grudge not their sweet streams to quench afflictions;
 The hollow rocks their beds, which though they are hard,
 (The Emblems of a doting lovers fortune)
 Yet they are quiet; and the weary slumbers
 The eyes catch there, softer than beds of Down, Friend;
 The Birds my Bell to call me to devotions;
 My Book the story of my wandring life,
 In which I find more hours due to repentance
 Than time hath told me yet.
Lis. Answer me truly.
Lid. I will do that without a conjuration.
Lis. I'th' depth of meditation do you not
 Sometimes think of Olinda?
Lid. I endeavour
 To raze her from my memory, as I wish
 You would do the whole Sex, for know, Lisander,
 The greatest curse brave man can labour under,
 Is the strong Witch-craft of a Womans eyes;
 Where I find men I preach this doctrine to 'em:
 As you are a Scholar, knowledge make your Mistris,
 The hidden beauties of the Heavens your study;
 There shall you find fit wonder for your faith,
 And for your eye in-imitable objects:
 As you are a profess'd souldier, court your honour,
 Though she be stern, she is honest, a brave Mistris;
 The greater danger you oppose to win her,
 She shews the sweeter, and rewards the nobler;
 Womans best loves to hers meer shadows be,
 For after death she weds your memory.
 These are my contemplations.
Lis. Heavenly ones;
 And in a young man more remarkable.
 But wherefore do I envy, and not tread in
 This blessed tract? here's in the heart no falshood
 To a vow'd friend, no quarrels seconded
 With Challenges, which answer'd in defence
 Of the word Reputation, murther follows.
 A man may here repent his sins, and though
 His hand like mine be stain'd in bloud, it may be
 With penitence and true contrition wash'd off;
 You have prov'd it, Lidian.
Lid. And you'll find it true, if you persevere.
Lis. Here then ends my flight,
 And here the fury of the King shall find me
 Prepar'd for Heaven, if I am mark'd to dye;
 For that I truly grieve for.

Enter Fryar, and Clarange in Fryars habit.

Fry. Keep your self conceal'd, I am instructed.
Clar. How the sight
 Of my dear friend confirms me.
Lis. What are these?
Lid. Two reverend Fryers, one I know.
Fry. To you
 This journey is devoted.
Lid. Welcome, Father.
Fry. I know your resolution so well grounded,
 And your adieu unto the world so constant,
 That though I am th' unwilling messenger
 Of a strange accident to try your temper,
 It cannot shake you. You had once a friend,
 A noble friend, Clarange.
Lid. And have still, I hope, good Father.
Fry. Your false hopes deceive you,
 He's dead.
Lis. Clarange dead?
Fry. I buried him;
 Some said he dy'd of melancholy, some of love,
 And of that fondness perish'd.
Lid. O Clarange!
Clar. Hast thou so much brave nature, noble Lidian,
 So tenderly to love thy Rivals memory?
 The bold Lisander weeps too.
Fry. I expected that you would bear this better.
Lid. I am a man, Sir, and my great loss weigh'd duly—
Fry. His last words were
 After confession, live long, dear Lidian,
 Possess'd of all thy wishes; and of me
 He did desire, bathing my hand with tears,
 That with my best care, I should seek, and find you,
 And from his dying mouth prevail so with you,
 That you a while should leave your Hermits strictness,
 And on his Monument pay a tear or two,
 To witness how you lov'd him.
Lid. O my heart! to witness how I lov'd him? would he had not
 Led me into his Grave, but sacrific'd
 His sorrows upon mine, he was my friend,
 My noble friend, I will bewail his ashes;
 His fortunes, and poor mine were born together,
 And I will weep 'em both; I will kneel by him,
 And on his hallow'd Earth do my last duties.
 I'll gather all the pride of Spring to deck him,
 Wood-bines shall grow upon his honour'd Grave;
 And as they prosper, clasp to shew our friendship,
 And when they wither, I'll dye too.
Clar. Who would not
 Desire to dye, to be bewail'd thus nobly?
Fry. There is a Legacy he hath bequeath'd you;
 But of what value I must not discover,
 Until those Rites and pious Ceremonies
 Are duly tender'd.
Lid. I am too full of sorrow to be inquisitive.
Lis. To think of his,
 I do forget mine own woes.

Enter Alcidon.

Alc. Graze thy fill, now
 Thou hast done thy business; ha! who have we here?
 Lisander, Lidian, and two Reverend Fryars?
 What a strange scene of sorrow is express'd
 In different postures, in their looks and station!
 A common Painter eying these to help
 His dull invention, might draw to the life
 The living Sons of Priam, as they stood
 On the pale Walls of Troy, when Hector fell
 Under Achilles's Spear; I come too late,
 My Horse, though good and strong, mov'd like a Tortoise;
 Ill News had wings, and hath got here before me.
 All Pythagoreans? not a word?
Lid. O Alcidon—
 Deep Rivers with soft murmurs glide along
 The shallow roar; Clarange!
Lis. Cloridon, Chrysanthes, spare my grief, and apprehend
 What I should speak.
Alc. Their fates I have long since
 For your sakes mourn'd; Clarange's death, for so
 Your silence doth confirm, till now I heard not;
 Are these the bounds that are prescrib'd unto
 The swelling seas of sorrow?
Lis. The bounds, Alcidon?
 Can all the winds of mischief, from all Quarters,
 Euphrates, Ganges, Tigris, Volga, Po,
 Paying at once their tribute to this Ocean,
 Make it swell higher? I am a Murtherer,
 Banish'd, proscrib'd, is there ought else that can
 Be added to it?
Lid. I have lost a friend,
 Priz'd dearer than my being, and he dead,
 My miseries at the height contemn the worst
 Of Fortunes malice.
Alc. How our humane weakness,
 Grown desperate from small disasters, makes us
 Imagine them a period to our sorrows!
 When the first syllable of greater woes
 Is not yet written.
Lid. How?
Lis. Speak it at large,
 Since grief must break my heart, I am ambitious
 It should be exquisite.
Alc. It must be told,
 Yet ere you hear it, with all care put on
 The surest armour anvil'd in the Shop
 Of passive fortitude; the good Cleander,
 Your friend, is murther'd.
Lis. 'Tis a terrible pang,
 And yet it will not do, I live yet, act not
 The Torturers part; if that there be a blow
 Beyond this, give it, and at once dispatch me.
Alc. Your Sword died in his heart-bloud was found near him,
 Your private Conference at mid-night urg'd
 With fair Calista; which by her whose pure truth,
 Would never learn to tell a lie, being granted,
 She by enrag'd Beronte is accus'd
 Of Murther and Adultery, and you
 (However I dare swear it false) concluded
 Her principal Agent.
Lid. Wave upon wave rowls o'r me.
 My Sister? my dear Sister?
Clar. Hold, great heart.
Fry. Tear open his Doublet.
Lis. Is this wound too narrow
 For my life to get out at? Bring me to
 A Cannon loaded, and some pitying friend
 Give fire unto it, while I nail my breast
 Unto his thundring mouth, that in the instant,
 I may be piece-meal torn, and blown so far,
 As not one joint of my dismember'd limbs
 May ever be by search of man found out.
 Cleander! Yet, why name I him? however
 His fall deserv'd an Earth-quake, if compar'd
 With what true honour in Calista suffers,
 Is of no moment; my good Angel keep me
 From Blasphemy, and strike me dumb before,
 In th' agony of my spirit, I do accuse
 The Powers above, for their unjust permission
 Of Vertue, innocent Vertue, to be branded
 With the least vicious mark.
Clar. I never saw a man so far transported.
Alc. Give it way, 'tis now no time to stop it.

Enter Lancelot.

Lanc. Sir, I have bought
 Fresh horses; and as you respect your life,
 Speedily back 'em; the Archers of the Kings guard
 Are every where in quest of you.
Lis. My life?
 Perish all such with thee that wish it longer,
 Let it but clear Calista's innocence, [Strikes Lancelot.
 And Nestor's Age, to mine was Youth, I'll flye
 To meet the rage of my incensed King,
 And wish his favourites Ghost appear'd in Flames,
 To urge him to revenge; let all the tortures
 That Tyranny e're found out circle me,
 Provided Justice set Calista free.

[Exeunt Lisander, Alcidon, and Lancelot.

Alc. I'll follow him.
Lid. I am rooted here.
Fry. Remember your dear friends last request, your sisters dangers,
 With the aids that you may lend her.
Lid. 'Pray you support me,
 My Legs deny their Office.
Clar. I grow still
 Farther engag'd unto his matchless vertues,
 And I am dead indeed, until I pay
 The debt I owe him in a noble way. [Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Dorilaus, and Servant.

Dor. Thou hast him safe?
Serv. As fast as locks can make him;
 He must break through three doors, and cut the throats
 Of ten tall fellows, if that he 'scape us;
 Besides, as far as I can apprehend,
 He hath no such invention, for his looks
 Are full of penitence.
Dor. Trust not a Knaves look,
 They are like a Whores Oaths;
 How does my poor Daughter
 Brook her restraint?
Serv. With such a resolution
 As well becomes your Lordships Child. [Knock within.
Dor. Who's that?

Enter Lemure.

Serv. Monsieur Lemure.
Dor. This is a special favour,
 And may stand an example in the Court
 For courtesie; it is the Clients duty
 To wait upon his Patron; you prevent me,
 That am your humble Suitor.
Lem. My near place
 About the King, though it swell others, cannot
 Make me forget your worth and Age, which may
 Challenge much more respect; and I am sorry
 That my endeavours for you have not met with
 The good success I wish'd; I mov'd the King
 With my best advantage both of time and place,
 I'th' favour of your Daughter.
Dor. How do you find his Majesty affected?
Lem. Not to be
 Sway'd from the rigour of the Law; yet so far
 The rarity of the Cause hath won upon him,
 That he resolves to have in his own person
 The hearing of it; her tryal will be noble,
 And to my utmost strength, where I may serve her
 My aids shall not be wanting.
Dor. I am your servant.
Lem. One word more; if you love Lisanders life,
 Advise him, as he tenders it, to keep
 Out of the way; if he be apprehended,
 This City cannot ransom him; so good morrow. [Exit.
Dor. All happiness attend you; go thy ways,
 Thou hast a clear and noble soul; for thy sake
 I'll hold that man mine enemy, who dares mutter,
 The Court is not the sphere where vertue moves,
 Humanity, and Nobleness waiting on her.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Two Gentlemen (but what they are I know not,
 Their faces are so muffl'd) press to see you,
 And will not be deny'd.
Dor. What e'r they are, I am too old to fear.
Serv. They need no Usher, they make their own way.

Enter Lisander, Alcidon.

Dor. Take you yours, Lisander; [Exit Servant.
 My joy to see you, and my sorrow for
 The danger you are in, contend so here,
 Though different passions, nay oppos'd in Nature,
 I know not which to entertain.
Lis. Your hate should win the victory from both, with justice,
 You may look on me as a Homicide,
 A man whose life is forfeited to the Law,
 But if (howe'r I stand accus'd) in thought
 I sin'd against Cleanders life, or live
 Guilty of the dishonour of your Daughter,
 May all the miseries that can fall on man
 Here, or hereafter, circle me.
Dor. To me this protestation's useless, I embrace you,
 As the preserver of my life, the man
 To whom my son ows his, with life, his honour,
 And howsoever your affection
 To my unhappy Daughter, though it were
 (For I have sifted her) in a noble way,
 Hath printed some taint on her fame, and brought
 Her life in question, yet I would not purchase
 The wish'd recovery of her reputation,
 With strong assurance of her innocence
 Before the King her Judge, with certain loss
 Of my Lisander, for whose life, if found,
 There's no redemption; my excess of love,
 (Though to enjoy you one short day would lengthen
 My life a dozen years) boldly commands me,
 Upon my knees, which yet were never bent,
 But to the King and Heaven, to entreat you
 To flye hence with all possible speed, and leave
 Calista to her fortune.
Lis. O blessed Saints, forsake her in affliction? can you
 Be so unnatural to your own bloud,
 To one so well deserving, as to value
 My safety before hers? shall innocence
 In her be branded, and my guilt escape
 Unpunish'd? does she suffer so much for me,
 For me unworthy, and shall I decline
 (Eating the bitter bread of banishment)
 The course of Justice to draw out a life?
 (A life? I style it false, a living death)
 Which being uncompell'd, laid down will clear her,
 And write her name anew in the fair legend
 Of the best women? seek not to disswade me,
 I will not, like a careless Poet, spoil
 The last Act of my Play, till now applauded,
 By giving the World just cause to say, I fear'd
 Death more than loss of Honour.
Dor. But suppose Heaven hath design'd some
 Other saving means for her deliverance?
Lis. Other means? that is
 A mischief above all I have groan'd under;
 Shall any other pay my debt, while I
 Write my self Bankrupt? or Calista owe
 The least beholdingness for that which she
 On all the bonds of gratitude I have seal'd to,
 May challenge from me to be freely tender'd?
 Avert it mercy! I will go to my Grave,
 Without the curses of my Creditors;
 I'll vindicate her fair name, and so cancel
 My obligation to her, to the King,
 To whom I stand accountable for the loss
 Of two of his lov'd subjects lives, I'll offer
 Mine own in satisfaction, to Heaven
 I'll pay my true Repentance, to the times,
 Present, and future, I'll be register'd
 A memorable President to admonish
 Others, however valiant, not to trust
 To their abilities to dare, and do,
 And much less for the airy words of Honour,
 And false stamp'd reputation to shake off
 The Chains of their Religion and Allegiance,
 The principal means appointed to prefer
 Societies and Kingdoms. [Exit.
Dor. Let's not leave him; his mind's much troubled.
Ale. Were your Daughter free,
 Since from her dangers his distraction rises,
 His cause is not so desperate for the slaughter
 Of Cloridon, and Chrysanthes, but it may
 Find passage to the mercy of the King,
 The motives urg'd in his defence, that forc'd him
 To act that bloudy Scene.
Dor. Heaven can send ayds,
 When they are least expected, let us walk,
 The hour of tryal draws near.
Alci. May it end well. [Exeunt.

Enter Olinda, and Lidian.

Oli. That for my love you should turn Hermit Lidian,
 As much amazes me, as your report Clarange's dead.
Lidi. He is so, and all comforts
 My youth can hope for, Madam, with him buried;
 Nor had I ever left my cell, but that
 He did injoin me at his death to shed
 Some tears of friendship on his Monument,
 And those last Rites perform'd, he did [b]equeath you
 As the best legacie a friend could give,
 Or I indeed could wish to my embraces.
Oli. 'Tis still more strange, is there no foul play in it?
 I must confess I am not sorry Sir
 For your fair fortune; yet 'tis fit I grieve
 The most untimely death of such a Gentleman,
 He was my worthy Servant.
Lid. And for this acknowledgment, if I could prize you at
 A higher rate I should, he was my friend:
 My dearest friend.
Oli. But how should I be assur'd Sir
 (For slow belief is the best friend of truth)
 Of this Gentlemans death? if I should credit it,
 And afterward it fall out contrary,
 How am I sham'd? how is your vertue tainted?
Lid. There is a Frier that came along with me,
 His business to deliver you a Letter
 From dead Clarange: You shall hear his Testimonie.
 Father, my reverend Father, look upon him,
 Such holy men are Authors of no Fables.

Enter Clarange, (with a Letter writ out) and Frier.

Oli. They should not be, their lives and their opinions,
 Like brightest purest flames should still burn upwards,
 To me Sir? [delivers the Letter.
Clar. If you are the fair Olinda—
Frier. I do not like these cross points.
Clar. Give me leave, I am nearest to my self. What I have plotted
 Shall be pursu'd: you must not over-rule me.
Oli Do you put the first hand to your own undoing?
 Play to betray your game? Mark but this letter.
 Lady I am come to claim your noble promise, [Reads.
 If you be Mistris of your word, ye are mine,
 I am last return'd: your riddle is dissolv'd,
 And I attend your faith. Your humble servant Clarange.
 Is this the Frier that saw him dead?
Lid. 'Tis he.
Clarange on my life: I am defeated:
 Such reverend habits juggle? my true sorrow
 For a false friend not worth a tear derided?
Fri. You have abus'd my trust.
Oli. It is not well, nor like a Gentleman.
Clar. All stratagems
 In love, and that the sharpest war, are lawfull,
 By your example I did change my habit,
 Caught you in your own toyle, and triumph in it,
 And what by policy's got, I will maintain
 With valour, no Lisander shall come in again to fetch you off.
Lid. His honour'd name
 Pronounc'd by such a treacherous tongue is tainted,
 Maintain thy treason with thy sword? With what
 Contempt I hear it! in a Wilderness
 I durst encounter it, and would, but that
 In my retired hours, not counterfeited
 As thy religious shape was, I have learn'd
 When Justice may determine such a cause,
 And of such weight as this fair Lady is,
 Must not be put to fortune, I appeal
 Unto the King, and he whose wisedom knows
 To do his subjects right in their estates,
 As graciously with judgement will determine
 In points of honour.
Oli. I'le steer the same course with you.
Clar. I'le stand the tryal.
Fri. What have you done? or what intend you?
Cla. Ask not; I'le come off with honour. [Exeunt.

Enter Beronte, Clarinda, Malfort, a Bar set forth, Officers.

Enter Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda.

Dor. You behold this preparation, and the enemies
 Who are to fight against your life, yet if
 You bring no witness here, that may convince ye
 Of breach of faith to your Lords bed, and hold up
 Unspotted hands before the King, this tryal
 You are to undergo, will but refine,
 And not consume your honour.
Cal. How confirm'd
 I am here, whatsoever Fate falls on me,
 You shall have ample testimony; till the death
 Of my dear Lord, to whose sad memory
 I pay a mourning widows tears, I liv'd
 Too happy in my holy-day trim of glorie,
 And courted with felicitie, that drew on me,
 With other helps of nature, as of fortune,
 The envie, not the love of most that knew me,
 This made me to presume too much, perhaps
 Too proud; but I am humbled; and if now
 I do make it apparent, I can bear
 Adversity with such a constant patience
 As will set off my innocence, I hope Sir,
 In your declining age, when I should live
 A comfort to you, you shall have no cause,
 How e're I stand accus'd, to hold your honour
 Ship-wrack'd in such a Daughter.
Oli. O best friend, my honour's at the stake too, for—
Dor. Be silent; the King.

Enter King, Lemure, and Attendants.

Lem. Sir, if you please to look upon
 The Prisoner, and the many services
 Her Father hath done for you—
King. We must look on
 The cause, and not the persons. Yet beholding
 With an impartial eye, th' excelling beauties
 Of this fair Lady, which we did believe
 Upon report, but till now never saw 'em,
 It moves a strange kind of compassion in me;
 Let us survey you nearer, she's a book
 To be with care perus'd; and 'tis my wonder,
 If such mishapen guests, as lust and murther,
 At any price should ever find a lodging
 In such a beauteous Inne! Mistake us not,
 Though we admire the outward structure, if
 The rooms be foul within, expect no favour.
 I were no man, if I could look on beautie
 Distress'd, without some pity; but no King,
 If any superficial gloss of feature
 Could work me to decline the course of Justice.
 But to the cause, Cleander's death, what proofs
 Can you produce against her?
Ber. Royal Sir, touching that point my Brothers death,
 We build on suppositions.
King. Suppositions? how? Is such a Lady Sir to be condemn'd
 On suppositions?
Ber. They are well grounded Sir:
 And if we make it evident she is guilty
 Of the first crime we charge her with, Adulterie,
 That being the parent, it may find belief,
 That murther was the issue.
King. We allow
 It may be so; but that it may be, must not
 Infer a necessary consequence
 To cast away a Ladies life. What witnesses
 To make this good?
Ber. The principal, this woman,
 For many years her servant; she hath taken
 Her oath in Court. Come forward.
King. By my Crown a lying face.
Clar. I swore Sir for the King:
 And if you are the partie, as I do
 Believe you are, for you have a good face,
 How ever mine appears, swearing for you Sir,
 I ought to have my oath pass.
King. Impudent too? well, what have you sworn?
Clar. That this Lady was
 A goodly tempting Lady, as she is:
 How thinks your Majestie? and I her servant,
 Her officer as one would say, and trusted
 With her closest Chamber-service; that Lisander
 Was a fine timber'd Gentleman, and active,
 That he cou'd do fine gambolls
 To make a Lady merrie; that this pair,
 A very loving couple, mutually
 Affected one another: so much for them Sir.
 That I, a simple waiting-woman, having taken
 My bodily oath, the first night of admittance
 Into her Ladiships service, on her slippers,
 (That was the book) to serve her will in all things,
 And to know no Religion but her pleasure,
 'Tis not yet out of fashion with some Ladies;
 That I, as the premisses shew, being commanded
 To do my function, in conveyance of
 Lisander to her chamber, (my Lord absent,
 On a pretended sickness) did the feat,
 (It cannot be deny'd) and at dead mid-night
 Left 'em together: what they did, some here
 Can easily imagine! I have said, Sir.
Dor. The Devils Oratrix.
King. Then you confess you were her Bawd?
Clar. That's course, her Agent Sir.
King. So, goodie Agent? and you think there is
 No punishment due for you[r] agentship?
Clar. Let her suffer first,
 Being my better, for adulterie,
 And I'le endure the Mulct impos'd on Bawds,
 Call it by the worst name.
Cal. Live I to hear this?
King. Take her aside. Your answer to this Lady?
Cal. Heav'n grant me patience: to be thus confronted,
 (O pardon Royal Sir a womans passion)
 By one, and this the worst of my mis-fortunes,
 That was my slave, but never to such ends Sir,
 Would give a statue motion into furie:
 Let my pass'd life, my actions, nay intentions,
 Be by my grand accuser justly censur'd,
 (For her I scorn to answer) and if they
 Yield any probability of truth
 In that she urges, then I will confess
 A guilty cause; the peoples voyce, which is
 The voyce of truth, my husbands tenderness
 In his affection to me, that no dotage
 But a reward, of humbleness, the friendship
 Echo'd through France between him and Lisander,
 All make against her; for him, in his absence,
 (What ever imputation it draw on me)
 I must take leave to speak: 'tis true, he lov'd me,
 But not in such a wanton way, his reason
 Master'd his passions: I grant I had
 At mid-night conference with him; but if he
 Ever receiv'd a farther favour from me,
 Than what a Sister might give to a Brother,
 May I sink quick: and thus much, did he know
 The shame I suffer for him, with the loss
 Of his life for appearing, on my soul
 He would maintain.

Enter Lisander, and Alcidon.

Lisa. And will, thou clear example of womens pureness.
King. Though we hold her such,
 Thou hast express'd thy self a desperate fool,
 To thrust thy head into the Lions jawes,
 The justice of thy King.
Lisa. I came prepar'd for't,
 And offer up a guilty life to clear
 Her innocence; the oath she took, I swear to;
 And for Cleander's death, to purge my self
 From any colour malice can paint on me,
 Or that she had a hand in't, I can prove
 That fatal night when he in his own house fell,
 And many daies before, I was distant from it
 A long daies journey.
Clarin. I am caught.
Ber. If so,
 How came your sword into this stewards hands? stand forth.
Mal. I have heard nothing that you spake:
 I know I must dye, and what kind of death
 Pray you resolve me, I shall go away else
 In a qualm; I am very faint.

Enter Leon, Servants, and Guard.

King. Carry him off, his fear will kill him. [Ex. with Mal.
Dor. Sir, 'twas my ambition,
 My Daughters reputation being wounded
 I'th' general opinion, to have it
 Cur'd by a publick trial; I had else
 Forborn your Majesties trouble: I'le bring forth
 Cleander's murtherer, in a wood I heard him
 As I rode sadly by, unto himself
 With some compunction, though this devil had none,
 Lament what he had done, cursing her lust,
 That drew him to that blody fact.
Le. To lessen
 The foulness of it, for which I know justly
 I am to suffer, and with my last breath
 To free these innocents, I do confess all;
 This wicked woman only guilty with me.
Clari. Is't come to this? thou puling Rogue, dye thou
 With prayers in thy mouth; I'le curse the laws
 By which I suffer, all I grieve for is,
 That I dye unreveng'd.
Leon. But one word more Sir,
 And I have done; I was by accident where
 Lisander met with Cloridon, and C[h]rysanthes,
 Was an ear witness when he sought for peace,
 Nay, begg'd it upon colder terms than can
 Almost find credit, his past deeds considered,
 But they deaf to his reasons, severally
 Assaulted him, but such was his good fortune,
 That both fell under it; upon my death
 I take it uncompel'd, that they were guilty
 Of their own violent ends; and he against
 His will, the instrument.
Alci. This I will swear too, for I was not far off.
Dor. They have alledg'd
 As much to wake your sleeping mercy, Sir,
 As all the Advocates of France can plead
 In his defence.
King. The criminal judge shall sentence
 These to their merits—with mine own hand, Lady,
 I take you from the bar and do my self
 Pronounce you innocent. [Ex. with Leon, and Clari.
All. Long live the King.
King. And to confirm you stand high in our favour,
 And as some recompence for what you have
 With too much rigour in your trial suffered;
 Ask what you please, becoming me to grant,
 And be possest of 't.
Cal. Sir, I dare not doubt
 Your royal promise, in a King it is
 A strong assurance, that emboldens me
 Upon my humble knees to make my boon,
 Lisander's pardon.
Dor. My good Genius did prompt her to it.
Le[m]. At your feet thus prostrate, I second her petition.
Alci. Never King
 Pour'd forth his mercie on a worthier subject.
Ber. To witness my repentance for the wrong
 In my unjust suspicion I did both;
 I join in the same suit.
Lis. The life you give,
 Still ready to lay down for your service,
 Shall be against your enemies imploy'd,
 Nor hazarded in brawles.
All. Mercie, dread Sir.
King. So many pressing me, and with such reasons
 Moving compassion, I hope it will not
 Be censur'd levity in me, though I borrow
 In this from justice to relieve my mercy;
 I grant his pardon at your intercession,
 But still on this condition; you Lisander,
 In expiation of your guilt, shall build
 A monument for my Cloridon, and C[h]rysanthes:
 And never henceforth draw a Sword, but when
 By us you are commanded, in defence of
 The flower de Luce, and after one years sorrow
 For your dear friend, Cleander's wretched fate,
 Marry Calista.

Enter Lidian.

Lis. On your sacred hand, I vow to do it seriously.
Lid. Great Sir, stay,
 Leave not your seat of justice, till you have
 Given sentence in a cause as much important
 As this you have determined.
King. Lidian?

Enter Clarange, and Frier.

Lid. He Sir, your humblest subject, I accuse Clarange
 Of falshood in true friendship at the height;
 We both were suiters to this Lady, both
 Injoyn'd one pennance.
Clar. Trouble not the King
 With an unnecessarie repetition
 Of what the court's familiar with already.
Kin. Clarange?
Dor. With a shaven crown?
Olin. Most strange.
Clar. Look on thy rival, your late servant, Madam,
 But now devoted to a better Mistris,
 The Church, whose orders I have took upon me:
 I here deliver up my interest to her;
 And what was got with cunning as you thought,
 I simply thus surrender: heretofore,
 You did outstrip me in the race of friendship,
 I am your equal now.
Dor. A suit soon ended.
Clar. And joyning thus your hands, I know both willing,
 I may do in the Church my Friers Office
 In marrying you.
Lid. The victory is yours, Sir.
King. It is a glorious one, and well sets of[f]
 Our Scene of mercy; to the dead we tender
 Our sorrow, to the living ample wishes
 Of future happiness: 'tis a Kings duty
 To prove himself a Father to his subjects:
 And I shall hold it if this well succeed,
 A meritorious, and praise worthy deed. [Exeunt.

Prologue.

A Story, and a known one, long since writ,
 Truth must take place, and by an able wit,
 Foul mouth'd detraction daring not deny
 To give so much to Fletcher's memory;
 If so, some may object, why then do you
 Present an old piece to us for a new?
 Or wherefore will your profest Writer be
 (Not tax'd of theft before) a Plagiary?
 To this he answers in his just defence,
 And to maintain to all our Innocence,
 Thus much, though he hath travell'd the same way,
 Demanding, and receiving too the pay
 For a new Poem, you may find it due,
 He having neither cheated us, nor you;
 He vowes, and deeply, that he did no[t] spare
 The utmost of his strengths, and his best care
 In the reviving it, and though his powers
 Could not as he desired, in three short hours
 Contract the Subject, and much less express
 The changes, and the various passages
 That will be look'd for, you may hear this day
 Some Scenes that will confirm it is a play,
 He being ambitious that it should be known
 What's good was Fletcher's, and what ill his own.

Epilogue.

Still doubtfull, and perplex'd too, whether he
 Hath done Fletcher right in this Historie,
 The Poet sits within, since he must know it,
 He with respect desires that you would shew it
 By some accustomed sign, if from our action,
 Or his indeavours you meet satisfaction,
 With ours he hath his ends, we hope the best,
 To make that certainty in you doth rest.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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