Loves Pilgr[i]mage,

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Francis Beaumont

a Comedy.

The Persons Represented in the Play.

  • Governor of Barcellona.
  • Leonardo, a noble Genoese, Father to Mark Antonio.
  • Don Zanchio, an old lame angry Soldier, Father to Leocadia.
  • Alphonso, a cholerick Don, Father to Theodosia.
  • Philippo, Son to Alphonso, Lover of Leocadia.
  • Mark-Antonio, Son to Leonardo.
  • Pedro, a Gentleman and friend to Leonardo.
  • Rodorigo, General of the Spanish Gallies.
  • Incubo, Bailiff of Castel Bianco.
  • Diego, Host of Ossuna.
  • Lazaro, Hostler to Diego.
  • Host of B[a]rcellona.
  • Bailiff of Barcellona.
  • Chirurgeons.
  • Soldiers.
  • Attendants.
  • Townsmen.
  • Attendants.

WOMEN.

  • Theodosia, Daugh. to Alphonso. Leocadia, Daugh. to Don Zanchio. Love-sick Ladies in pursuit of M. Anton.
  • Eugenia, Wife to the Governor of Barcellona.
  • Hostess, Wife to Diego.
  • Hostess, Wife to the Host of Barcellona.

The Scene Barcellona and the Road.

Actus Primus, ScÆna Prima.

Enter Incubo the Bailiff, Diego the Host.

Inc. Signior Don Diego, and mine Host, save thee.
Die. I thank you Mr. Baily.
Inc. O the block!
Die. Why, how should I have answer'd?
Inc. Not with that
 Negligent rudeness: But I kiss your hands
 Signior Don Incubo de Hambre, and then
 My Titles: Master Baily of Castle-blanco:
 Thou ne'r wilt have the elegancy of an Host;
 I sorrow for thee, as my friend and Gossip:
 No smoak, nor steam out-breathing from the kitchen?
 There's little life i'th Hearth then.
Die. I, there, there,
 That is his friendship, harkening for the spit,
 And sorrow that he cannot smell the pot boil.
Inc. Strange
 An Inn should be so curst, and not the sign
 Blasted, nor withered; very strange, three days now,
 And not an Egg eat in it, nor an Onion.
Die. I think they ha' strew'd the high-ways with caltraps, I,
 No horse dares pass 'em; I did never know
 A week of so sad doings, since I first
 Stood to my Sign-post.
Inc. Gossip, I have found
 The root of all: kneel, [pray,] it is thy self
 Art cause thereof: each person is the Founder
 Of his own fortune, good or bad; but mend it,
 Call for thy Cloak, and Rapier.
Die. How?
Inc. Do, call,
 And put 'em on in haste: Alter thy fortune,
 By appearing worthy of her: Dost thou think
 Her good face e'r will know a man in cuerpo?
 In single body, thus? in Hose, and Doublet
 The horse-boys garb? base blank, and halfe blank cuerpo?
 Did I, or Mr Dean of Sivil our neighbor
 E'r reach our dignities in cuerpo, think'st thou,
 In squirting Hose and Doublet? Signior, no,
 There went more to't: there were Cloaks, Gowns, Cassocks,
 And other paramentos; Call, I say,
 His Cloak, and Rapier here.

Enter Hostess.

Host. What means your Worship?
Inc. Bring forth thy Husbands Sword: so hang it on,
 And now his cloak, here cast it up; I mean
 Gossip, to change your luck, and bring you guests.
Host. Why? is there charm in this?
Inc. Expect; now walk,
 But not the pace of one that runs on errands;
 For, want of gravity in an Host, is odious:
 You may remember Gossip, if you please,
 (Your Wife being then th' Infanta of the Gipsies,
 And your self governing a great mans Mules then)
 Me a poor Squire at Madrid attending
 A Master of Ceremonies; But a man, believe it,
 That knew his place to the gold weight, and such
 Have I heard him [oft] say, ought every Host
 Within the Catholique Kings Dominions
 Be in his own house.
Die. How?
Inc. A Master of Ceremonies;
 At least Vice-Master, and to do nought in cuerpo,
 That was his Maxim, I will tell thee of him:
 He would not speak with an Ambassadors Cook,
 See a cold bake-meat from a forreign part
 In cuerpo: had a dog but staid without,
 Or beast of quality, as an English Cow,
 But to present it self, he would put on
 His Savoy chain about his neck, the ruff
 And cuffs of Holland, then the Naples Hat
 With the Rome Hat-band, and the Florentin[e] Agat,
 The Millan Sword, the Cloak of Genoa, set
 With Flemish buttons; all his given pieces
 To entertain 'em in, and complement [Knock within.
 With a tame Conie, as with the Prince that sent it.
Die. List. Who is there?
Inc. A guest and 't be thy will.
Die. Look Spowse, cry luck, and we be encounter'd: ha?
Host. Luck then, and good, for 'tis a fine brave guest,
 With a brave horse.
Inc. Why now, believe of cuerpo.

Enter Theodosia.

As you shall see occasion: go, and meet him.
Theo. Look to my horse, I pray you, well.
Die. He shall, Sir.
Inc. Oh how beneath his rank and call was that now?
 Your horse shall be entreated as becomes
 A horse of fashion, and his inches.
Theo. Oh.
Inc. Look to the Cavalier: what ails he? stay
 If it concern his horse, let it not trouble him,
 He shall have all respect the place can yield him
 Either of barley, or fresh straw.
Die. Good Sir
 Look up.
Inc. He sinks, somewhat to cast upon him,
 He'll go away in cuerpo else.
Die. What, Wife!
 Oh your hot waters quickly, and some cold
 To cast in his sweet face.
Host. Alas, fair flower?
Die. Does any body entertain his Horse?
Host. Yes, Lazaro has him.

Enter Hostess with a glass of water.

Inc. Go you see him in person.
Host. Sir, taste a little of this, of mine own water,
 I did distill't my self; swe[e]t Lilly look upon me,
 You are but newly blown, my pretty Tulip.
 Faint not upon your stalk, 'tis firm and fresh
 Stand up so bolt upright, you are yet in growing.
The. Pray you let me have a chamber.
Host. That you shall, Sir.
The. And where I may be private, I intreat you.
Host. For that in troth Sir, we ha no choice: our house
 Is but a vent of need, that now and then
 Receives a guest, between the greater Towns
 As they come late; only one room.
Inc. She means, Sir, it is none
 Of those wild, scatter'd heaps, call'd Inns, where scarce
 The Host is heard, though he wind his horn t' his people,
 Here is a competent pile, wherein the man,
 Wife, Servants, all do live within the whistle.
Host. Only one room.
Inc. A pretty modest quadrangle
 She will describe to you.
Host. Wherein stands two Beds Sir.

Enter Diego.

We have, and where, if any guest do come,
 He must of force be lodg'd, that is the truth, Sir.
Theo. But if I pay you for both your beds, methinks
 That should alike content you.
Host. That it shall, Sir.
 If I be paid, I am paid.
Theo. Why, there's a Ducket
 Will that make your content?
Host. Oh the sweet face on you:
 A Ducket? yes, and there were three beds Sir,
 And twice so many rooms, which is one more,
 You should be private in 'em all, in all Sir,
 No one should have a piece of a bed with you
 Not master Dean of Sivil himself, I swear.
 Though he came naked hither, as once he did
 When h' had like t'have been tane a bed with the Moor
 And guelt by her Master: you shall be as private,
 As if you lay in's own great house that's haunted,
 Where no body comes, they say.
Theo. I thank you Hostess.
 Pray you, will you shew me in.
Host. Yes marry will I Sir,
 And pray that not a flea, or a chink vex you.

[Exit Host. and Theo.

Inc. You forget supper: Gossip: move for supper.
Die. 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do, his Horse
 Threw him into this fit.
Inc. You shall excuse me
 It was his being in cuerpo, meerly caus'd it.
Die. Do you think so Sir?
Inc. Most unlucky cuerpo.
 Naught else, he looks as he would eat Partridge,
 This guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house?
 And a fine piece of Kid now? and fresh garlick

Enter Hostess.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. Look to the Mules there, where's mine Host?
Die. Here Sir.
 Another Fayerie.
Host. Bless me.
Phi. From what sweet Hostess?
 Are you afraid o' your guests?
Host. From Angels, Sir,
 I think there's none but such come here to night,
 My house had never so good luck afore
 For brave, fine guests; and yet the ill luck on't is
 I cannot bid you welcome.
Phi. No?
Host. Not lodge you Sir.
Phi. Not, Hostess?
Host. No in troth Sir, I do tell you
 Because you may provide in time: my beds
 Are both tane up by a young Cavalier
 That will and must be private.
Die. He has paid Sir
 For all our Chambers.
Host. Which is one: and Beds
 Which I already ha told you are two: But Sir,
 So sweet a creature, I am very sorry
 I cannot lodge you by him; you look so like him
 Yo' are both the loveliest pieces.
Phi. What train has he?
Die. None but himself.
Phi. And will no less than both beds
 Serve him?
Host. H'as given me a Ducket for 'em.
Phi. Oh.
 You give me reason Hostess: Is he handsome,
 And young do you say?
Host. Oh Sir, the delicat'st flesh
 And finest cloths withal, and such a horse,
 With such a Saddle.
Phi. She's in love with all.
 The horse and him, and Saddle, and cloths, good woman,
 Thou justifiest thy Sex; lov'st all that's brave:

Enter Incubo.

Sure though I lye o'th' ground, I'll stay here now
 And have a sight of him: you'll give me house-room,
 Fire, and fresh meat, for money, gentle Hostess;
 And make me a pallat?
Inc. Sir, she shall do reason....
 I understood you had another Guest, Gossips,
 Pray you let his Mule be lookt to, have good straw,
 And store of bran: And Gossip, do you hear,
 Let him not stay for supper: What good Fowl ha' you?
 This Gentleman would eat a Pheasant.
Host. 'Lass Sir;
 We ha' no such.
Inc. I kiss your hands fair Sir.
 What ha you then? speak what you have? I'm one Sir
 Here for the Catholique King, an Officer
 T' enquire what guests come to these places; you Sir
 Appear a person of quality, and 'tis fit
 You be accommodated: why speak you not,
 What ha' you Woman? are you afraid to vent
 That which you have?
Phil. This is a most strange man;
 T' appoint my meat.
Host. The half of a cold hen, Sir,
 And a boil'd quarter of Kid, is all i'th' house.
Inc. Why all's but cold; let him see it forth,
 Cover, and give the eye some satisfaction,
 A Travellers stomach must see bread and salt,
 His belly is nearer to him, than his kindred;
 Cold hen's a pretty meat Sir.
Phi. What you please;
 I am resolv'd t' obey.
Inc. So is your Kid,
 With Pepper, Garlick, and the juyce of an Orange:
 She shall with Sallads help it, and clean linnen;
 Dispatch; what news at Court Sir?
Phi. Faith, new tires
 Most of the Ladies have, the men old Suits:
 Only the Kings Fool has a new Coat
 To serve you.
Inc. I did guess you came from thence, Sir.
Phi. But I do know I did not.
Inc. I mistook Sir.
 What hear you of the Archdukes?
Phi. Troth your question.

Enter Hostess and Servants with Table.

Inc. Of the French business, What?
Phi. As much.
Inc. No more?
 They say the French: Oh that's well: come, I'll help you:
 Have you no Jiblets now? or a broil'd rasher.
 Or some such present dish t' assist?
Host. Not any Sir.
Inc. The more your fault: you nev'r should be without
 Such aids: what cottage would ha' lack'd a Pheasant
 At such a time as this? well, bring your Hen,
 And Kid forth quickly.
Phi. That should be my prayer
 To scape his Inquisition.
Inc. Sir, the French,
 They say are divided 'bout their match with us,
 What think you of it.
Phi. As of naught to me, Sir.
Inc. Nay, it's as little to me too: but I love
 To ask after these things, to know the affections
 Of States and Princes, now and then for bettring.
Phi. Of your own ignorance.
Inc. Yes Sir:
Phi. Many do so.
Inc. I cannot live without it: what do you hear
 Of our Indian Fleet; they say they are well return'd.
Phi. I had no venture with 'em Sir; had you?

Enter Hostess and Servants with meat.

Inc. Why do you ask Sir?
Phi. 'Cause it might concern you,
 It does not me.
Inc. Oh here's your meat come.
Phi. Thanks,
 I welcome it at any price.
Inc. Some stools here,
 And bid mine Host bring Wine, I'll try your Kid,
 If he be sweet: he looks well, yes, he is good;
 I'll carve you Sir.
Phi. You use me too too Princely:
 Tast, and carve too.
Inc. I love to do these Offices.
Phi. I think you do: for whose sake?
Inc. For themselves Sir,
 The very doing of them is reward.
Phi. 'Had little faith would not believe you, Sir.
Inc. Gossip, some Wine.

Enter Diego with Wine.

Die. Here 'tis: and right St. Martyn.
Inc. Measure me out a glass.
Phi. I love the humanity
 Us'd in this place:
Inc. Sir, I salute you here.
Phil. I kiss your hands Sir.
Inc. Good wine, it will beget an appetite:
 Fill him, and sit down, Gossip, entertain
 Your noble guest here, as becomes your title.
Die. Please you to like this Wine Sir?
Phi. I dislike
 Nothing mine Host, but that I may not see
 Your conceal'd guest: here's to you.
Die. In good faith Sir;
 I wish you as well as him: would you might see him
Inc. And wherefore may he not:
Die. 'Has lock'd himself Sir
 Up, and has hir'd both the beds o' my wife
 At extraordinary rate.
Phil. I'll give as much
 If that will do't, for one, as he for both;
 What say you mine Host, the door once open
 I'll fling my self upon the next bed to him
 And there's an end of me till morning; noise
 I will make none
Die. I wish your worship well—but
Inc. His honor is engag'd: And my she-Gossip
 Hath past her promise, hath she not?
Die. Yes truly:
Inc. That toucheth to the credit of the house:
 Well, I will eat a little, and think: how say you Sir
 Unto this brawn o'th' Hen?
Phi. I ha' more mind
 To get this bed Sir.
Inc. Say you so: Why then
 Giv't me agen, and drink to me: mine Host
 Fill him his Wine: thou'rt dull, and dost not praise it,
 I eat but to teach you the way Sir.
Phil. Sir:
 Find but the way to lodge me in this chamber
 I'll give mine Host two Duckets for his bed,
 And you Sir two Reals: here's to you—
Inc. Excuse me,
 I am not mercenary: Gossip pledge him for me,
 I'll think a little more; but ev'n one bit
 And then talk on: you cannot interrupt me.
Die. This piece of wine Sir, cost me—
Inc. Stay: I have found:
 This little morsel, and then: here's excellent garlick:
 Have you not a bunch of grapes now: or some Bacon
 To give the mouth a relish?
Die. Wife, do you hear?
Inc. It is no matter: Sir give mine Host your Duckets.
Die. How Sir?
Inc. Do you receive 'em: I will save
 The honesty of your house: and yours too Gossip,
 And I will lodge the Gentleman: shew the chamber.
Die. Good Sir do you hear.
Inc. Shew me the chamber.
Die. Pray you Sir,
 Do not disturb my guests.
Inc. Disturb? I hope
 The Catholick King Sir, may command a lodging
 Without disturbing in his Vassals house,
 For any Minister of his, emploid
 In business of the State. Where is the door?
 Open the door, who are you there? within?
 In the Kings name. [Theodosia within.
Theo. What would you have?
Inc. Your key Sir,
 And your door open: I have here command
 To lodge a Gentleman, from the Justice, sent
 Upon the Kings affairs.
Theod. Kings and necessities
 Must be obey'd: the key is under the door.
Inc. How now Sir, are you fitted? you secur'd?
Phi. Your two Reals are grown a piece of Eight.
In[c]. Excuse me Sir.
Phi. 'Twill buy a Hen; and Wine
 Sir, for to morrow. [Exit Phil.
Inc. I do kiss your hands Sir.
 Well this will bear my charge yet to the Gallies
 Where I am owing a Ducket: whither this night
 By the Moons leave I'll march: for in the morning
 Early, they put from Port St. Maries. [Ex. all but Diego.
Die. Lazaro.

Enter Lazaro.

How do the horses?
Laz. Would you would go and see Sir,
 A —— of all Jades, what a clap h'as given me:
 As sure as you live Master he knew perfectly
 I couzen'd him on's Oats: he lookt upon me
 And then he sneer'd, as who should say, take heed sirrah:
 And when he saw our half Peck, which you know
 Was but an old Court dish, lord how he stampt:
 I thought 't had been for joy, when suddenly
 He cuts me a back caper with his heels
 And takes me just o'th crupper, down came I,
 And all my ounce of Oats: Then he neigh'd out
 As though he had had a mare by th' tail.
Die. Faith Lazaro
 We are t[o] blame to use the poor dumb serviters
 So cruelly.
Laz. Yonder's this other Gentleman's horse
 Keeping our Lady Eve: the devil a bit
 H'as got since he came in yet: there he stands
 And looks, and looks, but 'tis your pleasure, Sir,
 He shall look lean enough: h'as Hay before him
 But 'tis as big as Hemp, and will as soon choak him,
 Unless he eat it butter'd: he had four shooes
 And good ones when he came: 'tis a strange wonder
 With standing still he should cast three.
Die. O Lazaro.
 The Devil's in this Trade: truth never knew it
 And to the devil we shall travel, Lazaro
 Unless we mend our manners: once every week
 I meet with such a knock to mollifie me
 Sometimes a dozen to awake my conscience
 Yet still I sleep securely.
Laz. Certain Master
 We must use better dealing.
Die. 'Faith for mine own part
 Not to give ill example to our issues,
 I could be well content to steal but two girths,
 And now and then a saddle-cloth: change a bridle
 Only for exercise.
Laz. If we could stay there
 There were some hope on's Master: but the devil is
 We are drunk so early we mistake whole Saddles
 Sometimes a horse; and then it seems to us too
 Every poor jade has his whole peck, and tumbles
 Up to his ears in clean straw, and every bottle
 Shews at the least a dozen; when the truth is, Sir,
 There's no such matter, not a smell of Provinder,
 Not so much straw as would tie up a horse tail,
 Nor any thing i'th' rack, but two old Cobwebs
 And so much rotten Hay as had been a hens nest.
Die. Well, these mistakings must be mended, Lazaro,
 These apparitions, that abuse our sences,
 And make us ever apt to sweep the manger
 But put in nothing; these fancies must be forgot
 And we must pray it may be reveal'd to us
 Whose horse we ought, in conscience, to couzen,
 And how, and when; A Parsons Horse may suffer
 A little greazing in his teeth, 'tis wholsome;
 And keeps him in a sober shuffle: and his Saddle
 May want a stirrop, and it may be sworn
 His Learning lay on one side, and so broke it:
 H'as ever Oats in's Cloak-bag to prevent us
 And therefore 'tis a meritorious office
 To tythe him soundly.
Laz. And a Grazier may
 (For those are pinching puckfoysts, and suspitious)
 Suffer a myst before his eyes sometimes too,
 And think he sees his horse eat halfe a bushel:
 When the truth is, rubbing his gums with salt,
 Till all the skin come off: he shall but mumble
 Like an old Woman that were chewing Brawn,
 And drop 'em out again.
Die. That may do well too,
 And no doubt 'tis but venial, But good Lazaro
 Have you a care of understanding horses,
 [Horses with angry heels, gentlemens horses,]
 Horses that know the world: let them have meat
 Till their teeth ake; and rubbing till their ribs
 Shine like a wenches forehead; they are devils.
Laz. And look into our dealings: as sure as we live
 These Courtiers horses are a kind of Welsh Prophets,
 Nothing can be hid from 'em: For mine own part
 The next I cozen of that kind shall be founder'd,
 And of all four too: I'll no more such complements
 Upon my crupper.
Die. Steal but a little longer
 Till I am lam'd too, and we'll repent together,
 It will not be above two daies.
Laz. By that time
 I shall be well again, and all forgot Sir.
Die. Why then I'll stay for thee. [Exit.

ScÆna Secunda.

Enter Theodosi[a] and Phillipo on several Beds.

Theo. Oh,—ho! oh—ho!
Phi. Ha?
Theo. Oh—oh! heart—heart—heart—heart?
Phil. What's that?
Theo. When wilt thou break?—break, break, break?
Phil. Ha?
 I would the voice were strong, or I nearer.
Theo. Shame, shame, eternal shame? what have I done?
Phil. Done?
Theo. And to no end, what a wild journey
 Have I more wildly undertaken?
Phil. Journey?
Theo. How, without counsel? care? reason, or fear?
Phil. Whither will this fit carry?
Theo. Oh my folly!
Phil. This is no common sickness.
Theo. How have I left
 All I should love, or keep? oh heaven.
Phil. Sir?
Theo. Ha?
Phil. How do you gentle Sir?
Theo. Alas my fortune!
Phil. It seems your sorrow oppresses: please your goodness,
 Let me bear half, Sir: a divided burthen
 Is so made lighter.
Theo. Oh!
Phil. That sigh betraies
 The fulness of your grief.
Theo. I, if that grief
 Had not bereft me of my understanding,
 I should have well remembred where I was,
 And in what company; and clapt a lock
 Upon this tongue for talking.
Phil. Worthy Sir
 Let it not add to your grief, that I have heard
 A sigh or groan come from you: That is all Sir:
The. Good Sir no more: you have heard too much I fear,
 Would I had taken Poppy when I spake it.
Phi. It seems you have an ill belief of me
 And would have fear'd much more, had you spoke ought
 I could interpret. But believe it Sir
 Had [I] had means to look into your breast,
 And tane you sleeping here, that so securely
 I might have read all that your woe would hide
 I would not have betraid you.
Theo. Sir, that speech
 Is very noble, and almost would tempt
 My need to trust you.
Phil. At your own election,
 I dare not make my faith so much suspected
 As to protest again: nor am I curious
 To know more than is fit.
Theo. Sir, I will trust you
 But you shall promise Sir to keep your bed,
 And whatsoe'r you hear, not to importune
 More I beseech you from me.
Phi. Sir I will not.
Theo. Than I am prone to utter.
Phi. My faith for it.
Theo. If I were wise, I yet should hold my peace.
 You will be noble?
Phil. You shall make me so
 If you'll but think me such.
Theo. I do: then know
 You are deceiv'd with whom you have talk'd so long.
 I am a most unfortunate lost woman.
Phil. Ha?
Theo. Do not stir Sir: I have here a Sword.
Phil. Not I sweet Lady: of what blood, or name.
Theo. You'll keep your faith.
Phil. I'll perish else.
Theo. Believe then
 Of birth too noble for me, so descended—I
 am asham'd, no less than I am affrighted.
Phil. Fear not: by all good things, I will not wrong you.
Theo. I am the Daughter of a noble Gentleman
 Born in this part of Spain: my fathers name Sir:
 But why should I abuse that reverence
 When a childs duty has forsaken me.
Phil. All may be mended, in fit time too: speak it.
Theo. Alphonso, sir.
Phil. Alphonso? What's your own name?
Theo. Any base thing you can invent.
Phil. Deal truly.
Theo. They call me Theodosia.
Phil. Ha? and love
 Is that that hath chang'd you thus?
Theo. Ye have observ'd me
 Too nearly Sir, 'tis that indeed: 'tis love Sir:
 And love of him (oh heavens) why should men deal thus?
 Why should they use their arts to cozen us?
 That have no cunning, but our fears about us?
 And ever that too late too; no dissembling
 Or double way but doating: too much loving?
 Why should they find new oaths, to make more wretches?
Phil. What may his name be?
Theo. Sir, a name that promises
 Methinks no such ill usage: Mark-Antonio
 A noble neighbors son: Now I must desire ye
 To stay a while: else my weak eyes must answer.
Phil. I will:—Are ye yet ready? what is his quality?
Theo. His best a thief Sir: that he would be known by
 Is heir to Leonardo, a rich Gentleman:
 Next of a handsome body, had heaven made him
 A mind fit to it. To this man my fortune,
 (My more than purblind fortune) gave my faith,
 Drawn to it by as many shews of service
 And signs of truth, as ever false tongue utter'd:
 Heaven pardon all.
Phil. 'Tis well said: forward Lady.
Theo. Contracted Sir, and by exchange of rings
 Our souls deliver'd: nothing left unfinish'd
 But the last work, enjoying me, and Ceremony.
 For that I must confess was the first wise doubt
 I ever made: yet after all this love Sir,
 All this profession of his faith; when daily
 And hourly I expected the blest Priest
 He left me like a dream, as all this story
 Had never been, nor thought of, why, I know not;
 Yet I have called my conscience to confession,
 And every syllable that might offend
 I have had in shrift: yet neither loves Law Signior,
 Nor tye of Maidens duty, but desiring
 Have I transgrest in: left his father too,
 Nor whither he is gone, or why departed
 Can any tongue resolve me: All my hope
 (Which keeps me yet alive, and would perswade me
 I may be once more happy, and thus shapes me
 A shame to all my modest Sex) is this Sir,
 I have a Brother and his old Companion,
 Student in Salamanca, there my last hope
 If he be yet alive, and can be loving
 Is left me to recover him: For which travel
 In this Sute left at home of that dear Brothers
 Thus as you find me, without fear, or wisdom,
 I have wander'd from my Father, fled my friends,
 And now am only child of hope and danger:
 You are now silent Sir: this tedious story
 (That ever keeps me waking) makes you heavy:
 'Tis fit it should do so: for that, and I
 Can be but troubles.
Phil. No, I sleep not Lady:
 I would I could: oh heaven is this my comfort?
Theo. What ail you gentle Sir?
Phil. Oh.
Theo. Why do you groan so?
Phil. I must, I must; oh misery;
Theo. But now Sir,
 You were my comfort: if any thing afflict ye
 Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule?
Phil. No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me,
 But 'tis not in your power.
Theo. I fear intemperance.
Phil. Nay, do not seek to shun me: I must see you:
 By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle:
 Strive not, I will not stir ye.
Theo. Noble Sir
 This is a breach of promise.
Phil. Tender Lady
 It shall be none but necessary: hoa, there,
 Some light, some light for heavens sake.
Theo. Will ye betray me?
 Are ye a Gentleman?
Phil. Good woman:
Theo. Sir.

Enter Diego with a light.

Phil. If I be prejudicial to you, curse me.
Dieg. Ye are early stirring Sir.
Phil. Give me your Candle
 And so good morrow for a while.
Dieg. Good morrow Sir. [Exit.
Theo. My Brother Don Philippo: nay Sir, kill me
 I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,
 I can deserve none: As ye look upon me
 Behold in infinite these foul dishonors,
 My noble Father, then your self, last all
 That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me:
 I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister:
 Do you forget the pity tied to that:
 Let not compassion sway you: you will be then
 As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me,
 A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir,
 And such a cause to kill me in.
Phil. Rise Sister,
 I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger
 While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.
Theo. By those bright Stars, it is Sir.
Phil. For my Sister
 I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us
 With the dear love I ever bore your virtues
 That I will be a Brother to your griefs too:
 Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister
 To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman
 Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,
 As there be growing Truths, and great ones.
Theo. O Sir[!]
Phil. Do not despair.
Theo. Can ye forgive?
Phil. Yes Sister,
 Though this be no small error, a far greater.
Theo. And think me still your Sister?
Phil. My dear Sister.
Theo. And will you counsel me?
Phil. To your own peace too:
 Ye shall love still.
Theo. How good ye are!
Phil. My business,
 And duty to my Father: which now drew me
 From Salamanca I will lay aside
 And only be your Agent to perswade ye
 To leave both love, and him, and well retire ye.
Theo. Oh gentle Brother.
Phil. I perceive 'tis folly:
 Delaies in love, more dangerous.
Theo. Noble Brother.
Phil. Fear not, I'll run your own way: and to help you,
 Love havi[n]g rackt your passions beyond counsel:
 I'll hazard mine own fame: whither shall we venture?
Theo. Alas, I know not Sir!
Phil. Come, 'tis bright morning
 Let's walk out, and consider: you'll keep this habit.
Theo. I would Sir.
Phil. Then it shall be: what must I call ye?
 Come, do not blush: pray speak, I may spoil all else.
Theo. Pray call me Theodoro.

Enter Diego.

Dieg. Are ye ready?
 The day draws on apace: once more good morrow.
Theo. Good morrow gentle Host: now I must thank ye:
Phil. Who dost thou think this is?
Die. Were you a wench Sir,
 I think you would know before me.
Phil. Mine own Brother.
Dieg. By th' Masse your noses are akin: should I then
 Have been so barbarous to have parted Brothers?
Phi. You knew it then.
Dieg. I knew 'twas necessary
 You should be both together: Instinct Signior,
 Is a great matter in an Host.
Theo. I am satisfied.

Enter Pedro.

Enter Alphonso and a Servant.

Alph. Knock at the door.
Ser. 'Tis open Sir.
Alph. That's all one,
 Knock when I bid you.
Ser. Will not your Worship enter?
Alph. Will not you learn more manners Sir, and do that
 Your Master bids ye; knock ye knave, or I'll knock
 Such a round peal about your pate: I enter
 Under his roof, or come to say god save ye
 To him, the Son of whose base dealings has undone me?
 Knock louder, louder yet: I'll starve, and rot first,
 This open air is every mans.
 2 Ser. within. Come in Sir.

Enter two Servants.

Alph. No, no Sir, I am none of these Come in Sirs,
 None of those visitants: bid your wise Master
 Come out, I have to talk unto him: go Sir.
2 Ser. Your worship may be welcome.
Alph. Sir, I will not,
 I come not to be welcome: good my three Duckets,
 My pickell'd sprat a day, and no oil to't,
 And once a year a cotten coat, leave prating
 And tell your Master I am here.
2 Ser. I will Sir.
 This is a strange old man. [Exit.
Alph. I welcome to him?
 I'll be first welcome to a Pesthouse: Sirrah
 Let's have your valour now cas'd up, and quiet
 When an occasion calls, 'tis wisdom in ye,
 A Servingman's discretion: if you do draw,

Enter Leonardo, and Don Zanchio (carried by two Servants in a chair.)

Draw but according to your entertainment;
 Five Nobles worth of fury.
Leo. Signior Alphonso,
 I hope no discontent from my Will given,
 Has made ye shun my house: [I ever lov'd ye.]
 An credit me amongst my fears 'tis greatest
 To minister offences.
Alph. O good Signior
 I know ye for Italian breed, fair tongu'd,
 Spare your Apologies, I care not for 'em,
 As little for your love Sir; I can live
 Without your knowledge, eat mine own, and sleep
 Without dependences, or hopes upon ye.
 I come to ask my Daughter.
Leo. Gentle Sir.
Alph. I am not gentle Sir, nor gentle will be
 Till I have justice, my poor child restor'd
 Your caper-cutting boy has run away with.
 Young Signior smooth-face, he that takes up wenches
 With smiles, and sweet behaviors, Songs, and Sonnets,
 Your high fed Jennet, that no hedge can hold
 They say you bred him for a Stallion.
Zanch. Fie Signior, there be times, and terms of honor
 To argue these things in, descidements able
 To speak ye noble Gentlemen, ways punctual
 And to the life of credit, ye are too rugged.
Alph. I am too tame Sir.
Leo. Will ye hear but reason?
Alph. No, I will hear no reason: I come not hither
 To be popt off with reason; reason then.
Zanch. Why Signior, in all things there must be method,
 Ye choak the child of honor else, discretion,
 Do you conceive an injury?
Alph. What then Sir?
Zanch. Then follow it in fair terms, let your sword bite
 When time calls, not your tongue.
Alph. I know Sir
 Both when and what to do without directions,
 And where, and how, I come not to be tutor'd,
 My cause is no mans but mine own: you Signior,
 Will ye restore my Daughter?
Leo. Who detains her?
Alph. No more of these slight shifts.
Leo. Ye urge me Signior
 With strange injustice: because my Son has err'd—
Zanch. Mark him.
Leo. Out of the heat of youth: dos't follow
 I must be father of his crimes?
Alph. I say still.
 Leave off your Rhetorick, and restore my Daughter.
 And suddainly: bring in your rebel too,
 Mountdragon, he that mounts without commission
 That I may see him punished, and severely,
 Or by that holy Heaven, I'll fire your house,
 And there's my way of honor.
Zanch. Pray give me leave
 Was not man made the noblest creature?
Alph. Well Sir.
Zanch. Should not his mind then answer to his making,
 And to his mind his actions, if this ought to be,
 Why do we run a blind way from our worths,
 And cancel our discretions, doing those things
 To cure offences, are the most offences?
 We have rules of justice in us; to those rules
 Let us apply our angers: you can consider
 The want in others of these terminations
 And how unfurnish'd they appear.
Alph. Hang others,
 And where the wrongs are open, hang respects,
 I come not to consider.
Leo. Noble Sir,
 Let us argue cooly, and consider like men.
Alph. Like men!
Leo. Ye are too sudain still.
Alph. Like men Sir?
Zanch. It is fair language, and ally'd to honor.
Alph. Why, what strange beast would your grave reverence
 Make me appear? like men!
Zanch. Taste but that point Sir,
 And ye recover all.
Alph. I tell thy wisdom
 I am as much a man, and as good a man.
Leo. All this is granted Sir.
Alph. As wise a man.
Zanch. Ye are not tainted that way.
Alph. And a man
 Dares make thee no man; or at best, a base man.
Zanch. Fie, fie, here wants much carriage.
Alph. Hang much carriage.
Leo. Give me good language.
Alph. Sirrah Signior, Give me my Daughter.
Leo. I am as gentle as your self, as free born.
Zanch. Observe his way.
Leo. As much respect ow'd to me.
Zanch. This hangs together nobly.
Leo. And for Civil,
 A great deal more it seems: go look your Daughter.
Zanch. There ye went well off Signior.
Leo. That rough tongue
 You understand at first: you never think Sir
 Out of your mightiness, of my loss: here I stand
 A patient Anvil, to your burning angers
 Made subject to your dangers; yet my loss equal:
 Who shall bring home my Son?
Alph. A whipping Beadle.
Leo. Why, is your Daughter whorish?
Alph. Ha, thou dar'st not,
 By heaven I know thou dar'st not.
Leo. I dare more Sir
 If you dare be uncivil.
Alph. Laugh too, Pidgeon.
Zanch. A [f]itter time for fames sake: two weak Nurses
 Would laugh at this; are there no more days coming,
 No ground but this to argue on? no swords left
 Nor friends to carry this, but your own furies?
 Alas! it shows too weakly.
Alph. Let it show,
 I come not here for shews: laugh at me sirrah?
 I'll give ye cause to laugh.
Leo. Ye are as like sir
 As any man in Spain.
Alph. By heaven I will,
 I will brave Leonardo.
Leo. Brave Alphonso.
 I will expect it then.
Zanch. Hold ye there both,
 These terms are noble.
Alph. Ye shall hear shortly from me.
Zanch. Now discreetly.
Alph. Assure your self ye shall: do ye see this sword sir?
 He has not cast his teeth yet.
Zanch. Rarely carried.
Alph. He bites deep: most times mortal: Signior
 I'll hound him at the fair and home.
Zanch. Still nobly.
Alph. And at all those that dare maintain ye.
Zanch. Excellent.
Leo. How you shall please sir, so it be fair, though certain,
 I had rather give you reason.
Zanch. Fairly urg'd too.
Alph. This is no age for reason; prick your reason
 Upon your swords point.
Zanch. Admirably follow'd.
Alph. And there I'll hear it: so till I please, live Sir. [Exit.
Leo. And so farewel, you're welcome.
Zanch. The end crowns all things
 Signior, some little business past, this cause I'll argue
 And be a peace between ye, if't so please ye,
 And by the square of honor to the utmost:
 I feel the old man's master'd by much passion,
 And too high rackt, which makes him overshoot all
 His valour should direct at, and hurt those
 That stand but by as blenchers: this he must know too,
 As necessary to his judgement, doting women
 Are neither safe nor wise adventurers: conceive me,
 If once their will[s] have wander'd; nor is't then
 A time to use our rages: for why should I
 Bite at the stone, when he that throws it wrongs me?
 Do not we know that Women are most wooers
 Though closest in their carriage? Do not all men know,
 Scarce all the compass of the Globe can hold 'em
 If their affections be afoot? shall I then covet
 The follies of a she-fool, that by nature
 Must seek her like, by reason, be a woman,
 Sink a tall ship, because the sails defie me?
 No, I disdain that folly; he that ventures
 Whilst they are fit to put him on, has found out
 The everlasting motion in his scabbard.
 I doubt not to make peace: and so for this time
 My best love, and remembrance.
Leo. Your poor Servant. [Exeunt.

ScÆna Secunda.

Enter Diego, Philippo, and Theodosia.

Phil. Where will our Horses meet us?
Diego. Fear not you Sir,
 Some half mile hence my worships man will stay us,
 How is it with my young bloods? come, be jovial,
 Let's travel like a merry flock of wild Geese,
 Every tongue talking.
Phil. We are very merry;
 But do you know this way, Sir?
Theo. Is't not dangerous?
 Methinks these woody thickets should harbor knaves.
Die. I fear none but fair wenches; those are thieves,
 May quickly rob me of my good conditions,
 If they cry Stand once: but the best is Signiors
 They cannot bind my hands: for any else,
 They meet an equal knave, and there's my Passport:
 I have seen fine sport in this place: had these three tongues,
 They would tell ye pretty matters: do not you fear, though
 They are not every daies delights.
Phil. What sport Sir?
Die. Why to say true, the sport of all sports.
Phil. What was't?
Die. Such turning up of Taffataes; and you know
 To what rare whistling tunes they go, far beyond
 A soft wind in the shrowds: such stand there,
 And down i'th' other place; such supplications
 And subdivisions for those toys their honors,
 One, as ye are a Ge[n]tleman in this bush,
 And oh sweet Sir, what mean ye? there's a bracelet,
 And use me I beseech ye like a woman;
 And her petition's heard: another scratches,
 And cries she will die first, and then swounds: but certain
 She is brought to life again, and does well after.
 Another, save mine honor, oh mine honor,
 My Husband serves the Duke, Sir, in his kitchen;
 I have a cold pie for ye; fie, fie, fie Gentlemen,
 Will nothing satisfie, where's my Husband?
 Another cries, do ye see Sir how they use me,
 Is there no Law for these things?
Theo. And good mine Host,
 Do you call these fine sports?
Die. What should I call 'em,
 They have been so call'd these thousand years and upwards.
Phil. But what becomes o'th' men?
Die. They're stript and bound,
 Like so many Adams, with fig-leaves afore 'em,
 And there's their innocence.
Theo. Would we had known this!
 Before we reacht this place.
Phil. Come, there's no danger,
 These are but sometimes chances.

Enter Bailiff.

Host. Now we must through.
Theo. Who's that?
Host. Stand to it Signiors.
Phil. No it needs not,
 I know the face; 'tis honest.
Bayl. What mine Host:
 Mine everlasting honest Host.
Host. Mass Baily:
 Now in the name of an ill reckoning
 What make you walking this round?
Bayl. A —— of this round,
 And of all business too, through woods, and rascals,
 They have rounded me away a dozen Duckets,
 Besides a fair round Cloak: Some of 'em knew me,
 Else they had cased me like a Cunnie too,
 As they have done the rest, and I think roasted me,
 For they began to baste me soundly: my young Signiors,
 You may thank heaven, and heartily, and hourly,
 You set not out so early; ye had been smoak'd else
 By this true hand [y]e had Sirs, finely smoak'd,
 Had ye been Women, smockt too.
Theo. Heaven defend us.
Bayl. Nay, that had been no prayer, there were those
 That run that prayer out of breath, yet fail'd too.
 There was a Fryer, now ye talk of prayer,
 With a huge bunch of Beads, like a rope of Onions:
 I am sure as big, that out of fear and prayer,
 In halfe an hour, wore 'em as small as Bugles,
 Yet he was flead too.
Phil. At what hour was this?
Bayl. Some two hours since.
Theo. Do you think the passage sure now.
Bayl. Yes, a rope take 'em, as it will, and bless 'em,
 They have done for this day sure.
Phil. Are many rifled?
Bayl. At the least a dozen,
 And there left bound.
Theo. How came you free?
Bayl. A curtesie
 They use out of their rogueships, to bequeath
 To one, that when they give a sign from far
 Which is from out of danger; he may presently
 Release the rest, as I met you, I was going,
 Having the sign from yonder hill to do it.
Theo. Alas poor men.
Phil. Mine Host, pray go untie 'em.
Die. Let me alone for cancelling: where are they?
Bayl. In every bush, like black birds, you cannot miss 'em.
Die. I need not stalk unto 'em. [Exit.
Bayl. No, they'l stand ye,
 My busie life for yours Sir: you would wonder
 To see the several tricks and strange behaviours
 Of the poor rascals in their miseries,
 One weeps, another laughs at him for weeping,
 A third is monstrous angry, he can laugh
 And cries, go too, this is no time; he laughs still,
 A fourth exhorts to patience: him a fifth man
 Curses for tameness; him a Fryer schools,
 All hoot the Fryer, here one sings a Ballad,
 And there a little Curate confutes him,
 And in this linsey-woolsey way, that would make a dog
 Forget his dinner, or an old man fire,
 They rub out for their ransoms: Amongst the rest,
 There is a little boy rob'd, a fine child,
 It seems a Page: I must confess my pitty
 (As 'tis a hard thing in a man of my place)
 To shew compassion, stirr'd at him, so finely
 And without noise he carries his afflictions,
 And looks as if he had but dreamt of losing.

Enter Host and Leocadia, and others as rob'd.

This boy's the glory of this robbery,
 The rest but shame the action: now ye may hear 'em.
Host. Come lads, 'tis Holy-day: hang cloaths, 'tis hot,
 And sweating Agues are abroad.
1. It seems so;
 For we have met with rare Physitians
 To cure us of that malady.
Host. Fine footing,
 Light and deliver: now my boys: Master Fryer,
 How does your Holiness, bear up man; what
 A cup of neat Sack now and a toast: ha, Fryer,
 A warm plaister to your belly Father,
 There were a blessing now.
Fryer. Ye say your mind Sir.
Host. Where my fine Boy: my poynter.
Bayl. There's the wonder.
Host. A rank whore scratch their sides till the pox follow
 For robbing thee, thou hast a thousand ways
 To rob thy self boy, Dice, and a Chamber-Devil.
Leo. Ye are deceiv'd Sir.
Host. And thy Master too boy.
Phil. A sweet-fac'd boy indeed: what rogues were these?
 What barbarous, brutish slaves to strip this beauty?
Theo. Come hither my boy: alas! he's cold, mine Host,
 We must intreat your Cloak.
Host. Can ye intreat it.
Phil. We do presume so much, you have other garments.
Host. Will you intreat those too?
Theo. Your Mule must too,
 To the next Town, you say 'tis near: in pitty
 You cannot see this poor Boy perish.
 I know ye have a better soul, we'll satisfie ye.
Host. 'Tis a strange foolish trick I have, but I cannot help it,
 I am ever cozen'd with mine own commendations;
 It is determin'd then I shall be robb'd too.
 To make up vantage to this dozen: here Sir,
 Heaven has provided ye a simple garment
 To set ye off: pray keep it handsomer
 Than you kept your own; and let me have it render'd,
 Brush'd and discreetly folded.
Leo. I thank ye Sir.
Host. Who wants a Doublet?
2. I.
Host. Where will you have it?
2. From you Sir, if you please.
Host. Oh, there's the point, Sir.
Phil. My honest friends, I am sorry for your fortunes,
 But that's but poor relief: here are ten Duckets,
 And to your distribution, holy Sir,
 I render 'em: and let it be your care
 To see 'em, as your wants are, well divided.
Host. Plain dealing now my friends: and Father Fryer,
 Set me the Sadle right; no wringing Fryer,
 Nor tithing to the Church, these are no duties;
 Scour me your conscience, if the Devil tempt ye
 Off with [y]our cord, and swinge him.
Fry. Ye say well Sir.
All. Heaven keep your goodness.
Theo. Peace keep you, farewel friends.
Host. Farewel light-Horse-men. [Ex. the rob'd.
Phil. Which way travel you Sir.
Bayl. To the next Town.
Theo. Do you want any thing.
Bayl. Only discretion to travel at good hours,
 And some warm meat to moderate this matter,
 For I am most outragious cruel hungry.
Host. I have a stomach too such as it is.
 Would pose a right good pasty, I thank heaven for't.
Bayl. Cheese, that would break the teeth of a new handsaw,
 I could endure now like an Oastrich, or salt beef,
 That Cesar left in pickel.
Phil. Take no care,
 We'll have meat for you, and enough: I'th' mean time
 Keep you the horse way, lest the fellow miss us,
 We'll meet ye at the end o'th' wood.
Host. Make haste then. [Ex. Host and Bayl.
Theo. My pretty Sir till your necessities
 Be full supplied, so please you trust our friendships,
 We must not part.
Leo. Ye have pull'd a charge upon ye,
 Yet such a one as ever shall be thankful.
Phil. Ye have said enough, may I be bold to ask ye,
 What Province you were bred in? and of what Parents?
Leo. Ye may Sir: I was born in Andaluzia,
 My name Francisc[o], son to Don Henriques
 De Cardinas.
Theo. Our noble neighbor.
Phil. Son to Don Henriques?
 I know the Gentleman: and by your leave Sir,
 I know he has no son.
Leo. None of his own Sir,
 Which makes him put that right upon his Brother
 Don Zanchio's child[ren]: one of which I am,
 And therefore do not much err.
Phil. Still ye do Sir,
 For neither has Don Zanchio any son;
 A Daughter, and a rare one is his heir,
 Which though I [n]ever was so blest to see,
 Yet I have heard great good of.
Theo. Urge no further,
 He is ashamed, and blushes.
Phil. Sir,
 If it might import you to conceal your self,
 I ask your mercy, I have been so curious:
Leo. Alas! I must ask yours Sir: for these lies,
 Yet they were useful ones; for by the claiming
 Such noble parents, I believ'd your bounties
 Would shew more gracious: The plain truth is Gentlemen,
 I am Don Zanchio's Stewards son, a wild boy,
 That for the fruits of his unhappiness,
 Is faign to seek the wars.
Theo. This is a lie too.
 If I have any ears.
Phil. Why?
Theo. Mark his language,
 And ye shall find it of too sweet a relish
 For one of such a breed: I'll pawn my hand,
 This is no boy.
Phil. No boy? what would you have him?
Theo. I know, no boy: I watcht how fearfully,
 And yet how suddainly he cur'd his lies,
 The right wit of a Woman: Now I am sure.
Phil. What are ye sure?
Theo. That 'tis no boy: I'll burn in't.
Phil. Now I consider better, and take council,
 Methinks he shows more sweetness in that face,
 Than his fears dare deliver.
Theo. No more talk on't,
 There hangs some great weight by it: soon at night
 I'll tell ye more.
Phil. Come Sir, what e'r you are
 With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps
 In any need you have.
Leo. All my poor service
 Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.
Phil. Let's walk apace; hunger will cut their throats else.

[Exeunt.

ScÆna Tertia.

Enter Rodorigo, Mark-antonio, and a Ship-master, two Chairs set out.

Rod. Call up the Master.
Mast. Here Sir.
Rod. Honest Master,
 Give order all the Gallies with this tyde
 Fall round, and near upon us; that the next wind
 We may weigh off together, and recover
 The Port of Bar[c]elona, without parting.
Mast. Your pleasure's done Sir. [Ex.
Rod. Signior Mark-antonio,
 Till meat be ready, let's sit here and prepare
 Our stomachs with discourses.
Mar[c]. What you please Sir.
Rod. Pray ye answer me to this doubt.
Marc. If I can Sir.
Rod. Why should such plants as you are; pleasure children,
 That owe their blushing years to gentle objects,
 Tenderly bred, and brought up in all fulness,
 Desire the stubborn wars?
Marc. In those 'tis wonder,
 That make their ease their god, and not their honor:
 But noble General my end is other,
 Desire of knowledge Sir, and hope of tying
 Discretion to my time, which only shews me,
 And not my years, a man, and makes that more
 Which we call handsome, the rest is but Boys beauty,
 And with the Boy consum'd.
Rod. Ye argue well Sir.
Mar. Nor do I wear my youth, as they wear breeches,
 For object, but for use: my strength for danger,
 Which is the liberal part of man, not dalliance,
 The wars must be my Mistress Sir.
Rod. Oh Signior,
 You'll find her a rough wench.
Mar. When she is won once,
 She'll show the sweeter Sir.
Rod. You can be pleas'd, though
 Sometimes to take a tamer?
Mar. 'Tis a truth Sir,
 So she be handsome, and not ill condition'd.
Rod. A Soldier should not be so curious.
Marc. I can make shift with any for a heat Sir.
Rod. Nay, there you wrong your youth too: and however
 You are pleas'd to appear to me, which shews well Signior,
 A tougher soul than your few years can testifie:
 Yet, my young Sir, out of mine own experience
 When my spring was, I am able to confute ye,
 And say, y' had rather come to th' shock of eies,
 And boldly march up to your Mistriss mouth,
 Then to the Cannons.
Mar. That's as their lading is Sir.
Rod. There be Trenches
 Fitter and warmer for your years, and safer
 Than where the bullet plaies.
Mar. Ther's it I doubt Sir.
Rod. You'll easily find that faith: But come, be liberal,
 What kind of Woman, could you make best wars with?
Mar. They are all but heavy marches.
Rod. Fie Marckantonio,
 Beauty in no more reverence?
Mar. In the Sex Sir,
 I honor it, and next to honor, love it,
 For there is only beauty; and that sweetness
 That was first meant for modesty: sever it
 And put it in one woman, it appears not,
 'Tis of too rare a nature, she too gross
 To mingle with it.
Rod. This is a meer heresie.
Mar[c]. Which makes 'em ever mending; for that gloss
 That cozens us for beauty, is but bravery,
 An outward shew of things well set, no more:
 For heavenly beauty, is as heaven it self Sir,
 Too excellent for object, and what is seen
 Is but the vail then, airy clouds; grant this
 It may be seen, 'tis but like stars in twinklings.
Rod. 'Twas no small study in their Libraries
 Brought you to this experience: But what think ye
 Of that fair red and white, which we call Beauty?
Mar. Why? 'tis our creature Sir, we give it 'em,
 Because we like those colours, else 'tis certain
 A blew face with a motley nose would do it;
 And be as great a beauty, so we lov'd it;
 That we cannot give, which is only beauty,
 Is a fair Mind.
Rod. By this rule, all our choices
 Are to no ends.
Marc. Except the dull end, Doing.
Rod. Then all to you seem equal?
Marc. Very true Sir,
 And that makes equal dealing: I love any
 That's worth love.
Rod. How long love ye Signior?
Marc. Till I have other business.
Rod. Do you never
 Love stedfastly one woman?
Mar. 'Tis a toil Sir
 Like riding in one rode perpetually,
 It offers no variety.
Rod. Right youth,
 He must needs make a Soldier; nor do you think
 One Woman, can love one man?
Mar. Yes, that may be.
 Though it appear not often; they are things ignorant,
 And therefore apted to that superstition
 Of doting fondness; yet of late years Signior,
 That worlds well mended with 'em, fewer are found now
 That love at len[g]th, and to the right mark, all
 Stir now [as] the time stirs; fame and fashion
 Are ends they aim at now, and to make that love
 That wiser ages held ambition;
 They that cannot reach this may love by Index;
 By every days surveying who best promises,
 Who has done best, who may do, and who mended
 May come to do again: who appear nearest
 Either in new stampt clothes; or courtesies,
 Done but from hand to mouth neither; nor love they these things
 Longer than new are making, nor that succession
 Beyond the next fair feather: Take the City,
 There they go to't by gold weight, no gain from 'em
 All they can work by fire and water to 'em,
 Profit is all they point at, if there be love
 'Tis shew'd ye by so dark a light, to bear out
 The bracks and old stains in it, that ye may purchase
 French Velvet better cheap, all loves are endless.
Rod. Faith, if you have a Mistriss, would she heard you.
Mar. 'Twere but the vent'ring of my place, or swearing
 I meant it but for argument, as Schoolmen
 Dispute high questions.
Rod. What a world is this
 When young men dare determine what those are
 Age and the best experience ne'r could aim at.
Marc. They were thick ey'd then Sir; now the print is bigger
 And they may read their fortunes without spectacles.
Rod. Did you ne'r love?
Mar. Faith yes, once after supper,
 And the fit held till midnight.
Rod. Hot, or shaking.
Mar. To say true, both.
Rod. How did ye rid it?
Mar. Thus Sir,
 I laid my hand upon my heart, and blest me
 And then said over certain charms I had learn'd
 Against mad dogs, for love and they are all one;
 Last thought upon a windmil, and so slept,
 And was well ever after.
Rod. A rare Physitian,
 What would your practise gain ye?
Mar. The wars ended,
 I mean to use my Art, and have these fools
 Cut in the head like Cats, to save the kingdom,
 Another Inquisition.
Rod. So old a Soldier
 Out of the wars, I never knew yet practised.
Mar. I shall mend every day; but noble General,
 Believe this, but as this you nam'd discourses.
Rod. Oh ye are a cunning Gamester.
Mar. Mirths and toys
 To cosin time withal, for o' my troth Sir,
 I can love; I think, well too; well enough
 And think as well of women as they are,
 Pretty fantastick things, some more regardful,
 And some few worth a service: I am so honest,
 I wish 'em all in heaven, and you know how hard Sir
 'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals.
Rod. Well Mark-antonio, I would not loose thy company
 For the best Galley I command.
Marc. Faith General,
 If these discourses please ye, I shall fit ye
 Once every day. [Knock within.
Rod. Thou canst not please me better: hark, they call
 Below to dinner: ye are my Cabbin guest,
 My bosom's, so you please Sir.
Marc. Your poor Servant. [Exeunt.

ScÆna Quarta.

Enter second Host, and his Wife.

Enter Bayliff.

Bayl. Where's this Kitchen?
Hostess. Even at the next door Signior: what old Don?
 We meet but seldom.
Bayl. Prethee be patient Hostess,
 And tell me where the meat is.
Host[ess]. Faith Master Baylie,
 How have ye done? and how man?
Bayl. Good sweet Hostess,
 What shall we have to dinner?
Hostess. How does your woman,
 And a fine Woman she is, and a good Woman;
 Lord, how you bear your years!
Bayl. Is't Veal or Mutton,
 Beef, Bacon, Pork, Kid, Pheasant, or all these,
 And are they ready all?
Host[ess]. The hours that have been
 Between us two, the merry hours: Lord!
Bayl. Hostess,
 Dear Hostess do but hear; I am hungry.
Hostess. Ye are merrily dispos'd Sir.
Bayl. Monstrous hungry,
 And hungry after much meat, I have brought hither
 Right worshipful to pay the reckoning,
 Money enough too with 'em, desire enough
 To have the best meat, and of that enough too:
 Come to the point sweet wench, and so I kiss thee.
Hostess. Ye shall have any thing, and instantly
 E'r you can lick your ears, Sir.
Bayl. Portly meat,
 Bearing substantial stuff, and fit for hunger
 I do beseech ye Hostess first, then some light garnish,
 Two Pheasants in a dish, if ye have Leverits,
 Rather for way of ornament, than appetite
 They may be look'd upon, or Larks: for Fish,
 As there is no great need, so I would not wish ye
 To serve above four dishes, but those full ones;
 Ye have no Cheese of Parma?
Hostess. Very old Sir.
Bayl. The less will serve us, some ten pound.
Hostess. Alas Sir,
 We have not halfe these dainties.
Bayl. Peace good Hostess,
 And make us hope ye have.
Hostess. Ye shall have all Sir,
Bay. That may be got for money.

Enter Diego, the Host, and a Boy.

Host. Diego. Where's your Master?
 Bring me your Master, Boy: I must have liquor
 Fit for the Mermydons; no dashing now child
 No conjurings by candle light, I know all;
 Strike me the oldest Sack, a piece that carries
 Point blank to this place boy, and batters; Hostess,
 I kiss thy hands through which many a round reckoning
 And things of moment have had motion.
Hostess. Still mine old Brother.
Host. Die. Set thy Seller open,
 For I must enter, and advance my Colours,
 I have brought th[ee] Dons indeed wench, Dons with Duckets
 And those Dons must have dainty Wine, pure Bacchus
 That bleeds the life blood: what is your cure ended?
Bayl. We shall have Meat man.
Host. Die. Then we will have Wine man,
 And Wine upon Wine, cut and drawn with Wine.
Hostess. Ye shall have all, and more than all.
Bay. All, well then.
Host. Die. Away, about your business, you with her
 For old acquaintance sake, to stay your stomach. Exit Hostess and Bayliff.
 And Boy, be you my guide, ad inferos,
 For I will make a full descent in equipage.
Boy. I'll shew you rare Wine.
Host. Die. Stinging geer.
Boy. Divine Sir.
Host. Die. O divine boy, march, march my child, rare Wine boy.
Boy. As any is in Spain Sir.
Host. Die. Old; and strong too,
 Oh my fine boy, clear too?
Boy. As Christal Sir, and strong as truth.
Host. Die. Away boy,
 I am enamor'd, and I long for Dalliance,
 Stay no where child, not for thy fathers blessing,
 I charge thee not to save thy Sisters honor,
 Nor to close thy Dames eies, were she a dying
 Till we arrive, and for thy recompence
 I will remember thee in my Will.
Boy. Ye have said Sir. [Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. ScÆna Prima.

Enter Philippo, and 2 Host.

Phi. Mine Host, is that Apparel got ye spoke of?
 Ye shall have ready money.
2 Host. 'Tis come in, Sir, he has it on Sir
 And I think 'twill be fit, and o' my credit
 'Twas never worn but once Sir, and for necessity
 Pawn'd to the man I told ye of.
Phi. Pray bargain for it,
 And I will be the pay-master.
2 Host. I will Sir.
Phi. And let our meat be ready when you please,
 I mean as soon.
2 Host. It shall be presently.
Phi. How far stands Barcelona?
2 Host. But two Leagues off Sir,
 You may be there by three a clock.
Phi. I am glad on't. [Exeunt.

ScÆna Secunda.

Enter Theodosia, and Leocadia.

Theo. Signior Francisco, why I draw you hither
 To this remote place, marvel not, for trust me
 My innocence yet never knew ill dealing,
 And as ye have a noble temper, start not
 Into offence, at any thing my knowledge,
 And for your special good, would be inform'd of,
 Nor think me vainly curious.
Leo. Worthy Sir,
 The courtesies you and your noble Brother,
 Even then when few men find the way to do 'em,
 I mean in want, so freely showr'd upon me,
 So truly, and so timely minister'd,
 Must, if I should, suspect those minds that made 'em,
 Either proclaim me an unworthy taker,
 Or worse, a base beleever; Speek your mind Sir
 Freely, and what you please, I am your Servant.
The. Then my young Sir know, since our first acquaintance
 Induc'd by circumstances that deceive not
 To clear some doubts I have; nay blush not Signior,
 I have beheld ye narrowly: more blushes.
 Sir, ye give me so much light, I find ye
 A thing confest already: yet more blushes?
 You would ill cover an offence might sink ye
 That cannot hide your self; why do ye shake so?
 I mean no trouble to ye; this fair hand
 Was never made for hardness, nor those eies
 (Come do not hide 'em,) for rough objects, harke ye,
 Ye have betraid your self, that sigh confirms me;
 Another? and a third too? then I see
 These boys cloths do but pinch ye, come, be liberal,
 Ye have found a friend that has found you, disguise not
 That loaden soul that labors to be open:
 Now you must weep, I know it, for I see
 Your eies down laden to the lids, another
 Manifest token that my doubts are perfect;
 Yet I have found a greater; tell me this
 Why were these holes left open, there was an error,
 A foul one my Francisco, have I caught ye?
 Oh pretty Sir, the custom of our Countrey
 Allows men none in this place: Now the show'r comes.
Leo. Oh Signior Theodoro.
Theo. This sorrow shows so sweetly
 I cannot choose but keep it company:
 Take truce and speak Sir: and I charge your goodness
 By all those perfect hopes that point at virtue
 By that remembrance these fair tears are shed for,
 If any sad misfortune have thus form'd ye,
 That either care or counsel may redeem,
 Pain, purse, or any thing within the power
 And honor of free gentlemen, reveal it,
 And have our labors.
Leo. I have found ye noble
 And ye shall find me true; your doubts are certain,
 Nor dare I more dissemble; I am a woman,
 The great example of a wretched woman.
 Here you must give me leave to shew my sex;
 And now to make ye know how much your credit
 Has won upon my soul, so it please your patience,
 I'll tell you my unfortunate sad story.
Theo. Sit down and say on Lady:
Leo. I am born Sir
 Of good and honest parents, rich, and noble,
 And not to lie, the Daughter of Don Zanchio,
 If my unhappy fortune have not lost me:
 My name call'd Leocadia, even the same
 Your worthy brother did the special honor
 To name for beautiful; and without pride
 I have been often made believe so Signior;
 But that's impertinent: Now to my sorrows;
 Not far from us a Gentleman of worth,
 A neighbor and a noble visitor,
 Had his abode; who often met my Father
 In gentle sports of Chase, and River-Hawking
 In Course and Riding; and with him often brought
 A Son of his, a young and hopeful Gentleman,
 Nobly train'd up, in years fit for affection,
 A sprightly man, of understanding excellent,
 Of speech and civil 'haviour, no less powerful;
 And of all parts, else my eies lied, abundant:
 We grew acquainted, and from that acquaintance
 Nearer into affection; from affection
 Into belief.
Theo. Well.
Leo. Then we durst kiss.
Theo. Go forward.
Leo. But oh, man, [man,] unconstant, careless man,
 Oh subtle man, how many are thy mischiefs;
 Oh Mark-antonio, I may curse those kisses.
Theo. What did you call him Lady?
Leo. Mark-antonio
 The name to me of misery.
Theo. Pray foreward.
Leo. From these we bred desires sir; but lose me heaven
 If mine were lustful.
Theo. I believe.
L[e]o. This nearness
 Made him importunate; When to save mine honor
 Love having full possession of my powers,
 I got a Contract from him.
Theo. Sealed?
Leo. And sworn too;
 Which since, for some offence heaven laid upon me,
 I lost among my monies in the robbery,
 The loss that makes me poorest: this won from him
 Fool that I was, and too too credulous,
 I pointed him a by-way to my chamber
 The next night at an hour.
Theo. Pray stay there Lady;
 And when the night came, came he, kept he touch with ye?
 Be not so shamefac'd; had ye both your wishes?
 Tell me, and tell me true, did he enjoy ye,
 Were ye in one anothers arms abed? the Contract
 Confirm'd in full joys there? did he lie with ye?
 Answer to that; ha? did your father know this,
 The good old man, or kindred privy to't?
 And had ye their consents? did that nights promise
 Make ye a Mother?
Leo. Why do you ask so nearly?
 Good Sir, do's it concern you any thing?
Theo. No Lady.
 Only the pitty why you should be used so
 A little stirs me, but did he keep his promise?
Leo. No, no Signior,
 Alas he never came, nor never meant it,
 My Love was fool'd, time numbred to no end,
 My expectation flouted, and ghesse you Sir,
 What dor unto a doating Maid this was,
 What a base breaking off!
Theo. All's well then Lady;
 Go forward in your Story.
Leo. Not only fail'd Sir
 Which is a curse in Love, and may he find it
 When his affections are full-wing'd, and ready
 To stoop upon the quarry, then when all
 His full hopes are in's arms: not only thus Sir
 But more injurious, faithless, treacherous,
 Within two daies fame gave him far remov'd
 With a new love, which much against my conscience
 But more against my cause, which is my hell
 I must confess a fair one, a right fair one,
 Indeed of admirable sweetness, Daughter
 Unto another of our noble neighbors
 The thief call'd Theodosia; whose perfections
 I am bound to ban for ever, curse to wrinckles,
 As heaven I hope will make 'em soon; and aches;
 For they have rob'd me poor unhappy wench
 Of all, of all Sir, all that was my glory
 And left me nothing but these tears, and travel:
 Upon this certain news, I quit my Father
 And if you be not milder in construction
 I fear mine honour too: and like a Page
 Stole to Ossuna, from that place to Sivil,
 From thence to Barcelona I was travelling
 When you o'er-took my misery, in hope to hear of
 Gallies bound up for Italy; for never
 Will I leave off the search of this bad man
 This filcher of affections, this love-Pedler,
 Nor shall my curses cease to blast her beauties
 And make her name as w[a]ndring as her nature
 Till standing face to face before their lusts
 I call heavens justice down.
Theo. This shows too angry
 Nor can it be her fault she is belov'd,
 If I give meat, must they that eat it surfeit?
Leoc. She loves again Sir, there's the mischief of it
 And in despight of me to drown my blessings
 Which she shall dearly know.
Theo. Ye are too violent.
Leoc. She has Devils in her eyes, to whose devotion
 He offers all his service.
Theo. Who can say
 But she may be forsaken too? he that once wanders
 From such a perfect sweetness, as you promise
 Has he not still the same rule to deceive?
Leoc. No, no they are together, love together
 Past all deceipt of that side; sleep together,
 Live, and delight together, and such deceipt
 Give me in a wild desert.
Theo. By your leave Lady
 I see no honour in this cunning.
Leoc. Honour?
 True, none of her part, honour, she deserves none,
 'Tis ceas'd with wandring Ladies such as she is,
 So bold and impudent.
Theo. I could be angry
 Extreamly angry now beyond my nature
 And 'twere not for my pitty: what a man
 Is this to do these wrongs: believe me Lady
 I know the maid, and know she is not with him.
Leoc. I would you knew she were in heaven.
Theo. And so well know her
 That I think you are cozen'd.
Leoc. So I say Sir.
Theo. I mean in her behaviour
 For trust my faith so much I dare adventure for her credit
 She never yet delighted to do wrong.
Leoc. How can she then delight in him? dare she think?
 Be what she will, as excellent as Angels
 My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent
 That I must take her prewnings; sto[o]p at that
 She has tyr'd upon; No Sir, I hold my beauty
 Wash but these sorrows from it, of a sparkle
 As right and rich as hers, my means as equal,
 My youth as much unblown; and for our worths
 And weight of virtue—
Theo. Do not task her so far.
Leo. By heaven she is cork, and clouds, light, light Sir, vapor
 But I shall find her out, with all her witchcrafts,
 Her paintings, and her powncings: for 'tis art
 And only art preserves her, and meer spels
 That work upon his powers; let her but shew me
 A ruin'd cheek like mine, that holds his colour
 And writes but sixteen years in spight of sorrows
 An unbathed body, smiles, that give but shaddows,
 And wrinkle not the face; besides she is little,
 A demy dame, that makes no object.
Theo. Nay.
 Then I must say you err; for credit me
 I think she is taller than your self.
Leoc. Why let her
 It is not that shall mate me; I but ask
 My hands may reach unto her.
Theo. Gentle Lady
 'Tis now ill time of farther argument,
 For I perceive your anger voyd of counsel,
 Which I could wish more temperate.
Leoc. Pray forgive me
 If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on
 See more than we that play: and I beseech ye
 Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments,
 If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses
 You must confess are seldom ty'd to patience,
 Yet I could wish I had said less.
Theo. No harm then;
 Ye have made a full amends; our company
 You may command, so please you in your travels
 With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so.
Leoc. Ye make too great an offer.
Theo. Then it shall be.
 Go in and rest your self, our wholsome dyet
 Will be made ready straight: But heark ye Lady
 One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance
 That these things may be open to my Brother
 For more respect and honor.
Leoc. Do your pleasure.
Theo. And do not change this habit by no means
 Unless ye change your self.
Leoc. Which must not yet be.
Theo. It carries ye concealed and safe.
Leoc. I am counsell'd. [Exit.

Enter Philippo.

Phil. What's done?
Theo. Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman,
 And of a noble strain too, ghess.
Phil. I cannot.
Theo. You have heard often of her.
Phil. Stay I think not.
Theo. Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair Leocadia
 Daughter unto Don Zanchio, our noble neighbor.
Phil. Nay?
Theo. 'Tis she Sir, o' my credit.
Phil. Leocadia,
 Pish Leocadia, it must not be.
Theo. It must be, or be nothing.
Phil. Pray give me leave to wonder, Leocadia?
Theo. The very same.
Phil. The Damsel Leocadia
 I ghest it was a woman, and a fair one
 I see it through her shape, transparent plain
 But that it should be she; tell me directly.
Theo. By heavens 'tis she.
Phil. By heaven then 'tis a sweet one.
Theo. That's granted too.
Phil. But heark ye, heark ye Sister,
 How came she thus disguis'd?
Theo. I'll tell you that too
 As I came on the self-same ground, so us'd too.
Phil. By the same man?
Theo. The same too.
Phil. As I live
 You lovers have fine fancies,
 Wonderous fine ones.
Theo. Pray heaven you never make one.
Phil. Faith I know not,
 But in that mind I am, I had rather cobble,
 'Tis a more Christian Trade; pray tell me one thing
 Are not you two now monstrous jealous
 Of one another?
Theo. She is much of me
 And has rayl'd at me most unmercifully
 And to my face, and o' my conscience
 Had she but known me, either she or I
 Or both, had parted with strange faces
 She was in such a fury.
Phil. Leocadia?
 Do's she speak handsomly?
Theo. Wondrous well Sir
 And all she do's becomes her, even her anger.
Phil. How seemed she when you found her?
Theo. Had you seen
 How sweetly fearful her pretty self
 Betray'd her self, how neat her sorrow show'd,
 And in what handsome phrase she put her story,
 And as occasion stirr'd her how she started
 Though roughly, yet most aptly into anger
 You would have wonder'd.
Phil. Do's she know ye?
Theo. No,
 Nor must not by no means.
Phil. How stands your difference?
Theo. I'll tell ye that some fitter time, but trust me
 My Mark-antonio has too much to answer.
Phil. May I take knowledge of her?
Theo. Yes she is willing.
Phil. Pray use her as she is, with all respects then,
 For she is a woman of a noble breeding.
Theo. Ye shall not find me wanting.
Phil. Which way bears she?
Theo. Our way, and to our end.
Phil. I am glad on't; hark ye,
 She keeps her shape? [Enter Leocadia.
Theo. Yes, and I think by this time
 Has mew'd her old.
Phil. She is here: by heaven a rare one,
 An admirable sweet one, what an eye
 Of what a full command she bears, how gracious
 All her aspect shows; bless me from a feaver
 I am not well o'th suddain.
Leoc. Noble friends
 Your meat and all my service waits upon ye.
Phil. Ye teach us manners Lady; all which service
 Must now be mine to you, and all too poor too;
 Blush not, we know ye, for by all our faiths
 With us your honor is in sanctuary
 And ever shall be.
Leoc. I do well believe it,
 Will ye walk nearer Sir. [Exit.
Theo. She shows still fairer,
 Yonger in every change, and clearer, neater;
 I know not, I may fool my self, and finely
 Nourish a wolfe to eat my heart out; certain
 As she appears now, she appears a wonder,
 A thing amazes me; what would she do then
 In womans helps, in ornaments apt for her
 And deckings to her delicacy? without all doubt
 She would be held a miracle; nor can I think
 He has forsaken her: Say what she please,
 I know his curious eye, or say he had,
 Put case he could be so boy-blind and foolish,
 Yet stil I fear she keeps the Contract with her
 Not stoln as she affirms, nor lost by negligence,
 She would loose her self first, 'tis her life, and there
 All my hopes are dispatch'd; O noble love
 That thou couldst be without this jealousie,
 Without this passion of the heart, how heavenly
 Wouldst thou appear unto us? Come what may come
 I'll see the end on't: and since chance has cast her
 Naked into my refuge, all I can
 She freely shall command, except the man. [Exit.

ScÆna Tertia.

Enter Leonardo, and Don Pedro.

Leon. Don Pedro do you think assuredly
 The Galleys will come round to Barcelona
 Within these two days?
Ped. Without doubt.
Leo. And think ye
 He will be with 'em certainly?
Ped. He is sir
 I saw him at their setting off.
Leo. Must they needs
 Touch there for water as you say?
Ped. They must sir
 And for fresh meat too, few or none go by it.
 Beside so great a Fleet must needs want trimming
 If they have met with fowl seas, and no harbor
 On this side Spain, is able without danger
 To moore 'em, but that haven.
Leo. Are the wars
 His only end?
Ped. So he professes.
Leo. Bears he
 Any command amongst 'em?
Ped. Good regard
 With all; which quickly will prefer him.
Leo. Pray Sir tell me,
 And as you are a Gentleman be liberal.
Ped. I will Sir, and most true.
Leo. Who saw ye with him?
Ped. None but things like himself; young Souldiers
 And Gentlemen desirous to seek honor.
Leo. Was there no woman there, nor none disguis'd
 That might be thought a woman in his language?
 Did he not let slip something of suspition
 Touching that wanton way.
Ped. Believe me Sir
 I neither saw, nor could suspect that face
 That might be doubted womans, yet I am sure
 Aboard him I see all that past, and 'tis impossible
 Among so many high set bloods there should be
 A woman, let her close her self within a cockle,
 But they would open her, he must not love
 Within that place alone, and therefore surely
 He would not be so foolish had he any,
 To trust her there; for his discourse, 'twas ever
 About his business, war, or mirth to make us
 Relish a Can of Wine well; when he spoke private
 'Twas only the remembrance of his service,
 And hope of your good prayers for his health Sir,
 And so I gave him to the seas.
Leo. I thank ye,
 And now am satisfied, and to prevent
 Suspitions that may nourish dangers Signior,
 For I have told you how the mad Alphonso
 Chafes like a Stag i'th toyl, and bends his fury
 'Gainst all but his own ignorance; I am determin'd
 For peace sake and the preservation
 Of my yet untoucht honor, and his cure
 My self to seek him there, and bring him back
 As testimony of an unsought injury
 By either of our actions; That the world,
 And he if he have reason, may see plainly
 Opinion is no perfect guide; nor all fames
 Founders of truths: In the mean time this courtesie
 I must intreat of you Sir, Be my self here
 And as my self command my family.
Ped. Ye lay too much trust on me.
Leo. 'Tis my love Sir,
 I will not be long from ye; if this question
 Chance to be call'd upon ere my return
 I leave your care to answer; so Farewell Sir.
Ped. Ye take a wise way; All my best endeavors
 Shall labor in your absence; peace go with ye. [Exit Le[o].
 A noble honest Gentleman, free hearted
 And of an open faith, much loving, and much loved,
 And father of that goodness only malice
 Can truly stir against, what dare befall
 Till his return I'll answer. [Exit Ped.

Enter Alphonso, and Servant.

Alph. Walk off Sirrah,
 But keep your self within my call.
Serv. I will Sir.
Alph. And stir my horse for taking cold: within there,
 Hoa people; you that dwell there my brave Signior
 What are ye all a sleep? is't that time with ye?
 I'll ring a little lowder.

Enter Pedro.

Ped. Sir who seek ye?
Alph. Not you Sir; Where's your Master?
Ped. I serve no man
 In way of pay Sir.
Alph. Where's the man o'th house then?
Ped. What would you have with him Sir?
Alph. Do you stand here Sir
 To ask men questions when they come?
Ped. I would sir
 Being his friend, and hearing such alarmes
 Know how men come to visit him.
Alph. Ye shall Sir,
 Pray tell his mightiness here is a Gentleman
 By name Alphonso, would intreat his conference
 About affairs of State Sir, are ye answer'd?

Enter Sanchio carried.

Ped. I must be Sir.
Sanch. Stay, set me down, stay Signior,
 You must stay, and ye shall stay.
Alph. Meaning me Sir?
Sanch. Yes you Sir, you I mean, I mean you.
Alph. Well Sir.
 Why should I stay?
Sanch. There's reason.
Alph. Reason Sir?
Sanch. I reason Sir
 My wrong is greatest, and I will be served first,
 Call out the man of fame!
Alph. How serv'd Sir?
Sanch. Thus sir.
Alph. But not before me.
Sanch. Before all the world sir
 As my case stands.
Alph. I have lost a daughter sir.
Sanch. I have lost another worth five score of her sir.
Alph. Ye must not tell me so.
San[c]h. I have, and heark ye?
 Make it up five score more: Call out the fellow,
 And stand you by sir.
Ped. This is the mad morriss.
Alph. And I stand by?
Sanch. I say stand by, and do it.
Alph. Stand by among thy lungs.
Sanch. Tu[r]n presently
 And say thy prayers, thou art dead.
Alph. I scorn thee
 And scorn to say my prayers more than thou do'st,
 Mine is the most wrong, and my daughter dearest
 And mine shall first be righted.
Sanch. Shall be righted.
Ped. A third may live I see, pray hear me Gentlemen.
Sanch. Shall be.
Alph. I, shall be righted.
Sanch. Now?
Alph. Now.
Sanch. Instantly.
Alph. Before I stir.
Sanch. Before me.
Alph. Before any.
Sanch. Dost thou consider what thou say'st? hast thou friends here
 Able to quench my anger, or perswade me
 After I have beaten thee into one main bruist
 And made thee spend thy state in rotten apples,
 Thou canst at length be quiet, shall I kill thee
 Divide thee like a rotten Pumpion,
 And leave thee stincking to posterity,
 There's not the least blow I shall give; but do's this
 Urge me no farther: I am first.
Alph. I'll hang first.
 No goodman glory, 'tis not your bravado's,
 Your punctual honor, nor soldadoship.
Sanch. Set me a little nearer.
Alph. Let him sally.
 [Lin'd] with your quircks of carriage and discretion
 Can blow me off my purpose. Where's your credit
 With all your school points now? your decent arguing
 And apt time for performing: where are these toys,
 These wise ways, and most honorable courses,
 To take revenge? how dar'st thou talk of killing,
 Or think of drawing any thing but squirts
 When letchery has dry found[e]d thee?
Sanch. Neerer yet,
 That I may spit him down: thou look'st like a man.
Ped. I would be thought so Sir.
Sanch. Prethee do but take me,
 And fling me upon that Puppy.
Alph. Do for heavens sake,
 And see but how I'll hug him.
San[c]h. Yet take warning.
Ped. Faith Gentlemen, this is a needless quarrel.
Sanch. And do you desire to make one?
Ped. As a friend Sir,
 To tell you all this anger is but lost Sir,
 For Leonardo is from home.
Alph. No, no Sir.
Ped. Indeed he is.
Sanch. Where dare he be, but here Sir,
 When men are wrong'd, and come for satisfactions.
Ped. It seems he has done none Sir; for his business
 Clear of those cares, hath carried him for sometime
 To Barcelona: if he had been guilty,
 I know he would have stayd, and clear'd all difference
 Either by free confession, or his sword.
Sanch. This must not be.
Ped. Sure as I live, it is Sir.
Alph. Sure, as we all live,
 He's run away for ever: Barcelona!
 Why? 'tis the key for Italy, from whence
 He stole first hither.
Sanch. And having found his knaveries
 Too gross to be forgiven, and too open,
 He has found the same way back again: I believe too
 The good grass Gentleman, for his own ease,
 Has taken one o'th' Fillyes: Is not his stuff sold.
Alph. I fear his worships shoos too; to escape us,
 I do not think he has a dish within doors,
 A louse left of his linnage.
Ped. Ye are too wide Sir.
Alph. Or one poor wooden spoon.
Ped. Come in and see Sir.
Alph. I'll see his house on fire first.
Ped. Then be pleased Sir
 To give better censure.
Sanch. I will after him,
 And search him like conceal'd land, but I'll have him,
 And though I find him in his shrift, I'll kill him.
Alph. I'll bear ye company.
Sanch. Pray have a care then,
 A most [especiall] care, indeed a fear,
 Ye do not anger me.
Alph. I will observe ye,
 And if I light upon him handsomly.
Sanch. Kill but a piece of him, leave some Alphonso
 For your poor Friends.
Ped. I fear him not for all this.
Alph. Shall we first go home,
 For it may prove a voyage, and dispose
 Of things there; heaven knows what may follow.
Sanch. No,
 I'll kill him in this shirt I have on: let things
 Govern themselves, I am master of my honor
 At this time, and no more; let wife, and land,
 Lie lay till I return.
Alph. I say amen to't:
 But what care for our monies?
Sanch. I will not spend
 Above three shillings, till his head be here,
 Four is too great a sum for all his Fortunes.
 Come take me up instantly.
Alph. Farewell to you Sir,
 And if your friend be in a featherbed,
 Sow'd up to shrowd his fears, tell him 'tis folly,
 For no course but his voluntary hanging
 Can get our pardons. [Exeunt.
Ped. These I think would be
 Offence enough, if their own indiscretions
 Would suffer 'em: two of the old seditious,
 When they want enemies, they are their own foes:
 Were they a little wiser, I should doubt 'em:
 Till when I'll ne'r break sleep, nor suffer hunger
 For any harm he shall receive: for 'tis as easie
 If he be guilty, to turn these two old men
 Upon their own throats, and look on, and live still,
 As 'tis to tell five pound: a great deal sooner,
 And so I'll to my meat, and then to hawking. [Exit.

Actus Quartus. ScÆna Prima.

Enter Mark-antonio, and a Gentleman.

En[t]er Eugenia, with divers Attendants.

To call me friend, let slip a hasty word?
 S'light Sir: yonder is a Lady va[il]d,
 For properness beyond comparison,
 And sure her face is like the rest: we'll see't.
Gent. Why? you are hasty Sir already: know you
 What 'tis you go about.
Marc. Yes, I would see
 The womans face.
Gent. By heaven you shall not do't:
 You do not know the custom of the place:
 To draw that curtain here, though she were mean,
 Is mortall.
Marc. Is it? earth must come to earth
 At last, and by my troth, I'll try it Sir.
Gent. Then I must hold you fast. By all the faith
 That can be plac'd in man, 'tis an attempt
 More dangerous than death, 'tis death and shame:
 I know the Lady well.
Marc. Is she a Lady?
 I shall the more desire to see her Sir.
Gent. She is Alanso's wife, the Governor,
 A noble Gentleman.
Marc. Then let me go,
 If I can win her, you and I will govern
 This Town Sir, fear it not, and we will alter
 These barbarous customs then; for every Lady
 Shall be seen daily, and seen over too.
Gent. Come, do not jest, nor let your passions bear you
 To such wild enterprises: hold you still,
 For as I have a soul, you shall not do't.
 She is a Lady of unblemish'd fame,
 And here to offer that affront, were base:
 Hold on your way, and we will see the Town,
 And overlook the Ladies.
Marc. I am school'd,
 And promise you I will: but good Sir, see,
 She will pass by us now; I hope I may
 Salute her thus far off.
Gent. 'S foot, are you mad?
 'Twill be as ill as th' other.
1 Attend. What's the matter?
 What would that fellow have?
Gent. Good Sir forbear.
1. Atten. It seems you are new landed: would you beg
 Any thing here?
Marc. Yes Sir, all happiness
 To that fair Lady, as I hope.
Gent. Mark-antonio.
Marc. Her face, which needs no hiding: I would beg
 A sight of.
Gent. Now go on, for 'tis too late
 To keep this from a tumult.
1. Attend. Sirrah, you
 Shall see a fitter object for your eyes,
 Then a fair Ladies face.
Eug. For heavens sake, raise not
 A quarrel in the streets for me.
1. Attend. Slip in then;
 This is your door.
Eug. Will you needs quarrel then?
1. Attend. We must, or suffer
 This outrage: is't not all your minds Sirs, speak?
All. Yes.
Eug. Then I do beseech ye, let my Lord

Enter three or four Souldiers.

Not think the quarrel about me; for 'tis not. [Exit.
Gent. See happily some of our Galley souldiers
 Are come ashoar.
1. Attend. Come on Sir, you shall see
 Faces enough.
Gent. Some one of you call to

Enter certain Townsmen.

Our General, the whole rore of the Town
 Comes in upon us.
Marc. I have seen Sir better
 Perhaps, than that was cover'd; and will yet

Enter Philippo, Theodosia, and Leocadia.

See that, or spoil yours.
Phil. On, why start you back?
Theo. Alass Sir, they are fighting.
Leoc. Let's begon,
 See, see, a handsome man strook down.
Gent. Ho General,
 Look out, Antonio is in distress.

Enter Rodorigo above.

Theo. Antonio.
Leoc. Antonio! 'tis he.
Rod. within. Ho, Gunner make a shot into the Town,
 I'll part you: bring away Antonio [a shot.
 Into my Cabben. [Exit Attendants and Townsmen.
Gent. I will do that office.
 I fear it is the last, that I shall do him.

[Exit Souldiers and Gentlemen with Marckantonio.

Theo. The last, why will he dye?
Leoc. Since I have found him: happiness leave me,
 When I leave him.
Phil. Why Theodosia?
 My sister; wake: alass, I griev'd but now
 To see the streets so full; and now I grieve
 To see them left so empty: I could wish,
 Tumult himself were here, that yet at least
 Amongst the band, I might espie some face
 So pale and fearful, that would willingly
 Embrace an arrand for a Cordial,
 Or AquavitÆ, or a cup of sack,
 Or a Physitian: but to talk of these
 She breaths: stand up, O Theodosia,
 Speak but as thou wert wont, give but a sigh,
 Which is but the most unhappy piece of life,
 And I will ever after worship sadness,
 Apply my self to grief; prepare and build
 Altars to sorrow.
Theo. O Philippo, help me.
Phil. I do; these are my arms, Philippo's arms,
 Thy Brothers arms that hold thee up.
Theo. You help me
 To life: but I would see Antonio
 That's dead.
Phil. Thou shalt see any thing; how dost thou?
Theo. Better, I thank you.
Phil. Why that's well: call up
 Thy senses, and uncloud thy cover'd spirits.
 How now?
Theo. Recover'd: but Antonio,
 Where is he?
Phil. We will find him: art thou well?
Theo. Perfectly well, saving the miss of him;
 And I do charge you here, by our allyance,
 And by the love which would have been betwixt us,
 Knew we no kindred; by that killing fear,
 Mingled with twenty thousand hopes and doubts,
 Which you may think, plac'd in a Lovers heart,
 And in a Virgins too, when she wants help,
 To grant me your assistance, to find out
 This man alive, or dead; and I will pay you
 In service, tears, or prayers, a world of wealth:
 But other treasure, I have none: alas!
 You men have strong hearts; but we feeble maids
 Have tender eyes, which only given be
 To blind themselves, crying for what they see.
Phil. Why do'st thou charge me thus? have I been found
 Slow to perform, what I could but imagine
 Thy wishes were; have I at any time
 Tender'd a business of mine own, beyond
 A vanity of thine? have I not been
 As if I were a sensless creature, made
 To serve thee without pow'r of questioning,
 If so, why fear'st thou?
Theo. I am satisfied.
Phil. Come; then let's go: where's Leocadia?
Theo. I know not Sir.
Phil. Where's Leocadia?
Theo. I do not know.
Phil. Leocadia,
 This Tumult made the streets as dead as night,
 A man may talk as freely: what's become
 Of Leocadia?
Theo. She's run away.
Phil. Begone, and let us never more behold
 Each others face, till we may, both together,
 Fasten our eyes on her: accursed be
 Those tender cozening names of charity,
 And natural affection, they have lost
 Me only by observing them, what cost
 Travel, and fruitless wishes may in vain
 Search through the world, but never find again.
Theo. Good Sir be patient, I have done no fault
 Worthy this banishment.
Phil. Yes Leocadia,
 The Lady so distress'd, who was content
 To lay her story, and to lay her heart
 As open as her story to your self,
 Who was content, that I should know her Sex,
 Before dissembl'd and to put her self
 Into my conduct, whom I undertook
 Safely to guard, is in this Tumult lost.
Theo. And can I help it Sir?
Phil. No, would thou couldst,
 You might have done, but for that zeald religion
 You women bear to swownings, you do pick
 Your times to faint when some body is by:
 Bound or by nature, or by love, or service
 To raise you from that well dissembled death:
 Inform me but of one that has been found
 Dead in her private chamber by her self,
 Where sickness would no more forbear, than here,
 And I will quit the rest for her.
Theo. I know not
 What they may do, and how they may dissemble;
 But by my troth, I did not.
Phil. By my troth,
 Would I had try'd; would I had let thee layn,
 And followed her.
Theo. I would you had done so
 Rather, than been so angry: where's Antonio?
Phil. Why do'st thou vex me with these questions?
 I'll tell thee where, he's carried to the Galleys,
 There to be chain'd, and row, and beat, and row
 With knotted ropes, and pizzels; if he swound,
 He has a dose of bisket.
Theo. I am glad
 He is alive.
Phil. Was ever man thus troubled,
 Tell me where Leocadia is?
Theo. Good brother be not so hasty, and I think I can:
 You found no error in me, when I first
 Told you she was a woman, and believe me
 Something I have found out, which makes me think,
 Nay, almost know so well, that I durst swear
 She follow'd hurt Antonio.
Phil. What do we

Enter the Governor, two Attendants, and the Townsmen.

Then lingring here; we will aboard the Galleys
 And find her.
Gov. Made he a shot into the Town?
1. Attend. He did Sir.
Gov. Call back those Gentlemen.
1. Attend. The Governor, commands you back.
Phil. We will obey him Sir.
Gov. You gave him cause to shoot; I know, he is
 So far from rash offence, and holds with me
 Such curious friendship: could not one of you
 Have call'd me while 'twas doing, such an uproar,
 Before my dore too?
1. Towns. By my troth Sir, we were so busy in the publick cause, of our own
 Private falling out: that we forgot it: at home we see now
 You were not, but as soon as the shot made us fly, we ran
 Away as fast as we could to seek your honor.
Gov. 'Twas gravely done; but no man tells the cause
 Or chance, or what it was that made you differ.
1. Towns. For my part Sir, if there were any that I knew
 Of, the shot drove it out of my head, do you know any neighbours?
All. Not we, not we.
Gov. Not we! nor can you tell.
1. Attend. No other cause,
 But the old quarrel betwixt the Town and the Galleys.
Gov. Come nearer Gentlemen: what are your names?
Phil. My name Philippo.
Theo. And mine Theodoro.
Gov. Strangers you are it seems.
Phil. Newly arriv'd.
Gov. Then you are they begun this Tumult.
Phil. No Sir.
[G]ov. Speak one of you.
1. Attend. They are not, I can quit 'em.
Theo. Yet we saw part, and an unhappy part
 Of this debate, a long sought friend of ours
 Strook down for dead, and born unto the Galleys,
 His name is Mark-antonio.
Phil. And another
 Of our company, a Gentleman
 Of noble birth, besides accompanyed
 With all the gifts of nature, ravish'd hence
 We know not how, in this dissention.
Gov. Get you home all, and work; and when I hear
 You meddle with a weapon any more
 But those belonging to your Trades, I'll lay you
 Where your best Customers shall hardly find you. [Exit Townsmen.
 I am sorry gentlemen, I troubled you,
 Being both strangers, by your tongues, and looks,
 Of worth: To make ye some part of amends
 If there be any thing in this poor Town
 Of Barcelona that you would command,
 Command me.
Theo. Sir, this wounded Gentleman,
 If it might please you, if your pow'r and love
 Extend so far, I would be glad to wish
 Might be remov'd into the Town for cure:
 The Galleys stay not, and his wound I know
 Cannot endure a voyage.
Gov. Sir, he shall,
 I warrant you: Go call me hither Sirrah,
 One of my other Servants. [Exit 1. attendan[t].
Phil. And besides.
 The Gentleman we lost, Signior Francisco,
 Shall be render'd too.

Enter a Servant.

Gover. And he Sir too: Go sirrah, bear this ring
 To Roderigo, my most noble friend,
 The General of the Galleys: Tell him this. [Exit servant.

Whispers to his Servant.

Theo. Now we shall have 'em both.
Phil. Blest be thy thoughts
 For apprehending this: blest be thy breath
 For uttering it.
Gov. Come Gentlemen, you shall
 Enter my roof: and I will send for Surgeons,
 And you shall see your friends here presently.
Theo. His name was Mark-antonio.
Gover. I know it,
 And have sent word so.
Phil. Did you not forget
 Francisco's name?
Gover. Nor his: y'are truly welcome,
 To talk about it more, were but to say
 The same word often over: you are welcome. [Exeunt.

ScÆna Secunda.

Enter Mark-antonio, carried, Leocadia following; and the Servant. 2 Soldiers carrying him.

Serv. This is the house Sir.
Mar. Enter it, I pray you,
 For I am faint, although I think my wound
 Be nothing. Soldiers, leave us now: I thank you.
1. Sold. Heaven send you health Sir.
Serv. Let me lead you in.
Mark. My wound's not in my feet; I shall entreat 'em
 I hope to bear me so far. [Exit.
2. Sold. How seriously these land men fled, when our General made a
 Shot, as if he had been a warning to call 'em to their Hall.
1. Sold. I cannot blame 'em, What man have they now in the
 Town, able to maintain a Tumult, or uphold a matter out
 Of square if need be? O the quiet hurley burleys that I
 Have seen in this Town, when we have fought four hours
 Together, and not a man amongst us so impertinent or
 Modest to ask why? but now the pillars that bare
 Up this blessed Town in that regular debate, and
 Scambling, are dead, the more's the pitty.
2. Sold. Old Ignatio lives still.
1. Sold. Yes, I know him: he will do prettily well at a mans liver:
 But where is there any man now living in the Town
 That hath a steady hand, and understands Anatomy
 Well? if it come to a particular matter of the lungs,
 Or the spleen, why? alas Ignatio is to seek; are
 There any such men left as I have known, that
 Would say they would hit you in this place? is there
 Ever a good heartist, or a member-percer, or a
 Small-gut man left in the Town, answer
 Me that?
2. Sold. Mass, I think there be not.
1. Sold. No, I warrant thee. Come, come, 'tis time
 We were at the Galleys. [Exeunt.

Enter Governor, Eugenia, Mark-antonio, Philippo, Theodosia, Leocadia, Attendants.

Gover. Sir, you may know by what I said already,
 You may command my house; but I must beg
 Pardon to leave you, if the publick business
 Forc'd me not from you, I my self should call it
 Unmannerly: but good Sir, do you give it
 A milder name: it shall not be an hour
 Ere I return.
Mar[c]. Sir, I was nere so poor
 In my own thoughts, as that I want a means
 To requite this with.
Gov. Sir, within this hour. [Exit.
Marc. This the Lady that I quarrell'd for?
 O lust if wounds cannot restrain thy power,
 Let shame: nor do I feel my hurt at all,
 Nor is it ought, only I was well beaten:
 If I pursue it, all the civil world
 That ever did imagine the content
 Found in the band of man and wife unbroke,
 The reverence due to housholds, or the blemish
 That may be stuck upon posterity
 Will catch me, bind me, burn upon my forehead,
 This is the wounded stranger, that receiv'd
 For charity into a house, attempted—
 I will not do it.
Eug. Sir, how do you do now?
 That you walk off.
Marc. Worse Madam, than I was;
 But it will over.
Eug. Sit, and rest a while.
Marc. Where are the Surgeons?
Eug. Sir, it is their manner,
 When they have seen the wound especially,
 The patient being of worth, to go consult,
 Which they are now at in another room,
 About the dressing.
Marc. Madam, I do feel my self not well.
Theo. Alass!
Leoc. How do you Sir.
Eug. Will you drink waters?
Marc. No good Madam, 'tis not
 So violent upon me; nor I think
 Any thing dangerous: but yet there are
 Some things that sit so heavy on my conscience,
 That will perplex my mind, and stop my cure,
 So that unless I utter 'em. A scratch
 Here on my thumb will kill me: Gentlemen,
 I pray you leave the room, and come not in
 Your selves, or any other till I have
 Open'd my self to this most honour'd Lady.
Phil. We will not.
Theo. O blest! he will discover now
 His love to me.
Leoc. Now he will tell the Lady
 Our Contract. [Exit.
Eug. I do believe he will confess to me
 The wrong he did a Lady in the streets;
 But I forgive him.
Marc. Madam, I perceive
 My self grow worse and worse.
Eug. Shall I call back your friends?
Marc. O no, but e'r I do impart
 What burthens me so sore, let me intreat you,
 (For there is no trust in these Surgeons)
 To look upon my wound; it is perhaps
 My last request: But tell me truely too,
 That must be in: how far do you imagine
 It will have pow'r upon me.
Eug. Sir, I will.
Marc. For heavens sake, softly: oh, I must needs lay
 My head down easily, whilst you do it.
Eug. Do Sir,
 'Tis but an ordinary blow; a child
 Of mine has had a greater, and been well;
 Are you faint hearted?
Marc. Oh.
Eug. Why do you sigh?
 There is no danger in the world in this;
 I wonder it should make a man sit down;
 What do you mean, why do you kiss my breasts?
 Lift up your head, your wound, may well endure it.
Mar. O Madam, may I not express affection,
 Dying-affection too I fear, to those
 That do me favors, such as this of yours.
Eug. If you mean so, 'tis well; but what's the business
 Lies on your conscience?
Mar. I will tell you Madam.
Eug. Tell me and laugh?
Mar. But I will tell you true
 Though I do laugh, I know as well as you
 My wound is nothing, nor the power of earth
 Could lay a wound upon me in your presence,
 That I could feel; but I do laugh to think
 How covertly, how far beyond the reach
 Of men, and wise men too, we shall deceive 'em,
 Whilst they imagine I am talking here
 With that short breath I have, ready to swound
 At every full point; you my ghostly Mother
 To hear my sad confession, you and I
 Will on that bed within, prepar'd for me,
 Debate the matter privately.
Eug. Forbear,
 Thou wert but now as welcome to this house
 As certain cures to sick men, and just now
 This sudain alteration makes thee look
 Like plagues come to infect it; if thou knewst
 How loathsome thou wilt be, thou wouldst intreat
 These wals, or posts to help thee to a hurt,
 Past thy d[i]ssimulation.
Mar. Gentle Madam
 Call 'em not in?
Eug. I will not yet, this place
 I know to be within the reach of tongue,
 And ears, thou canst not force me; therefore hear me
 What I will tell thee quickly, thou art born
 To end some way more disesteem'd than this,
 Or which is worse, to dye of this hurt yet.
 Come Gentlemen.

Enter Leocadia.

Mar. Good Madam.
Eug. Gentlemen.
Leoc. Madam how is't? is Mark-antonio well?
 Methinks your looks are alter'd, and I see
 A strange distemper in you.
Eug. I am wrought
 By that dissembling man, that fellow worth
 Nothing but kicking.

Enter Philippo and Theodosia.

Leo. Gentle Madam speak
 To me alone let not them understand
 His fault, he will repent [it] I dare swear.
Eug. I'll tell it you in private.
Phil. Mark-antonio,
 How do you?
Mar. Stand farther off I pray you
 Give me some ayre.
Theo. Good Brother, will he scape,
 The Surgeons say there is no danger.
Phil. Scape?
 No doubt he will.
Leo. Alas will he not leave
 This trying all; Madam, I do beseech you
 Let me but speak to him, you and these by,
 And I dare almost promise you to make him
 Shew himself truly sorrowful to you, besides a story I shall open to you,
 Not put in so good words but in it self
 So full of chance, that you will easily
 Forgive my tediousness, and be well pleas'd
 With that so much afflicts me.
Eug. Good Sir do.
Leo. And I desire no interruption
 Of speech may trouble me till I have said
 What I will quickly do.
Theo. What will she say.
Eug. Come Gentlemen, I pray you lend your ears,
 And keep your voyces.
Leo. Signior Mark-antonio
 How do you do?
Mar. Oh the Surgeons.
Leoc. Let me tell you
 Who know as well as you, you do dissemble,
 It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts
 Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood,
 And make your spirit an untroubled way
 To pass to what it ought.
Mar. Y're not in earnest?
 Why I can walk Sir, and am well.
Leoc. 'Tis true
 That you can walk, and do believe y're well:
 It is the nature, as your Surgeons say
 Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk,
 Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute:
 For heaven sake Sir, sit down again.
Mar. Alass
 Where are the Surgeons?
Leoc. Sir, they will not come,
 If they should dress you, you would dye they say
 Ere one would tell twenty; trouble not your mind,
 Keep your head warm, and do not stir your body,
 And you may live an hour.
Mar. Oh heavens, an hour?
 Alass, it is to[o] little t[o] remember
 But half the wrongs that I have done; how short
 Then for contrition, and how least of all
 For satisfaction?
Leo. But you desire
 To satisfie?
Mar. Heaven knows I do.
Leo. Then know
 That I am he, or she, or what you will
 Most wrong'd by you; your Leocadia,
 I know you must remember me.
Mar. Oh heaven!
Le[o]. That lost her friends, that lost her fathers house,
 That lost her fame in loosing of her Sex,
 With these strange garments, there is no excuse
 To hinder me, it is within your power
 To give me satisfaction; you have time
 Left in this little piece of life to do it:
 Therefore I charge you for your conscience sake,
 And for our fame, which I would fain have live
 When both of us are dead, to celebrate
 That Contract; which you have both seal'd and sworn
 Yet ere you dye, which must be hastily
 Heaven knows.
Mar. Alass, the sting of conscience
 To death-ward for our faults; draw nearer all
 And hear what I unhappy man shall say;
 First Madam I desire your pardon; next
 (I feel my spirits fail me) Gentlemen
 Let me shake hands with you, and let's be friends,
 For I have done wrong upon wrong so thick
 I know not where, that every man methinks
 Should be mine enemy; Forgive me both.
 Lastly 'tis true (oh I do feel the power
 Of death seize on me) that I was contracted
 By seal and oath to Leocadia;
 (I must speak fast, because I fear my life
 Will else be shorter than my speech would be)
 But 'tis impossible to satisfie
 You Leocadia, but by repentance,
 Though I can dyingly, and boldly say
 I know not your dishonor, yet that was
 Your virtue, and not mine, you know it well;
 But herein lies th' impossibility,
 O Theodosia, Theodosia
 I was betroth'd to Theodosia
 Before I ever saw thee; heaven forgive me
 She is my wife this half hour whilst I live.
Theo. That's I, that's I, I'm Theodosia,
 Hear me a little now, who have not suffer'd
 Disgrace at all methinks, since you confess
 What I so long have sought for, here is with me
 Philippo too my Brother.
Mar. I am glad;
 All happiness to him; come let me kiss thee
 Beg pardon of that Maid for my offence,
 And let me farther, with a dying breath
 Tell in thine ear the rest of my desires.
Eug. I am afraid they will all four turn women
 If we hold longer talk.
Leoc. Alass there is
 No hope for me; that's Theodosia
 And that her Brother, I am only sorry
 I was beholding to 'em; I will search
 Over the world, as careless of my fortunes,
 As they of me, till I can meet a curse
 To make these almost killing-sorrows worse. [Exit.
Theo. Sir, as I live she ly'd, only to draw
 A just confession from you, which she hath
 A happy one for me, ask of this Lady,
 Ask of my Brother.
Eug. Sir, she did dissemble,
 Your wound is nothing.
Phil. Leocadia's gone. [Exit.
Theo. Rise up, and stir your self, 'tis but amazement
 And your imagination that afflicts you,
 Look you Sir now.
Mar. I think 'tis so indeed.
Theo. The Surgeons do not come, because they swear
 It needs no dressing.
Eug. You shall talk with 'em
 Within, for your own fancy.
Mar. Where's your Brother, and Leocadia?
Eug. Within belike.
Mar. I feel my self methinks as well as ever.
Eug. Keep then your mind so too; I do forgive
 The fault you did to me; But here is one
 Must not be wrong'd hereafter.
Mar. Neither shall she
 When I make jests of oaths again, or make
 My lust play with religion, when I leave
 To keep true joys for her, and yet within
 My self true sorrow for my passed deeds
 May I want grace, when I would fain repent,
 And find a great and sodain punishment. [Exeunt.

Actus V. ScÆna Prima.

Enter Philippo, Diego, and Incubo.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. Dear Leocadia, where canst thou be fled
 Thus like a spirit hence? and in a moment?
 What cloud can hide thee from my following search
 If yet thou art a body? sure she hath not
 Tane any house? she did too late leave one
 Where all humanity of a place receiv'd her,
 And would, (if she had staid) have help'd to right
 The wrong her fortune did her; yet she must
 Be [inter'd] somewhere, or be found, no street,
 Lane, passage, corner, turn, hath scap'd enquiry:
 If her despair had ravish'd her to air
 She could not yet be ratified so
 But some of us should meet her? though their eyes
 Perhaps be leaden, and might turn; mine would
 Strike out a lightning for her, and divide
 A mist as thick as ever darkness was,
 Nay see her through a quarry; they do lye,
 Lye grosly that say love is blind; by him,
 And heaven they lye; he has a sight can pierce
 Through Ivory, as cleer as it were horn,
 And reach his object.

Enter Incubo.

Inc. Sir, he's found, he's found.
Phi. Ha? where? But reach that happy Note again
 And let it relish truth, thou art an Angel.
Inc. He's here; fast by Sir, calling for a Boat
 To go aboard the Gallies.
Phi. Where, where; hold thee. [Exit.
Inc. He might ha' kept this now, I had nought to shew for't,
 If he had had the wit t' have gone from's word,
 These direct men, they are no men of fashion,
 Talk what you will, this is a very smelt. [Exit.

ScÆna Tertia.

Enter Leonardo with a Surgeon.

Leo. Upon your Art Sir, and your faith to assist it
 Shall I believe you then his wound's not mortal?
Surg. Sir, 'tis not worth your question; less your fear.
Leo. You doe restore me Sir, I pray you accept
 This small remembrance of a fathers thanks
 For so assur'd a benefit.
Surg. Excuse me.
Leo. Sir, I can spare it, and must not believe
 But that your fortune may receiv't, except
 You'ld ha' me think you live not by your practice.
Sur. I crave your pardon Sir; you teach me manners.
Leo. I crave your love and friendship, and require
 As I have made now, both my self and business
 A portion of your care, you will but bring me
 Under the person of a call'd assistant
 To his next opening, where I may but see him,
 And utter a few words to him in private,
 And you will merit me; for I am loth
 Since here I have not to appear my self,
 Or to be known unto the Governor,
 Or make a tumult of my purpose.
Surg. Neither
 I hope will be your need Sir; I shall bring you
 Both there, and off again without the hazard. [Exeunt.

ScÆna Quarta.

Enter Philippo, and Leocadia.

Ph. Will you not hear me!
Leo. I have heard so much
 Will keep me deaf for ever; No, Mark-antonio
 After thy sentence, I may hear no more,
 Thou hast pronounc'd me dead.
Phi. Appeal to reason,
 She will reprieve you from the power of grief,
 Which rules but in her absence; Hear me say
 A soveraign message from her, which in duty,
 And love to your own safety, you ought hear:
 Why do you strive so? whither would you flie?
 You cannot wrest your self away from care
 You may from counsel; you may shift your place
 But not your person; and another Clyme
 Makes you no other.
Leo. Oh.
Phi. For passions sake,
 (Which I do serve, honor, and love in you)
 If you will sigh, sigh here; If you would vary
 A sigh to tears, or out-cry, do it here.
 No shade, no desart, darkness, nor the grave
 Shall be more equal to your thoughts than I,
 Only but hear me speak.
Leo. What would you say?
Phi. That which shall raise your heart, or pull down mine,
 Quiet your passion, or provoke mine own;
 We must have both one balsome, or one wound,
 For know (lov'd fair) since the first providence
 Made me your rescue, I have read you through,
 And with a wondring pity look'd on you,
 I have observ'd the method of your blood,
 And waited on it even with sympathy
 Of a like Red, and Paleness in mine own;
 I knew which blush was angers, which was loves,
 Which was the eye of sorrow, which of truth:
 And could distinguish honor from disdain
 In every change: and you are worth my study;
 I saw your voluntary misery
 Sustain'd in travel: A disguis'd Maid
 Wearied with seeking: and with finding lost,
 Neglected, where you hop'd most, or put by;
 I saw it, and have laid it to my heart,
 And though it were my Sister which was righted,
 Yet being by your wrong, I put off nature,
 Could not be glad, where I [was] bound to triumph;
 My care for you, so drown'd respect of her;
 Nor did I only apprehend your bonds,
 But studied your release: and for that day
 Have I made up a ransom, brought [you] health
 Preservative 'gainst chance, or injury
 Please you apply it to the grief; my self.
Leo. Humph.
Phi. Nay, do not think me less than such a cure,
 Antonio was not; And 'tis possible
 Philippo may succeed: My bloud and house
 Are as deep rooted: and as fairly spread,
 As Mark-antonio['s], and in that, all seek,
 Fortune hath given him no precedency:
 As for our thanks to Nature I may burn
 Incense as much as he; I ever durst
 Walk with Antonio by the self-same light
 At any feast, or triumph, and ne'r car'd
 Which side my Lady or her woman took
 In their survey; I durst have told my tale too
 Though his discourse new ended.
Leo. My repulse.
Phil. Let not that torture you, w[h]ich makes me happy
 Nor think that conscience (fair) which is no shame
 'Twas no repulse, [I] was your Dowry rather:
 For then methought a thousand graces met
 To make you lovely, and ten thousand stories
 Of constant virtue, which you then out-reach'd,
 In one example did proclaim you rich:
 Nor do I think you wretched, or disgrac'd,
 After this suffering, and do therefore take
 Advantage of your need; but rather know
 You are the charge and business of those powers,
 Who, like best Tutors, do inflict hard tasks
 Upon great Natures, and of noblest hopes;
 Read trivial Lessons, and halfe lines to sluggs;
 They that live long, and never feel mischance,
 Spend more than halfe their age in ignorance.
Leo. 'Tis well you think so.
Phi. You shall think so too,
 You shall sweet Leocadia, and do so.
Leo. Good Sir no more; you have too fair a shape
 To play so foul a part in, as the Tempter:
 Say that I [could] make peace with fortune, who,
 Who should absolve me of my vow yet; ha?
 My Contract made?
Phi. Your Contract?
Leo. Yes, my Contract,
 Am I not his? his wife?
Phi. Sweet, nothing less.
Leo. I have no name then?
Phi. Truly then you have not;
 How can you be his wife, who was before
 Anothers Husband?
Leo. Oh, though he dispence
 With his faith given, I cannot with mine.
Phi. You do mistake (cleer soul) his precontract
 Doth annul yours, and you have giv'n no faith
 That ties you in Religion, or humanity,
 You rather sin against that greater precept,
 To covet what's anothers; Sweet, you do
 Believe me, who dare not urge dishonest things,
 Remove that scruple therefore, and but take
 Your dangers now, into your judgements skale
 And weigh them with your safeties: Think but whither
 Now you can goe: what you can do to live?
 How near you ha' barr'd all Ports [to] your own succor,
 Except this one that I here open: Love
 Should you be left alone, you were a prey
 To the wild lust of any, who would look
 Upon this shape like a temptation
 And think you want the man you personate
 Would not regard this shift, which love put on
 As virtue forc'd, but covet it like vice;
 So should you live the slander of each Sex,
 And be the child of error and of shame,
 And which is worse, even Mark-antonie
 Would be call'd just, to turn a wanderer off,
 And Fame report you worthy his contempt;
 Where if you make new choice, and settle here
 There is no further tumult in this flood,
 Each current keeps his course, and all suspitions
 Shall return honors: Came you forth a Maid?
 Go home a Wife? alone? and in disguise?
 Go home a waited Leocadia:
 Go home, and by the vir[t]ue of that charm
 Transform all mischiefs, as you are transform'd;
 Turn your offended Fathers wrath to wonder,
 A[n]d all his loud grief to a silent welcome:
 Unfold the Riddles you have made, what say you?

Enter Sanchio carried, Alphonso, and Servants.

Now is the time; delay is but despair,
 If you be chang'd, let a kiss tell me so.
Leo. I am: but how, I rather feel than know.
Sanc. Come Sir; you are welcome now to Barcelona,
 Take off my hood.
Phi. Who be these? stay, let's view 'em?
Alph. 'Twas a long journey: are you not weary Sir?
Sanc. Weary? I could have rid it in mine Armour.
Leo. Alas!
Phi. What ail you dear?
Leo. It is my Father.
Phi. Your Father: which?
Leo. He that is carried: oh
 Let us make hence.
Phi. For loves sake: good my heart.
Leo. Into some house before he see me.
Phi. Dear,
 Be not thus frighted.
Leo. Oh his wrath is tempest.
Phi. Sweet, take your spirit to you, and stay, be't he,
 He cannot know you in this habit, and me
 I'm sure he less knows, for he never saw me.
Alph. Ha? who is that? my Son Philippo?
Phi. Sir.
Alph. Why, what make you here? Is this Salamanca?
 And that your study? ha? nay stay him too,
 We'll see him by his leave.
Serv. You must not strive Sir.
Alph. No, no, come near.
Sanc. My Daughter: Leocadia?
Alph. How Sir, your Daughter?
Sanc. Yes Sir, and as sure
 As that's your Son: Come hither: what now? run
 Out o' your sex? breech'd? was't not enough
 At once to leave thy Father, and thine honor,
 Unless th' hadst quit thy self too.
Phi. Sir, what fault
 She can be urg'd of, I must take on me
 The guilt and punishment.
Sanc. You must Sir: how
 If you shall not, though you must? I deal not
 With boys Sir; I, you have a Father here
 Shall do me right.
Alph. Thou art not mad Philippo?
 Art thou Mark-antonie? Son to Leonardo?
 Our business is to them.
Sanc. No, no, no, no.
 I'll ha' the business now; with you, none else,
 Pray you let's speak, in private: (carry me to him)
 Your Son's the ravisher Sir, and here I find him:
 I hope you'll give me cause to think you noble,
 And do me right, with your sword Sir, as becomes
 One gentleman of honor to another;
 All this is fair Sir: here's the Sea fast by,
 Upon the sands, we will determine
 'Tis that I call you to; let's make no daies on't,
 I'll lead your way; to the sea-side Rascals.
Phil. Sir
 I would beseech your stay; he may not follow you.
San. No, turn, I'll kill him here then: Slaves, Rogues, Bloks.
 Why do you not bear me to him? ha' you been
 Acquainted with my motions, loggs, so long
 And yet not know to time 'em.
Phi. Were you Sir
 Not impotent.
Alph. Hold you your peace Boy.
Sanc. Impotent,
 'Death, I'll cut his throat first, and then his Fathers.
Alph. You must provide you then a sharper Razor
 Than is your tongue, for I not fear your sword.
Sanc. 'Heart bear me to either of 'em.
Phi. Pray Sir your patience.

Enter Governor and Attendants.

Alph. My curse light on thee if thou stay him.
Phi. Hold.
Gov. Why, what's the matter, Gentlemen, what tumult
 Is this you raise i'th' street? before my door?
 Know you what 'tis to draw a weapon here?
Sanc. Yes, and to use it (bear me up to him, Rogues)
 Thus, at a Traitors heart.
Alph. Truer than thine.
Gov. Strike, strike; Some of the people disarm 'em,
 Kill 'em if they resist.
Phi. Nay generous Sir
 Let not your courtesie turn fury now.
Gov. Lay hold upon 'em, take away their weapons,
 I will be worth an answer, e'r we part.
Phi. 'Tis the Governor Sir.
Alph. I yield my self.
Sanch. My Sword? what thinkst thou of me? pray thee tell me.
1 Attend. As of a Gentleman.
Sanch. No more?
1 Attend. Of worth,
 And quality.
Sanch. And I should quit my sword
 There were small worth or quality in that friend;
 Pray thee learn thou more worth and quality
 Than to demand it.
Gov. Force it I say.
1 Attend. The Governor
 You hear, commands.
Sanch. The Governr shall pardon me.
Phi. How, Leocadia gone again? [Exit Phi.
Sanch. He shall friend
 I' th' point of honor; by his leave, so tell him,
 His person and authority I acknowledge,
 And do submit me to it; but my Sword,
 He shall excuse me, were he fifteen Governors;
 That and I dwell together, and must yet
 Till my hands part, assure him.
Gov. I say force it.
Sanch. Stay, hear me. Hast thou ever read Caranza?
 Understandst thou honor, Noble Governor?
Gov. For that we'll have more fit dispute.
Sanch. Your name Sir?
Gov. You shall know that too: but on colder terms,
 Your blood and brain are now too hot to take it.
Sanch. Force my Sword from me? this is an affront.
Gov. Bring 'em away.
Sanch. You'll do me reparation. [Exeunt.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. I have for ever lost her, and am lost,
 And worthily: my lameness hath undone me;
 She's gone hence, asham'd of me: yet I seek her.
 Will she be ever found to me again,
 Whom she saw stand so poorly, and dare nothing
 In her defence, here? when I should have drawn
 This Sword out like a Meteor, and have shot it
 In both our Parents eies, and left 'em blind
 Unto their impotent angers? Oh I am worthy
 On whom this loss and scorn should light to death
 Without the pity that should wish me better,
 Either alive, or in my Epitaph.

Enter Leonardo, Mark-Antonio.

Leo. Well Son, your Father is too near himself
 And hath too much of nature to put off
 Any affection that belongs to you,
 I could have only wish'd you had acquainted
 Her Father, whom it equally concerns,
 Though y'had presum'd on me: it might have open'd
 An easier gate, and path to both our joyes:
 For though I am none of those flinty Fathers
 That when their children do but natural things,
 Turn rock and offence straight: yet Mark-antonio,
 All are not of my quarry.
Mar. 'Tis my fear Sir;
 And if hereafter I should e'r abuse
 So great a piety, it were my malice.

Enter Attendants.

Atten. We must intreat you Gentlemen to take
 Another room, the Governor is coming
 Here, on some business.

Enter Governor, Sanchio, Alphonso. Attendants.

Mar. We will give him way.
Sanch. I will have right Sir on you; that believe,
 If there be any Marshals Court in Spain.
Gov. For that Sir we shall talk.
Sanch. —— Do not slight me,
 Though I am without a Sword.
Gov. Keep to your Chair Sir.
Sanch. —— Let me fall, and hurle my chair! (slaves) at him.
Gov. You are the more temper'd man Sir: let me intreat
 Of you the manner how this brawl fell out.
Alph. Fell out? I know not how: nor do I care much:
 But here we came Sir to this Town together,
 Both in one business, and one wrong, engag'd,
 To seek one Leonardo, an old Genoese,
 I ha' said enough there; would you more? false father
 Of a false son, call'd Mark-antonio,
 Who had stole both our Daughters; and which Father
 Conspiring with his Son in treachery,
 It seem'd, to flie our satisfaction,
 Was, as we heard, come private to this Town
 Here to take ship for Italy.
Leo. You heard
 More than was true then: by the fear, or falshood,
 And though I thought not to reveal my self
 (Pardon my manners in't to you) for some
 Important reasons; yet being thus character'd
 And challeng'd, know I dare appear, and doe
 To who dares threaten.
Mar. I say he is not worthy
 The name of man, or any honest preface,
 That dares report or credit such a slander.
 Do you Sir say it?
Alph. I doe say it.
Gov. Hold.
 Is this your father Signior Mark-antonio?
 You have ill requited me thus to conceal him
 From him would honor him, and do him service.

Enter Eugenia.

Leon. 'Twas not his fault Sir.
Eug. Where's my Lord?
Gov. Sweet-heart.
Eug. Know you these Gentlemen? they are all the fathers
 Unto our friends.
Gov. So it appears my Dove.
Sanch. Sir, I say nothing: I do want a Sword.
 And till I have a Sword I will say nothing.
Eug. Good Sir, command these Gentlemen their Arms;
 Entreat 'em as your friends, not as your prisoners.
 Where be their Swords?
Gov. Restore each man his weapon.
Sanch. It seems thou hast not read Caranza, fellow
 I must have reparation of honor,
 As well as this: I find that wounded.
Gov. Sir,
 I did not know your quality, if I had
 'Tis like I should have done you more respects.
Sanch. It is sufficient, by Caranza's rule.
Eug. I know it is Sir.
Sanch. Have you read Caranza Lady?
Eug. If you mean him that writ upon the Duel,
 He was my kinsman.
Sanch. Lady, then you know
 By the right noble writings of your kinsman,
 My honor is as dear to me, as the Kings.
Eug. 'Tis very true Sir.
Sanch. Therefore [I] must crave
 Leave to go on now with my first dependance.
Eug. What ha' you more?
Gov. None here good Signior.
Sanch. I will, refer me to Caranza still.
Eug. Nay love, I prethee let me manage this.
 With whom is't Sir?
Sanch. With that false man Alphonso.
Eug. Why he has th' advantage Sir, in legs.
Sanch. But I
 In truth, in hand and heart, and a good Sword.
Eug. But how if he will not stand you Sir?
Alph. For that,
 Make it no question Lady, I will stick
 My feet in earth down by him, where he dare.
Sanch. O would thou wouldst.
Alph. I'll do't.
Sanch. Let me kiss him.
 I fear thou wilt not yet.
Eug. Why Gentlemen,
 If you'll proceed according to Caranza,
 Methinks an easier way, were [two] good chairs,
 So you would be content Sir, to be bound,
 'Cause he is lame? I'll fit you with like weapons,
 Pistols and Ponyards, and ev'n end it. If
 The difference between you be so mortal,
 It cannot be tane up.
Sanch. Tane up? take off
 This head first.
Alph. Come bind me in a chair.
Eug. Yes, do.
Gait. What mean you, Dove.
Eug. Let me alone,
 And set 'em at their distance: when you ha' done
 Lend me two Ponyards; I'll have Pistols ready
 Quickly. [Exit.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. She is not here Mark-antonio,
 Saw you not Leocadia?
Mar. Not I brother.
Phi. Brother let's speak with you; you were false unto her.
Mar. I was, but have ask'd pardon: why do you urge it?
Phi. You were not worthy of her.
Mar. May be I was not;
 But 'tis not well, you tell me so.
Phi. My Sister
 Is not so fair.
Mar. It skils not.
Phi. Nor so virtuous.
Mar. Yes, she must be as virtuous.
Phi. I would fain—
Mar. What brother?
Phi. Strike you.
Mar. I shall not bear strokes,
 Though I do these strange words.
Phi. Will you not kill me?
Mar. For what good brother?
Phi. Why, for speaking well
 Of Leocadia.
Mar. No indeed.
Phi. Nor ill
 Of Theodosia?

Enter Eugenia, Leocadia, Theodosia, and one with two Pistols.

Mar. Neither.
Phi. Fare you well then.
Eug. Nay, you shall have as noble seconds too
 As ever Duelists had; give 'em their weapons:
 Now St. Jago.
Sanch. Are they charg'd?
Eug. Charg'd Sir?
 I warrant you.
Alph. Would they were well discharg'd.
Sanch. I like a Sword much better I confess.
Eug. Nay, wherefore stay you? shall I mend your mark?
 Strike one another, thorough these?
Phi. My love.
Alph. My Theodosia.
Sanch. I ha' not the heart.
Alph. Nor I.
Eug. Why here is a dependence ended.
 Unbind that Gentleman; come take here to you
 Your Sons and Daughters, and be friends. A feast
 Waits you within, is better than your fray:
 Lovers, take you your own, and all forbear
 Under my roof, either to blush or fear.
 My love, what say you? could Caranza himself
 Carry a business better?
Gov. It is well:
 All are content I hope, and we well eas'd.
 If they for whom we have done all this be pleas'd. [Exeunt.

Prologue.

To this place Gentlemen, full many a day
 We have bid ye welcome; and to many a Play:
 And those whose angry souls were not diseas'd
 With Law, or lending Money, we have pleas'd;
 And make no doubt to do again. This night
 No mighty matter, nor no light,
 We must intreat you look for: A good tale,
 Told in two hours, we will not fail
 If we be perfect, to rehearse ye: New
 I am sure it is, and handsome; but how true
 Let them dispute that writ it. Ten to one
 We please the Women, and I would know that man
 Follows not their example? If ye mean
 To know the Play well, travel with the Scene.
 For it lies upon the Road; if we chance tire,
 As ye are good men, leave us not i'th' mire,
 Another bait may mend us: If you grow
 A little gall'd or weary; cry but hoa,
 And we'll stay for ye. When our journey ends
 Every mans Pot I hope, and all part friends.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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