  All Mistaken; Or The Mad Couple. A Comedy, Acted by His Majestyes Servants, at the Theatre Royal. Written by the Honorable James Howard, Esq.; London, Printed by H. Brugis, for James Magnes in Russel-street, neer the Piazza, in Covent-garden, 1672. 4o. This play formed part of the collection as originally published by Dodsley in 1744, but was excluded from the second and third editions. In the copies of 1672 and 1744, the arrangement of the lines was found very irregular, and the metre correspondingly corrupt. In the present reprint the text has been, to a large extent, reconstructed. Scene, Italy.
ALL MISTAKEN. Enter Duke from war, in triumph, leading in his hand Artabella, a woman of that country from whence he came, with Arbatus her brother, and Zoranzo prisoner; and on the other side Amphelia, Ortellus, and Guard. Duke. Madam, I need not say y'are welcome to this Country, since 'tis mine. Art. Sir, leaving my own for yours Speaks my belief of that, and all things else You say. Duke. The same unto your worthy brother, Besides, my thanks to you, sir, for letting Your sister take this journey. Arb. Your highness hath so nobly express'd Yourself unto my sister, that I Consented to her coming with you; so Highly I esteem'd your princely word, That I have let her trespass on the Bound of common modesty in this Adventure: for when this hasty judging World shall see you have brought a woman Wife, how soon will every tongue give her Another title! Duke. Sir, my sudden actions shall prevent all Tongues or thoughts either to name or think her Anything but my duchess; therefore All that owe duty or respect to me, pay it To her. What, Amphelia, did you believe The world so barren of good faces, that Yours only does enrich it? or did you think It was men's fates only to doat on yours? Look on this lady, and you'll see your error; Mark well her face, and you will find In every line beauty sits empress there. These are the eyes, Amphelia, now, that dart Obedience through my heart; are not you vex'd To see I am no constant fool, and love You still? Amph. Vexed at what? to see a man I hate Love another? a very great vexation! Know, sir, this breast has only room for joy And love to brave Ortellus— Forgive my heart that 'twas not yours before, Since you have long deserv'd it. Ort. Madam, no time was long enough to wait This blessed hour. Amph. Alas, great duke! instead Of pining for your change, you find me midst A thousand joys in this new choice. Duke. So you do me, Amphelia, amidst Ten thousand; not all the glories that Attend a conquering soldier can create One joy so great in me, As being conquer'd here in my own triumphs. I am but a slave; Nor does my victory over thousands please Me so much, as being overcome by On my triumph only, make it glorious. Amph. Well, sir, we will not change our happy states; You cannot brag of happiness so great To make me envy: I am only sorry for This lady, that had nothing else to do With her heart but to give it you. Madam, If your breast had been crowded with some twenty Or thirty hearts, and amongst these one very Ill, you might have Made present of that to this mighty duke. Duke. Madam, does not this lady's discourse make you Afraid of me. Art. Not in the least, sir. Duke. Where's this bold prisoner? Guard. Here, and [it] please your highness. Duke. Well, sir, tho' you did attempt to kill me In our camp, after you were our prisoner, You shall not die, since you are of the same Country this lady is; therefore thank her And fortune for your life. Zor. I'd sooner curse them both. Shall I thank any for my life, but heaven That gave it me? I'd rather give it to A cat. A noble death were far more welcome To me, than a mean life at second hand. My being here I owe unto the gods. When they think fit to lend it me no longer, They know the way to take it from me. I scorn To run in debt unto a mortal duke for two Or three days' breath. Amph. Brave captive! [Aside. Duke. You're Very high, considering you are in chains. Zor. Why, sir, think you these fetters can confine Tongue is your prisoner, and dares only say: May it please your highness? How much are you Mistaken? Know, sir, my soul is Prompter to my tongue, and gives it courage to say Anything that heaven will not frown at. We Should detract from those great pow'rs above, If we pay fears to any here below. Perhaps you think I'll beg my life now upon A pair of bent petitioning knees? No, sir; Had I a hundred lives, I'd give them all To sharpest deaths, rather than beg for one. Duke. You're well resolv'd; perhaps your mind may alter, When you see the axe. In the meantime commit him To the closest prison where, if you have any Accounts with heaven, you will have time to cast Them up before your death. Zor. Your sentence brings me Joy. Welcome the keenest axe that can be set! 'Twill cut my head and chains both off together. Welcome, most happy stroke, since it will bring Rest to my eyes, and make a slave a king. [Exit with a Guard. Duke. Madam, I suppose this journey has so wearied You, that it is time to show you the way To your lodgings, and leave you to your Repose. Guard. Make way there for the duke! Amph. My lord, you had best attend the duke, because 'Tis a respect due to him. Ort. I shall, madam, At your command. [Exeunt. Amph. How has my tongue belied my too true heart, In speaking hate unto The duke, and love to Ortellus! I hate the duke? So eyes do sleep, that long have known no rest. How could my lips give passage to such words, And not have clos'd for ever? Not by my heart's direction, I am sure; for that So swell'd, being injured by my mouth, as, had Not pride and reason kept it here from this Unquiet feat, it would have forc'd away To Archimedes' breast, and there have whisper'd to His heart my tongue's untruth. Why should I love This man, that shows me nothing but contempt And hate? Rouse, drooping heart, and think Of that; think of it always, so by degrees 'Twill bring a winter round thee, that in time Shall chill the heat of thy undone and lost Affections. O, it is not true that all Our sex love change, then I might find one path That leads to it; That womanish vice were virtue now in me, 'Twould free my heart, and that were charity. Enter Duke. See, where he comes again; O, how I love And hate that man! Now help me, pride, and fill My breast with scorn; and pr'ythee, tongue, take heed You do not falter: hear not, my heart, that will Distract thy speech, and so betray my feign'd Unkindness. Duke. What, Amphelia all alone? Weary of your new love already? can't You pass away the time with him one hour? Amph. Were he No finer man than yourself, to be with him Seven years' penance. Good heart, lie still, and let my tongue alone. [Aside. I wonder what a woman can see in you, Or hear from you, to make her love you. (I was just going to have said, hate him.) [Aside. O, what a task is this! therefore let me Advise you to have a mean opinion Of yourself. Duke. Methinks that advice might serve For yourself. Ha, ha, ha! Amph. Have patience, heart, I know I lie: thou need'st Not tell me so—I had better then confess My love. [Aside.] Do you laugh, duke? [i']faith So could I at you, till the tears ran down My cheeks—that they would quickly do, for grief Would fain unload my eyes. I must begone, I cannot longer act this part, unless I had a heart as hard as his. [Aside. Duke. What, you are going Now to your love Ortellus? Amph. I am so, And going from you to him, is pleasure double, Not only pain, to quit, but joy to meet. Duke. Make haste then, for your departure will oblige Me too, so we shall be all pleas'd! Amph. Haste I will make, but with unwilling feet: For every step from him my grief repeats. [Aside. Exit. Duke. She's gone, and after her my heart is flown, 'Tis well it has no tongue to make its moan; A heart in love (though slighted) love reveals. Yet though I love her still, she shall not know; Her hate shall seem my joy, which is my woe. My constancy I'll outwardly disguise, Though here within I am not half so wise. Yet rather than disclose my doating fate, I'll wound my heart by counterfeiting hate. To whine, it wou'd the worst of follies prove, Since women only pity when they love. With how much scorn she gave me welcome home, Ortellus in her hand, to show my doom! Me and my triumphs she did so despise, As if they'd been unworthy of her eyes. 'Tis well to her I show'd as much disdain; I'd rather perish than she guess my pain. But O, the horrid act she makes me do, To fool a woman that is young and true! So damn'd a sin, that hell could not invent, It is too foul for any punishment; To question those above I am afraid, Else I would ask them, why they woman made. Enter Philidor. O my mad cousin, your servant. Whither so fast? Phil. So fast, sir? why, I have been hunted by a pack of hounds This three hours, And damn'd deep-mouth'd hounds too, [sir] no less than Three couple of nurses, three couple Of plaguy hunting bitches, and with them Three couple of whelps, alias children, sir. Through every by-turning that leads to a bawdy House, I wish'd myself earth'd a thousand Times, as a fox does when he is hard-run, But that they wou'd have presently digged me Out with their tongues. Duke. Faith, Philidor, 'Tis no news to me; for I have known thee From sixteen at this course of life. What, and these Children were all your bastards, and your nurses Coming to dun you for money? Phil. Something of that's in it, I think, sir. Duke. Well, coz, I'll leave thee to thy wildness; a fitter Companion much for thee than I at this time. Phil. Why, sir, I hope nothing has happened To trouble you? Duke. No, no; My grief, alas! is far beyond express; To tell it to a friend can't make it less. [Exit. Phil. Wou'd I were at the wars again: I fear No sword half so much as the tongue of one Of these nurses; and the youling of th' children Are more dismal to my ears than the groans Of dying men in a battle. I am At this time in law with six or seven Parishes about fath'ring of bastards; Tis very fine truly! and yet me thinks 'Tis a hard case that I should be sued for Multiplying the world, Since death makes bold with bastards, As well as other children. The very picture Of a nurse and child in her arms wou'd fright Me now. O, from that sight deliver me! Enter Nurse and Child as he is going out. Ha! and here they come: pox on't, what luck have I after saying my prayers? it shall be a Fair warning to me; now am I started Again, and must go run t'other course. [Offers to run away. 1st Nurse. 'Squire Philidor, 'Squire Philidor! [She runs after him. Phil. How deaf Am I now! 'tis well I know this by-way To avoid her. Enter Second Nurse and meets him. Ha! S'death, another? The devil appearing here too? 2d Nurse. O my proper Young 'squire, stay, stay, d'ye hear, sir? Phil. No, indeed, won't I. Yet I know one way More to avoid them. Enter Third Nurse. Ha! another coming Here too? Nay then, I find I am in hell, Before I thought I shou'd. What will become Of me now? 3d Nurse. O 'squire, I thought I should Never have spoken with your worship. Phil. No, by this Light, shou'd you not, if I could have holp it. [Aside. 1st Nurse. I wonder, 'squire, at your conscience, t'avoid Your pretty babes as you do. Phil. So, now it Begins, I am like to have sweet music From the comfort of these nurses' tongues. 1st Nurse. Saving your presence, sir, I think here are Three as sweet babes as ever sucked teat, And all born within the year too, besides Three more that your worship has in our street. Phil. A very hopeful generation! sure, This was a great nut year! Well, if all trades fail, I may go Into some foreign plantation, where They want people, and be well paid for my Pains: wou'd I were there now! 1st Nurse. Codge, codge, Dos a laugh upon a dad? In conscience, sir, The child knows your worship. Phil. A very great comfort! 1st Nurse. My young master here is as like your worship As e'er he can look; has your tempting eyes To a hair: I cou'd not choose but smile To myself t'other day; I was making him clean About the secrets, to see that In a plentiful manner; it put me half In mind of your worship. I am sure I Have been at double the expense of other Nurses, in eating choice meat, to make my Milk good for my young master, because I Would not spoil the growth of any one of his Members. 2d Nurse. Nay, for that, neighbour, I have ate As good, or better, meat than you, every day In the week: I never touch'd a bit of Phil. Considering how well 'tis born. [Aside. 3d Nurse. Nay, neighbours, for that I have been at greater Charge than either of you, in choice diets, To breed good milk for my young mistress here. 1st Nurse. You lie. 2d Nurse. You are a quean. 1st Nurse. And you're a whore. Marry, your husband is the notedest Cuckold in all our street. 2d Nurse. You lie, you jade, Yours is a greater. Phil. Hiss! Now for a battle Royal. 1st Nurse. If I lay the child out of my [Lay their children down, and fight. Arms, I'll pull off your head-clothes, you— Carrion! 2d Nurse. Marry, come, if thou durst. Phil. 'Tis best for me to be a coward, And march off from this bloody fight. All Nurses. Hold, hold, the 'squire is going away. Phil. So, nothing could have parted them this three Hours, but the fear of losing me. [Aside. 1st Nurse. What, wou'd Your worship have left us without paying us For nursing your children? you have a conscience, With a pox to you! Phil. So, now will they end Their war in vollies of shot upon me. I have but one thing now to do. With ev'ry One of these hags have I been forc'd to lie, Which they took as satisfaction for payment Than they will have it known to one another, They'll hold their tongues and leave me? Well, my three sweet harmonious nurses, what is due to you? 1st Nurse. Due! why, there was twelve months Due for nursing; 'tis true, two months your squireship Satisfied me for. 2d Nurse. And me too. 3d Nurse. And me Likewise. Phil. Harkye, if you will not be gone, I'll tell. 1st Nurse. No, marry, won't I, till I have My money. 2d Nurse. Don't think to fright me, but pay me. 3d Nurse. I fear you not; pay me my money. Phil. Pox on't, 'twill not do, I must try another Way.—Boy, was the wolf fed to-day? Boy. No, sir. Phil. Go fetch him quickly, to dine with these ladies. [Exeunt Nurses. So! I thought I should set them going. He! The devil, they have left the children behind them. This was a very cunning device of mine. Now am I in a pretty condition. Troth, a Very noble Anabaptist progeny! For the devil a one of these were ever Christen'd; for I have run so much upon Tick to the parsons for christening of Children, that now they all refuse to make Any bastards of mine a Christian Without ready money; so that I'll have This boy bred up a parson, that he may Christen himself and the rest of his sisters Begin to be hungry, and youl for th' teat? O, that a milk-woman wou'd come by now! Well, I must remove my flock from hence. Small Coal, small coal, will you buy any small coal? Pox on it. I could never light of any But fruitful whores. Small coal, small coal! [Exit. Enter Zoranzo, as in prison. Zor. Sure, 'tis not kind of those great pow'rs above, To add these chains to me that am in love. As to my bed of straw, I am content, Since any bed from her is punishment. To lie on down of swans would be hard rest, Could I not make my pillow on her breast. O Amarissa, wert thou here with me, I would not sell these bonds for liberty. Ransoms that prisoners give to be set free, I'd give as much to lie in chains by thee. Here is her picture. O, thou too like shade, [Pulls out her picture. To look on it my eyes are half afraid, It so presents my joy and misery; Since 'tis the nothing of that all to me. The greatest pain to any lover's heart, Is to remember when they are apart; For thoughts of joys, when there's a bar betwixt, Are worse than poison with a cordial mix'd. Enter Amphelia and Jailor. Amph. Well said, jailor, here's for thy pains. Brave pris'ner, Perhaps this visit may appear but strange To you, till you have heard me speak—Know then, When you receiv'd the sentence of your death, you seem'd To meet it with so brave a soul, as if The sound had not displeas'd your ears. Thus did Your courage fill my eyes with wonder, and My heart with pity. Straight I resolv'd to give you all my helps To set you free, which now I offer to You. Zor. Madam, could I tell you what to say I Wou'd begin; I have nothing but poor thanks To offer to you, and those, though millions, were Not half enough. Compassion shown unto The miserable heaven can only recompence; Therefore, in my dying prayers, I will beg from thence A blessing to reward your pity. Amph. Sir, The joy of your escape will pay my pains; All my endeavours I will set at work: The time is short, therefore I must make haste. Expect to hear of me again with speed. Enter Ortellus, as she is going out. Zor. What can this mean? heaven grant she does not Love me; I wou'd not wish so brave a heart So great a punishment, since my love's fix'd already. Ort. Madam, I have been seeking you; pray, whence Came you? This is no usual place to find you In. Amph. I was only walking this way, sir. Ort. I'll wait on you presently.—I suspect She has been at the prison; I will inform Myself by the jailor; and yet perhaps She has bid him to deny it. [Steps back to the Jailor. The lady Amphelia says she has left one of Her gloves behind her in the prison, and Has sent me for it. Jail. I'll go see straight, sir. Ort. She has been there, it seems, then. Madam, I Fancy you have been to see the prison. Amph. Who, I? What makes you think so? Ort. Why, am I mistaken? Amph. Yes; what should I do there? Ort. Nay, that's the question, But there you have been just now, and with the Pris'ner too. Amph. Sure, you dream. Ort. She's false, I find: I'll try her love to me. [Aside. Madam, since you Have been pleased to show your kindness publicly To me, I take this time to beg my happiness, Which is, that a priest may join our hands. Amph. I will not marry yet. Ort. Why, pray, madam? Amph. For a very good reason, because I ha'n't A mind to't. Ort. Will you give me another reason? Amph. I need not: that's sufficient. Ort. You love me, do you not? Amph. You know I have declar'd it. Ort. But (sure) you'll not deny me twice? Amph. Not, if you ask but once. Ort. Fie, fie, this modesty's a thief to lovers, And robs them of their time. Come, come, Say aye, and blush. Amph. I'll not say aye, nor blush. Ort. If you had any modesty, you wou'd. Amph. You said Just now I had too much. Ort. Too much Of impudence, you mean. Amph. What's that to say? Ort. Why, truth. Amph. Get you out, and wash your tongue: 'Tis foul. Ort. 'Tis like you heart then, But that it cannot lie as much. Amph. Most valiant lord, To give the lie to petticoats! Ort. Why did you Deny your being in prison? Amph. Not for fear of you; I was with the brave prisoner, What then? Ort. You went to make love to him. You had best use your time well; 'twill Be short and sweet: your dear will not be so Proper a man by the head within this Two days. False woman! you've a heart that flies From one man's breast to another: all the Inconstancy of your sex is constancy To this of yours: you have deceived the duke Already; that might have been my warning. Amph. Faith, and so It might; th' duke in all things so far excels You, that you were a fool to think, when once My heart bid him farewell, that it design'd No better a change than you. Troth, your mistaken; It had a farther journey to make, and so Took your breast for an inn only, to lie By the way. Ort. Base woman! is't not enough that you Have fool'd me, but you must mock me too? Heaven Hold my hand from murdering thee! Amph. Fright those that fear you. [Exit. Ort. Curses of all fool'd men (like me) light heavy On thee! Revenge begins to fill my heart, And I will pour it out on this base woman. I know the way: I'll to the duke. Enter Duke. I am Glad I have met your highness, for I have Business to impart to you that concerns your life. Duke. What is't, Ortellus? Ort. Know, sir, Amphelia, that—— Duke. Loves you? Ort. No, sir, she loves The pris'ner. Duke. 'Tis impossible. Ort. 'Tis very true, sir, I caught her coming from him! she's designing His escape, and for aught I know, her love To him may put other thoughts into her head. Duke. What d'ye mean? Ort. She may design your life; A woman that is ill, exceeds a man In mischief. Duke. My lord, I thank your care. If you Can track her farther, pray let me know; in the Meantime I shall prevent her ill intentions. Ort. My diligence shall not be wanting. So, Since I can have no love, revenge shall be My mistress. [Aside. Exit. Duke. O Amphelia! why dost Thou take such pains to break my heart, when 'tis So easily done? She needs not secretly Contrive my death, since half a word from her Commands my life: her face and heart (sure) can Not be akin; nature mistook, or else She was to blame to give one woman two So great extremes. Enter Arbatus. See, here comes the brother To wronged Artabella: th' horror of That sin grows bigger in me, That I with a deluding love should fool An innocent, to show an outward scorn To false Amphelia; for when I heard She lov'd Ortellus, I straight made love to this young Woman, and brought her from her own country, Only to make Amphelia think I lov'd Another. Arb. I hope I don't disturb your highness. Duke. No, Arbatus, you are always welcome To me. Arb. Sir, I should ask you a question. Duke. You freely may. Arb. Not but In birth or fortune, to be call'd your wife; Yet since you have been pleas'd to grace her with Your love so far, as saying she shall be your Duchess, be pleas'd to tell me why it is Not so? she has been here so long, that people Now begin to say you mean her for your mistress; Should my ears meet that sound from any tongue, I'd—— Duke. Hold, Arbatus, I'm sure I have given No cause as yet to doubt my kindness to Your sister. Arb. Pardon me, sir, in your delay you have. My sister has no dowry but her virtue, Youth, and some small stock of beauty. These if You lov'd her for, you would not waste, By letting time rob her and you at once. Duke. Sir, business of great importance has Hitherto deferr'd my marriage; believe Me, you shall find me just. Arb. A prince's word Must not be question'd; I have done. Duke. O Amphelia! what dost thou make me do? [Exit. Arb. Let him take heed; if he does fool my sister, Were he ten thousand dukes, I'd cut his throat. [Exit. Enter Philidor alone. Phil. I have been quite at t'other end o'th' town, To put my children out to new nurses, For I am known to every nurse hereabout; That they will as soon nurse a cat's kitten As any child of mine. This is a very Worst part of it; for there are a certain Flock of women that I have promis'd marriage, I expect a volley of shot from them too, Soon as they find me out. Would wives and children Were as hard to come by as money, then would I turn usurer, and let 'em out to use; For, to say truth, I have enough to spare. Enter six Ladies, one after another. So, here comes one of my promis'd Virgins! Nay, a second too—a third—a fourth—a fifth— A sixth—Welcome, blessed half-dozen; now will I go Muster my nurses and children too, and go Against the Great Turk. I am glad to see They have brought ne'er a coffin, for I expect Nothing but death from them. I wonder they don't Begin to ring my funeral peal. See every One of them beckons to me, as much as to say, I'd speak with you in private; but the devil Take me if e'er a one of them do; I find By this they would not have their business known To one another; this may be a means for me To get off for this time—Ladies, you all Look as if you had something to say to Me; pray make me so happy as to let Me know what 'tis. They dare not speak aloud. [Aside.] Will you, Madam? or you? or you, madam? or you, Madam? [What] not one of you tell me what The honour of these visits mean? I see I am troublesome to you all? therefore I'll not be longer rude; and so I take All together; for I had rather be [Beckon him. Alone six hours with the devil, than with E'er a one of them an half hour—I'll stand close In this corner till they are all gone. 1st Lady. Now the pox take him for a cunning rogue! 2d Lady. A plague take him! 3d Lady. The devil take him! 4th Lady. If there be e'er a devil worse than another, Take him thou! 5th Lady. O, that I had him alone! 6th Lady. Was there ever such a rascal? [Exeunt at several doors. Phil. So the coast is clear again— [Peeps out. Enter Mirida. S'death, here comes another—O, 'tis none Of that gang, though. Mir. I'll lay my head, ne'er a girl in Christendom Of my age, can say what I can; I'm now But five years i'th' teens, and I have fool'd Five several men. Phil. A brave wench, by this light! Sure, it is I in petticoats. Mir. My humour Is to love no man, but to have as many Love me as they please, come cut or long tail. Phil. A most divine wench! Mir. 'Tis a rare diversion, to see what several Ways my flock of lovers have in being Ridiculous; some of them sigh so damnably, That 'tis as troublesome as a windy day. There's two of them that make their love together, One eye bigger than another, and looks Like a tumbler; and that eye's like a musket Bullet, and I expect every minute when he Will hit me with it, he aims so right at me. My other lover looks a-squint, and to See him cast languishing eyes, would make a Woman with child miscarry. There is also A very fat man, master Pinguister, and A very lean man that loves me; I tell the Fat man I cannot marry him till he's Leaner, and the lean man I cannot marry Him till he's fat: so one of them purges And runs heats every morning, to pull down His sides, and th' other makes his tailor stuff His clothes to make him show fatter. O, what Pleasure do I take in fooling of mankind! Phil. Was there ever so witty a wench? 'tis the Woman of women for my turn. I'll to her— Thou most renowned female! I cannot hold— Mir. From what? Phil. From kissing thee, [from] loving thee, or what Thou wilt. Mir. Troth, y'are very well acquainted, consid'ring You never saw me before! Phil. Saw thee! I have Heard thee talk this hour, like an angel of light. Mir. Well, d'ye love me for what you heard me say? Phil. Yes, faith, do I; why, you are just of my Humour; when I heard thee say how many Men you had fool'd, I was very glad to hear You come one short of me, for I have fool'd Six women, and you but five men. Mir. Why, If you love me, you will be the sixth fool, To make up my half dozen too. Phil. No, I Won't, and yet I love thee too. Mir. Why, how will You help it? Phil. Thus: you and I Will love one another. Mir. What, whether I will or no? Phil. Nay, hear me, we two will love how we please, When we please, and as long as We please: do not These propositions tickle your heart a little? Mir. I don't mislike them—Now could I take him About the neck and kiss him for this humour Of his. And do you say you will love me! [Aside. Phil. Yes, marry, will I. Mir. Nay, hold, I won't marry You. Phil. Nor I thee, for all the world. Mir. And yet You say you will love me? Phil. I tell you I will: make no more words on it. Mir. Why then, Hark you, to be as absolute as you, I will love you too, that is to say, Upon the aforesaid conditions. Phil. With all my heart; prythee, don't think That I Will love thee upon any other terms. But come, We must seal this Bargain with hands, hearts, lips. Mir. No, no; no lips; we will only shake hands As this of ours. Phil. But, prythee, let us seal The bargain. Mir. No, no, sir, I use no wax To my lips. Phil. Nay, by my troth, I care not A pin to kiss thee. Mir. No? look upon me well, And see if you can say so again. Phil. Hum—yes, Faith, I will give two-pence to kiss thee Now. Mir. Well, sir, when I do kiss you, I'll 'bate you A penny of that. Phil. Now you and I will sing this song. [He sings. My love and I a bargain made, It is well worth a telling: When one was weary, we agreed To part, should both be willing. Mir. Nay, here I'm for you too. [She sings. And thus our loves will longer last, Than fools that still are pining: We'll spend our time in joy and mirth, Whilst doaters do in whining. Phil. Faith, you and I sing very well; we are Alike in that too: I see either nature Or the devil, somebody or something, made Thee and me for one another. Well, But let us Remember our conditions: imprimis, I Will love you. Mir. Item, so will I you. Phil. I Will not say how long. Mir. Item, nor I neither. Phil. Item, it may be I can love you but A week. Mir. I don't care if't be but a day. Phil. I'll ne'er be tied to any thing. Mir. Item, thou shalt be tied to what thou wilt But me. Phil. Item, I will come when I please, And go when I please. Mir. Item, thou shalt drown Thyself when thou wilt, or hang thyself when Thou wilt, or go to the devil when thou wilt. Phil. Item, if I should like another woman, I Will have the liberty of leaving you, without Any ceremony, but just saying Good-bye. Mir. Item, if I should like any Man better than you, I'll leave you without saying So much as good-bye. Phil. Item, the first that Sighs of us two, shall fast a week. Mir. Item, the first That looks but melancholy of us two, Shall be starv'd to death. Phil. To conclude, we will Both be as mad as we please. Mir. Agreed, And the devil take the tamest! Phil. A bless'd bargain! But hark you, there's one thing I have forgot. Mir. What's that? Phil. Have you had as many children as I? Mir. No, indeed, ha'nt I. Phil. Why, then you must let me help you to 'em, That you may be even with me there too. Mir. Hold, sir, that bargain's yet to make. Phil. Pox on't! That should have been one of our articles. Mir. Well, I can stay no longer with you now. Phil. Nay, prythee, hold, thou shalt not go yet; I Can't part with you so soon. Mir. Ay, but I have A mind to go, and that is one of our Articles. Phil. Well, but shan't we put that other Article in, before we part? Mir. No, no, good-bye to you. Phil. Farewell, mettle— [Exit. Enter Pinguister, Doctor, and Servants. Mir. Look you, master Pinguister, this is the Measure must meet about your waist, before I marry you. Pin. This? why it will not come About the small of my leg. [Tries the measure himself. Mir. Sir, I am sorrier For it: but it must compass your middle before You can be my dear chuck: your servant, sir, I am in haste. Pin. Prythee, thou damnable Pretty rogue, let me have some comfort from thee, Before thou goest, either from thy eyes, Thy cheeks, mouth, or nose, or some part about thee Consider what a dissolution I Must undergo for love of thee. Mir. I do indeed, sir; but your servant for this time. [Exit. Pin. Worthy doctor, my hopes are all in you now, I have tried many physicians already To make me lean enough for that Tormenting, pretty fairy devil. Doctor. Truly, sir, your case is very desperate; But if any man in the world can drain Your fat from you, 'tis I: sir, we'll begin Your course out of hand. Pin. Do you hear, be sure I have at least two dozen of napkins ready Upon the spot, to rub me at every turn; Therefore come you all along with me— Have mercy on me, I have love and fat Enough to furnish a whole nation. [Exeunt. Enter Amphelia, going to the prison. Amph. How false a woman to all eyes I seem, Because I still will hide my constant love! This way I take will bravely break my heart, To tell the duke were sneakingly to die: Since, if he knew that I did love him still, With basest scorns he'd laugh my soul to death; Such friendship to this pris'ner I will show, Shall make the duke believe my heart is there. To set him free I'll use my utmost art——. Would I could do as much for this poor heart! This way my love with my designs complies, Thus one in chains another's chains unties. I have made the jailor mine already, 'Tis now about the time I appointed To be here— Enter Jailor. O, yonder's the jailor expecting me— Here, jailor, here's for thy Honesty: may the business be done now? Jailor. O madam, never at a fitter time; take you The key and go in to the prisoner; Whilst I go see the passage clear, Stand you at th' door, and when I beckon To you, come away. Amph. Honest jailor? Jailor. So, now I am just i' th' fashion; I have taken Money to do her business, and instead Of doing it I have undone it. Enter Duke and Ortellus. Ort. 'Tis so, sir. The jailor has discover'd all to me. Here He comes. Jailor. And please your highness to stand close Here, for the lady Amphelia is now With the prisoner; I have given her a Key to convey him through this private passage; As soon as I beckon to her, she will come Away with him. [Beckons her. Amph. Come, sir, give me your hand; The jailor beckons me; the way is clear. Duke. Hold, lady, and your love, we must shorten Your journey a little. Amph. Ha! the duke and Ortellus! I am betray'd! O villain jailor! Ort. Sir, I fear we've interrupted them; it may be They were going to be married; ha, ha, ha! Amph. If I were, 'twas what I refused you, Ortellus; that makes you so mad. Duke. Well, madam, If you have a mind to be married, a priest Shall not join your hands, but you shall go both Back to the prison, and th' jailor shall tie you Both hands and legs together. Amph. Know, sir, A prison with this brave gentleman Will be greater paradise to me, than to Be mistress of your palace. What do I say? [Aside. Duke. Well you shall have your desire then; ye shall live Together, and die together. How could I speak that word to her? [Aside. Zor. She die, sir! Wou'd you destroy so great a world of virtue? Rather invent two deaths for me, that I May die for her too. You'll rob Your dukedom of your greatest treasure to take Away so blest a life as hers: let not An axe part such a head and body, Lest heaven frown and call you murderer. You'll pull Upon your head all mankind's curse: when nature Sees her bounty thus rewarded, she will Turn miser, and will give no more such blessings To th' world as this fair saint. Duke. Well, sir, I'm satisfied ye like one another, so you May lie as close together as you please. Amph. No, sir, virtue shall lie betwixt us. Duke. You will want a pillow, till you come both To execution, then you shall have one— A block to lay your heads on. Amph. Know, [O] duke, My head will rest better with his upon a block, Than with yours on the softest pillow. How Many lies must I confess, before I die. [Aside. Duke. Indeed, you'll sleep pretty soundly. See, her scorn To me makes death a pleasure to her. [Aside. My lord, give order that she may be brought Immediately to her trial; in the meantime, Jailor, take them into your custody; Lay 'em in shackles both. Cousin, many thanks To you for this timely discovery. I must leave you awhile. [Exit. Ort. Duke, you shall have Less to thank me for, else I am deceiv'd. I've found out he loves Amphelia still, So she does him. Now will I go possess Arbatus of this, and tell him how the duke Intends to fool his sister. He has the Character of so strict a brother, and so brave A spirit, that his soul will never digest This injury without the duke's blood. Will join with him, and tell him how The business may be done. By this, one of these three things shall I have Either a mistress, dukedom, or a grave. Enter Arbatus and Artabella. See, here comes Arbatus and his sister Artabella; they talk very earnestly. Arb. Sister, I do not like it; the duke will Fool ye. Art. Indeed, brother, I am amaz'd At this delay. Arb. How does he carry himself To you? Art. With all respect imaginable. Arb. Then there must be something more in't, That he defers his marriage thus. Ort. There is So, sir. Arb. My lord, heark'ning's but a base office; But if you have heard it, 'tis no treason. Ort. No, sir, but it is falseness in the duke, To use your worthy sister thus. I came To tell you upon my knowledge, he never Intended to marry her. Arb. My lord, though I believe it, you must pardon Me, if I wonder at this information From your lordship, that is his near cousin. Ort. Sir, you have the character of so brave A gentleman, conscience and honour Bids me discover this to you and your sister: Think of a way of being reveng'd, and here's My hand and heart to help you. Arb. Pardon Me, that I cannot thank you truly, because I needs must doubt this offer from your lordship. Ort. What can I say to confirm you? will the Word and honour of a gentleman do't? Arb. To me those are things of great value. Ort. Then here I give them both. Arb. But what to do, my lord? Ort. What you will. Arb. Perhaps you think I'd have you Recompense of this injury to my sister? Ort. No, sir, had you been such a person, I Should not have trusted you thus far with what I have said. I say [it] again, I am Your friend; if you doubt it, you wrong my honour. Arb. Why then, my lord, to be short, nothing will Satisfy me, but the duke's—— Ort. What? Arb. Blood. Ort. Why, Thou shalt have it all, if I can help thee To't; this night will I convey you privately Into his bed-chamber. Come along with me, And I will tell you all. [Exit. Arb. My lord, I follow you. Sister, go to your chamber. Art. O brother! Heaven preserve you in this danger. Arb. Now It comes into my head, I need not doubt This lord's truth; he is next heir to the dukedom, If the duke die without issue. 'Tis base in him the duke's life to pursue, His blood is only to my sister due. [Exit. Art. False duke, thou justly hast deserv'd thy death; To cheat the innocent is a double crime; I had no cunning guard about this heart To keep it safe from a seducing tongue. I have lost my heart, which he by falseness won; How soon is truth and innocence undone! [Exit. Enter Philidor. Phil. Pray remember the poor prisoners, pray Not taken this course with the regiment Of women that I have promis'd to marry, I should have been devour'd by 'em by this Time. They came just now into my chamber, One by one, hoping to have found me alone, To have preach'd matrimony to me; but, To my blest deliverance, no sooner One was there, but another came; so I Persuaded them one by one, to slip up Into a garret: so still as one knock'd At the door, the t'other ascended; there Have I secur'd them with this key, and there Must I keep them till I have made Conditions with them. Enter Mirida. O, here comes Mirida. Pray remember the poor prisoners, pray Remember the poor prisoners. Mir. Who the devil's that, Philidor? Phil. The very same, my mettled female. Mir. Why, What mad prank art thou playing now? Phil. Alack- A-day, I have great cares upon me; I Must provide meat for half-a-dozen ladies, That shou'd have been my spouses. Look up yonder; In that very garret, for aught I know, they Must dine and sup at my charge as long as They live; and thus must I be their cook every Day, and beg their first and second course. Mir. I am sorry to hear this, because 'tis A wilder trick than I have done lately To any of my lovers. Prythee, let's Go under the window, and call to them. Phil. Come away, you shall hear what vollies we shall Have from the castle. Most excellent Amazonian ladies, look out, and behold Your labouring purveyor, what pains he Takes to victual your castle, Because he knows you must be long there. [Women look out. 1st Lady. Rogue! 2d Lady. Rascal! 3d Lady. Villain! 4th Lady. Dog! 5th Lady. Slave! 6th Lady. Hell-hound! Phil. Methinks you represent the hemisphere, Because you are enthron'd so high; your eyes Appear like stars to us poor mortals here Below. 1st Lady. Villain, if we had thee here, thou Should'st find it hell. Mir. Pray, ladies, what makes you So angry? Methinks the gentleman is Your friend, and has holpt you nearer heaven Than perhaps e'er a one of you would ever Have been. 2d Lady. What's that you say, little piss-a-bed? Mir. Sweet angels, will never a one of you Please to descend? 3d Lady. Thou little devil, If we had thee here, we'd throw thee down again With such a swing, we'd knock that rascal's brains Out with thy fall. Mir. Then, angry ladies, I Shall stay here—see, has not that lady A very fair nose at this distance? Phil. Has To scold, looks like a giant's cave? 4th Lady. S'life, we'll Not be abus'd thus; here's a Hercules' statue, Let's throw it down upon their heads. [Mirida runs away, and meets Pinguister and stops. Enter Pinguister and Doctor. Mir. Hold, Philidor, we shall have some new sport Of my making now; here comes my fat lover, Let us stand close and hear a little. Ping. Doctor, Pray, how many stools may I happily have This morning by this purgation, already Taken by me? Doctor. Doubtless, one hundred, sir. Ping. Save me, 'twill swinge my bum-gut then: but how Much fat may it bring away? Doctor. Peradventure, Half-a-dozen pounds. Ping. Love! what dost thou make Me do? But, worthy doctor, from what parts of My continual purg'd body is this store Of fat extracted? Doctor. Chiefly from your waist And calves of your legs. Ping. And how many purges May make my waist and legs' calves, alias, calves Of my legs, delightful to her eye, sir? Doctor. Sir, some ten purges: that is to say, you Must have a thousand stools to drain your treasure Of fat totaliter from ye. Ping. O love! O Mirida, for thee I daily purge: For thee I daily stink. I find I must keep company with the bears, that I May be able to endure my own stink the better. Doctor. Come, sir, I think you had best begin to run Your heats. Ping. O me! nothing cou'd e'er a made A footman of me but love. Well, I must Put on my pumps. Phil. By this light, this is the Pleasantest scene as e'er I saw. Ping. Nay, doctor, If you mean I should run, lend me your hand To help me up. [Puts on nightcaps. Now, in the name of love, I most unwillingly start. Phil. S'death! he runs Like a duke. [He runs round, and sometimes goes out to untruss. Mir. His stools come very quickly upon Him, one after another. Ping. I must run With my breeches in my hand, my purge visits My bum-gut so intolerably often. Doctor. Now, sir, for a cheerful loose. Ping. By my heart, Master Doctor, I wonder at your cruelty, To ask a cheerful loose of me; am not I loos'd sufficiently by Your furious purgations? Enter Lean-man and his Tailor. Mir. O, here comes My lean lover. Lean. Tailor, do I look gross Enough now? Tailor. Yes, I'll assure you, you seem Very corpulent. Lean. Well, I am sure if thou Hast not made me large enough, thou wilt thy bill. Now have at Mistress Mirida! sure, my Person will take her. Why, how now, cousin, [To Ping. What makes you running a heat? Ping. I must not stop To speak with you, but come run by me, And I will tell you. Why, I see You know nothing. Mistress Mirida has a Great kindness for me, but cannot marry me Before I am leaner. Lean. She fools him; her kindness is for me, And bids me make myself fatter, before We marry. [Aside. Ping. But pray, coz, what makes you stuff yourself so To appear big? Lean. Yes, I do it to please Mistress Mirida's eye; she bid me. Ping. So she makes An ass of him. [Aside. Lean. Well, I won't hinder you In your exercise, Farewell. Now I'll to Mistress Mirida. [Exit. Ping. Good bye, good bye. God's fish, my purge again! O, O! Enter Clown with a cudgel, and beats him in again. Clown. A nasty rogue, when a man's asleep, To come and do it just in his mouth! I'll swinge ye. Ping. O, hold, good sir, 'twas the violence of my physic; Would my paunch were out, if I saw you! Phil. Hold, What do ye mean to beat a Gentleman thus? Clown. Let Him learn more manners, then, against next time. Ping. O Mistress Mirida, I have been purg'd And beaten most extremely for your sake; Sure, I'm lean enough now to marry you. Mir. That I cannot tell; but I have the measure In my pocket of what compass you were About when you first were in love with me, And also the measure to that you must Fall before I marry you. Here was your full Bigness, which was three yards about: let me see; You are fallen a yard. Ping. Well, and won't you marry me then? Mir. That you'll see presently; for here's the measure Must compass you about before I do. This wants a yard yet. Ping. Well, and d'ye think it's possible For me ever to become such a grig As that measure will meet about me? Why, to do that you must embowel me, and then Shave the remaining rolls of fat off from My melting sides. Doctor. Here, pray, sir, throw this blanket About you; you will catch your death. Ping. Look you, Unreasonable mistress, thus am I Fain to do every day, because I would Melt myself into a husband for you: You may hear my guts at this time boiling Have the same fat as a kettle full of Black puddings that are over-boiled, and so Broken. Doctor. Come, sir, you must needs go to bed. Ping. That is to say, I must go swim; for that I do constantly in a sea of sweat. Mir. Ay, pray, sir, I wou'd not for all the world You should miscarry. Ping. Indeed, I look as If I were with child. Lady, if you have Any thoughts of going to heaven, have Mercy on me. Mir. Farewell, garbage. Ping. O heat! O fat! O love! what will you Do with me? [Exit with Doctor. Phil. Was there ever such sport as we have seen? Mir. Heaven send thee and I many a fair Year to be mad together in. Phil. Ay, as You say, give us but time enough, and when We grow tame, let the bell toll for us. But stay, let us return Back to my virgins, that I may Make my conditions with 'em, Before they get out of prison. Enter all the Ladies and bind them. S'death! they Are all got out already. 1st Lady. O, have we Met with you now, ye pair of devils? we'll lay You fast enough. So good night to you, lie There till we come again. [Exit Ladies. Phil. Pox on't, was there Door in the garret, which they found and got Out at. Mir. What think ye now of this day's sport Philidor? Phil. Plague on it, well enough; if They had not bound us back to back together, We might have pass'd away the time. Malicious jades! no way of bridling us But this? Pr'ythee turn about thy head, and let Us try if we can kiss one another A little. Mir. No, no, we won't Try for fear you should put your neck out of Joint with turning it too much of one side. Phil. Well, fortune should be more careful Of accidents of this nature, and not Contrive them so cross. Enter Boy. Phil. O, here comes a boy. Here, sirrah, come hither. Boy. What say you, master? Phil. Here, prythee, unbind us, I'll give thee a Shilling. Boy. Why, sir, can't you unbind yourselves? Phil. Simple boy, thou seest we can't. Boy. And have ye a mind to be unbound? Phil. Yes, yes, we are in great torments To lie thus. Boy. Then, sir, you shall give me a piece, And your hat, because I have never A one, or else farewell. Phil. Well, stay, here take it out of my pockets. Boy. Yes, that I will do, before I unbind you, And your hat too. [Exit. Phil. The rogue's too nimble for me. Mir. Well, Philidor, farewell, I must Go put On a clean handkerchief. Phil. And I Must go see if I can find a believing Haberdasher, else I shall be very Ceremonious to every one I meet. [Exit. Enter Fiddler. Mir. A fiddle! nay, then I am made again; I'd have a dance, if I had nothing but my Smock on. Fiddler, strike up, and play my jig, Call'd, I care not a pin for any man. Fid. Indeed I can't stay: I am going to Play to some gentlemen. Mir. Nay, thou shalt stay But a little. Fid. Give me half-a-crown then. Mir. I have no money about me. But here, take My handkerchief. [Dance and Exit. Enter Ortellus and Arbatus, as going into the Duke's bed-chamber, and the Duke in bed. Ort. So, I will keep the door, whilst you Dispatch him. Arb. My lord, I find you truly noble. Why, duke; why, duke! I say. Methinks my voice should wake his guilty soul, Nothing but innocence can sleep secure; Such rest? Awake, thou drowsy devil! Duke, my sister's Wrongs do call thee from thy sleep; methinks The sound of those should pierce thy ears. Why, duke! Duke. What bold voice is that? Arb. One that will be more Bold with you. Duke. Who is't so impudent as To break my sleep? Arb. 'Tis I, Arbatus, that Will put thee into a wonder. Duke. Ha! what means That dagger in thy hands? Arb. Canst thou ask that Question? it is to tickle thy false heart. Duke. Ha, ha, ha! you jest, you jest. Arb. What, Does the conceit on't make you laugh already? I was resolved to wake thee, before I sent thee to hell, because thou may'st know Of whose errand thou goest. Duke. Come, come, leave Your foolery, lest you heat my blood. Arb. If I do, I will let it out all, and that Will quickly cool it. I would give thee time To say thy prayers now, but that I know Thy sin to be so great, that heaven will Not pardon thee. Enter Artabella. Ort. Who's that? Art. 'Tis I, my lord: Artabella. Let me in quickly, that I My brother has put him past feeling. Ort. And so thou shalt, brave girl. Arb. Now, duke, good night to you, and the devil Send you good rest. Art. Hold, brother. Arb. Who's that? Art. 'Tis I thy injur'd sister, come to make The first hole in that base duke's heart; it is My right. Arb. Begin, begin then, that I may Make an end. Art. Stay, brother, not too fast, Has he said his prayers? Arb. His pray'rs! why none But the devil will hear them. Come, come, sister, Give me the dagger again; you waste time. Art. And so I will, the duke shan't die. Arb. How, not die? Art. Not die, I say. Arb. Then you are his whore all this while, and wou'd Have him live, that you may be so still. Art. Brother, Another word so foul, I'll strike this dagger Through your heart, Therefore hear me speak. Know then, 'Tis I that cannot love the duke, which he Would never tell you, knowing 'twould make you angry With me. Arb. Nay then I'll kill you for fooling A brother and your reputation thus. Duke. Hold, Arbatus, she says it but to save My life. 'Tis I have fooled you both, therefore Strike here. Arb. And so I will, then. Art. Hold, brother; Pull not a load of sins upon your head; 'Tis I have been to blame, indeed I have, With loving him too much. Arb. Then thou shalt die. Duke. Hold, sir, heaven will frown on you for ever, If you shed one drop of that pure blood; upon My word, 'tis I. Arb. Keep not my tortur'd soul Thus in suspense. One of you tell me true, And that quickly too, else I will destroy You both, and that's the surest way not To mistake. Duke. Then be assur'd 'tis I. Art. Brother, 'Tis not, 'tis I. Arb. Heyday! heyday! I know Not what to do or say. [Throws down his sword and goes away. Ort. So, he is dead, I hope. Arb. No more than you are. Ort. How so? Arb. Come, My lord, as you go, I'll tell you. [Exeunt Arbatus and Ortellus. Duke. O Artabella, why didst take my sin Upon thyself, hiding thy innocence With a face of guilt? My death had been not Punishment enough, because I have wrong'd So fair a life as yours. Which way to ask Forgiveness, I can't tell; there are no pardons for Such sins as mine; the only way to do Thee right, is this. [Offers to kill himself. Art. Hold, sir, my life Shall follow yours, if you strike. Duke. Why would'st thou Have me live? Art. Because I love you, sir. Duke. And that's the only reason I would die. Art. Why, would it be kindly done to show My eyes your blood? Duke. Yes, far more kind than live, and show Thy heart no love. O Artabella, that thou wert My sister! Nothing but brother's love were then Thy due; and I could richly pay thee in That coin, a million more than ever brother did. Art. Wou'd nature then had made me so, or else Had given me never a heart. Duke. What wou'dst Thou have me do, poor Artabella? Art. Nothing But love me, sir. Duke. See, what thou doest ask A man, a god wou'd do; and yet I can't; 'Tis not thy want of beauty, but my fate. Angels themselves, to look upon thy face, Wou'd take a journey twice a day from heaven. Art. If you would come, though far a shorter way, You shou'd be much more welcome. Duke. Sweet tongue, lie still, offer no more such love, As gods themselves to have wou'd think a bliss, Since all thy kindness does but wound my heart, To see thine shipwreck'd in a sea of love, And cannot give it harbour in my breast. Art. Sir, let me beg one thing of you then. Duke. With all my soul, be it my dukedom, and 'Tis thine. Art. 'Tis no such great request; 'Tis only when you meet me, say: I hate Thee, Artabella. Duke. Why, could that word please thee? Art. No; but to hear it said by you, would bring My death, then I wou'd thank you for my rest. Would you not come unto my grave, sir? Duke. O yes, and make thy coffin float with a sea Of tears. Art. Fair sir, of what? Duke. Of grief. Art. O me! A sea of tears, and yet not one of love! Waste not such precious drops upon my grave, it will Not satisfy my hovering soul to see Your eyes drop pity without love. Farewell, sir. O for a grave, that were a resting place; Good heart, be kind, and break apace! [Exit. Duke. Heaven love thee for me! Base Amphelia, Thou art the author of my horrid sin. [Exit. Enter Philidor and Mirida. Phil. Thou talk'st of sport, Mirida; if all the Sport we have had already with our lovers, Come not short of this, hang me. You say you have Invited them already to my funeral. Mir. Yes, yes. [Philidor is laid out like a corpse. Phil. So, so, methinks my body lies In great state, to see the tribe that will come By-and-by; here will be half a dozen Some three or four sons and heirs, besides three Or four hopeful daughters; these, with The congregation of nurses, will howl me A pleasant dirge. Mirida, you being my Executrix, must carry yourself very gravely; Here's my will, which you must read to 'em; I'll be The priest myself. Hark, somebody knocks [Knocks within. At the gate. Enter Boy. Boy. Sir, they are all Come. Phil. Let 'em in.—Now, Mirida, manage Your business well. Mir. Let me alone, I'll warrant ye. Enter Ladies and Nurse. All Ladies. Ah! my poor dear, dear. All Nurses. Ah! my poor dear master! ah, child, Cry for thy poor dad. [Kiss the hearse. Phil. What a dog-kennel's here! how they howl! [Aside. Mir. When The passions of your grief are over, pray Hear me speak, because it concerns you all. Phil. Pox of thy gravity, Mirida. [Aside. Mir. Nay, hold your tongue; if You set me once a laughing, I shall spoil Your funeral. [Aside. Enter Pinguister and Lean-man. So here comes my fat lover and my Was afraid I shou'd not have had your company. Ping. Really, sweet lady, I have taken a purge To-day (as I do constantly, for love Of you) which has retarded me, By reason of its operation, neither can I say it has yet finished. Mir. Sir, please you To sit down, and you, Master Pinguister. Ping. Lady, I shall embrace your offer, and shall Press your chair. By my heart, madam, this chair Was fitter for a jackdaw than [for] me. [Sits down and breaks the chair. Nay, they make such chairs now-a-days, that had I A grudge to an upholsterer, I would Desire no greater revenge than to sit Down upon every chair in his shop. Mir. Truly, Sir, I am sorry for your fall. Ladies and gentlewomen, pray give your Attention to my dear deceas'd cousin's Will. Poor young man! he was kill'd yesterday By a duel: He liv'd but two hours after he was hurt, Which time he made use of, to settle something On all you here, his worthy friends. Omnes. A good young man. Mir. Imprimis, I bequeath my soul, as other People use to do, and so my body. Item, I give to Mistress Mary, for a reason that she knows, £500. Item, £500 to Mistress Margaret, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Sarah, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Martha, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Alice, for a reason she knows. If they should hear how their legacies [Laughs aside. Are to be paid, how they'd fall a-drumming on His coffin! Item, I leave to Master Pinguister, A very fat man.— Ping. I am so. Mir. An infallible Receipt to make him lean. Ping. So I hope the Dead may do what the living cannot. Mir. I leave to a certain lean gentleman, Whom I have seen in my cousin Mirida's Company, a sure receipt to make him fat. Lean. I find he knew I was to marry his cousin. Mir. I desire my body to be carried to the Grave by the six aforesaid gentlewomen.— So, ladies, now you have heard his will, Be pleased to take up the body: nurses, You are to follow next; now which o' you Will lead me? Ping. I will, madam. Lean. By my bones, but you shan't. Ping. By my fat, but I will, sir. Mir. Nay, gentlemen, pray, fall not out. Well, one Of you lead me one half of the way. [Exeunt. Ping. Agreed, Sir, take you her hand first, Works again. Save me! Whereabouts is the closet? [Goes out, and comes in again. What a loose must I run to overtake them Now! else I shall not lead my mistress the last Half-way. Deliver me from love and purges! Enter all again with a coffin; Philidor and Mirida shut them into the vault. Phil. So, there let 'em converse with the dead a While; I would rather have 'em there than above Ground: here will I keep 'em till they have All quitted me under their hands and seals. Mir. O, the sport that we shall have by-and-by! Well, but I must go home a little, my Father will miss me: where shall we meet Again? Phil. Just here. Mir. I will not fail. [Exeunt. Enter Amarissa just arrived. Ama. I'm come too late, and yet too soon am here, Since dear Zoranzo's death is now so near. On the same block with him I'll lay my head, That our two bodies may have but one bed. Thus are our nuptial joys decreed by fate, Our wedding and our burial bear one date. Sure, I'm the first of maids that ever gave Her body to her lover in a grave. Alas! in cold embraces we must meet, With icy kisses in a winding-sheet. Yet though this life denies us time to love, The other life will not so cruel prove; That when the headsman strikes, they both shall fly, Twined in one another through the air, And be at rest, whilst other souls despair. Enter Jailor. This is the prison, And here's the jailor, I believe. Pray, sir, Do you belong unto the prison? Jailor. Belong! Yes, I am the keeper of it. Ama. Is not Here one Zoranzo a prisoner? Jailor. Yes, But he won't be here long, for he is To die anon. Ama. Ah me! sir, I am his Sister; pray help me to him, that I may speak With him before that cruel hour; I love Him so, that I must needs die with him; I'll Petition the duke that I may; sure, he'll not Deny me that request. Jailor. I can tell you a way that you may be sure To have that favour granted. Ama. Tell it me, and I'll thank ye. Jailor. Why, if you'll try to convey him out of prison, As another lady has already, you may Bear them company too. Ama. Why, has there any lady endeavour'd it? Jailor. Yes, one that is his mistress, and they are Both to die together. Ama. Ha! what is't I hear? his mistress, say you? Jailor. Yes, mistress; they both lie as contentedly By one another, as if they were not two. Ama. Curse him, good heaven, ye cannot throw too many Curses on him. Here, jailor, take this, And let me speak with the prisoner. Jailor. Madam, You shall. Enter Zoranzo and Amphelia as in prison, in chains. Zor. Amarissa! are my eyes false, or is it Truly she? Ama. Your eyes are true; but 'tis your heart that's false. Zor. I am deceiv'd! that cannot be her tongue. Ama. Should it speak otherwise to thee, I'd tear It out, devil, Zoranzo; cursed pair Of vipers, that in chains of death can practise Lust, as if no end were nigh. Do not My wrongs startle thy guilty soul, to think Of all the torments it must have, that could With so much falseness murder love? When thou Art gone to hell, as go thou must, 'twill be A task for all the devils there, To torture thee enough. Thy sin is such, Were I thy headsman, when thou com'st to die, I'd be a week a-cutting off thy head, 'Twixt every stroke I'd stop; and then I'd hollow Amarissa in thy ears; thy guilt would be An echo to my wrongs, and answer to My cry: wrong'd Amarissa; Would make thy soul think hell not half such pain. Farewell, Zoranzo, I'll come to see your Head struck off, and your lady's. Zor. Base Amarissa, that can conclude me False, because she saw this lady lie in Chains by me, and could not ask me how we Came together. Thus to revile me, and Not know the truth: I'll scorn to tell her now! Enter Duke. Ama. O sir, be pleas'd to hear a maid's petition, Though a stranger to you. Duke. Fair maid, what is't? Ama. Zoranzo that's condemn'd to die, may—— Duke. Not Live; if that be your request, pray do not Ask; I shan't grant it. Ama. No, sir, 'tis that he May have a thousand deaths, instead of one; Or one that has more pain than thousands. Duke. What makes you thus incens'd against him? Ama. Heaven knows I have too much cause, sir. I have Lov'd him long, and the day he was your prisoner, Should have been our wedding. News being brought To me in my own country, that he was To die, in flying haste I took this tedious Journey; with sorrow and with joy I here Arrived; tears in my eyes for his approaching Death, smiles on my cheeks to think of dying With him; but when I came unto the prison gate I met the jailor, and he told me all, Then let me in, and to In chains together, and not half so fast As chain'd in love. All my intended kisses then I chang'd Into as many curses on his heart, Which with my eyes I spoke as well as tongue. Duke. Alas! poor injur'd maid, we must be one Another's Petitioners; thy fate is mine; That woman which you saw with him has prov'd As false to me, as he to you. Ama. For heaven's Sake, sir, let 'em die both; no sight would please Us like their blood; the jailor Told me they lie as close together all day As if they were not two. Duke. O, curse on 'em! Ama. O, the devil take 'em! pray, sir, give order That they may be brought immediately To execution. Duke. I will. Ama. I'll go call the jailor, sir. [Steps to the prison. Enter Jailor. Duke. Jailor, let the prisoners be brought to Execution straight, I'll be there myself. Ama. And I too, sir. Duke. You shall; we'll go together. [Exeunt. Enter All Ladies, Nurses, Pinguister, and Lean-man, as in the vault; Philidor as a Crier. Phil. O yes, O yes, O yes! did any man hear tale Mares, with three sucking colts?— All Nurses. Hark, we are cried In the streets. Phil. And also six maiden ladies, that should Have been married to a certain Promising gentleman?— All Ladies. Devil! we are Cried too. Phil. Also a very lean gentleman, That must be fatter before he's married?— Lean-man. Hark, that is I? Phil. And the hugest loss of All is one Master Pinguister, a lovely Fat gentleman, whom all that knew him, doubt him To be dead upon some privy-house; because He purged every day for love, by reason Mistress Mirida would not marry him till A certain measure that she About his waist— Enter Mirida. Ping. Crier, I am here, I am here. Phil. If any can bring news of the six aforesaid Virgin ladies, or of the three Flanders nurses And colts, to one Master Philidor, a very Conscientious young man— Omnes. A pox take him! Phil. They shall be extremely paid for their pains. Again, if any can bring tidings of this Master Pinguister to Mistress Mirida, She will be very bountiful in her Reward: the poor soul weeps most bitterly Ping. Does she so, poor wretch? [Cries aloud.] Prythee, good Crier, go tell her I am not dead, though I have been buried a great while in the Vault. Mercy of my bum-gut, my purge again? Omnes. You nasty rogue, turn your breech out of the Gate then. [Goes to do so, Philidor kicks him down, he roars out. Mir. Philidor, I have broke a vein With laughing, to hear thy rogueries. I'll call To Pinguister. Master Pinguister? My Love, my dear, sure, I hear thy voice? Ping. Who's that, My dear female? Mir. The same, fat love. Ping. O, prythee raise me from the dead. Phil. Well, ladies and gentlewomen, how d'ye Like your crier now? Omnes. The devil take thee, was it you? Phil. The very same. 2d Lady. Well, won't you let us out? pray howsoever, Take away this fat gentleman from us; For he has such a coming looseness, and 'Tis so dark here, that he has Shit upon every one of us. Omnes. Well, but won't you let us out? Phil. Yes, if you ladies would set your hands To this paper, to quit me as to all promises, I will; and also, my reverend nurses, You must set your hands to this discharge, Else farewell t'ye— Omnes. Well, well, stay; we will. [Set their hands. Phil. So, now you may go take the air Again; there's the key to let yourselves out. Omnes. A cheating rogue! Phil. Come, Mirida, let's run away, for if They catch us, murder is the best we can Hope for. [Exit, with Mirida. 1st Nurse. They went this way; let's run after Them, some one way and some t'other. [Exeunt Women. Ping. So you may, but if I run away, then Hang me; I am glad of my resurrection Howsoever. On my conscience, no green Carcase ever stunk as I did; to my best Remembrance I went to stool some Threescore times in the vault, ergo I was beaten threescore times; the Unmerciful nurses, with their huge Palm'd hands, every time I went to't, Play'd at hot-cockles My buttocks. Well, I hope I shall ne'er be Buried again whilst I live, and so with That prayer I'll go to bed. Enter Mirida. Mir. My dear fat love, little dost thou think how many Tears I have shed for all thy sufferings; that rogue Philidor put a trick upon us all. Ping. Well, and has physic, heats, burial, Nor resurrection, made me yet lean Lost as much grease as would furnish A whole city with candles for a twelvemonth And all for the love of thee, sweet Mirida. [Cries and sobs. Mir. Dear love, come sit thee in my lap, And let me try if I can enclose thy world Of fat and love within these arms: See, I cannot nigh encompass my Desires by a mile. Ping. How is my fat a rival to my joys! [Cries. Sure, I shall weep it all away. Mir. Lie still, my babe, lie still and sleep, It grieves me sore to see thee weep: Wer't thou but leaner, I were glad; Thy fatness makes thy dear love sad. What a lump of love have I in my arms! Ping. Nay, if I had not taken all these courses To dissolve myself into thy embraces, One would think my looking on thee Were enough; for I never see thee but I am like a fat piece of beef roasting At the fire, continually drop, drop, drop. There's ne'er a feature in thy face, or Part about thee, but has cost me many A pint of fat, with thinking on thee; And yet not to be lean enough for Thy husband—O fate! O fate! O fat! [She lets him fall. Mir. O Lord, sir, I have let you fall, How shall I do to get you up again! Ping. Nay, that is more than all the world can tell. Mir. I'll e'en lie down by thee then. Ping. Nay, As good lie a league off, as that distance. Mir. Were I thy wife, fat love, I would. She sings. My lodging upon the cold floor is, And wonderful hard is my fare, But that which troubles me more, is The fatness of my dear. Yet still I do cry, O, melt, love, And I prythee now melt apace; For thou art the man I should long for, If 'twere not for thy grease. Pinguister sings. Then prythee don't burden thy heart still, And be deaf to my pitiful moan; Since I do endure the smart still, And for my fat do groan; Then prythee now turn, my dear love, And I prythee now turn to me; For, alas! I am too fat still To roll so far to thee. Mir. That were not modesty in me to turn To you; but if you can roll to me within This hour, I'll marry you in spite of all Your fat. Ping. Agreed, then I shall gain thee yet; You must lie still then. Mir. Yes, yes. Ping. Sure, I am Sysiphus's stone, for as fast as I turn Over, I think I turn back again, else I Must needs have been come to my journey's end [He rolls to her, and she rolls from him. By this time; for I am of such a breadth, That every roll I give I pass over An acre at least. Thou liest still, my love, Dost thou not? Mir. Yes, I long to have thee here. Ping. I doubt I shan't be with thee, though, This two hours. Mir. Then my heart will break. Ping. I'm sure mine will before I get to thee. O woman, O woman, O woman! They talk of woman in travail, I'm Sure I know a man in travail at This time, in more pain by half. [She rises and laughs at him. Mir. Why, my most extreme fat ass, dost Thou not find that I have fool'd thee All this while? Ping. Why, hast thou? Mir. Yes, indeed have I. Ping. O thou woman! may'st thou grow Fat, that thy breast and belly may Meet together, so that all the fat Hostesses in Christendom may appear But eels to thee. Mir. Farewell, my lowly love. Ping. Why, wilt thou not help me up, before You go? Mir. What to do? to run heats again for love? Ping. No, to fight with thee. Mir. Fight with me? by this light, would we Had two swords. I'd have one pass At all thy tripes. Enter Cutler with two swords. Faith, and yonder's a fellow with two swords: Friend, lend me but thy swords one minute. Cut. I am going to carry them to two gentlemen. Mir. O, this will not hinder thee; thou shalt See rare sport. Go, help that gentleman Up that lies yonder, and give that sword Into his hand. Come, are ye ready, sir? Ping. Why, you dare fight then, it seems? Though thou art so ungodly a chit, as To say no prayers, before thou beginn'st, I will, I assure thee. Good—I pray and desire ye, if I Do miscarry in this duel, that I may Meet with no woman in the other World. Now, thou worst of females, Have at thee. Mir. Come, I'll let out all your fat and love at One thrust. [Fight, and she disarms him. Now ask thy life, and confess thou art an ass. Ping. I am an ass, and ask my life. Mir. Then I, thy conquering CÆsar, take my leave With this conclusion: veni, vidi, vici. And so farewell. O fate, O love, O fat! [Exit. Ping. After all my miseries, would I were Up again, else the next man that comes Will make a roller of me, for to roll Bowling-greens. [Makes several attempts to rise, and at last gets up. So, now I have a mile home at least, And every toilsome step I take, I will Curse women. [Exit. Enter Zoranzo and Amphelia lying upon straw together. Zor. Most bless'd of women, I must tell you truth; And yet I fear that truth will—— Amph. Will what? I doubt he loves me— [Aside. Speak it, sir, nothing from you can Be unwelcome. Zor. O yes, it will. Amph. I'll warrant you; out with it, sir. Zor. Then know, I——'Twill come no farther. Amph. Unhappy man! 'tis so, he loves me. [Aside. O sir, I have sadder truth to tell to you Than yours can be to me——I dare not Speak it. Zor. My fears are true; she loves me. [Aside. Pray tell me, what it is? Amph. Tell yours first, sir. Zor. Alas! you saw I tried, but could not get It past my lips. Amph. If I should try, mine would not come so far. Zor. Would I knew yours, I could tell it for you. Amph. So could I yours, [and] yet I can't my own. Zor. Alas! she loves me. [Aside. Amph. Poor Zoranzo! I see he loves me. [Aside. But, sir, consider we are going to die; Let us die undeceiv'd in one another. Zor. O, that some one that knows each of our hearts, Would hearken to our griefs, and bid An angel come and speak for both! Enter Jailor. Jailor. Come, have you done your discourse? you must go To execution. Zor. A little patience, jailor: [To her] see, we are Called unto our deaths, pray tell me, what You mean. Amph. I cannot; first do you begin. Zor. Nor I. Amph. Let us tell both together then, that one May not blame the other. Zor. Agreed: are you ready now to speak! Amph. Yes—O no, I am not—well, now I am— Are you? Zor. Yes, I am; begin—O, stay, I cannot yet. Jailor. Come, come, I can give you no longer time. Amph. Nay, then we must tell. Zor. Poor Amphelia! 'tis Amarissa that I love. Amph. O Zoranzo, I love the duke! Zor. Then I am joy'd, I was afraid 'twas me You lov'd. Amph. And so was I that you lov'd me. Now we shall both die happy, never was Two such friends as you and I. Jailor. Come, come. Amph. Good jailor, we go most willingly now. [Exeunt. Enter as on a scaffold, Duke, Amarissa, Ortellus, Zoranzo, Amphelia, Jailor, and Executioner. Ama. Jailor, why didst thou let them stay so long? Jailor. They had so much to say to one another, That still they begged one minute, and then Another. Ama. D'ye hear, sir? pray let the jailor Be turn'd out of his place, for letting them speak to One another. Amph. See, Zoranzo, where they sit In triumph o'er our deaths. Ama. S'life, sir, they are Whispering, d'ye see Yonder? Executioner, why don't you Strike off their heads, and let them whisper then. Sir, you're melancholy. Duke. I am indeed. Zor. Now, Amphelia, to heaven and you I truly Vow, my love is still the same to cruel Amarissa. Amph. Heaven and you witness the same for me: My heart is still that undeserving duke's. Exec. Come, which of you will die first? Zor. Hast thou not Skill enough to strike our heads off together? Ama. Executioner, let them not have that Satisfaction; pray, sir, let that woman Die first, that damned Zoranzo may have Two deaths; it will be one to him to see Her die; shall it be so, sir? Duke. What you please. Exec. Come, lady, you must lay down your head First, the duke says. Amph. That word's the sharpest axe That I shall feel. Exec. Have you said all? [Both kneel as at prayers. Amph. To earth I have, But not to heaven. Farewell, dear friend, for one short minute. Zor. My soul Shall hasten after yours. Ama. S'life! jailor, will you Let them speak to one another again? Amph. Executioner, now I am ready. Duke. Hold, The prisoner shall die first. Zor. With all my Heart, I am ready. Duke. Nay, it is not you I mean, sir; rise; 'tis I that am the prisoner, I will make you a present, take your life, Your love; nay, and my dukedom too: and to Oblige you most of all, executioner, Strike off my head, for I am weary of it. Amph. Not for ten thousand worlds, sir, Whate'er you mean. Duke. Know then, I have lov'd you All this while, but seeing your hate so great to me, I have dissembled scorn to you. [She swoons. Why dost thou swoon, Amphelia? Amph. Did not I hear some voice just now, That said the duke does love me still? Duke. Thou didst; 'twas he himself that said so. Amph. If 'twere from heaven, good heaven, say it again! Duke. 'Twas I myself, I tell thee—and I will Ne'er speak another word, if that displease thee. Amph. O, I am in heaven then, it seems, and 'tis Some god that is telling me how the duke Loved me still. Duke. Dear Amphelia, 'tis I That loves thee, tells thee so. Amph. Hark, now there is a god that says he loves Me too; blest god, I'm sorry if you do. Since I have heard the duke does love me still, Help it. O, let me fly down to the earth Again, only to hear him say he loves me. I cannot promise when I shall return: That very word from him would keep me there. Duke. I must answer her no more: they say 'Twill keep 'em longer in a trance. [He rubs her. Ort. I am but in a scurvy condition now, if She comes to life again, for they will Examine one another, how the mistake Came between them, and then I am Sure it must come to light. [Aside. Amph. Who's that,—duke Archimedes? Duke. The same, sweet angel. Amph. O sir, I am come from heaven to see you, Since there I heard you love me still. Duke. Dear Amphelia, thou hast dream'd all this while; Heaven, 'tis true, is where thou art, but 'twas My voice that said I love thee. Amph. Was not my head struck off just now? Duke. Canst thou ask that, while I have A head and heart? Amph. Why, have you lov'd me still? Duke. With as much truth as ever lover did. Amph. So have I you with equal constancy. Ama. Well, sir, now you are satisfied, pray let Me be so too, and let Zoranzo's head Be struck off quickly, I see he's mean as well as false, to quit Me for a woman that does not love him. Amph. Hold, Amarissa, hear me speak, before Zoranzo dies; and be assur'd he loves You still. Ama. Would you deceive me too? Amph. Indeed I don't; when we were going to die, Then we called heaven and ourselves to witness, That both our loves were true, Mine to Archimedes, and his to you. Ama. You can forgive me, sir? [Kneels. Zor. I cannot answer yet; Thy civility has took away my speech. Duke. Dear Amphelia, how came this sad mistake 'Twixt you and I? Amph. I'll tell you, sir, in part; When you were in this last war, my woman Receiv'd a letter from one of the gentlemen Of your chamber, wherein he did assure Her that you had a new mistress in that Country, and therefore bid her tell me Of it, that I might by degrees wean my Affections from so false a man as you. Duke. Here has been some foul play; for this very man You spoke of, receiv'd a letter from your woman, Wherein she bid him assure me, that you Were prov'd false in my absence, and lov'd my Cousin Ortellus. Guard, go fetch them both Hither immediately; they shall die Without mercy. Ort. Nay, then, I had as good Discover, 'twill fall th' heavier on me else. Sir, let the guard stay, And I will tell you all. 'Tis I have sow'd the seeds of this mistake. I long have lov'd Amphelia, for which cause I tried this way to draw her heart from you. I knew this gentleman of your bed-chamber Was in love with Amphelia's woman, Therefore I brib'd her to write to him, To assure the duke that Amphelia lov'd me, Another letter to her, wherein he Should complain of the duke's falling in love With another woman in that country. I knew your spirits both to be so great that Neither of you would stoop to one another, When you were both possess'd of either's falseness: And so it prov'd. For when the duke heard you lov'd me, he brought A fair new mistress over with him, to Let you see he did contemn you; and so Amphelia, sir, when she heard you lov'd Another, assur'd me then that she lov'd me, Which now I see was only to make you Think how much she scorn'd you, though still her heart Was true, and so was yours. Now, sir, I humbly beg your pardon. Duke. 'Twill be in vain, my lord; I cannot grant it. O Amphelia, how many hours of joy We two have lost! Amph. Base lord! Enter Artabella. Art. O sir, I heard that people were to die To-day; let me be one, I pray. Amph. Not for The world, sweet innocent. Art. O madam, you are she The duke loves. Pray spare your pity, sir; can You have the heart to let me live, and see You married to another? Amph. Have patience, Sweet young maid, I will not marry him; you won't Blame me, if I love him, though? Art. No; For then I should condemn my fault in you. Duke. But sure, Amphelia, you did but jest, In telling her you would not marry me? Amph. Indeed, sir, I am in earnest; consider It is but justice; she loves you as well As I: her heart was quiet till you troubled It. Duke. All this is true; but how will your Love show, if you refuse to marry me? Amph. Not less at all, but make my pity more. Duke. If I would marry her, I can't believe, That she would be thus kind to you. Amph. Yes, I dare say she would; ask her and try. Duke. Well, Artabella, will you marry me? Art. You never hated me till now; can you Believe I'd wrong so blest a woman as Amphelia? Amph. See, sir, would it be justice now in me? She will not wound my heart; should I kill hers? Duke. But consider, 'tis you I love, not her. Amph. That's her misfortune, sir, yet she deserves. As much as I: I can but love you, so Does she. Duke. Dear Amphelia, marry me. Amph. I cannot Out of pity, sir. Duke. Talk not of pity, if Thou wilt show me none. Amph. My pity is her due: My love is yours. Duke. O Amphelia, this was A cruel way to make me happy. Thou'st Better still have kept my joys unknown, than let My dear Amphelia, marry me. Amph. Do not Petition her; you may command in any Thing but this. Duke. Monster of villains, thou hast caus'd All this! Executioner, immediately strike Off his head. Ort. I'm sure you will not let me die. Duke. Impudent villain, dispatch him straight. Ort. Hold, sir, 'tis only I can make you Three happy, which if you do not confess, When you have heard me speak, then let me die. Duke. Well, let's hear it. Ort. Promise me my life First, if I do. Duke. Well, you shall have it. Ort. Then know, the lady Artabella is Your sister. Duke. Ha! Ort. I say, your sister; You do remember that you had one once? Duke. Yes, I do, but she was lost at three years old. Ort. 'Tis true it was thought so; but thus it is:— When 'twas reported you were slain in th' battle, I straight convey'd away this lady, then A child, because she should not stand 'twixt me And the dukedom. I being then acquainted With the mother to Arbatus, I brought This lady, and gave her a sum of money, T' adopt her for her child. With willingness My offer she embrac'd, the more, because Her son Arbatus had been lost about Seven years, thought to have been cast away At sea, though afterwards returned home: I had enjoin'd her secrecy, which she Sister. Enter Arbatus. Duke. And is she then my sister? O Arbatus, welcome, welcome! I've a crowd Of joys about my heart to tell thee. Arb. What! that you have broken my sister's heart? Duke. Thou hast no sister; 'tis I [that] possess that Blessing; Artabella is my sister. How blest a sound is sister to my ears! I'll give command no other word but sister Shall be spoke throughout my dukedom; I'll have it Taught to infants; so that when nature lends Their sucking tongues a means to speak one word, They shall all babble sister, 'stead of nurse. I'll have the name engrav'd in gold [up]on Every post and pillar in the streets, and passers- By shall worship it. Arb. I am amazed. Enter Philidor and Mirida. |
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