University of Virginia Library

Scena tertia.

Enter Lord Raymond, Lodwick, Bernards Father, Smirke the Clowne, with Attendants.
Ray.
Gentlemen all I thanke you, your good wills
To me (as well as to the Duke your loyaltie)
Is showne in this your Readinesse and Loue.
He cannot be farre off: Pray let your men
Keepe off the Countrey People, that doe swarme
As thicke as doe the Citie multitude
At sight of any rare Solemnitie.

Smirke.

Keepe back there, keepe back, or Ile make your
Leather Pelches cry twango else: for some of them I am
sure I made 'hem smoake so, that I fear'd I had set 'hem a
fire. Foh, some of them haue drunk sowre Butter-milke
this morning, mingled with Garlicke, which crudden together,
makes but a ranke smell: and then they haue their
Christmas Shooes on, their old dancing Pumpes, vp to
the middle Calfe, keeps 'hem so warme, that here'le be a
Perfume for the Dukes owne nosthrills.

Enter Ferdinand and Ranoff.
Ferd.

Seignior Ranoff, you are well arriu'd.

Ran.

And you sweet Seignior—'Tis very precious hot,
I protest I haue bin cooler vnder the Line.

Fer.

A Halter you haue.

Ran.

I wud we might command some Drinke here.

Fer.

Nay, and we could intreat it, we were happy: for
the Seruingmen that were wont to be all Mouthes, are
now all Eyes, they haue no other member vsefull about
them.

Ran.

This Lord has a most dulcid situation, pleasant,
and profitable, I haue seldome seene in Venice a sweeter.

Fer.

Did you not see Sir a swarme of Bees as you past
by?

Ran.

I cannot tell indeed, I did not marke 'hem.

Fer.

Me thought they lookt Sir like your people of
Hybla.

Ran.

I cannot tell, I neuer had much conuersation
with your people of Hybla, my noble Lord.

Enter Lord Callowe.
Fer.

Here's another, a Bird of the same, but a more
tame one, something more quiet. Now to heare this Iay
chatter, and this Owlet hold his peace, but answer him
with motion, may serue for a Morrisdance.

Ran.

Your Lordships Iennet in my conceit is a most
vnderstanding Beast.

Call.

Hum.

Ran.

I saw the Adlantatho of Domingo mounted vpon
such another, not much different, nay surely nothing at
all; and I donnot thinke but they were twinnes, onely I
thinke your Lordships the better.

Call.

Hum.

Ran.

Your Lordship keepes the Saddle admirable.

Call.

Hum.

Ran.

I wud your Lordship had bin with me at Iapon,
I speake it for Horses sake, and Horsemanship together;
I protest they are the best Ryders, if I said the
Rankest, I did not lye: for beleeue it, I hold your Ranke

Ryder a good Ryder, take him alwayes, and at all times:
As your Frenchman, in Christendome I donnot know
a ranker Ryder, vnlesse it be some part North, there they
are Scourers. Your Lordship has a most neat Ruffe,
and becomes you most elegantly.

Cal.

Hum.

Enter Cornelius, with Dorigene and Iulia, like Milke-maids.
Fer.

Is not this a fine Dialogue? How now? Who
come these to milke? my Lord and's Compeere?

Cor.

No, beleeue it Sir, they are taken vp for the
Dukes owne tooth.

Fer.

Ide as liue thou hadst told me a Tale: yet beshrew
me they are a couple of handsome Calues with
white Faces; but the degrees of this how com'st about?

Cor.

Why the Duke passing by, cast his eye vpon
them, and with it, I beleeue, his fancie: for vpon some
consideration, he sent backe, to giue commaund, they
should be brought hither to my Lords House.

Fer.

'Tis not amisse, he does well to begin holesome.

Ran.

Will your Lordship conduct?

Cor.

I, this will be good, stand aside, & giue 'hem law.

Ran.

Faire gentle Milke-maid.

Dor.

Sweet courteous Squire.

Ran.

Good; a Wench of Language: by this hand
I loue thee.

Dor.

Loue me Sir, why you haue scarce lookt on me.

Ran.

That's all one, I protest I loue thee.

Dor.

I am sorry for't.

Ran.

How white one? sorry for't? sorry that I, whom
Ladies languish for, repine, and die?

Dor.

Surely Sir, those Ladies are not sound, that die
of such a scuruie disease.

Ran.

You now betray your rudenesse; I am angry.

Dor.

You show your selfe an Asse, and I not care for't.

Ran.

Vdfoot, and my Dagger had not bin rustie, that
I might haue drawne it with credit, I'd a stucke it in the
middle of your Milk-Pale, foolish, scuruy, course-kersie,
durty-tayl'd, dangling dug-Cow: A Gentleman Courtier
and Traueller, whose feet ha's measur'd the Alpes,
and be disgrac'd in a piece of vnplow'd Pasture.

I haue lighted vpon one of the Egyptian Idols, taught
Callowe stroking vp his haire, complements with Faces and Legges.
with some Engine to put off his Hat, and screw his Face
a little: I cannot speake to it like a man, yet I will talke
to it as if it were one. How came you hither Sir, pray
did you ride, or were you drawne in a Cart?

Cal.

Hum.

Ran.

Nay, beleeue it my Lord, they are a brace of the
rudest Baubees that euer drew or suckt the Milke of Innocence.

Iul.

Why, but he is not a Lord, I hope, Sir?

Ran.

Foolish Wench I tell thee he is a Lord, and I am
little lesse my selfe, if I were in place where: what do'st
thou know, but I may be the Duke?

Dor.

Marry God forbid, Sir.

Ran.

Why, it had bin all one to thee, thou hadst cal'd
me Asse.

Dor.

Asse vnawares may prooue a wise man, better
considered of.

Ran.
Ah, she begins to ballance me.

Dor.
I doe indeed Sir.

Ran.
And how doe you find me now?

Dor.
Full weight Sir.

Ran.
O, in good time, wee shall agree anone.—
The Duke—

Enter Duke, with Raymond and the Traine.
Duke.
Through the generall loue our subiects beare to you,
We find my Lord your loyaltie to vs:
Which rellisheth more sweeter to our eares,
In their Applauses told, then by your owne.
And Gentlemen I thanke you euery one;
You haue tooke much paines t'see a growing Prince,
Not season'd yet with Time to your desires:
But crown'd with your loues in the Diademe,
I steadily shall hold the Scepter out,
While Iustice shall stand by me, and direct it.
I hope you will not looke that I shall raigne
In my first yeere, as your last Duke my Father
In his last: but giue my Youth some libertie
To play the wanton Prince, though not the wild one.
I haue I know possest all you that know it,
With that Conceit, when I gaue command,
Vpon the first sight of a payre of Lasses,
That haue Lookes like the place where they were bred,
Chearefull and innocent to be brought to me,
That I may see their pleasing eyes againe;
For me thought on the sudden they were faire ones.

Ray.
I wonnot crosse your Grace, but if my counsell—

Duke.
I prythee keepe it, I haue no need of it,
Donnot confine me, though I be your guest:
I know it may breed laughter, perhaps sorrow
Vnto some graue ones, but I shall deceiue 'hem;
I will see'hem, and haue parley with 'hem:
There's no hurt meant, if you meane not any,
Nor shal this wrong your House; therfore produce thē.

Ray.
They are here my Lord.

Fer.
Vdfoot, what will the young Duke doe trow?
Shall we haue it set downe in our Chronicles,
Inprimis, a brace of Milkemaids? very good.
Where are our Ladies now? they are to seeke,
And must begin againe to learne short Curt'sies,
Short Curts
And dance after the Countrey Horne-pipe.

Duke.
Can there be any losse of Royaltie,
To bid these welcome? If here be any Rudenesse,
Let me be taskt with it, that like such Rudenesse?
If Bloud or Beautie euer made a Lady,
Why are not these so? I professe that man
A Traytor, does not thinke it: yet they are still
Themselues, and so am I. Are you not Sisters?

Short Curts
Dor.
In Qualitie, and't shall please you;
Yet there may be a doubt the tother way,
For our Fathers were next Neighbors.

Fer.

That's a plaguie Wench; she has not milk'd so
many Kine for nothing, she knowes the danger of the
Horne.

Iul.

I beseech your Maiestie let vs depart, those fine
men flowt vs.

Cor.

Well said Innocence, thou art at home, and
play'st within doores, the tother is more open.

Dor.

We meane no harme, and't please you: if my
Lord will spare vs a little of his sowre Beere, weele make
you a daintie Sillibub; that's our Qualitie.

Iul.

Vdfoot, we shalbe whipt anon for this Abuse.

Dor.

I warrant thee Wench, hold vp, Ile take too lashes
for thy one.

Iul.

Indeed you are better able to beare it.

Fer.

What's the Dukes purpose tro? how he does eye
'hem. They'd be good marchandise for some of vs, now
we are farre from our Mistresses.

Cor.
And may be so when he has done with 'hem,
That's my comfort.

Duke.
What was your Father?

Dor.
A Swineheard if it please you.

Duke.
What yours?

Iul.
A Ditcher and't shall like you.

Cor.
Shee's the better descended of the two.
VVhat'le all this come to?

Duke.
If thou hadst bin my Sister,
And thou Daughter vnto some bordering Prince,
As Florence, Padua, Verona, or some farther place,
VVhat Prince wud not haue sought and su'd to you?
But goe and make the Habitation
VVhere you were borne, and dwell, a Paradice,
And let all Courts be wild and desolate.

Dor.
Excellent: my fortune's come about,
And I will venter, though my life lye on't.

Iul.
My life lyes on it too.

Dor.
Hold thy tongue, thou art a sharer,
As I giue thee example, follow. Pardon, pardon,
Great Prince, If we haue through our Ignorance,
Or Folly, giue it what name you please,
VVrong'd this faire Presence, wrong'd you the Light.
That came but as the Egyptians, to adore
The rising Sunne, and to fall downe before it.

Cor.
VVhat whirle's this?

Dor.
VVe are poore Gentlewomen of this Country,
Neighbors vnto this place, that tooke vpon vs
This Habit, to be freer and more bold,
And yet more harmelesse, fearing to be prest
VVith the Court Complement, that playes so thick
In a young Damsels eares, it often beares
And batters downe poore Virgins Chastitie.
We did presume vpon our strength, t'withstand
The Pages, Footmen, and the Scullerie:
But when a Lord should take vs vnto taske,
Or others of your braue embroydred Traine,
Alas we had bin like the silly Fowle
Vnder the towring Hawke, layd flat before 'hem,
Vpon the very shaking of their Feathers.

Fer.

A good Wench yfaith, she flowts them to their
faces.

Cor.

But what is this intended for trow; a Pastorall,
or a Comedie?

Fer.
A Comedie sure, ther's so much Wit in't.
'Tis your daughter—

Lod.
Yes: but pray be silent, let's see the effect,
I dare not owne her yet.

Duke.
I let yee kneele thus long, to heare againe
That most harmonious voice, And ere thou risest,
Aske something of me, fit for thee to craue,
And me to giue, And thou art Mistresse of it.

Dor.
I shall my gracious Lord, I craue your pardon.

Duke.
Pish, that is needlesse, for thou'st not offended;
Or if thou hadst, it were a poore one, that,
For I doe giu't to Theeues and Murtherers:
Aske me a Gift, that Time may talke of it,
Being my first Bountie, which I wud conferre
Brauely and worthily, and thou art borne for't.
Hadst thou Birth equall vnto Wit and Beautie,
Thou wert a Wife for any Prince in Europe,
And I my selfe wud take thee to my Bed:
But rise, and thinke, consider what thou ask'st;
Yet thou art wise enough, I need not teach thee.

Enter a Messenger.
Ray.
How now—Your haste?

Mess.
Where is my Lord the Duke?

Duke.
Your businesse?

Mess.
The good old Earle of—is deceased,
And the Earledome now confer'd vnto your Crowne.

Duke.
'Tis some Addition; but wud he still had liu'd
To haue kept it still, he was so true a friend.—
Hast thou Thought yet?

He speakes to Dorig.
Dor.
Yes my Lord, I thanke this Messenger.
There is an Earledome now falne to your Crowne.

Duke.
There is.

Dor.
Then that it is I craue, for him I owe
All duty, all respect, and life vnto.

Duke.
What's he?

Dor.
One not farre off; my Father.

Duke.
Is he thy Father?

Pointing to Lod.
Lod.
Yes my dread Soueraign; I beseech your pardon,
The Wench I thinke is frantike.

Lod. kneeles.
Duke.
Hadst not thou bin her Father, thou hadst bin so,
To haue vtter'd such a thought. Rise vp Earle of—
Thou hast thy Princes word for't.

Ray.
Haue I broke my braines, As these white haires
Doe witnesse, for the safetie of you,
And of your Father before you, and the State,
To haue a priuate Gentleman, my Neighbor,
Meerely for getting of a handsome Wench,
Rais'd aboue me—it will not be digested,
For I will breake the necke of these new Fortunes
Or they shall mine, and crush me into nothing.

Duke.
Not any one beside my selfe beholds
The Beautie of this Face, where two Sunnes moue,
Kindling new Fires to the God of Loue.
The Title of a Queene much better wud
Become thee, then a Beggar. Why didst not aske
To be what Nature did intend thee for,
And I wud consummate, had not Fortune set thee
So many steps below me in thy Birth?

Dor.
If I might not offend my gracious Prince,
I wud make bold to speake.

Duke.
I did and doe entreat thee.

Dor.
And speake freely?

Duke.
With all libertie.

Dor.
I may I hope, without your Courtiers scorne,
Pronounce my selfe a Lady; and before
This Honor was confer'd vpon me by you,
There did run generous bloud within these veines,
And if not noble: but say there did not,
And I had bin borne the last of the last
Ranke of basest people; yet you haue made me
(Such is the power of Princes) truly noble:
I am the daughter of an Earle, which is a Prince,
And by that Title challenge Alliance
With euery other Prince of higher bloud.
And if the Emperor himselfe were here,
He now wud owne me for his Kinswoman,
For I stand in the Line of Royaltie:
And who denyes it, knowes not Heraldrie.

Ray.
Here's a Wench knowes how to blaze a Coat.

Dor.
Therefore my Lord, my Bloud can be no let,
(If I faile not in other parts) to make
A Duchesse, or a Queene, and may become
(If you be pleas'd to make me so) your Wife,
Ambitious of your Loue, not of the Title.

Duke.
Famine and Warres plague my Dominions,
And strike at my owne Person, but I loue thee,
Infinitely loue thee, loue thee beyond the Word,
Beyond all Action that expresseth it.
To call thee Faire, Sweet, Louing, and my Wife,
Are but poore Attributes: Thou art my Soule,
The better Part, that gouernes my best Thoughts,
And bids me thinke on Heauen, and view thee.
Thy Freenesse and thy Wit, for such as doe
Respect a Dower, are sufficient.
What are Townes, Countries, that may be destroy'd
By Sword or Fire, comparable to thee,
That bear'st about thee in one Limbe the Beautie
Of twentie thousand Cities, and their Wealth?
Thou art all the World to me, for I can liue
And sit downe by thee with content of mind,
Without Ambition how to conquer farther,
And thinke I haue enough; And so shall All,
All of you here, that will be counted Subiects,
And wish the quiet of your Soueraigne:
For him that does not, let him leaue me now,
And I will curse him backe againe a Traytor;
And she her selfe shall curse him, and so damne him.

Fer.
Nay, And't become to that passe, I am silent.

Cor.

'Tis best so, when the Tongue may forfeit the
Head: I haue a con'd Speech alreadie; Long liue the
Duchesse.

Ran.

I am glad my Lord was meale-mouth'd when
she was a Milke-maid, I am sure he gaue her no ill language.

Duke.
What Princes of the East, or of the World,
When they shall see thy Picture, and me by thee,
Circkling thee thus, and thy Armes so with mine,
The Duke em- braceth Dorigene.
To shew consent in our Affections,
But will consider with himselfe, how poore
(Although he haue the Indies in his reach)
He is to me, and sigh himselfe to death?
Father be merry, And my Lord be you so;
For now your House is happy, and shall looke
More glorious then our Pallaces: Although
You left the Walls as naked as your Roofe,
Let euery Roome be deckt with Countenances
Chearefull, as at the houre I was borne,
When as I heard my Father was here with you,
And had the glad newes brought him. Wast not so?

Ray.
Yes, my good Lord.

Duke.
Why so then: Musicke, and some Wine,
That I may drinke a Health to her I loue,
Deepe as my Affections.

A flourish of Cornets.
Cor.
You shall see he will be drunke with Wine
As well as with Loue.

Duke.
First you shall pledge me, then it shall go round,
Vnlesse it stop at any discontent,
VVhom out of all this number I would note.

Ran.

And't be good VVine, it shall ne're sticke at me,
what ere the Health be.

Fer.

No, Seignior; I thought you had had a Small-Beere
stomacke.

Ran.

Neuer but i'th'Morning.

Dor.

My Lord, drinke to Raymond.

Iul.

The Courtiers begin to melt, and my mightie
Madame knowes how to command: I wonder what I
shalbe? The Dice went equally once in my owne opinion
for Duchesse; but Duchesse Mate, that's my comfort.

Duk.
What eye now looks on thee, that not contemnes
The Colours of the Lilly and the Rose,
VVhich come as short of Beautie as of Sweetnesse?
Lend me thy hand my Ioy, for I will yet
But borrow it, till with thy heart I take it
At the Temple, and make it mine for euer;
That Fame may through the world my mind discouer,
Lesse happy being a Duke, then being a Louer.

Exeunt.