University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius

Scæna Prima.

Enter Julio and Angilo.
Jul.
I will but see her once more Angilo
That I may hate her more, and then I am
My selfe againe.

Ang.
I would not have thee tempt lust,
Tis a way dangerous, and will deceive thee
Hadst thou the constancy of all men in thee.

Jul.
Having her sins before me, I dare see her
Were she as catching as the plague, and deadly,
And tell, her she is fouler then all those
And far more pestilent, if not repentant,
And like a stronge man, chide her well, and leave her.

Ang.
'Tis easily said, of what complexion is she?

Iul.
Make but a curious frame unto thy selfe
As thou wouldst shape an Angell in thy thought
Such as the Poets, when their fancies sweat
Imagine Iuno is, or faire eyde Pallas
And one more excellent, then all those figures
Shalt thou finde her; shees browne, but of a sweetnes,
(If such a poore word may expresse her beauty)
Beleeve me Angilo would doe more mischiefe
With a forc't smile, then twenty thousand Cupids
With their love quivers, full of Ladies eyes,
And twice as many flames, could fling upon us.

Ang.
Of what age is she?

Iul.
As a Rose at fairest,
Neither a bud, nor blown, but such a one,
Were there a Hercule's to get againe
With all his glory, or one more then he
The god would choose out mongst a race of women
To make a mother of; she is outwardly
All that bewitches sense; all that entises,
Nor is it in our vertue to uncharme it.
And when she speakes, oh Angilo, then musick
(Such as old Orpheus made, that gave a soule
To aged mountaines, and made rugged beasts
Lay by their rages; and tall trees that knew
No sound but tempests, to bow downe their branches
And heare, and wonder; and the Sea, whose surges
Shooke their white heads in heaven, to be as midnight
Still, and attentive; steales into our soules
So suddenly, and strangely, that we are
From that time no more ours. but what she pleases.

Ang.
Why looke, how far you have thrust your selfe againe
Into your old disease? are you that man
With such a resolution, that would venture
To take your leave of folly, and now melt
Even in repeating her?

Iul.
I had forgot me.

Ang.
As you will still doe.

Iul.
No, the strongest man
May have the grudging of an ague on him,
This is no more; let's go, I would faine be fit
To be thy friend againe, for now I am no mans.

Ang.
Goe you, I dare not goe, I tell you truely
Nor were it wise I should.

Iul.
Why?

Ang.
I am well.
And if I can, will keepe my selfe so.

Iul.
Ha? thou mak'st me smile, though I have little cause,
To see how prettily thy feare becomes thee;
Art thou not strong enough to see a woman?

Ang.
Yes, twenty thousand: but not such a one
As you have made her; Ile not lye for'th matter:
I know I am fraile, and may be cosen'd too
By such a Syren.

Iul.
Faith thou shalt goe, Angilo

Ang.
Faith but I will not; no I know how far Sir
I am able to hold out, and will not venture
Above my depth: I doe not long to have
My sleepe ta'ne from me, and goe pulingly
Like a poore wench had Iost her marketmoney;
And when I see good meat, sit still and sigh,
And call for small beere; and consume my wit
In making Anagrams, and faithfull poses;
I doe not like that Itch, I am sure I had rather
Have the maine pox, and safer.

Iul.
Thou shalt goe,
I must needs have thee as a witnesse with mee
Of my repentance; as thou lov'st me goe.

Ang.
Well I will goe, since you will have it so,
But if I prove a foole too, looke to have me
Curse you continually, and fearefully.

Iul.
And if thou seest me fall againe, good Angilo
Give me thy councell quickly least I perish.

Ang.
Pray God I have enough to save my selfe,
For as I have a soule, I had rather venture
Upon a savage Island, then this woman.

Exeunt

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Father and Servant.
Fath.
From whom Sir, comes this bounty? for I thinke
You are mistaken.

Serv.
No Sir, 'tis to you,
I am sure my Mistris sent it.

Fath.
Whoe's your Mistris,
That I may give her thanks?

Ser.
The vertuous Widow,

Fath.
The vertuous widow Sir? I know none such:
Pray what's her name?

Ser.
Lælia.

Fath.
I knew you err'd
'Tis not to me I warrant ye; there Sir,
Carry it to those she feedes fat with such favours,
I am a stranger to her.

Ser.
Good Sir take it,
And if you will, I'le sweare she sent it to you,
For I am sure mine eye never went off ye
Since you forsook the Gentlemen you talk'd with
Just at her doore.

Fath.
Indeed I talkt with two
Within this halfe houre in the street.

Ser.
'Tis you Sir,
And none but you I am sent to: wiser men
Would have been thankfull sooner, and receiv'd it,
'Tis not a fortune every man can brag of,
And from a woman of her excellence.

Fa.
Well Sir, I am Chatechiz'd; what more belongs to't?

Ser.
This only Sir; she would intreat you come
This evening to her without faile.

Fa.
I will.

Ser.
You ghesse where.

Fa.
Sir I have a tongue else.
Exit Ser.
She is down-right Devill; or else my wants
And her disobedience have provok't her
To looke into her foule selfe, and be sorry.
I wonder how she knew me? I had thought
I had been the same to all, I am to them
That chang'd me thus: God pardon me for lying,
For I have paid it home: many a good man
That had but found the profit of my way
Would forsweare telling true againe in hast.
Enter Lodovico and Piso.
Here are my praters; now if I did well
I should belabour 'em, but I have found
A way to quiet 'em, worth a thousand on't.

Lod.
If we could get a fellow that would do it.

Fa.
What villany is now in hand?

Piso.
'Twill be hard to be done in my opinion
Unlesse we light upon an English-man
With seven-score surfets in him.

Lod.
Are the English-men such stubborn drinkers?

Piso.
Not a leake at Sea
Can sucke more liquor; you shall have their children
Christned in mull'd sacke, and at five yeares old, able
To knocke a Dane downe: Take an English-man
And cry St. George, and give him but a rasher,
And you shall have him upon even terms
Defy a hogshead; such a one would do it
Home boy, and like a work-man: at what weapon?

Lod.
Sherry sack: I would have him drinke stark dead,
If it were possible: at worst past pottage.

Piso.
What is the end then?

Lod.
Dost thou not perceive it?
If he be drunke dead, ther's a faire and of him.
If not, this is my end, or by enticing,
Or by deceiving, to conduct him where
The foole is, that admires him; and if sober,
His nature be so rugged, what wilt be
When he is hot with wine? come lets about it,
If this be done but handsomely, I'le pawne
My head she hath done with souldiers.

Piso.
This may do well.

Fa.
Here's a new way to murther men alive,
I'le choake this traine: God save ye Gentlemen.
It is to you, stay: yes it is to you.

Lod.
What's to me?

Fath.
You are fortunate,
I cannot stand to tell you more now, meete me
Here soone, and you'l be made a man.
Exit Father.

Lod.
What Vision's this?

Piso.
I know not.

Lod.
Well, I'le meet it,
Think you ot'h other, and let me a while
Dreame of this fellow.

Piso.
For the Drunkard, Lodowicke,
Let me alone.

Lod.
Come, let's about it then.

Exeunt

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Clora and Franke.
Clo.
Ha, ha, ha, pray let me laugh extreamly.

Fra.
Why? prethee why? hast thou such cause?

Clo.
Yes faith, my brother wil be here straightway, &—

Fra.
What?

Clo.
The other party: ha, ha, ha.

Fra.
VVhat party?
VVench thou art not drunke.

Clo.
No faith.

Fra.
Faith thou hast been among the bottles Clora;

Clo.
Faith but I have not Franke: Prethee be handsom,
The Captaine comes along too, wench.

Fra.
O is that it?
That tickles ye.

Clo.
Yes, and shall tickle you too,
You understand me?

Fra.
By my troth thou art grown
A strange lewd wench: I must e'ne leave thy company,
Thou wilt spoile me else.

Clo.
Nay, thou art spoil'd to my hand;
Hadst thou been free, as a good wench ought to be,
VVhen I went first a birding for thy Love,
And roundly said, that is the man must doe it,
I had done laughing many an houre agoe.

Fra.
And what dost thou see in him, now thou knowst him,
To be thus laught at?

Clo.
Prethee be not angry
And I'le speake freely to thee.

Fra.
Doe, I will not.

Clo.
Then as I hope to have a handsome husband,
This fellow in mine eye, and Franke I am held
To have a shrewd ghesse at a pretry fellow,
Appeares a strange thing.

Fra.
Why how strange for Gods sake?
He is a man, and one that may content
(For any thing I see) a right good woman:
And sure I am not blinde.

Clo.
There lyes the question;
For, but you say he is a man, and I
Will credit you, I should as soone have thought him
Another of Gods creatures; out upon him,
His body, that can promise nothing
But lazinesse and long strides.

Fra.
These are your eyes;
Where were they Clora, when you fell in love
With the old foot-man, for singing of Queen Dido?
And swore he look'd in his old velvet trucks
And his slyc't Spanish Jerkin, like Don Iohn?
You had a parlous judgment then, my Clora.

Clo.
Who told you that?

Fra.
I heard it.

Clo.
Come, be friends,
The Souldier is a Mars, no more, we are all
Subiect to slide away.

Fra.
Nay, laugh on still.

Clo.
No faith, thou art a good wench, and 'tis pity
Thou shouldst not be well quarred at thy entring,
Thou art so high flown for him: Look, whose there?

Enter Fabricio and Iacamo.
Iac.
Prethee goe single, what should I do there,
Thou knowst I hate these visitations,
As I hate peace or perry.

Fab.
Wilt thou never
Make a right man?

Iac.
You make a right foole of me
To lead me up and down to visit women,
And be abus'd and laugh'd at; let me sterve
If I know what to say, unlesse I aske 'em
What their shooes cost?

Fab.
Fye upon thee, coward,
Canst thou not sing?

Iac.
Thou knowest I can sing nothing
But Plumpton parke.

Fab.
Thou't be bold enough,
When thou art enterd once.

Jac.
I had rather enter
A breach: If I miscarry, by this hand
I will have you by'th eares for't.

Fab.
Save ye Ladies.

Clora.
Sweet brother I dare sweare, you'r welcome hither,
So is your Friend;

Fab.
Come, blush not, but salute 'em.

Franck.
Good Sir beleeve your Sister; you are most welcome,
So is this worthy Gentleman whose vertues
I shall be proud to be acquainted with.

Iac.
She has found me out already, and has paid me;
Shall we be going?

Fab.
Peace;
Your goodnesse Lady
Will ever be afore us, for my selfe
I will not thanke you single, lest I leave
My friend, this Gentleman, out of acquaintance.

Iac.
More of me yet?

Fra.
Would I were able Sir,
From either of your worths to merit thankes.

Clo.
But brother, is your friend thus sad still? me thinks
'Tis an unseemly nature in a Souldier.

Iac.
What hath she to do with me, or my behaviour?

Fab.
He do's but shew so, prethee to him Sister.

Iac.
If I do not breake thy head, I am no Christian,
If I get off once.

Clo.
Sir, we must intreat you
To thinke your selfe more welcome, and be merry,
'Tis pitty a faire man of your proportion
Should have a soule of sorrow.

Iac.
Very well;
Pray Gentlewoman what would you have me say?

Clo.
Do not you know Sir?

Ia.
Not so well as you
That talke continually.

Fra.
You have hit her, Sir.

Clo.
I thank him, so he has,
Faire fall his sweet face for't.

Iac.
Let my face
Alone, I would wish you, least I take occasion
To bring a worse in question.

Clor.
Meaning mine?
Brother, where was your friend brought up? h'as sure
Been a great lover in his youth of pottage,
They lye so dull upon his understanding.

Fab.
No more of that, thou'lt anger him at heart.

Clo.
Then let him be more manly, for he lookes
Like a great School-boy that had been blown up
Last night at dust-point.

Fra.
You will never leave
Till you be told how rude you are, fye Clora.
Sir will it please you sit?

Clo.
And I'le sit by you.

Iac.
Woman be quiet, and be rul'd I would wish you.

Clo.
I have done, Sir Captaine.

Fab.
Art thou not asham'd?

Iac.
You are an asse, I'le tell you more anon,
You had better ha been hang'd then brought me hither.

Fab.
You are grown a sullen foole; either be handsom,
Or by this light I'le have wenches baite thee;
Goe to the Gentlewoman, and give her thanks,
And hold your head up; what?

Ia.
By this light I'le brain thee.

Fra.
Now ô my faith this Gentleman do's nothing
But it becomes him rarely; Clora, look
How well this little anger, if it be one,
Shews in his face.

Clo.
Yes, it shewes very sweetly.

Fra.
Nay do not blush Sir, ô my troth it does,
I would be ever angry to be thus.
Fabritio, ô my conscience if I ever
Do fall in love, as I will not forswear it
Till I am something wiser, it must be,
I will not say directly with that face,
But certainly, such another as that is,
And thus dispose my chance to hamper me.

Fab.
Dost thou heare this, and stand still?

Iac.
You will prate still;
I would you were not women, I would take
A new course with ye.

Clo.
Why couragious?

Iac.
For making me a stone to whet your tongues on.

Clo.
Prethee sweet Captaine.

Iac.
Goe, goe spin, goe hang.

Clo.
Now could I kisse him.

Iac.
If you long for kicking,
You'r best come kisse me, do not though, I'de wish ye,
I'le send my Foot-man to thee, he shall leap thee,
And thou wantst horsing: I'le leave ye Ladies.

Fra.
Beshrew my heart you are unmannerly
To offer this unto a Gentleman
Of his deserts, that comes so worthily
To visite me, I cannot take it well.

Iac.
I come to visite you, you foolish woman?

Fra.
I, though you did Sir, and for that I thanke you,
I would be loth to loose those thankes; I knowe
This is but some odd way you have, and faith
It do's become you well to make us merry;
I have heard often of your pleasant veine.

Fab.
What wouldst thou ask more?

Ja.
Pray thou scurvy fellowe
Thou hast not long to live; adieu deare Damsels,
You filthy women farewell, and be sober,
And keepe your chambers.

Clor.
Farewell old Don Diego.

Fra.
Away, away, you must not be so angry,
To part thus roughly from us; yet to me
This do's not shew, as if 'twere yours, the wars
May breed men something plain I know,
But not thus rude; give me your hand good Sir
I know 'tis white, and—

Jac.
If I were not patient,
What would become of you two prating houswives?

Clo.
For any thing I know, we would in to supper,
And there begin a health of lusty Claret
To keep care from our hearts, and it should be—

Fab.
Faith to whom? Mark but this Jacamo.

Clo.
Even to the handsomest fellow now alive.

Fab.
Do you know such a one?

Fra.
He may be ghest at,
Without much travel.

Fab.
There's another item.

Clo.
And he should be a Souldier.

Fra.
'Twould be better.

Clo.
And yet not you sweet Captaine

Fra.
Why not he?

Ja.
Well; I shall live to see your husbands beate you,
And hisse 'em on like ban-dogs.

Clo.
Ha, ha, ha.

Jac.
Green sicknesses and serving-men light on ye
With greasy Codpieces, and woollen stockings,
The Devill (if he dare deal with two women)
Be of your counsels: Farewell Plaisterers—
Exit Jacamo.

Clor.
This fellow will be mad at Mid-sumer
Without all doubt.

Fab.
I thinke so too.

Fra.
I am sorry
Hee's gone in such a rage; but sure this holds him
Not every day.

Fab.
Faith every other day
If he come neare a woman.

Clor.
I wonder how his mother could endure
To have him in her belly he's so boysterous.

Fra.
He's to be made more tractable I doubt not.

Clo.
Yes, if they taw him as they do whit-leather
Upon an iron, or beate him soft like Stock-fish.

Scæna quarta.

Enter Lælia and her waiting woman with a vaile.
Lel.
Art sure 'tis he?

Wom.
Yes, and another with him.

Lel.
The more the merryer; did you give that money
And charg'd it to be delivered where I shewed you?

Wom.
Yes, and what else you bad me.

Lel.
That brave fellow,
Though he be old, what ere he be, shews toughnesse,
And such a one I long for, and must have
At any price; these young soft melting gristles
Are only for my safer ends.

Wom.
They are here.

Lel.
Give me my vaile, and bid the boy goe sing
That song above, I gave him: the sad Song:
Now If I misse him, I am curst, goe wench
And tell 'em I have utterly forsworn
All company of men; yet make a venture
At last to let 'em in; thou knowst these things,
Doe 'em to'th life.

Wom.
I warrant you I am perfect.

Lel.
Some ill woman for her use would give
A million for this wench, she is so subtle.

Enter to the doore Julio and Angilo.
Wom.
Good Sir desire it not, I dare not do it,
For since your last being here, Sir, beleeve me
She has griev'd her selfe out of all company,
And (sweet soule) almost out of life too.

Jul.
Prethee,
Let me but speake one word.

Wom.
You will offend Sir
And yet your name is more familiar with her
Then any thing but sorrow, good Sir goe.

Ang.
This little varlet hath her lesson perfect,
These are the baites they bob with.

Iul.
Faith I will not.

Wom.
I shal be chidden cruelly for this;
But you are such a Gentleman—

Iul.
No more.

Ang.
There's a new Tyre-wench; peace, thou art well enough.

Iul.
What, has she musique?

Wom.
Yes; for Gods sake stay,
'Tis all she feedes upon.

Iul.
Alas poore soule.

Ang.
Now will I pray devoutly, for there's need ont.

The SONG.

Iul.
Mistris? not one word, Mistris if I grieve ye
I can depart againe.

Ang.
Let's goe then quickly,
For if she get from under this darke cloud,
We shall both sweate I feare for't.

Iul.
Do but speake
Though you turne from me, and speake bitterly,
And I am gone, for that I think will please you.

Ang.
Oh that all women were thus silent ever,
What fine things they were.

Iul.
You have look'd on me,
When (if there be beliefe in womens words
Spoken in teares) you swore you lov'd to do so.

Lel.
O me my heart!

Ang.
Now Julio play the man,
Or such another willundoe thee:
Would I had any thing to keepe me busie
I might not heare her; thinke but what she is,
Or I doubt mainly, I shall be i'th mash too.

Jul.
Pray speake againe;

Lel.
Where is my woman?

Wom.
Here.

Ang.
Mercy upon me! what a face she has?
Would it were vail'd againe.

Lel.
Why did you let
This flattering man in to me? did not I
Charge thee to keep me from his eyes againe,
As carefully as thou wouldst keep thine owne?
Thou hast brought me poyson in a shape of heaven
Whose violence will breake the hearts of all,
Of all weake women, as it has done mine,
That are such fooles to love, and looke upon him.
Good Sir be gone, you know not what an ease
Your absence is.

Ang.
By heaven she is a wonder,
I cannot tell what 'tis, but I am squeamish.

Jul.
Though I desire to be here more then heaven
As I am now, yet if my sight offend you,
So much I love to be commanded by you
That I will goe: Farewell—

Lel.
I should say something
E're you depart, and I would have you heare me:
But why should I speak to a man that hates me?
And will but laugh at any thing I suffer?

Jul.
If this be hate—

Lel.
Away, away deceiver.

Jul.
Now help me Angilo!

Ang.
I am worse then thou art.

Lel.
Such teares as those might make another woman
Believe thee honest Julio: almost me
That know their ends, for I confesse they stir me.

Ang.
What will be come of me? I cannot goe now
If you would hang me, from her: O brave eye!
Steale me away for Gods sake Julio.

Jul.
Alas poor man! I am lost againe too strangely.

Lel.
No, I will sooner trust a Crocadile
When he sheds teares, for he kills sodainly,
And ends our cares at once; or any thing
That's evill to our natures, then a man;
I finde there is no end of his deceivings,
Nor no avoyding 'em, if we give way:
I was requesting you to come no more,
And mocke me with your service, 'tis not well,
Nor honest to abuse us so far: you may love too;
For though, I must confesse I am unworthy
Of your love every way: yet I would have you
Thinke I am somewhat too good to make sport of.

Jul.
Will you believe me?

Lel.
for your vows and oaths,
And such deceiving teares as you shed now,
I will as you doe, study to forget 'em.

Jul.
Let me be most despis'd of men—

Lel.
No more;
There is no new way left, by which your cunning
Shall once more hope to catch me; no, thou false man
I will avoid thee, and for thy sake all
That beare thy stamp; as counterfeit in love.
For I am open ey'd againe, and know thee.
Goe, make some other weepe, as I have done,
That dare believe thee: goe, and sweare to her
That is a stranger to thy cruelty,
And knowes not yet what man is, and his lyings,
How thou di'st daily for her: poure it out
In thy best lamentations; put on sorrow,
As thou canst, to deceive an Angell, Julio,
And vow thy selfe into her heart, that when
I shall leave off, to curse thee for thy falshood,
Still a forsaken woman may be found,
To call to heaven for vengeance.

Ang.
From this houre,
I heartily despise all honest women;
I care not if the world tooke knowledge on't,
I see there's nothing in them, but that folly
Of loving one man only: give me henceforth
(Before the greatest blessing can be thought of)
If this be one, a whore; that's all I aime at.

Iul.
Mistris, the most offending man is heard
Before his sentence, why will you condemn me
E're I produce the truth to witnesse with me
How innocent I am of all your angers?

Lel.
There is no trusting of that tongue, I know't,
And how far if it be believed it kills; no more Sir.

Iul.
It never lyed to you yet; if it did
'Twas only when it cal'd you mild and gentle.

Lel.
Good Sir no more; make not my understanding
After I have suffered thus much evill by you,
So poor to thinke I have not reach'd the end
Of all your forc'd affections; yet because
I once lov'd such a sorrow too too dearly,
As that would strive to be; I do forgive ye
Even heartily, as I would be forgiven,
For all your wrongs to me; my charity
Yet loves you so far, (though againe I may not)
And wish when that time comes, you will love truly
(If you can ever doe so) you may finde
The worthy fruit of your affections,
True love againe, not my unhappy harvest,
Which like a foole I sow'd in such a heart
So drye and stonie, that a thousand showres
From these two eyes, continually rayning,
Could never ripen.

Iul.
Y'ave conquer'd me:
I did not thinke to yield, but make me now,
Even what you will my Lelia, so I may
Be but so truly happy to enjoy you.

Lel.
No, no, those fond imaginations,
Are dead and buried in me, let 'em rest.

Iul.
I'le marry you.

Ang.
The Devill thou wilt Iulio
How that word waken'd me? come hither friend,
Thou art a foole, looke stedfastly upon her
Though she be all that I know excellent
As she appeares, though I could fight for her,
And run through fire; though I am starke mad too
Never to be recover'd, though I would
Give all I had I'th world to lye with her
Even to my naked soule, I am so far gone,
Yet me thinks still we should not doate away
That that is something more then ours, our honours
I would not have thee marry her by no meanes,
Yet I should do so; is she not a whore?

Iul.
She is; But such a one—

Ang.
'Tis true, she's excellent,
And when I well consider, Iulio
I see no reason we should be confin'd
In our affections; when all creatures else
Enjoy stil where they like.

Iul.
And so will I then.

Lel.
He's fast enough I hope now, if I hold him.

Ang.
You must not do so though, now I consider
Better what 'tis.

Iul.
Do not consider Angilo,
For I must do it.

Ang.
No I'le kill thee first.
I love thee so well that the wormes shall have thee
Before this woman, friend.

Iul.
I was your counsell.

Ang.
As I was a knave,
Not as I lov'd thee.

Iul.
All this is lost upon me Angilo,
For I must have her: I will marry yee
When you please; pray looke better on me.

Ang.
Nay then no more friend; farewell Iulio,
I have so much discretion left me yet
To know, and tell thee thou art miserable.

Iul.
Stay thou art more then she, and now I finde it.

Lel.
Is he so?

Iul.
Mistris.

Lel.
No, I'le see thee sterv'd first.
Exit Lel.

Iul.
Friend.

Ang.
Fly her as I do, Iulio, she's a witch.

Iul.
Beate me away then, I shall grow heere still else.

Ang.
That were the way to have me grow there with thee
Farewell for ever.
Exit Ang.

Iul.
Stay, I am uncharm'd,
Farewell thou cursed house, from this houre be
More hated of me then a Leprosie.
Exit Iulio.

Enter Lelia.
Lelia.
Both gon? a plague upon 'em both,
Am I deceiv'd againe? Oh I would raile
And follow 'em; but I feare the spight of people,
Till I have emptied all my gall; the next
I seize upon, shall pay their follies
To the last penny; This will worke me worse
He that comes next, by heav'n shall feele their curse.

Exit.

Scæna quinta.

Enter Iacamo at one doore Fabritio at another.
Fab.
O yee are a sweet youth, so uncivilly
To rayle and run away?

Ja.
O are you there Sir?
I am glad I have found ye, you have not now your Ladies
To shew your wit before.

Fab.
Thou woult not, woult 'a?

Ja.
What a sweet youth I am, as you have made me,
You shall know presently.

Fab.
Put up your sword
I have seene it often, 'tis a Fox.

Iac.
It is so,
And you shall feele it too; will you dispatch Sir?
And leave your mirth out? or I shall take occasion
To beate ye, and disgrace you too.

Fab.
Well since, there is no other way to deale with you
Let's see your sword, I am sure you scorne all odds,
I will fight with you—

Jac.
How now?

(they measure, and Fab: gets his Sword.
Fab.
Nay stand out,
Or by this light I'le make yee.

Ja.
This is scurvy
And out of feare done.

Fab.
No Sir out of judgement,
For he that deales with thee, thou'rt growne so boystrous
Must have more wits, or more lives then another,
Or alwayes be in Armor, or inchanted;
Or he is miserable.

Ja.
Your end of this Sir?

Fab.
My end is only mirth to laugh at thee,
Which now I'le do in safety; ha, ha, ha.

Ja.
Shart? then I am growne ridiculous.

Fab.
Thou art,
And wilt be shortly sport for little children,
If thou continuest this rude stubbornenesse.

Jac.
O God, for any thing that had an edge?

Fab.
Ha, ha, ha.

Jac.
Fye, what a shame it is,
To have a rubber shew his teeth?

Fab.
Ha, ha.

Jac.
Why dost thou laugh at the thou wretched fellow?
Speake with a pox; and looke ye render me
Iust such a reason—

Fab.
I shall dye with laughing.

Jac.
As no man can finde fault with: I shall have
Another Sword; I shall ye fleeting puppy.

Fab.
Does not this testiness shew finely in thee?
Once shore take heed of children, if they finde thee
They'le breake up schoole, to beare thee company,
Thou wilt be such a pastime, and whoo'te at thee:
And call thee bloody bones, and Spade, and Spitfire,
And Gaffer Madman; and go by Ieronimo,
And will with wispe and come aloft, and crack rope,
And old Saint Dennis with the dudgeon Codpeeece:
And twenty such names.

Jac.
No I thinke they will not.

Fab.
Yes but they will: and Nurses still their children
Onely with thee, and here take him Iacomo.

Iac.
Gods pretious, That I were but over thee
One Steeple height: I would fall and breake thy neck.

Fab.
This is the reason I laugh at thee,
And while thou art thus, will do: tell me one thing.

Jac.
I wonder how thou durst thus question me,
Pre'thee restore my Sword.

Fab.
Tell me but one thing,
And it may be I will: Nay Sir; keep out

Jac.
Well I will be your foole now, speake your minde Sir.

Fab.
Art thou not breeding Teeth?

Jac.
How? Teeth?

Fab.
Yes Teeth, thou would'st not be so froward else.

Jac.
Teeth?

Fab.
Come, 'twill make thee
A little reumatique, but that's all one,
Weel'e have a Bib, for spoyling of thy doubles;
And a fring'd Muckender, hang at thy girdle,
I'le be thy Nurse, and get a Corall for thee:
And a fine Ring of Bells.

Jac.
Faith this is somewhat
Too much Fabritio, to your Friend that loves you;
Me thinkes your goodnesse, rather should invent,
A way to make my follies lesse, then breed 'em;
I should have been more moderate to you,
But I see ye despise me.

Fab.
Now I love yee,
There, take your Sword, continue so: I dare not
Stay now to try your patience, Soone I'le meet yee,
And as you love your honours, and your state,
Redeeme your selfe well to the Gentlewoman,
Farewell 'till soone.
Exit Fab.

Jac.
Well I shall thinke of this.
Exit Jac.

Scæna Sexta.

Enter Host, Piso, and Boy with a glasse of wine.
Piso.
Nothing 'ith world but a dri'd Tongue or two—

Host.
Tast him and tell me.

Piso.
Is a valiant wine,
This must be he mine Host.

Host.
This shall be Ipse,
Oh he's a develish bitten wine, a Tyrant;
Where he layes hold Sir, This is he that scornes
Small Beere should quench him, or a foolish Caudell
Bring him to bed; no if he flinch I'le shame him,
And draw him out to mull amongst old Midwives.

Piso.
There is a Souldier, I would have thee better
Above the rest, because he thinkes there's no man
Can give him drinke enough.

Host.
What kinde of man?

Pis.
That thou mayst know him perfectly, hee's one
Of a left-handed making, a lanck thing,
As if his belly were tane up with straw,
To hunt a match.

Host.
Has he no beard to shew him?

Piso.
Faith but a little; yet enough to note him,
Which growes in parcells here, and there a remnant:
And that thou maist not misse him, he is one
That weares his fore-head in a vellet scabberd.

Host.
That note's enough, he's mine, I'le fuddle him
Or lye 'ith sudds; you will be here too?

Piso.
Yes, till soone, farewell and beare up.

Host.
If I do not,
Say I am recreant, I'le get things ready.