 | The Custome of the Countrey |  |
Actus quartus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Duarte, Doctor.Duart.
You have bestowed on me a second life
For which I live your creature, and have better'd
What nature fram'd unperfect, my first being
Insolent pride made monstrous; but this later
In learning me to know my selfe, hath taught me
Not to wrong others.
Doct.
Then we live indeed.
When we can goe to rest without a larum
Given every minute to a guilt-sick conscience
To keep us waking, and rise in the morning
Secure in being innocent: but when
In the remembrance of our worser actions
We ever beare about us whips and furies,
To make the day a night of sorrow to us,
Even life's a burthen.
Dua.
I have found and felt it;
But will endeavour having first made peace
With those intestine enemies my rude passions
To be so with man-kinde: but worthy Doctor,
Pray if you can resolve me; was the Gentleman
That left me dead, ere brought unto his tryall?
Doct.
Nor known, nor apprehended.
Dua.
Thats my griefe.
Doct.
Why doe you wish he had been punished?
Dua.
No,
The streame of my swoln sorrow runs not that way:
For could I finde him, as I vow to heaven
It shall be my first care to seek him out,
I would with thankes acknowledge that his sword,
In opening my veines, which proud bloud poison'd,
Gave the first symptomes of true health.
Doct.
'Tis in you
A Christian resolution: that you live
Is by the Governours, your Uncles charge
As yet conceal'd. And though a sons losse never
Was solemniz'd with more teares of true sorrow
Then have been paid by your unequald Mother
For your supposed death, shee's not acquainted
With your recovery.
Dua.
For some few dayes
Pray let her so continue: thus disguis'd
I may abroad unknown.
Doct.
Without suspition
Of being discovered.
Dua.
I am confident
No moisture sooner dies then womens teares,
And therefore though I know my Mother vertuous,
Yet being one of that fraile sex I purpose
Her farther tryall.
Doct.
That as you thinke fit—I'le not betray you
Dua.
To finde out this stranger
This true Phisician of my mind and manners
Were such a blessing. He seem'd poore, and may
Perhaps be now in want; would I could finde him.
The Innes I'le search first, then the publique Stewes
He was of Italy, and that Countrey breeds not
Precisians that way, but hot Libertines;
And such the most are: 'tis but a little travaile:
I am unfurnisht too, pray Mr. Doctor,
Can you supply me?
Doct.
With what summe you please.
Dua.
I will not be long absent.
Doct.
That I wish too;
For till you have more strength, I would not have you
To be too bold.
Dua.
Feare not, I will be carefull.
Exeunt.
Enter Leopold, Zabulon, Bravo.
Zab.
I have brought him Sir, a fellow that will do it
Though Hell stood in his way, ever provided
You pay him for't.
Leop.
He had a strange aspect
And lookes much like the figure of a hang-man
In a table of the Passion.
Zab.
He transcends,
All presidents beleeve it, a flesh'd ruffian,
That hath so often taken the Strappado,
That 'tis to him, but as a lofty tricke
Is to a tumbler: he hath perused too,
All Dungeons in Portugall, thrice seven yeares
Rowed in the Galleys for three severall murthers,
Though I presume that he has done a hundred,
And scapt unpunisht.
Leop.
He is much indebt to you,
You set him off so well. What will you take Sir
To beate a fellow for me, that thus wrongd me?
Bra.
To beate him say you?
Leop.
Yes, beate him to lamenesse,
To cut his lips or nose off; any thing,
That may disfigure him.
Bra.
Let me consider?
Five hundred pistollets for such a service
I thinke were no deare penniworth.
Zab.
Five hundred!
Why there are of your brother-hood in the Citie,
Ile undertake shall kill a man for twenty.
Bra.
Kill him? I think so; Ile kill any man
For halfe the money.
Leop.
And will you aske more
For a sound beating then a murther?
Bra.
I Sir,
And with good reason, for a dog that's dead
The Spanish proverb saies, will never bite:
But should I beate or hurt him only, he may
Recover, and kill me.
Leop.
A good conclusion,
The obduracie of this rascall makes me tender.
I'le runne some other course, there's your reward,
Without the employment.
Bra.
For that as you please Sir;
When you have need to kill a man, pray use me,
But I am out at beating.
Exit.
Zab.
What's to be done then?
Leop.
I'le tell thee Zabalon, and make thee privy
To my most neare designes: this stranger, which
Hyppolita so doates on, was my prisoner
When the last Virgin, I bestowed upon her,
Was made my prize; how he escap'd, hereafter
J'le let thee know; and it may be the love
He beares the servant, makes him scorne the Mistris.
Zab.
'Tis not unlike; for the first time he saw her
His lookes exprest so much, and for more proofe
Since he came to my Ladies house, though yet
He never knew her, he hath practis'd with me
To help him to a conference, without
The knowledge of Hyppolita; which I promis'd.
Leop.
And by all meanes performe it, for their meeting,
But worke it so, that my disdainfull Mistris
16
'Tis my hard fate to love) may see and heare them.
Zab.
To what end Sir?
Leop.
This Zabulon: when she sees
Who is her rivall, and her Lovers basenesse
To leave a Princesse for her bondwoman,
The sight make her scorne, what now she doates on,
I'le double thy reward.
Zab.
You are like to speed then:
For I confesse what you will soone beleeve,
We serve them best that are most apt to give.
For you I'le place you where you shall see all, and yet be unobserv'd.
Leop.
Tat I desire too.
Exit.
Enter Arnoldo.
Arn.
I cannot see her yet, how it afflicts me:
The poyson of this place, should mixe it selfe
With her pure thoughts? 'Twas she that was commanded
Or my eyes failed me grosly; that youth, that face
And all that noble sweetnesse. May shee not live here,
And yet be honest still?
Enter Zenocia.
Zen.
It is Arnoldo,
From all his dangers free; fortune I blesse thee,
My noble husband! how my joy swells in me,
But why in this place? what businesse hath he here?
He cannot heare of me, I am not known here.
I left him vertuous; how I shake to thinke now?
And how that joy I had, cooles, and forsakes me?
Enter above Hyppolita and Zabulon.
This Lady is but faire, I have beene thought so
Without compare admired; Shee has bewitched him
And he forgot—
Arn.
'Tis she againe, the same—the same Zenocia.
Zab.
There they are together.—Now you may mark
Hyp.
Peace let 'em parly.
Arn.
That you are well Zenocia; and once more,
Blesse my despairing eyes, with your wisht presence,
I thanke the gods; but that I meete you here—
Hip.
They are acquainted,
Zab.
I found that secret Madam,
When you commanded her goe home: pray heare 'em.
Zen.
That you meet me here, ne're blush at that Arnoldo.
Your comming comes too late: I am a woman,
And one woman with another may be trusted;
Do you feare the house?
Arn.
More then a feare, I know it,
Know it not good, not honest.
Zen.
What do you here then?
I'th name of vertue why doe you approach it?
Will you confesse the doubt and yet pursue it?
Where have your eyes been wandring my Arnoldo?
What constancy, what faith do you call this? Fie,
Aime at one wanton marke, and wound another?
I doe confesse, the Lady faire, most beauteous,
Leopold places himself unseen below.
And able to betray a strong mans liberty,
But you that have a love, a wife—you do well
To deale thus wisely with me: yet Arnoldo,
Since you are pleas'd to studie a new beauty,
And think this old and ill, beaten with misery.
Studie a nobler way for shame to love me,
Wrong not her honesty.
Arn.
You have confirm'd me.
Zen.
Who though shee be your wife, will never hinder you,
So much I rest a servant to your wishes,
And love your Loves, though they be my destructions,
No man shall know me, nor the share I have in thee,
No eye suspect, I am able to prevent you,
For since I am a slave to this great Lady,
Whom I perceive you follow
Arn.
Be not blinded.
Zen.
Fortune shall make me useful to your service,
I will speake for you.
Arn.
Speake for me? you wrong me.
Zen.
I will endeavour all the wayes I am able
To make her think well of you; will that please,
To make her dote upon you, dote to madnesse,
So far against my selfe I will obey you.
But when that's done, and I have shewed this duty
This great obedience, few will buy it at my price,
Thus will I shake hands with you, wish you well,
But never see you more, nor receive comfort
From any thing, Arnoldo.
Arn.
You are too tender;
I neither doubt you, nor desire longer
To be a man, and live, then I am honest
And only yours; our infinite affections
Abus'd us both.
Zab.
Where are your favours now?
The courtesies you shew'd this stranger, Madam?
Hip.
Have I now found the cause?
Zab.
Attend it further.
Zen.
Did she invite you doe you say?
Arn.
Most cunningly,
And with a preparation of that state
I was brought in and welcom'd.
Zen.
Seem'd to love you?
Arn.
Most infinitly, at first sight, most dotingly.
Zen.
Shee is a goodly Lady;
Arn.
Wondrous handsome:
At first view, being taken unprepar'd,
Your memory, not present then to assist me,
Shee seem'd so glorious sweet, and so far stird me,
Nay be not jealous, there's no harme done.
Zen.
Prethee—didst thou not kisse Arnoldo?
Arn.
Yes faith did I.
Zen.
And then—
Arn.
I durst not, did not—
Zen.
I forgive you,
Come tell the truth.
Arn.
May be I lay with her.
Hip.
He mocks me too, most basely.
Zen.
Did yee faith? did ye forget so far?
Arn.
Come, come, no weeping;
I would have lyen first in my grave, beleeve that.
Why will you aske those things you would not heare?
Shee is too untemperate to betray my vertues
Too openly lascivious: had she dealt
But with that seeming modesty she might,
And flung a little Art upon her ardor,
But 'twas forgot, and I forgot to like her,
And glad I was deceiv'd. No my Zenocia,
My first love here begun, rests here unreapt yet,
And here for ever.
Zen.
You have made me happy,
Even in the midst of bondage blest.
Zab.
You see now
What rubs are in your way.
Hipo.
And quickly Zabulon
I'le roote 'em out.—Be sure you do this presently.
Zab.
Doe not you alter then.
Hipo.
I am resolute.
Exit Zab.
Arn.
To see you only I came hither last,
Drawne by no love of hers, nor base allurements,
For by this holy light I hate her heartily.
Leop.
I am glad of that you have sav'd me so much vengeance
And so much feare
17
Arn.
Some meanes I shall make shortly to redeem you,
Till when, observe her well, and fit her temper,
Only her lust contemn.
Zen.
When shal I see you?
Arn.
I will live here abouts, and bear her faire stil,
Till I can finde a fit houre to redeeme you.
Hyp.
Shut all the dores;
Arn.
Who's that?
Zen.
We are betray'd,
The Lady of the house has heard our parley,
Seene us, and seen our Loves.
Hyp.
You courteous Gallant,
You that scorn all I can bestow, that laugh at
The afflictions, and the grones I suffer for you,
That slight and jeere my love, contemn the fortune,
My favours can fling on you, have I caught you?
Have I now found the cause? yee foole my wishes?
Is mine own slave, my bane? I nourish that
That sucks up my content. I'le pray no more,
Nor wooe no more; thou shalt see foolish man,
And to thy bitter paine and anguish, looke on
The vengeance I shall take, provok'd and sleighted;
Redeem her then, and steale her hence: ho Zabulon
Now to your worke.
Enter Zabulon and servants, some holding Arnoldo, some ready with a cord to strangle Zenocia.
Arn.
Lady, but heare me speake first,
As you have pitty.
Hyp.
I have none. You taught me,
When I even hung about your necke, you scorn'd me.
Zab.
Shall we pluck yet?
Hyp.
No, hold a little Zabulon,
I'le pluck his heart-strings first: now am I worthy
A little of your love?
Arn.
I'le be your servant,
Command me through what danger you shall aime at,
Let it be death.
Hyp.
Be sure Sir, I shall fit you.
Arn.
But spare this Virgin;
Hyp.
I would spare that villain first,
Had cut my Fathers throate.
Arn.
Bounteous Lady,
If in your sexe there be that noble softnesse,
That tendernesse of heart, women are crown'd for—
Zen.
Kneele not Arnoldo, doe her not that honour,
She is not worthy such submission,
I scorne a life depends upon her pitty.
Proud woman do thy worst, and arme thy anger,
With thoughts as blacke as hell, as hot and bloody,
I bring a patience here, shall make 'em blush,
An innocence, shall outlook thee, and death too.
Arn.
Make me your slave, I give my freedome to ye,
For ever to be fetterd to your service;
'Twas I offended, be not so unjust then,
To strike the innocent, this gentle maid,
Never intended feare and doubt against you:
Shee is your servant, pay not her observance
With cruell looks, her duteous faith with death.
Hyp.
Am I faire now? now am I worth your liking?
Zen.
Not faire, not to be liked, thou glorious Divell,
Thou vernisht piece of lust, thou painted fury.
Arn.
Speake gently sweet, speak gently;
Zen.
I'le speak nobly.
'Tis not the saving of a life I aime at,
Marke me lascivious woman, mark me truly,
And then consider, how I weigh thy angers.
Life is no longer mine, nor deare unto me,
Then usefull to his honour, I preserve it
If thou hadst studied all the courtesies
Humanity and nobleblood, ar linke too,
Thou couldst not have propounded such a benefit,
Nor heapt upon me such unlookt for honour
As dying for his sake, to be his Martyr,
'Tis such a grace.
Hyp.
You shall not want that favour,
Let your bones worke miracles.
Arn.
Dear Lady
By those faire eyes—
Hyp.
There is but this way left ye
To save her life.—
Arn.
Speake it, and I embrace it.
Hyp.
Come to my private chamber presently
And there, what love and I command—
Arn.
I'le doe it,
Be comforted Zenocia.
Zen.
Do not do this,
To save me, do not loose your selfe I charge you,
I charge you by your love, that love you beare me;
That love, that constant love you have twin'd to me,
By all your promises, take heed you keep 'em,
Now is your constant tryall. If thou dost this,
Or mov'st one foote, to guide thee to her lust,
My curses and eternall hate pursue thee.
Redeem me at the base price of disloyalty?
Must my undoubted honesty be thy bawd too?
Goe and intwine thy selfe about that body?
Tell her, for my life thou hast lost thine honour,
Pulld all thy vowes from heaven, basely, most basely
To add an hour to me that hate thee for it,
Stoop'd to the servile flames of that foule woman
Know thee againe, nor name thee for a husband.
Arn.
What shall I doe to save her?
Hyp.
How now, what hast there?
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
The Governour, attended with some Gentlemen,
Are newly entered, to speake with your Ladiship.
Hyp.
Poxe ô their businesse, reprieve her for this hour,
I shall have other time.
Arn.
Now fortune help us.
Hyp.
I'le meete 'em presently: retire a while all.
Exit.
Zab.
You rise to day upon your right side Lady;
You know the danger too, and may prevent it,
And if you suffer her to perish thus,
As she must doe, and suddenly beleeve it,
Unlesse you stand her friend; you know the way on't,
I ghesse you poorely love her, lesse your fortune.
Let her know nothing, and performe this matter,
There are hours ordained for severall businesses,
You understand.
Arn.
I understand you bawd Sir,
And such a Councellour I never car'd for.
Enter the Governour, Clodio, Leopold, Charino and Attendants at one doore, Hyppolita at the other.
Hyp.
Your Lordship does me honour.
Gover.
Faire Hyppolita,
I am come to ease you of a charge.
Hyp.
I keepe none,
I count a burthen Sir: and yet I lye too.
Gover.
Which is the maide; is she here?
Clod.
Yes Sir,
This is she, this is Zenocia,
The very same I sued to your Lordship for.
Zen.
Clodio againe? more misery? more ruine?
Under what angry starre is my life govern'd.
Gover.
Come hither maid, you are once more a free woman
18
Arn.
Another smile,
Another tricke of fortune to betray us!
Hyp.
Why do's your Lordship use me so unnobly?
Against my will, to take away my bond-woman?
Gov.
She was no lawfull prize, therefore no bond-woman:
She's of that Countrey we hold friendship with,
And ever did, and therefore to be used
With entertainment, faire and courteous.
The breach of league in us gives foule example,
Therefore you must be pleas'd to think this honest;
Did you know what she was?
Leop.
Not till this instant;
For had I known her, she had been no prisoner.
Gover.
There, take the maid, she is at her owne dispose now,
And if there be ought else to do your honour
Any poore service in—
Clod.
I am vowed your servant;
Arn.
Your Father's here too, that's our only comfort,
And in a Countrey now, we stand free people,
Where Clodio has no power, be comforted.
Zen.
I feare some trick yet.
Arn.
Be not so dejected.
Gover.
You must not be displeas'd; so farewell Lady.
Come Gentlemen; Captain, you must with me too,
I have a little businesse.
Leop.
I attend your Lordship:
Now my way's free, and my hopes. Lords againe.
Exeunt all but Hyp. & Zab.
Hyp.
Dy'e jeere me now ye are going?
I may live yet—to make you howle both.
Zab.
You might have done; you had power then,
But now the chaines are off, the command lost,
And such a story they will make of this
To laugh out lazie time.
Hyp.
No meanes yet left me?
For now I burst with anger: none to satisfie me?
No comfort? no revenge?
Zab.
You speake too late;
You might have had all these, your usefull servants
Had you been wise, and suddain; What power, or will
Over her beauty, have you now? by violence
To constrain his love; she is as free as you are,
And no law can impeach her liberty,
And whilst she is so, Arnoldo will despise you.
Hyp.
Either my love or anger must be satisfied,
Or I must dye.
Zab.
I have a way woo'd do it,
Woo'd do it yet, protect me from the Law.
Hyp.
From any thing; thou knowest what power I have
What money, and what friends.
Zab.
'Tis a divellish one:
But such must now be us'd: walke in, I'le tell you;
And if you like it, if the Divell can doe any thing.
Hyp.
Divell, or what thou wilt, so I be satisfied.
Exeunt.
Enter Sulpitia, Jaques.
Sulp.
This is the rarest, and the lustiest fellow,
And so be stirs himselfe—
Jaq.
Give him breath Mistris
You'l melt him else.
Sulp.
He does perform such wonders—
The women are mad on him.
Jaq.
Give him breath I say;
The man is but a man, he must have breath.
Sulp.
How many had he yesterday?
And they paid bravely too.
Jaq.
About fourteene.
But still I cry give breath, spare him and have him.
Sulp.
Five Dames to day; this was a small stage
He may endure five more.
Jaq.
Breath, breath I cry still;
Body ô me give breath, the man's a lost man else.
Feede him and give him breath.
Enter 2. Gentlewomen.
Sulp.
Welcome Gentlewomen,
Y'are very welcome.
1 Gen.
We heare you have a lusty & wel-complexion'd fellow
That does rare tricks, my sister and my selfe here,
Would trifle out an houre or two so, please you.
Sulp.
Jaques, conduct 'em in.
Both.
There's for your courtesie.
Exeunt Jaqu. and Gent.
Sulp.
Good pay stil, good round pay, this happy fellow
Will set me up againe, he brings in gold
Faster then I have leisure to receive it.
O that his body were not flesh and fading;
But I'le so papp him up—nothing too deare for him;
What a sweee sent he has?—Now what newes Jaques?
Jaq.
He cannot last, I pitty the poorman
I suffer for him; two coaches of young City dames,
And they drive as the Divell were in the wheeles,
Are ready now to enter: and behind these
An old dead-palsied Lady in a litter,
And she makes all the hast she can; the man's lost,
You may gather up his dry bones to make nine-pins,
But for his flesh.
Sulp.
These are but easie labours,
Yet, for I know he must have rest.
Jaq.
He must:—you'l beate him off his leggs else presently.
Sulp.
Goe in, and bid him please himselfe, I am pleas'd too:
To morrow's a new day; but if he can
I would have him take pity ô the old Lady.
Alas 'tis charity.
Jaq.
I'le tell him all this
And if he be not too fool-hardy.
Enter Zabulon.
Sulp.
How now?
What newes with you?
Zab.
You must presently
Shew all the art you have, and for my Lady.
Sulp.
She may command.
Zab.
You must not dream nor trifle.
Sulp.
Which way?
Zab.
A spell you must prepare, a powerfull one,
Peruse but these directions, you shall find all;
There is the picture too, be quicke, and Faithfull,
And do it with that strength—When 'tis perform'd
Pitch your reward at what you please, you have it.
Sulp.
Ile do my best, and suddainly, but hark ye,
Will you never lye at home againe?
Zab.
Excuse me,
I have too much businesse yet.
Sulp.
I am right glad on't.
Zab.
Think on your businesse, so farewell.
Sulp.
I'le do it.
Zab.
Within this houre I'le visit you againe
And give you greater lights.
Sulp.
I shall observe ye;
This brings a brave reward, bravely I'le do it
And all the hidden art I have, express in't.
Ex. at both dores.
Enter Rutillio with a night-cap.
Rut.
Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden,
Fy how my hams shrinke under me; ô me,
I am broken-winded too; Is this a life?
Is this the recreation I have aimd at,
I had a body once, a handsome body,
And wholsome too. Now I appeare like a rascall
That had been hung a yeare or two in gibbets.
19
Place me before a Cannon, 'tis a pleasure;
Stretch me upon a rack, a recreation;
But women? women? ô the Divell! women?
Curtius gulfe was never halfe so dangerous.
Is there no way to finde the trap-dore againe,
And fall into the Cellar, and be taken?
No lucky fortune to direct me that way?
No galleys to be got, nor yet no gallows?
For I feare nothing now, no earthly thing
But these unsatisfied Men-leeches, women.
How divellishly my bones ake: ô the old Lady!
I have a kind of waiting-woman, lyes crosse my back too,
O how she stings! no treason to deliver me?
Now what are you? do you mock me?
Enter 3. with night-caps very faintly.
1.
No Sir, no,
We were your Predecessors in this place,
2.
And come to see you beare up.
Rut.
Good Gentlemen;
You seem to have a snuffing in your head Sir,
A parlous snuffing, but this same dampish aire—
2.
A dampish aire indeed.
Rut.
Blow your face tenderly,
Your nose will ne're endure it: mercy ô me,
What are men change'd to here? is my nose fast yet?
Mee thinks it shakes it'h hilts: pray tell me Gentlemen,
How long is't since you flourisht here?
3.
Not long since.
Rut.
Move your selfe easily, I see you are tender,
Nor long endured.
2.
The labour was so much Sir
And so few to perform it.—
Rut.
Must I come to this?
And draw my legs after me like a lame dog?
I cannot run away, I am too feeble:
Will you sue for this place againe Gentlemen?
1.
No truly sir, the place has been too warm for our complexions.
2.
We have enough on't, rest you merry sir,
We came but to congratulate your fortune,
You have abundance.
3.
Beare your fortune soberly,
And so we leave you to the next faire Lady.
Exit the 3.
Rut.
Stay but a little, and I'le meet you Gentlemen,
At the next Hospitall: ther's no living thus,
Nor am I able to endure it longer,
With all the helps and heates that can be given me,
I am at my trot already; they are faire and young
Most of the women that repaire unto me,
But they stick on like burs, shake me like feathers.
Enter Sulpitia.
More women yet?
Would I were honestly married,
To any thing that had but halfe a face,
And not a groate to keep her, nor a smocke,
That I might be civilly merry when I pleased,
Rather then labouring in these fulling mills.
Sulp.
By this the spell begins to worke: you are lusty,
I see you beare up bravely yet.
Rut.
Doe you heare Lady,
Do not make a game-beare of me, to play me hourly,
And fling on all your whelps; it will not hold;
Play me with some discretion; to day one course,
And two dayes hence another.
Sulp.
If you be so angry
Pay backe the money I redeem'd you at
And take your course; I can have men enough:
You have lost me an hundred crowns since you came hither,
In broths and strengthning caudles; till you do pay me,
If you will eate and live, you shall endeavour,
I'le chain you to't else.
Rut.
Make me a dog-kennel,
I'le keep your house and bark, and feed on bare bones,
And be whipt out a dores,
Doe you mark me Lady? whipt,
I'le eate old shoes.
Enter Duart.
Dua.
In this house, I am told
There is a stranger, of a goodly person,
And such a one there was; if I could see him,
I yet remember him.
Sulp.
Your businesse Sir,
If it be for a woman, ye are cozend,
I keepe none here.
Exit.
Dua.
Certain this is the Gentleman,
The very same.
Rut.
Death, if I had but money,
Or any friend to bring me from this bondage,
I would thrash, set up a Coblers shop, keepe hogs,
And feede with 'em, sell tinder boxes,
And Knights of Ginger-bread, thatch for three
Halfe pence a day, and thinke it Lordly,
From this base stallion trade: Why does he ey me,
Eye me so narrowly?
Dua.
It seemes you are troubled Sir,
I heard you speak of want;
Rut.
'Tis better hearing
Far, then releiving Sir.
Dua.
I do not think so, you know me not.
Rut.
Not yet that I remember.
Dua.
You shall, and for your friend: I am beholding to yee
Greatly beholding Sir, If you remember,
You fought with such a man, they cal'd Duart,
A proud distemper'd man: he was my enemie,
My mortall foe, you slew him fairly, nobly.
Rut.
Speake softly Sir, you do not meane to betray me
I wisht the Gallows, now th'are comming fairely.
Dua.
Be confident, for as I live, I love you,
And now you shall perceive it: for that service
Me, and my purse command: there, take it to ye,
'Tis gold, and no small sum, a thousand duckets,
Supply your want.
Rut.
But do you do this faithfully?
Dua.
If I mean ill, spit in my face and kicke me,
In what else I may serve you, Sir—
Rut.
I thanke you,
This is as strange to me as Knights adventure.
I have a project, 'tis an honest one,
And now I'le tempt my fortune.
Dua.
Trust me with it.
Rut.
You are so good and honest I must trust ye,
'Tis but to carry a letter to a Lady
That sav'd my life once.
Dua.
That will be most thankfull,
I will do't with all care.
Rut.
Where are you, white-broth?
Now lusty blood,
Come in, and tell your money:
'Tis ready here, no threats, nor no orations,
Nor prayers now.
Sulp.
You do not meane to leave me—
Rut.
I'le live in hell sooner then here, and cooler.
Come quickly come, dispatch, this ayers unwholsome:
Quickly good Lady, quickly to't.
Sulp.
Well, since it must be,
The next, I'le fetter faster sure, and closer.
Rut.
And picke his bones, as y'ave done mine, poxe take ye.
20
At my lodging for a while, you shall be quarterd,
And there take physick for your health.
Rut.
I thanke ye
I have found my Angel now too, if I can keepe him.
Exeunt omnes.
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