A Pleasant Comedie, Called The Two Merry Milke-Maids Or, The Best Words Weare The Garland |
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 | A Pleasant Comedie, Called The Two Merry Milke-Maids |  |
ACTVS QVARTVS.
Scena Prima.
Enter Fredericke.Fre.
Am I mad or drunke or the people, both: and blind
too I thinke. For let me come vp to them neuer so neere,
talke neuer so loud, gripe them neuer so hard, they see
mee not stare and gape, as if I were in the aire, and
aske, where are you. If wee were out of fauour, I should
neuer wonder at it, but being Restord, and in greater
grace then euer, it somewhat troubles me: zfoote, and
a Lord cannot be acknowledgd, what will become of
poore Gentlemen: heere come a couple, and sober as I
take it, Ile try if they haue not lost their eye-sight.
Enter Ferdinando, and Cornelius.
Cor.
But that you iustifie ir so vehemently,
I shud not a beleeu'd it: Lost againe.
Ferd.
Againe, and sent to prison, her father
Banishd the Court againe, and all his honors,
Tooke againe from him, and from's sonne,
And alls againe as it was, and if not worse,
Ferd.
Nay then my admirations at an end. I remember
nobody wud know me last time. But these are a couple
of honest fellowes, and yet they serue a Lord, if any body
haue vse of their eyes these will. By your leaue Gentlemen,
did you see the yong Lord Fredericke.
Cor.
Wher's he that askt that question?
Zfoote I cannot see him, yet heard him plaine,
Cor.
The inuisible voyce is come againe,
Dor.
I beleeue so,
Cor.
People are blind, thats certaine—looke how
they stare—I donnot thinke there was euer any such
thing in the world as an eye, a seeing eye. I know Taylors
needles have eyes, and Cheeses, but a discerning
eye, that's the eye I wud encounter with.
Enter Callow and Ranoff.
Cal.
It did me more good then my dinner, I protest,
to see her transported to prison againe.
Ran.
And so it did me I protest, for her brothers sake
my Lord Fredericke Fadoudie.
Cal.
I wonder he is not taken yet, heele Fadoudle at
the Gallowes, I beleeue when so ere he is, for I told the
Duke what a sawcy companion he was.
Fre.
I will requite your kindnesse instantly,
Cal.
How now, whats that?
Fre.
Will you too Coxcombs neuer be vncoupl'd,
Ran.
Who was that my Lord?
Cal.
Nay, I know not:
Fre.
Who was that then?
Cal.
Who was that said, who was that?
Fre.
Marry it was I Sir,
Cal.
You, who are you?
Fre.
One that'le bestow a little paines with you.
Ran.
Pray knock there no more my friend, thats the
back gate, your best goe about.
Frede.
I will doe so, and wipe your Noses for
you.
Ran.
I'd rather you wud let it alone, vnlesse you had a
finer handkercher
Tis the spirit of some Porter, and wipes her with
his Frock.
Ranoff.
Soones Ile not indure this: Ile draw first.
Cal.
And so will I.
Why do you not draw?
Cal.
Harke, the voyce askt why we do not draw.
Ran.
I, I heard it, but Ile be hangd before Ile draw for
that trick.
Cal.
And so will I to—See yonders a company
of Gentlemen, lets flye to them for succour: Are
you walking.
Cor.
Yes Sir.
Cal.
Wee'd be glad of your company.
Ran.
Heers an inuisible voyce followes vs in the likenesse
of I know not what.
Cal.
And playes vpon vs like a Flute backward, and
forward.
Fer.
We hard a voyce indeede but felt no touch of any
thing.
Cal.
No, It may be you are valiant and wud strike againe,
but we are tender hearted, and ten to one, but it
knowes as much.
Cor.
Why if youle walke our way, wee will guard
you.
Cal.
Yes sir, your way is ours now how euer.
Fre.
Well I am lost I see, theres no hope that euer
I shall be seen againe of mortalls; I walke i'th clouds;
But that the other two before these, and before them others,
could not perceiue me, I should thinke I had with
beating made the last paire cast a mist before their owne
eyes, Iubia and my Lord of mischiefe with his two Faces
Winter and Summer.
Ray.
Sweete Iulia kisse me.
Fre.
Ah you old whooremaster is the signe in Scorpio
with you.
Ray.
Thou seest my power, how with a breath I turne.
And wind the Duke any way I please,
In spight of all those words wasted in aire:
I pluct the Dutchesse from his armes againe,
The only starre of court, more then a Dutchesse,
Which is to be my Mistresse.
Fre.
Say you so, Ile master you anon.
Ray.
Prithy looke vp and smile vpon me.
Iuli.
Pray away.
Ray.
Come I haue word sufficeint nor will any longer
be kept of thus weary of delay, I meane to worke you.
Iule.
Lay ofy our wicked hands.
Adders and Scorpions shall as soone imbrace me,
Shall my deare mistris that equally laments:
My aduers Fate, which heeres if not aboue it.
And in her teares lies bath'd, breaking her sighs:
Into as many pieces, as if she striud
To number vp her sins, which are no more,
Then will make truth appeare that she must sin,
And shall I throw away all thought of her,
That altogether thinks of Heauen and me,
Whom hourely she solicites and ascends,
And calls me along with her in her Prayers,
Shall I forget this Lady, and to lust
Prostrate my selfe to him that workes her ruine.
First, may Heauen point me out, his marke for vengeance.
And I vnable to auoyd the stroake,
Ray.
Stay—you are too wilfull.
Iul.
Is that all?
Ray.
Here me—I will speake what shalbe liking to
thee. Prythy come backe; so well I doe perceiue thou
lou'st the Duchesse, that her affliction's thine.
Iul.
They are.
Ray.
Canst thou cast off griefe with her releasement?
If I shall bring her sound vnto the Duke,
In euery circumstance, and fixe her sure:
Nay set her one staire higher then she was,
And make him honor what before he admir'd.
Wilt thou then make a passage for my loue,
And open me away into thy heart?
Iul.
I will.
Ray.
Wilt thou? giue me a kisse vpon the premisses.
Fre,
Ile giue you a kisse anon, in your good father
the Diuels name.
Ray.
I hold heauen in my armes, and all the ioyes:
Wut thou be iust to me?
Iul.
As you are vnto me; for if you proue
The master of your word, I wilbe ouer mine the mistres,
And though it be a iewell I esteeme,
I neuer saw how I coud part with it better.
Ray.
Another kisse, and go and promise vnto all thy
friends, and to the Duchesse selfe, her liberty.
Fre.
You are a villaine.
Ray.
Ha.
Fre.
You are damn'd.
Ray.
What voyce is that?
Iul.
I heard none.
Fre.
I will cut your throate.
Cut my throate.
Fre.
I, your Weason pipe, your Gullet, this vngodly Gullet.
Ray.
Swoones it pincht me by the throate.
Fre.
Your best crie out murder.
Ray.
This is another voice allied to that which pleaded
for the Duchesse, but not the same, and it is meerely
Witchcraft. I feare thee not Diuell, or Diuels mate, friend
or acquaintantance.
Iul.
Who do you talke to?
Ray.
A scuruie voice, I know not, nor do care for,
An yet it troubles me, I cannot see
The thing that sets it going. Be you
Carefull and constant. In the afternoone
Come to my lodging, I will haue the Duke there
And you shalbe a witnesse of my working,
And of the subtill proiects I haue laid,
To execute your wishes, till then farewell.
Iul.
Farewell.
Ray.
A poxe vpon thee what so ere thou art.
Fred.
'Twill come home.
Ray.
Shew thy selfe and be the Prince of Diuels,
Ile not feare thee.
Fred.
No, the great Diuell and you are all one, which
shewes I am no Diuel; for if I were, I durst not thus abuse thee.
Ray.
What art?
Fred.
A pleasant fellow Sir, and one of the noble Science,
for looke you Sir, ther's a Venie.
Ray.
O, Swoones he has stabd me.
Fred.
No Sir no, I am a blunt fellow, & so my weapon;
nay I wonnot leaue you thus.
Exit after Ray.
Doril.
Here's my sister, but very sad me thinks:
Iul.
O brother we are vndon; All's out of ioynt againe
As much or rather more then euer.
Dor.
How?
Iul.
The Duke's in old fit, and the poore Princesse
Clapt vp close prisoner, looke to your selfe
Or you are lost.
Dori.
Be it so; for life is wearisome sister, do you loue me
Iul.
Why shud you aske a question so friuolous.
Dori.
Do you?
Iul.
You know I do.
Dori.
Shew it then; for till you satisfie me in my request,
I shall make doubt of it.
Iul.
Pray speake it.
Dori.
Here's a Gentleman to whom I owe,
More then my parents gaue me, more then
If Fortune shud looke vp and smile,
Proue a prodigall in fauors to me;
And I shud liue to take 'hem with this hand,
And with this, pay it as due Tribute vnto him:
See how he languishes, can take no rest,
No foode, but thoughts which nourish him,
And sighs againe for you, drinkes his owne teares,
And weeps them forth again, yet does not cal you cruel,
Pray speake to him.
Iul.
Why alas? brother I did tell this man
How hopelesse I was, prayd him to desist,
And make some better choyce.
Ber.
You did Lady, but I must die first.
Iul.
Why if you be so desperate a louer,
That you will die for me, thinke me the like,
That I can die as well for him I loue.
Ber.
You were good company to go to heauen with.
Lan.
I, but if either of you go that way, you take
An ill course in your iourney.
Haue you then plac'd your heart on any man?
Iul.
Yes beleeue me, though I haue made no noyse
With sighs, able to blow vp mountaines.
Doril.
What is he?
Iul.
One that you prais'd your selfe into my heart,
Although his youth and feature need no Orator.
Doril.
I praysd! Iulia you wrong me.
Iul.
By Cupids selfe I donnot.
Doril.
Name him.
Iul.
'Tis an vnreasonable request in you,
But yet to shew I am not asham'd of him,
It is yong Bernard.
Ber.
Who Lady? pray speake that name againe.
Iul.
Yong Bernard.
Ber.
Bernard la Vere.
Iul.
The same.
Puls of his disguisd Haire.
Ber.
I thanke you.
Doril.
Nay Sister, once you are catcht.
Lan.
But in no worse trap then her louers Armes
Ber.
Nor shall you euer be asham'd of him, nor yet
Repent you, for he will loue as faithfully
As you, and liue and die with you.
Iul.
There is no giuing backe, welcome my loue,
And in a time that I did wish for thee;
Yet I shall startle you and trie your temper:
aside.
For since I haue found away how to infranchise
My poore afflicted mistresse, Ile be pleasant.
Ber.
I neuer thought before, a man might be
In heauen and not know it, as to haue a dwelling
In your heart and be ignorant of the blisse, Is little lesse.
Iul.
O but my Bernard, we do neuer meete
With any happinesse, but some kinde of mischiefe
As you shall make of it, if you might take me now:
Why, I were worth your loue, for I am yet;
(I did not lye much, if I said a Virgin)
But without blushing I dare say a Mayde.
Ber.
It is not to be doubted.
Iul.
But it is to be lost.
Lan.
That is not to be doubted neyther.
Iul.
But not on him, for so it is not lost,
To deale directly with you, I cannot bring,
That thing call'd maiden-head, for it is promis'd,
And if you cannot loue me without that,
Deale plainely then with me, as I with you,
And I will looke out for another man:
Another handsome man, a Citizen,
That shall make much of me, and not a whit,
Loue me the worse for want of such a trifle.
Ber.
I know sweete Iulia you were euer merry,
And not beyond a Maydens modesty.
But this is very strange,
Enter Frederick
Fre.
But not so strange as true, I am a witnesse of it,
She has giuen away her mayden head to the Diuell,
For an old whooremaster is little better.
Dori.
That is Fredericks voice.
Fre.
But as she said 'tis but a trifle: a cold Comodity
A man may buy at some time of the yeere
Like Cowcumbers, at any time for a small Ring,
A Pursse, or a payre of Gloues, for so your country
Wenches part with them, your Citty for an Apple.
Lan.
Ther's none of you see him.
Dori.
Not I.
Lan.
He has found the Ring.
Dori.
Very likely.
Nay most certaine, and let him keepe it, for being
ignorant in the vertue of it, it may be some sport to
vs to heare him chafe being lost to all mankind.
Fre.
Doctor thou drop'st.
Ber.
The diuell what art thou, I see thee not.
Fre.
No more, thou shalt him that does cucklod thee.
Lan.
Thats true, whilst he enioyes the inuisible Ring.
Iul.
O you are a stoute louer to be deiected thus, for
such a vanitie as a Maidenhead is, you'd ill endure to
haue your wife run away with another man two or three
yeere together, and afterward brought home, and againe
accepted with Suppers and with Trumpets.
Lan.
A plagy smart wench.
Iul.
But since it is so estimate a Iewell,
Come my Barnard w'eele not part with it,
But lay our heads together how to preserue it.
(going out, be calls,
Fre.
Why but do you heare, shall I be lost thus
Will none of you acknowledge me, Iulia,
Doctor Dorilus.
Dori.
Frederick by the voice.
Fre.
And Frederick by flesh and bloud as good as any
man or woman wud desire, feele me else.
Dori.
I do feele a hand.
Fre.
And yet perceiue no body.
Dori.
Right.
Fre.
Right, but by your leaue all is not right; either
your eies are drawn aside, or my bodie is taken assunder,
and nothing left certaine of mee but a hand and a voice,
mas heere comes Smirke, Ile try the strength of his eiesight.
Land.
I beseech you stay, heere is a promise of some
mirth.
Fre.
Smirke well met.
Smi.
Not so my friend, well ouertaken you may say,
But I am in hast, therefore farewell.
What are there rubs in the aire, 'tis some little dandiprat,
that I ouerrun, and ten to one he has broke his Nose against
my Pipkin, Where art thou?
Fre.
Heere.
Smi.
Heere, where is that heere.
Fre.
What has he got tro there painting: that it is, since
you know me not, Ile bestow a little paines to picture
you, that the best friend you haue, shall hardly take acquaintance
of you.
Smi.
A Pox of these Flyes, theile neuer leaue sweete
Mutton, but my friend, my friend, hees gone poore felfellow
againe.
Fre.
Tis strange you know not me.
Smi.
I shud know that voyce.
Fre.
You shud do so, if you wud call your selfe to mind
Smi.
My yong master Frederick and quondam. Lord
where are you?
Fre.
Heere man heere.
Smi.
Something plaies with my Nose I beleeue tis my
whisking Muschatus, now I am come i'the wind.
Fre,
What dost thou do with this painting Smirk?
Smi.
Marry I meane to liue by it and purpose to set vp
my old trade againe.
Fre.
Thy old trade, what's that?
Smi.
Why a Stainer, I haue hir'd a Shop not far from
Court. And I haue painted the most horrible things that
many men know not what to make of them, I drew Hercules
a great while a goe in the likenes of a man, and now
euery one saies he lookes like a Lion. Then I drew Acteon
hunted with his owne dogs, & they say 'tis like a Citizen
pursu'd with Seriants.
Why, but canst thou draw any thing into proportion?
Smi.
Can I draw any thing into proportion; why, I
will presently draw you backward or forward, a limb,
twoo'd do you good to behold it.
Fre.
And thou beest so good a workeman, thou shalt
draw my Picture.
Smi.
I wud be glad to see your face sir, if it please you
to come out of the Cloud.
Frede.
Well Smirke, pray for me, I am a man, but in
this world I haue small store of mony, and therfore cannot
reward thee as I wud, but hold thee, giue mee thy
hand, I can see to take thee by it, ther's a Ring, 'twill yeeld
thee somewhat.
Smi.
I thanke you sir, it will serue to exchange for a
Corrall for my sonne and heire when I haue him.
Lan.
Now step out altogether and salute him.
All.
Good Senior you are welcome to the light,
Fre.
To the light: why, do you perceiue me now?
Dori.
As plaine as the earth we tread on.
Fre.
Whers Smirke?
Smi.
Here I am Sir.
Fre.
VVhere, come neere me, O the Ring, the Ring,
Giue me my Ring againe, I find the vertue,
Smi
Nay, soft, so play fooles, nothing is surer then gift.
Fre.
Come neere me that I may touch thee.
Smi.
I know what the Prouerbe saies, touch me and
take me, and therefore I will keepe aloft, Zfoote hee is
strucken purblind, hee gropes like a young Nouice, the
contrarie way. What, are these blind too?
Fre.
Good Gentlemen helpe me to lay hold of him.
Lan.
Lay hold of whom.
Of Smirke.
Land.
Smirke, why he is gone.
Fre.
No, he is heere, I smell the oyly, Rascall.
Smi.
They are all blind, or else I walke invisible, Ile try
that presently.
Kisses Iulia.
Iul.
How now?
Smi.
Nothing but a Flesh-flye forsooth lighted vppon
your lips, the place is full of hem—Some-body
has sprinckled inuisible Virgins water vpon me for
I doe goe insensible. Heere comes the two Egges, I shall
goe neere to crack their Crowes, for the last abuse, but
walking as I doe, I will find out a better reuenge.
Enter Callow and Ranoff.
Cal.
Sirrah I thinke it was much heereabout that we
met with the taking voyce that kickt vs?
Ran.
Twas indeed.
Smi.
I wud kick you againe, but that I haue Cornes on
my Toes, I will only pencill you now. And because you
haue so much knauery and want colour for't I will begin
with Orange tawny.
Call.
What was that?
Ran.
What,
Cal.
Someting crost my Nose.
Ran.
A Dore, a Dore, the fields are full of them.
Smi.
I'le giue you the Dore too.
Ran.
There was another wip't me in the same place.
Smi.
Cause you are a Knight, you shall beare a Crosse
Ran.
How now?
Zfoote I thinke some Bird has wraid in my eye.
Cal.
No tis nothing but the dew falls I thinke.
A Pox ont, I am paid againe.
There are some gadflies sure abroad, lets make
away.
Another wipe first.
Cal.
Ha, ha, ha.
Ran.
Why do you laugh my Lord? ha, ha, ha.
Smi.
Nay, Ile put in too, for my ha, ha, ha, ha.
This is a three mans laughter.
Cal.
But why do you laugh my Lord? ha, ha.
Ran.
ha, ha, Pray why do you laugh my Lord?
Cal.
For nothing, for nothing, come prithie lets goe.
Ran.
I pray lets goe, ha ha,
Smi.
I am glad I haue made you merry.
Fre.
Where art thou? So deare I loue thee for this peece
of knauery that I could kisse thee, prithy let me kisse thee
Smi.
No, no, kissing, I do bristle too much.
Fre.
Ile giue thee another Ring.
Smi.
No no, no more Rings, I shall thinke my selfe an
Alderman, and grow proud then.
Lan.
Come let him alone with it.
Smi.
If you know any Ladie that deales in complexion
you may doe me a kindnesse to acquaint her that Smirke
the seruingman is turn'd a Painter.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Frederick, Cornelius and Carolus.Cor.
How now Carolus, how do's my Lord?
Caro.
Troth scuruely, as a Lord may do in his case.
Fer.
Why how i'st man.
Caro.
Wicked, wicked, extreme wicked, he cannot say
his Praiers.
Fer.
Why? is he speechlesse.
Cor.
What a Pox is that to the purpose, has he made
his will.
Yes, And in his will he doth will and command
that you two shall be whipt, and that he has bequeathed
you for your legacy.
Cor.
Let him bestow it vpon his friends, we can liue
without it.
Fer.
But prithee sirrah, tell vs the manner of his sicknes
which was wondrous strange and suddaine.
Caro.
Why how shoud I know more then you, I am
none of his Phisician.
Cor.
They say but be it spoken in priuate that a Rat hants
him, is it so? thou canst tell.
Fer.
A Rat, a pox of a Rat, Zbloud I heard otherwise.
Cor.
Well, lets heare what hast thou heard.
Fer.
Marry Sir that the Neopolitan Canker has searcht
into his bones: and he lies buried in vlcers, stincks so that
without perfumes, nobody is able to abide him. But
mum mum, not a word of this I speake, it is amongst fellowes
and friends.
Caro.
Tis well you do so, for otherwise your legacies
wud be bestowd vpon you, a yard or two of whipcord is
no great cost, and the executors wud goe to the charge,
Zbloud what Rascalls are you to vtter this, you are the
inuenters of it.
Fer.
Not I by this hand, I heard mine at my Barbers,
Cor.
And I heard mine at the Apothecaries.
Car.
Why heers the misery of great men, they cannot
scape the slaunders of their slaues looke you yonder goes
one of the Doctors, you were best (to be better satisfied)
inquier of him.
Fer.
Not I, I loue not to be inquisitue.
Enter a Docter.
Doct.
Wher's any of my Lords Gentlemen there.
Heer's a Leash of vs Sir.
Doct.
One of you must instantly take horse, and ride to
Doctor Lopez, and bring him hither with all speede that
may be: his counsell is wanting, and it concernes your
Lords life, therefore make hast, and tell him so to: Tell
him the Duke will else be heere before him; from whom,
if so it happen, he will receiue a check.
Caro.
we shall sir, we shall.
Fer.
The Duke, why is the Duke sent for?
Caro.
Yes, & has sent word he will be heere immediatly.
Fer.
Ber Lady Sir, then tis to be thought the dangers
more then euery Ague brings, & t'will go hard with him.
Caro.
Why make not you more hast then to the doctors?
Fer.
I make more hast, why do's not he or you?
Caro.
I, why I was not bidden.
Fer.
Nor I.
Caro.
Why, nor I, more particular then you.
Fer.
But you must goe that answered.
Caro.
Why you may goe as well as I that answered.
Fer.
By this Aire not I.
Caro.
By this Earth nor I.
Cor.
By this Aire, Earth, Fire and Water too, not I:
zbloud I get no more then you, and why shud I then?
Caro.
This is very well, suppose my Lord for want of this
same Doctor now shall die.
Cor.
Why, what can I helpe it.
Car.
Why you may by fetching him.
Cor.
And so may you.
Caro.
And so may he.
Fer.
And so may you.
Caro.
I care not, nay do as you please.
Fer.
Why, nor I neither.
A Bed thrust out, Enter Lady the old Lord, some other Lady and Aliens.
Cor.
Zfoote he shifts his Rome, Ile not be seene.
Byr Lady Sir nor I.
Ray.
Who went for Lopez?
Car.
Ferdinand my Lord.
Ray.
Is he not come yet?
Car.
No my Lord, nor gone yet I beleeue.
Ray.
Oh, my bloud boyles, as if the Sunne
Had darted all his beames into my intrailes.
Short shot my soule, and like the shaft
Shot by great Hercules, flie till thou break'st,
Or else, strike through the body of the Sun,
And fixe thy selfe in heauen a brighter Starre.
What shall I do? Is there no powre in Physicke?
Swoones are you dumbe, Doctors can you not talke,
Though you do nothing else?
Doct.
Alas my Lord, we know not what to say.
Ray.
Why then you might a said, that you can say,
That you know nothing, but your owne
Priuiledge, to kill vnpunish'd; yet are you apt
When Nature workee her selfe, to assume it yours,
O my torment, when wut thou cease? get you gone,
Impostures as you are, and cousen poeple
That haue faith in you; for I haue found
No Art, but Voice among you.
Car.
Away Phisitians, go; my Lord thinks ye are fooles.
And so do I: Therefore begon, begon.
Ray.
Is not the Duke come yet?
Car.
No my good Lord; but here are the Diuines.
Ray.
They ase verie welcome.
Bishops.
How does your Lordship?
Ray.
Wondrous well satisfied in any point touching
my saluation: onely one burden on my conscience lies,
for the Duke himselfe to take away.
Enter Duke.
The Duke is come.
Ray.
Then all the rest I pray depart the roome.
Duke
How is it man?
Ray.
Cheerefull, wondrous cheerefull, all this whole
day I felt not such a minute.
Duke.
Be comforted good Raymond, me thinkes I see
another age of life yet shine in thee, your eie is quick and
sprightly, death doth not shew himselfe in any part.
Ray.
Your grace is a good comforter, and your sight
blowes vp this sparke of life to such a light which is but
as a twinckling before death.
As in this life and after death you'le stand,
In history to the last houre of Time,
A iust religious Prince to which I know,
In your owne inclination you aspire,
Euen for the Dukedomes peace, O—your pardon:
My breath I find will faile me,—your pardon Duke.
And quickly speake it; or I shall not heare you.
Duke.
What, what shal I pardon? good Raymond speake,
I gather by thy speech thou wouldst vnfold, somthing of
consequence; you must not part thus with me, therefore
good Raymond speake, borrow a little time of death, and
I will pay it back out of my life: deare Raymond donnot
leaue me thus vnsatisfied, for if you doe, Ile follow you to
learne it.
Ray.
O I haue wrong'd you.
Duke
Neuer, neuer good Raymond.
Ray.
By that strong power which raises me I haue,
And lends me breath to vtter it; and this Ladie,
Where is she and the Princesse all of ye,
For when you first began your iealousie,
Vpon a small presumption, I as apt.
The issue of a Prince which Heauen aduert,
So basely bastardize, held vp your thought,
Told you of former and familiar tricks,
In the like nature I had seene betweene them,
Which I protest was then out of my care,
That such a thing might be, rather then any crime,
That euer I knew she was guilty of,
Send for her therefore, and condemne your rash
False suppositions, and pardon mine,
That grew but out of yours, but once being growne,
It spred into more branches then your owne,
Duke
What is thy purpose.
Ray.
Religious as the Churches which is,
To cleare all doubts and present Truth,
In her owne Garments, to protect innocence,
And from her white hand lift her out of slanders,
Duk.
By which you wud inferre my Dutchesse honest
Ray.
By all the best hopes of a dying man,
This being a time not to iest breath away.
There does not liue this daie in Christedome,
A Queene nor anie woman through the world,
More trulie vertuous, and as I speake truth,
So may I faile or find it.
Duke
Whether my ioies are sensuall or immortall,
I cannot say but surely I do feele,
And stand on such a change as if my soule,
Were melted into bloud, or my bloud turnd,
To soule which lights, me vp fresh Tapers,
Whose instructiue beames direct me to the Hart
Of my deare Dutchesse, where chastity I find,
Hath built her temple—within there.
Enter Dutchesse.
My Lord.
Duke.
Here, take my Signet, deliuer it to
Lord Lodwicke, command him bring the Duchesse,
And waite vpon her hither, withall the speed
And diligence his dutie can performe.
Art.
I shal my Lord, and as I'm one of the honest men
I am glad to heare it.
Enter Iulia.
Duke
O noble Ladie, how shall I look thy mistres i'the
face, that blush at sight of thee? prithie stand by me, and
imbolden me, bee my Genius, prompt mee what I shall
say, or the Scean's spoild; I shalbe out, my tongue doth
falter for ioy conceiu'd of her great goodnes, for griefe
of her much iniurie.
Iul.
As in the fiction, Giants make war with heauen,
But are strooke dead, so malice may strike at Vertue;
But at last, I see the blow will light where it began.
Welcome my Roiall mistresse, and I hope
Vnto more comfort, then euer yet the Saxon
Court affoorded, it beares the likeliest face
Vpon vs now.
Enter the Duchesse
Duke
Why do you kneele to me? the slanderer
Ought to aske pardon of the slandred,
My owne Law teaches it. Pray do you rise,
Or I will neuer thinke my selfe forgiuen.
Duch.
Nay now my Lord I feare you sent for mee to
mocke me.
Duke
God and all good men at my greatest need
Requite me with a mocke, if I meane any.
O let me now expire, and be the happie messenger
To sing this newes to heauen, such and so great.
Ray.
So happie reconcilements make the Angels,
Treade the bright ring, and from the ordred spheares,
Giue me your royall pardon and remit me,
The hand of death lies cold and weighty on me,
And what is he but must sinke vnder it,
Therefore goe exercise your ioyes where griefe,
May not be heard to expresse her selfe in teares,
For sorrow still sings loud vnto our eares,
Dor.
O my Lord,
Ray.
Deare Princes speake no more, I know your hart,
But as you loue my quiet, leaue me to it,
For I do find an enclination to
Rest and sleepe, and perhaps my last.
Duke.
Come then lets leaue him sicknesse is froward,
And one while company is pleasing to it,
Another while offensiue, Raymond farewell,
Heauen to his mercy take or restore thee.
Roy.
Good Duke I thanke thee, let me kisse thy hand,
And yours best Dutchesse, and Lady yours,—so
Now if you will be gone, you may,
Sicknesse knowes no manners.
Duke
Wee'le trouble you no longer Raymond.
Ray.
Why I thanke you, and all good lighten on you.
But not stay—Carolus.
Caro.
My Lord.
Ray.
Are they all forth the roome?
Caro.
Yes my Lord.
Ray.
Actiue as fire I spring out of my graue then,
And will see some before me e're I dye,
That are more fit for Earth and Heauen then I,
Fetch me some water, and a cup of wine,
Ile drinke my owne health and my lust shall pledge it,
Do I beare earth about me, sure I donnot;
No vse of feete, but ride and racke i'th Aire,
Like a black Cloud, holding in his hand lightning,
And in this a tempest, giue me, and goe
And vnderstand the cavse of Iulias stay,
It puts me into doubts and she shou'd goe
Away now with the Queene and cheat my hopes,
I haue made a sickmans plot of it,
But Iulia is Religious in her vowes,
Knowes what it is to sweare, and what to breake 'hem.
How now villaine, why returnd without her?
Caro.
Why she is gone my Lord.
Ray.
Be thou gon to then, and after her and fetch her,
And bring her to me, or lay downe thy duty,
And let me neuer see it in a face,
Or an officious leg againe presented,
Zoones are you scraping there when I forbid you.
Caro.
Alas my Lord.
Ray.
My Lord, my Loggerhead, begon.
Enter Iulia.
Caro.
O Maddam, you come like to the Halcion, and
bring faire weather with you.
Ray.
Thou art my truth, and I will studdy thee,
No more shall misbeliefe enter my thoughts:
For thy Idea standing in my heart,
As in a Temple shall fright all false suggestions,
To the Tartars. Giue me instead of Lawrell,
For my deed a sugred kisse, and crowne my ioyes.
Iul.
Away you are a villaine, I came back to tell
you so: And long life which is a blessing to others, vnto
thee's a cursse: thou shame of such a reuerence dost not
see, to what a monster lust in thee is growne: at lest in
mens immaginations.
Made vp for counsell like another Nestor:
At least in mens imaginations,
To be so monstrous Goatishly inclind.
O fie my Lord! thinke with your selfe this ill,
Prouokes not in the flesh, but in your will:
Your bloud moues slow and cold, and all the fire,
That strikes vp any heat, is in desire:
I blush for you, thinke of it.
Ray.
Yes i'le thinke of it, but you shall giue me time,
And you and I will now goe and consult of it.
Iul,
Keepe of.
Ray.
Why you wonnot, stab.
Iul.
Yes to the hart beleeue it.
Ray.
Why then a combat; look you, I am prouided too
Will you yeeld now?
Iul.
No.
Ray.
This wud shew handsome on a Stage,
An old man and a woman at the point:
Beleeue it i'le stab too.
Iul.
Thy worst: for I will mine.
Ray,
This is scuruey wooing, Iulia no more.
Iul.
Farwell then, and repent,
Ray.
Nay then you stir me, yeeld, or I will force thee.
And after pay, thy periury with death,
Are you so mannish.
Enter Duke, Duchesse and all the rest spectators.
Duke
Desist vild rauisher.
Ray.
Ha, the Duke, then rage rise high in me,
And add vnto this wickednesse a worse.
Enter Bernard with his Dagger drawne.
Bar.
Villaine, what wilt thou do, keepe of.
O I am lost.
Dor.
A gaurd.
Duk.
Cease on the Traitor,—O that those haires,
Which are the badge of truth and as I thought,
The care of her shud shru'de such villanies,
So monstrously betraying and abusing:
Away with him to death.
Ray.
To death.
Duk.
Yes a cruell and a lasting.
Dor.
I beseech your grace.
Duk.
Wilt thou beg for him whom he so hath wronged
And which is more, made me the instrument?
Dor.
Yes, good my Lord his pardon?
Duk.
Prithee sweete no more, aske any thing but that,
Let Law be of no force then in my Land,
If I forgiue such Traytors.
O where is Dorilus?
That innocent and excellent good man:
If he be liuing, let him be brought to me
That I may honor him, if dead lament,
And wash him with my teares, sit on his Hearse.
And aske forgiuenesse of his gentle spirit,
Least it do haunt me being his murtherer.
Enter Guido.
Guido
Iustice, iustice, my Soueraigne.
Duke
What art thou com'st for iustice?
Guido
One that vnder your authority performes it vpon
others.
Duke
Performe it vpon me for I am a murtherer.
Guido
My Lord.
Duke
A murtherer of my friends, of vertuous men,
Vertue her selfe did very hardly scape me.
Good my Lord.
Duke
I must see Dorilus aliue or dead,
To view how big the wound was that I gaue him,
For I will haue griefe dig one in my brest,
As deepe as it is, and as mortall too.
Dor.
Why heere is Dorrilus.
Duke
Prayers of Princes fall on thee, dost thou liue
To tell me that my sword doth want an edge,
But when it strikes offenders, rise Dorilus:
And thus vnto thy Mistresse I present thee,
As the best Iewell that I haue to giue her,
For a true Seruant is of that esteeme.
Dor.
Sir, I thanke you, but I returne him back,
As fittest for your seruice.
Fre.
Heeres giuing and taking as if thei'd both be rid
of him.
Duke
Why I thanke thee, and I receiue him gladly.
Now wher's he that wud haue Iustice?
Guido
Heere my Leige.
Duke
Against whom wud'st thou haue Iustice?
Guido
Against the President of Wittembergh.
Who falling foule with the learned Landoff
Tut or vnto my sonne, is thought by most
And of the wisest of the Vniuersity,
To haue by some trecherous plot made them away,
He nor my sonne hauing bin seene ere since.
Lan.
Why heere is Landaff sir, your poore friend in
safetie.
Guido
Landoff, where is my sonne?
Ber.
Heere sir, with a daughter to boote.
Guido
Now Gods blessing a'thy heart, if thou hast consen'd
me thus.
Ber.
E'ne thus Sir.
Fre.
So they are own'd, no body calls vpon me, nor regards
me, nor to say the truth, I regard nobody: the losse
of my inuisible Ring has broke my heart, now when I
knew the vertue of it, to lose it, and to an ideot, an innocent,
that deserues not to vnderstand the vertue of it,
what dainty deuices might I haue had in euery Chamber
of the Court, seene such a Lord, kisse such a
Lady the wrong way, such a Knight, he with his Chambermaid,
and his Lady with her Groome, the Vsher
with the waiting-Gentlewoman, and the page with all
Phœbus himselfe must a come short of those things, I
shud seen, for one inuisible Ring wud discouer another.
Du.
How now, whats the cause of this? why kneele you al?
Dor.
For that which I ioyne with them too.
Lord Raymonds life, banish him the Court,
And let him be confin'd to his house i'th country.
Duke
Thou must not aske twice what I shall deny,
Rise, 'tis granted you; see you haue good friends,
And a gracious mistresse.
Ray.
I see't, and shame to see my selfe,
How had the Diuell blinded me, I could not
See your rare vertues, O let my penitence,
Which if it be not zealous, iust heauens strike,
That breath into my throat, againe which formes,
The words I vtter, and let 'hem strangle me:
Let my true penitence I say beget,
Another verue in you, besides mercy,
Credulity that I am truly sorry,
For the bold mischiefes gainst you and my Prince:
A guilty conscience followed by despaire,
Light on all Traytors to their Soueraigne,
Without all good mans pitty and their prayers,
Fall on the slanderers of your sex:
Diseases rot him liuing, dead no graue,
But rauenous Fowles, become his sepulcher,
His bones kickt vp and downe by his enemies,
And charitable men allow of it,
Hell and the Diuels, plying him with torments:
Bast his black soule, that he may roare so loud:
As to the earth crying he heard may be,
Who slanders women, may be damnd like men.
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