 | The Virgin Martir |  |
Actus 3.
Scenus 1.
Enter Sapritius, Theophilus, Priest, Caliste, Christeta.Sapritius.
Sicke to the death I feare.
Theophilus.
I meete your sorrow.
With my true feeling of it.
Sap.
She's a Witch,
A sorceresse Theophilus, my sonne
Is charm'd by her enticing eyes, and like
An image made of waxe, her beames of beauty
Melt him to nothing; all my hopes in him.
And all his gotten hononours finde their graue
In his strange dotage on her. Would when first
He saw and lou'd her, that the earth had opend
And swallowd both aliue.
Theo.
There's hope left yet.
Sap.
Not any, though the Princesse were appeasd,
All title in her loue surrenderd vp,
Yet this coy Christian, is so transported
With her religion, that vnlesse my sonne
(But let him perish first) drinke the same potion
To be his lawfull wife.
Priest
but once remou'd
From her opinion, as I rest assur'd,
The reason of these holy maydes will win her,
Youle finde her tractable, to any thing
For your content or his.
Theo.
If she refuse it,
The Stygian dampes breeding infectious ayres,
The Mandrakes shreekes, or Basiliks killing eye,
The dreadfull lightning that does crush the bones
And neuer singe the skin, shall not appeare
Lesse fatall to her, then my zeale made hot
With loue vnto my gods: I haue deferd it
In hope to draw backe this Apostate,
Which will be greater honour then her death
Vnto her fathers faith, and to that end
Haue brought my daughters hither.
Caliste.
And we doubt not
To do what you desire.
Sap.
Let her be sent for,
Prosper in your good worke, and were I not
To attend the Princesse, I would see and heare
How you succeede.
Theo.
I am commanded to,
Ile beare you company.
Sap.
Giue them your Ring
To leade her as in triumph if they win her
Before her highnesse.
exit Sap.
Theo.
Spare no promises,
Perswasions, or threats I do coniure you,
If you preuayle, 'tis the most glorious worke
You euer vndertooke.
Enter Dorothea and Angelo.
Priest.
She comes.
Theoph.
We leaue you,
Be constant and be carefull.
exeunt Theo. Priest.
We are sorry,
To meete you vnder guard.
Dorothea.
But I more greeu'd
You are at libertie, so well I loue you,
That I could wish, for such a cause as mine
You were my fellow prisoners: prethee Angelo
Reach vs some chaires, please you sit?
Caliste.
We thanke you,
Our visite is for loue, loue to your safetie.
Christ.
Our conference must be priuate, pray you therfore
Command your boy to leaue vs.
Dorothea.
You may trust him
With any secret that concernes my life,
Falshood and he are strangers, had you Ladies
Bene blest with such a seruant, you had neuer
Forsooke that way (your iourney euen halfe ended)
That leade to ioyes eternall. In the place
Of loose lasciuious mirth, he would haue stird you
To holy meditations, and so farre
He is from flattery, that he would haue told you,
Your pride being at the height, how miserable
And wretched things you were, that for an howre
Of pleasure here, haue made a desperate sale
Of all your right in happinesse hereafter.
He must not leaue me, without him I fall,
In this life he is my seruant, in the other
A wished companion
An.
Tis not in the diuell,
Nor all his wicked acts to shake such goodnesse.
Doro.
But you were speaking Lady.
Caliste.
As a friend
And louer of your safety, and I pray you
So to receiue it; and if you remember
How neere in loue our parents were, that we
Eu'n from the cradle were brought vp together.
Our amitie encreasing with our yeeres,
We cannot stand suspected.
Doro.
To the purpose.
We come then as good Angels Dorothea,
To make you happy, and the meanes so easie,
That be not you an enemy to your selfe,
Already you enioy it.
Christeta,
Looke on vs
Ruin'd as you are once, and brought vnto it
By your perswasion.
Cal.
But what follow'd Lady,
Leauing those blessings which our gods giues freely,
And showr'd vpon vs with a prodigall hand,
As to be noble borne, youth, beauty, wealth,
And the free vse of these without controule,
Checke, curbe, or stop, (such is our Lawes indulgence)
All happinesse forsooke vs, bonds and fetters
For amorous Twins, the Racke and Hangmans whips
In place of choise delights, our Parents curses
Instead of blessings, scorne neglect, contempt
Fell thick vpon vs.
Chri.
This consider'd wisely,
We made a faire retreate, and reconcil'd
To our forsaken gods, we liue againe
In all prosperity.
Caliste.
By our example
Bequeathing misery to such as loue it,
Learne to be happy, the Christian yokes too heauy
For such a dainty necke, it was fram'd rather
To be the shrine of Venus, or a Pillar
More precious then Christall to support
Our Cupids Image, our Religion Lady
Is but a varied pleasure, yours a toyle
Slaues would shrinke vnder.
Doro.
Haue you not clouen feete? are you not diuels?
Dare any say so much, or dare I heare it
Without a vertuous and religious anger?
Now to put on a Virgin modesty,
Or maiden silence, when his power is question'd
That is omnipotent, were a greater crime,
Then in a bad cause to be impudent.
Or wicked actions of the worst of men
Pursu'd and practis'd, your religious rites,
O call them rather iugling mysteries,
The baytes and nets of hell, your soules the prey
For which the Diuell angles, your false pleasures
A steepe descent by which you headlong fall
Into eternall torments.
Cal.
Doe not tempt
Our powerfull gods.
Dor.
Which of your powerfull gods,
Your gold, your siluer, brasse, or woodden ones?
That can, nor do me hurt, nor protect you,
Most pittied women, will you sacrifice
To such, or call them gods or goddesses,
Your Parents would disdaine to be the same,
Or you your selues? O blinded ignorance,
Tell me Caliste by the truth I charge you,
Or any thing you hold more deere, would you
To haue him deifide to posterity,
Desire your father an Adulterer,
A Rauisher, almost a Paracide,
A vile incestuous wretch?
Cal.
That pitty
And duty answere for me.
Dor.
Or you Christeta,
To be heereafter registred a goddesse,
Giue your chast body vp to the embraces
Of Goatish lust, here it writ on your forehead,
This is the common Whoore, the prostitute,
The Mistresse in the art of wantonnesse,
Knowes euery tricke and labyrinth of desires
That are immodest.
Criste.
You iudge better of me,
Or my affection is ill plac'd on you,
Shall I turne Strumpet?
Dor.
No, I thinke you would not,
Yet Venus whom you worship was a whore,
And has for that her sacrifice: your great god,
Your Iupiter, a loose adulterer,
Incestuous with his sister, reade but those
That haue canoniz'd them, youle find them worse
Then in chast language I can speakes them to you,
Are they immortall then that did partake
Of humane weakenesse, and had ample share
In mens most base affections? subiect to
Vnchast loues, anger, bondage, wounds, as men are.
Her Iupiter to serue his lust turn'd Bull.
The ship in deede in which he stole Europa.
Neptune for gaine builds vp the walls of Troy
As a day-labourer, Apollo keepes
Admetus sheepe for bread; the Lemnian Smith
Sweats at the Forge, for hire; Lyometheus heere
With his still growing Liuer feedes the Vulture;
Saturne bound fast in hell with adamant chaines;
And thousands more, on whom abused error
Bestowes a diety, will you then deere Sisters,
For I would haue you such, pay your Deuotions
To things of lesse power then your selues?
Cal.
We worship
Their good deedes in their Images.
Dor.
By whom fashion'd,
By sinfull men? Ile tell you a short tale,
Nor can you but confesse it was a true one.
A King of Ægypt being to errect
The Image of Ofiris, whom they honour,
Tooke from the Matrons necks the richest Iewels
And purest gold, as the materialls
To finish vp his worke; which perfected,
With all solemnity he set it vp
To be ador'd, and seru'd himselfe his Idoll;
Desiring it to giue him victory
Against his enemies, but being ouerthrowne,
Enrag'd against his god (these are fine gods
Subiect to humane fury) he tooke downe
He made a Basing, in which Eunuches wash'd
His Concubines feete, and for this sordid vse
Some moneths it seru'd; his mistresse proouing false,
As most indeede do so, and grace concluded,
Betweene him and the Priests, of the same Basing
He made his god againe, thinke, thinke of this,
And then consider, if all wordly honors
Or pleasures that do leaue sharpe stings behind them,
Haue power to win such as haue reasonable soules,
To put their trust in drosse.
Cal.
On that I had beene borne
Without a father.
Chri.
Piety to him
Hath ruin'd vs for euer.
Dor.
Thinke not so,
You may repaire all yet, the Attribute
That speakes his Godhead most, is mercifull,
Reuenge is proper to the Fiends you worship,
Yet cannot strike without his leaue; you weepe,
Oh tis a heauenly showre, celestiall balme
To cure your wounded conscience, let it fall,
Fall thick vpon it, and when that is spent,
Ile helpe it with another of my teares.
And may your true repentance proue the child
Of my true sorrow, neuer mother had
A birth so happy.
Cal.
We are caught our selues
That came to take you, and assur'd of conquest
We are your Captiues.
Dor.
And in that you triumph,
Your victory had beene eternall losse,
And this your losse immortall gaine, fixe heere,
And you shall feele your selues in wardly arm'd
Gainst tortures, death, and hell, but take heede sisters,
That or through weakenesse, threats, or mild perswasions
Though of a father, you fall not into
A second and a worse Apostacie.
Neuer, oh neuer, steel'd by your example,
We dare the worst of tyranny.
Chri.
Heer's our warrant,
You shall along and witnesse it.
Dor.
Be confirm'd then
And rest assur'd, the more you suffer heere,
The more your glory, you to heauen more deere.
exeunt.
Enter Artemia, Sapritius, Theophilus, Harpax.
Art.
Sapritius though your sonne deserue no pitty,
We grieue his sicknesse, his contempt of vs
We cast behinde vs, and looke backe vpon
His seruice done to Cæsar, that weighs downe
Our iust displeasure, if his malady
Haue growth from his restraint, or that you thinke
His liberty can cure him, let him haue it,
Say we forgiue him freely.
Sap.
Your grace binds vs
Euer your humblest Vassals.
Art.
Vse all meanes
For his recouery, though yet I loue him,
I will not force affection, if the Christian
Whose beauty hath out-riuald mine, be wonne
To be of our beliefe, let him enioy her,
That all may know when the cause wills, I can
Command my owne desires.
The.
Be happy then,
My Lord Sapritius, I am confident
Such eloquence and sweete perswasion dwels
Vpon my Daughters tongues, that they will worke her
To any thing they please.
Sap.
I wish they may,
Yet tis no easie taske to vndertake,
To altar a peruerse and obstinate woman.
a shout within, loud Musicke.
Art.
What meanes this shout.
Sap.
Tis seconded with Musicke,
Enter Sempronius.
Triumphant musicke, ha.
Semp.
My Lord your Daughters
For so report giues out the Christian Lady,
The Image of great Iupiter borne before them
Sue for accesse.
Theo.
My soule diuin'd as much,
Blest be the time when first they saw this light,
Their Mother when she bore them to support
My feeble age, fild not my longing heart
With so much ioy, as they in this good worke
Haue throwne vpon me.
Enter Priest with the Image of Iupiter, Incense and Censors, followed by Caliste, and Christeta, leading Dorothea,
Welcome, oh thrice welcome
Daughters, both of my body and my mind,
Let me embrace in you my blisse, my comfort,
And Dorothea now more welcome too,
Then if you neuer had falne off, I am rauish't
With the excesse of ioy, speake happy daughters
The blest euent.
Cal.
We neuer gain'd so much
By any vndertaking.
The.
Oh my deare Girle,
Our gods reward thee.
Dor.
Nor was euer time
On my part better spent.
Chri.
We are all now
Of one opinion.
The.
My best Christeta,
Madame neuer you did grace to worth,
Vouchsafe your Princely hands.
Art.
Most willingly:
Doe you refuse it?
Let vs first deserue it:
The.
My owne child still, heere set our god, prepare
The Incense quickly, come faire Dorothea,
I will my selfe support you, now kneele downe
Dor.
I shall doe it
Better by their example.
The.
They shall guide you,
They are familiar with the sacrifice,
Forward my Twinnes of comfort, and to teach her
Make a ioynt ossring.
Chri.
Thus.
Cal.
And thus.
They both spit at the Image, throw it downe, and spurne it.
Har.
Profane
And impious, stand you now like a Statue?
Are you the Champion of the Gods? where is
Your holy zeale, your anger?
The.
I am blasted,
And as my feete were rooted heere, I finde
I haue no motion, I would I had no sight too,
Or if my eyes can serue to any vse,
Giue me thou iniur'd power a sea of teares,
To expiate this madnesse in my Daughters:
For being themselues, they would haue trembled at
So blasphemous a deede in any other,
For my sake hold awhile thy dreadfull thunder,
And giue me patience to demand a reason
For this accursed act.
Dor.
Twas brauely done.
The.
Peace damn'd Enchantres peace, I should looke on you
With eyes made red with fury, and my hand
That shakes with rage should much outstrip my tongue,
And seale my vengeance on your hearts, but nature
To you that haue falne once, bids me againe
To be a father, O how durst you tempt
The anger of great Ioue?
Dor.
Alacke poore Ioue,
He is no Swaggerer, how smug he stands,
Heele take a kick, or anything.
Sap.
Stop her mouth.
Dor.
It is the ancientst godling do not feare him,
He would not hurt the thiefe that stole away
Two of his golden locks, indeede he could not,
Theo.
Blasphemer,
Ingenious cruelty shall punish this,
Thou art past hope, but for you yet deare daughters,
Againe bewitcht, the dew of mild forgiuenesse
May gently fall, prouided you deserue it
With true contrition, be your selues againe,
Sue to the offended diety.
Chi.
Not to be
The Mistresse of the earth.
Cal.
I will not offer
A graine of Incense to it, much lesse kneele,
Not looke on it but with contempt and scorne,
To haue a thousand yeeres confer'd vpon me
Of wordly blessings, we professe our selues
To be like Dorothea, Christians,
And owe her for that happinesse.
The.
My eares
Receiue in hearing this, all deadly charmes
Powerfull to make man wretched.
Art.
Are these they
You brag'd could conuert others?
Sap.
That want strength
To stand themselues?
Har.
Your Honour is ingag'd,
The credit of our cause depends vpon it,
Something you must doe suddenly.
The.
And I will.
Har.
They merit death, but falling by your hand,
It will be recorded for a iust reuenge
And holy fury on you.
The.
Doe yet blow,
The Furnace of a wrath thrice hot already,
Ætna is in my brest, wildfire burnes heere,
Which onely bloud must quench: incensed power,
Which from my infancy I haue ador'd,
Looke downe with fauourable beames vpon
The Sacrifice (though not allow'd thy Priest)
(My fierie zeale inciting me to act it)
To call that iustice, others may stile murther.
Come you accursd, thus by the haire I drag you
Before this holy altar; thus looke on you
Lesse pittifull then Tigres to their prey.
And thus with mine owne hand I take that life
Which I gaue to you.
kils them.
Doro.
O most cruell Butcher.
Theo.
My anger ends not here, hels dreadfull porter
Receiue into thy euer open gates
Their damned soules, and let the furies whips
On them alone be wasted: and when death
Closes these eyes, twill be Elizium to me,
To heare their shreekes and howlings, make me Pluto
Thy instruments to furnish thee with soules
Of this accursed sect, nor let me fall
Till my fell vengeance hath consum'd them all.
exit with Harpax hugging him.
Enter Artemia laughing.
Arte.
Tis a braue zeale.
Doro.
O call him backe againe,
Call backe your hangman, here's on prisoner left
To be the subiect of his knife.
Arte.
Not so.
We are not so neere reconcilde vnto thee,
Thou shalt not perish such an easie way.
Be she your charge Sapritius now, and suffer
None to come neere her till we haue found out
Some torments worthy of her.
Ang.
Courage Mistresse,
These Martyrs but prepare your glorious fate,
You shall exceed them and not imitate.
exeunt.
Enter Spungius and Hircius ragged at seuerall doores.
Hir.
Spungius.
Spun.
My fine rogue, how ist? how goes this totterd world
Hast any money?
Spun.
Money! no, the Tauerne. Iuy clings about my
mony and kils it. Hast thou any mony?
Hir.
No, my mony is a mad Bull, ang finding any gap
opend, away it runs.
Spun.
I see then a Tauerne and a Bawdy-house haue faces
much alike, the one has red grates next dore, the tother
has peeping holes within doores; the Tauerne hath euermore
a bush, the bawdy close sometimes neither hedge nor
bush. From a Tauerne a man comes reeling, from a bawdy
house not able to stand. In the Tauerne you are cousend
with paltry Wine, in a bawdy-house by a painted Where,
Money may haue Wine, and a Whore will haue Mony,
but neither can you cry, Drawer you Rogue, or keepe
doore rotten Bawde, without a siluer 'Whistle, wee
are iustly plagued therefore for running from our Mistresse.
Hir.
Thou didst, I did not; yet I had run to, but that
one gaue me turpentine pilles, & that stayde my running.
Spun.
Well: the thred of my life is drawne through the
needle of necessity, whose eye looking vpon my lowsie
breeches, cryes out it cannot mend 'em: which so prickes
the linings of my body, and those are Heart, Lights, Lungs,
Guts, and Midriffe, that I beg on my knees to haue Atropos
(the Tailer to the destinies) to take her sheares and cut
my thred in two, or to heate the Iron goose of Mortalitie,
and so presse me to death.
Hir.
Sure thy father was some botcher, and thy hungry
tongue bit off these shreds of complaints, to patch vp the
elbowes of thy nittie eloquence.
Spun.
And what was thy father?
Hir.
A low minded Cobler, a Cobler whose zeale set
many a woman vpright, the remembrance of whose Awle
I now hauing nothing, thrusts such scuruy stitches into my
soule, that the heele of my happines has gone awry.
Spun.
Pitty that ere thou trodst thy shooe awry.
Hir.
Long I cannot last, for all sowterly waxe of comfort
melting away, and misery taking the length of my foote, it
rent, and go wetshod.
Spun.
This shews th'art a Coblers son by going through
stitch: O Hircius wud thou & I were so happy to be coblers
Hir.
So would I, for both of vs being now wearie of our
liues, should then be sure of shoomakers ends.
Spun.
I see the beginning of my ende for I am almost
staru'd.
Hir.
So am not I, but I am more then famishd.
Spun.
All the members of my bodie are in rebellion one
against another.
Hir.
So are mine, and nothing but a cooke being a
constable can appease them, presenting to my nose, in stead
of his painted staffe, a spitfull of rost meate.
Spun.
But in this rebellion, what vprores do they make,
my belly cries to my mouth, why dost not gape & feed me
Hir.
And my mouth sets out a throate to my hand
why dost not thou lift vp meate and cramme my choppes
with it.
Spun.
Then my hand hath a fling at mine eyes, because
they looke not out and sharke for victuals.
Hir.
Which mine eyes seeing, full of teares, crie alowd,
and curse my feet for not ambling vp and downe to feede
Colon, sithence if good meate be in any place, tis knowne
my feet can smell.
Spu.
But then my feet like lazie rogues lie still, and had rather
do nothing, then run to and fro, to purchase any thing
Hir.
Why mong so many millions of people, should
thou and I onely bee miserable totterdemalions, rag-a-muffins,
and lowsie desperates.
Spun.
Thou art a meere I am-an-o, I am-an-as, consider
the whole world, and tis as we are.
Hir.
Lowsie, beggerly, thou whorson Assa Fætida.
Spun.
Worse, al tottrings, al out of frame, thou Fooliamini
Hir.
As how arsnicke: come make the world smart.
Sp.
Old Honor goes on crutches, beggry rides caroched,
honest men make feastes, knaues sit at tables, cowards are
lapt in veluet, souldiers (as wee) in ragges: Beautie turnes
when all the world stumbles, should thou and I walke vp
right?
Enter Angelo.
Hir.
Stop, looke who's yonder.
Spun.
Fellow Angelo! how does my little man? well.
Ang.
Yes, and would you did so, where are your clothes?
Hir.
Clothes! you see euery woman almost goe in her
loose gowne, and why should not wee haue our clothes
loose?
Spun.
Wud they were loose.
Ang.
Why where are they?
Spun.
Where many a veluet cloke I warrant at this houre
keepes them company, they are pawnd to a Broker.
Ang.
Why pawnd, where's all the gold I left with you?
Hir.
The gold! we put that into a Scriueners hands, and
he has cousend vs.
Spun.
And therefore I prethee Angelo, if thou hast another
purse, let it be confiscate, and brought to deuastation.
Ang.
Are you made all of lyes? I know which way
Your gilt-wing'd peeces flew; I will no more
Be mock'd by you: be sorry for your ryots,
Tame your wilde flesh by labor, eate the bread
Got with hard hands; let sorrow be your whip
To draw drops of repentance from your heart,
When I reade this amendment in your eyes,
You shall not want, till then my pitty dies.
exit.
Spun.
Ist more shame that this scuruy Puerilis should giue
vs lessons?
Hir.
I haue dwelt thou knowst along time in the Subvrbs
of the conscience, and they are euer bawdy, but now
my heart shall take a house within the walls of honesty.
Enter Harpax aloofe.
Spun.
O you drawers of wine, draw me no more to the
bar of Beggery; the sound of Score a pottle of sack , is worse
then the noyse of a scolding oyster wench, or two Cats incorporating.
Harp.
This must not be, I doe not like when conscience
Deiected, drooping, drownd in teares, clothes torne,
Leane, and ill colour'd, sighing! whats the whirlewinde
Which raiseth all these mischiefes? I haue scene you
Drawne better on't. O! but a spirit told me
You both would come to this, when in you thrust
Your selues into the seruice of that Lady,
Who shortly now must die; where's now her praying
What good get you by wearing your our feete,
To run on scurny errands to the poore,
And to beare money to a sort of rogues,
And lowsie prisoners.
Hir.
A pox on 'em, I neuer prosperd since I did it.
Spun.
Had I bin a Pagan stil, I could not haue spit white
for want of drinke, but come to any Vintner now and bid
him trust me, because I turnd Christian, and he cries puh.
Har.
Y'are righly seru'd; before that peeuish Lady
Had to doe with you, weomen, wine, and money
Flow'd in aboundance with you, did it not?
Hir.
Oh! those dayes, those dayes.
Har.
Beat not your breasts, teare not your haire in madnes
Those dayes shall come agen be rulde by me,
And better (marke me) better.
Spun.
I haue seen you sir as I take it, an attendant on
the Lord Theophilus.
Har.
Yes, yes, in shew his seruant, but harke hither.
Take heed no body listens.
Spun.
Not a Mouse stirres.
Har.
I am a Prince disguisde.
Hir.
Disguisde! how! drunke,
Har.
Yes my fine boye, Ile drinke to, and be drunke,
I am a Prince, and any a man by me
(Let him but keepe my rules) shall soone grow rich,
Exceeding rich, most infinitely rich,
He that shall serue me, is not staru'd from pleasures
As other poore knaues are; no, take their fill,
Spun.
But that sir, we are so ragged—.
Har.
Youle say, you'd serue me.
Hir.
Before any master vnder the Zodiake.
For clothes no matter; I haue a mind to both.
And one thing I like in you, now that you see
The bonefire of your Ladyes state burnt out,
You giue it ouer, do you not?
Hir.
Let her be hangd.
Spun.
And poxd.
Harp.
Why now y'are mine.
Come let my bosome touch you.
Spun.
We haue bugges Sir.
Har.
Ther's mony, fetch your cloths home, theres for you
Hir.
Auoid Vermine: giue ouer our mistresse! a man cannot
prosper worse if he serue the diuell.
Har.
How? the diuell! Ile tell you what now of the diuell,
He's no such horrid creature, clouen footed,
Blacke, saucer-eyde, his nostrils breathing fire,
As these lying Christians make him.
Both.
No!
Har.
He's more louing,
To man, then man to man is.
Hir.
Is hee so! wud wee two might come acquainted
with him.
Har.
You shall: he's a wondrous good fellow, loues a
cup of wine, a whore, any thing, you haue mony, its ten to
one but Ile bring him to some Tauerne to you or other.
Spun.
Ile bespeake the best roome ith' house for him.
Har.
Some people he cannot endure.
Hir.
Weele giue him no such cause.
Har.
He hates a ciuile Lawyer, as a souldier does peace.
Spun.
How a commoner?
Har.
Loues him from the teeth outward.
Spun.
Pray my Lord and Prince, let me encounter you
with one foolish question: does the diuell eate any Mace
in's broth?
Har.
Exceeding much, when his burning feauer takes
him, and then hee has the knuckles of a Bailiffe boyld to
his breakefast.
Hir.
Then my Lord, he loues a Catchpole does he not?
Har.
As a Bearward does a dog, a Catchpole! he has sworn
if euer he dies, to make a Serieant his heire, and a Yoeman
his ouerseer.
How if he come to any great mans gate, will the
Porter let him come in sir?
Har.
Oh, hee loues Porters of great mens gates, because
they are euer so neere the wicket.
Hir.
Doe not they whom he makes much on, for all his
stroking their cheekes, leade hellish liues vnder him.
Har.
No, no, no, no, he will be damn' before he hurts any
man. Doe but you (when y'are throughly acquainted
with him) aske for any thing, see if it does not come.
Spun.
Any thing!
Har.
Call for a delicate rare whore; she's brought you.
Hir.
Oh my elbow itches: will the diuel keepe the dore?
Har.
Be drunke as a begger, he helps you home.
Spun.
O my fine diuell! some watchman I warrant, I
wonder who's his constable.
Har.
Will you sweare, roare, swagger? he claps you.
Hir.
How! ath' chops.
Har.
No, ath' shoulder, and cries O my braue boy.
Will any of you kill a man?
Spun.
Yes, yes, I, I.
Har.
Whats his word, hang, hang, tis nothing.
Or stab a woman.
Hir.
Yes, yes, I, I.
Har.
Here's the worst word he giues you, a pox on't goe
on.
Hir.
O inueagling rascall, I am rauishd.
Har.
Go, get your clothes, turne vp your glasse of youth,
And let the sands run merily; nor do I care
From what a lauish hand your money flies,
So you giue none away, feed beggers.
Hir.
Hang 'em.
Har.
And to the scrubbing poore.
Hir.
Ile see 'em hangd first.
Har.
One seruice you must do me.
Both.
Any thing.
Har.
Your Mistresse Dorothea, ere she suffers,
Is to be put to tortures, haue you hearts
To teare her into shreekes, to fetch her soule
Hir.
Suppose this shee, and that I had no hands, heere's
my teeth.
Spun.
Suppose this she, and that I had no teeth, heere's
my nailes.
Hir.
But will not you be there sir.
Har.
No, not for hils of diamonds, the grand Master
Who schooles her in the Christian discipline,
Abhorres my company; should I be there,
You'd thinke all hell broke loose, we shall so quarrell.
Plie you this businesse; he, her flesh who spares
Is lost, and in my loue neuer more shares.
exit.
Spun.
Here's a Master you rogue.
Hir.
Sure he cannot chuse but haue a horrible number
of seruants.
exeunt
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