University of Virginia Library

Act. 3.

Scæn. 1.

Enter Mother.
Moth.
I would my Son would either keep at home,
Or I were in my grave; she was but one day abroad, but ever since
She's grown so cutted, there's no speaking to her:
Whether the sight of great chear at my Ladies,
And such mean fare at home, work discontent in her,
I know not; but I'm sure she's strangely alter'd.
I'll nev'r keep daughter-in-law i'th' house with me
Again, if I had an hundred: When read I of any
That agreed long together, but she and her mother
Fell out in the first quarter! nay, sometime
A grudging of a scolding the first week by'r Lady;
So takes the new disease methinks in my house;
I'm weary of my part, there's nothing likes her;
I know not how to please her, here a-late;
And here she comes.

Enter Brancha:
Bran:
This is the strangest house
For all defects, as ever Gentlewoman
Made shift withal, to pass away her love in.
Why is there not a Cushion-cloth of Drawn work,
Or some fair Cut-work pin'd up in my Bed-chamber.
A silver and gilt-casting Bottle hung by't?
Nay, since I am content to be so kinde to you,
To spare you for a silver Bason and Ewre,
Which one of my fashion looks for of duty;
She's never offered under, where she sleeps.

Moth.
She talks of things here my whole state's not worth.

Bran.
Never a green silk quilt is there i'th' house Mother,
To cast upon my Bed?

Moth.
No by troth is there,
Nor orange tawny neither.

Bran.
Here's a house
For a yong Gentlewoman to be got with childe in.

Moth.
Yes, simple though you make it, there has been three
Got in a year in't, since you move me to't;
And all as sweet fac'd children, and as lovely,
As you'll be Mother of; I will not spare you.
What cannot children be begot think you,
Without gilt casting Bottles? Yes, and as sweet ones.
The Millers daughter brings forth as white boys
As she that bathes her self with Milk and Bean flower.
'Tis an old saying, One may keep gook cheer
In a mean house; so may true love affect
After the rate of Princes in a Cottage.

Bran.
Troth you speak wondrous well for your old house here;
'Twill shortly fall down at your feet to thank you,
Or stoop when you go to Bed, like a good childe
To ask you blessing. Must I live in want,
Because my fortune matcht me with your Son?
Wives do not give away themselves to husbands,
To the end to be quite cast away; they look
To be the better us'd, and tender'd rather,
Highlier respected, and maintain'd the richer;
They're well rewarded else for the free gift
Of their whole life to a husband. I ask less now
Then what I had at home when I was a Maid,
And at my Fathers house, kept short of that
Which a wife knows she must have, nay, and will;
Will Mother, if she be not a fool born;
And report went of me, that I could wrangle
For what I wanted when I was two hours old,
And by that copy, this Land still I hold.
You hear me Mother.

Exit.
Moth.
I too plain methinks;
And were I somewhat deafer when you spake,
'Twere nev'r awhit the worse for my quietness.
'Tis the most sudden'st, strangest alteration,
And the most subtilest that ev'r wit at threescore
Was puzzled to finde out: I know no cause for't; but
She's no more like the Gentlewoman at first,
Then I am like her that nev'r lay with man yet,
And she's a very yong thing where ere she be;
When she first lighted here, I told her then
How mean she should finde all things; she was pleas'd forsooth,
None better: I laid open all defects to her,
She was contented still; but the Devil's in her,
Nothing contents her now: To night my Son
Promisd to be at home, would he were come once,
For I'm weary of my charge, and life too:
She'ld be serv'd all in silver by her good will,
By night and day; she hates the name of Pewterer,
More then sickmen the noise, or diseas'd bones
That quake at fall o'th' Hammer, seeming to have
A fellow-feeling with't at every blow:
What course shall I think on? she frets me so.

Enter Leantio.
Lean.
How near am I now to a happiness,
That Earth exceeds not? not another like it;
The treasures of the deep are not so precious,
As are the conceal'd comforts of a man,
Lockt up in womans love. I sent the air
Of Blessings when I come but near the house:
What a delicious breath Marriage sends forth!
The Violet-beds not sweeter. Honest wedlock
Is like a Banquetting-house built in a Garden,
On which the Springs chaste flowers take delight
To cast their modest odors; when base Lust
With all her powders, paintings, and best pride,
Is but a fair house built by a Ditch side.
When I behold a glorious dangerous Strumpet,
Sparkling in Beauty and Destruction too,
Both at a twinkling, I do liken straight
Her beautifi'd body to a goodly Temple
That's built on Vaults where Carkasses lie rotting,
And so by little and little I shrink back again,
And quench desire with a cool Meditation,
And I'm as well methinks: Now for a welcome
Able to draw mens envies upon man:
A kiss now that will hang upon my lip,
As sweet as morning dew upon a Rose,
And full as long; after a five days fast
She'll be so greedy now, and cling about me;
I take care how I shall be rid of her,
And here't begins.

Bran.
Oh Sir, y'are welcome home.

Moth.
Oh is he come, I am glad on't.

Lean.
Is that all?
Why this? as dreadful now as sudden death
To some rich man, that flatters all his sins
With promise of Repentance, when he's old,
And dies in the midway before he comes to't.
Sure y'are not well, Brancha! How do'st prethee?

Bran.
I have been better then I am at this time.

Lean.
Alas, I thought so.

Bran.
Nay, I have been worse too,
Then now you see me Sir.

Lean.
I'm glad thou mendst yet,
I feel my heart mend too: How came it to thee?
Has any thing dislik'd thee in my absence?

Bran.
No certain, I have had the best content
That Florence can afford.

Lean.
Thou makest the best on't,
Speak Mother, what's the cause? you must needs know.

Moth.
Troth I know none Son, let her speak her self;
Unless it be the same 'gave Lucifer a tumbling cast; that's pride.

Bran.
Methinks this house stands nothing to my minde;
I'ld have some pleasant lodging i'th' high street Sir,
Or if 'twere neer the Court Sir, that were much better;
'Tis a sweet recreation for a Gentlewoman,
To stand in a Bay-window, and see gallants.

Lean.
Now I have another temper, a meer stranger
To that of yours, it seems; I should delight
To see none but your self.

Bran.
I praise not that:
Too fond is as unseemly as too churlish;
I would not have a husband of that proneness,
To kiss me before company, for a world:
Beside 'tis tedious to see one thing still (Sir)
Be it the best that ever heart affected;
Nay, wer't your self, whose love had power you know
To bring me from my friends, I would not stand thus,
And gaze upon you always: Troth I could not Sir;
As good be blinde, and have no use of sight
As look on one thing still: What's the eyes treasure,
But change of objects? You are learned Sir,
And know I speak not ill; 'till full as vertuous
For womans eye to look on several men,
As for her heart (Sir) to be fixed on one.

Lean.
Now thou com'st home to me; a kiss for that word.

Bran.
No matter for a kiss Sir, let it pass,
'Tis but a toy, we'll not so much as minde it,
Let's talk of other business, and forget it.
What news now of the Pirats, any stirring?
Prethee discourse a little:

Moth.
I am glad he's here yet
To see her tricks himself; I had lied monst'rously,
If I had told 'em first.

Lean.
Speak what's the humor (Sweet)
You make your lip so strange? this was not wont.

Bran.
Is there no kindness betwixt man and wife,
Unless they make a Pigeon-house of friendship,
And be still billing; 'tis the idlest fondness
That ever was invented, and 'tis pity
Its grown a fashion for poor Gentlewomen;
There's many a disease kiss'd in a year by't,
And a French cursie made to't: Alas Sir,
Think of the world, how we shall live, grow serious,
We have been married a whole fortnight now.

Lean.
How? a whole fortnight! why is that so long?

Bran.
'Tis time to leave off dalliance; 'tis a doctrine
Of your own teaching, if you be remembred,
And I was bound to obey it.

Moth.
Here's one fits him;
This was well catch'd y'faith Son, like a fellow
That rids another Countrey of a Plague,
And brings it home with him to his own house
Knock within.
Who knocks?

Lean.
Who's there now? withdraw you Brancha,
Thou art a Jem no strangers eye must see,
How ev'r thou pleas'd now to look dull on me.
Exit.
Enter Messenger.
Y'are welcome Sir; to whom your business, pray?

Mess.
To one I see not here now.

Lean.
Who should that be Sir?

Mess.
A yong Gentlewoman, I was sent to.

Lean.
A yong Gentlewoman?

Mess.
I Sir, about sixteen; why look you wildly Sir?

Lean.
At your strange error: Y'have mistook the house Sir.
There's none such here, I assure you.

Mess.
I assure you too,
The man that sent me, cannot be mistook.

Lean.
Why, who is't sent you Sir?

Mess.
The Duke.

Lean.
The Duke?

Mess.
Yes, he entreates her company at a Banquet
At Lady Livia's house.

Lean.
Troth shall I tell you Sir,
It is the most erroneous business
That ere your honest pains was abus'd with;
I pray forgive me, if I smile a little,
I cannot chuse y'faith Sir, at an error
So Comical as this (I mean no harm though)
His grace has been most wondrous ill inform'd,
Pray so return it (Sir). What should her name be?

Mess.
That I shall tell you straight too, Brancha Capella.

Lean.
How Sir, Brancha? What do you call th'other.

Mess.
Capella; Sir, it seems you know no such then?

Lean.
Who should this be? I never heard o'th' name.

Mess.
Then 'tis a sure mistake.

Lean.
What if you enquir'd
In the next street Sir? I saw Gallants there
In the new houses that are built of late.
Ten to one, there you finde her.

Mess.
Nay no matter,
I will return the mistake, and seek no further.

Lean.
Use your own will and pleasure Sir, y'are welcome.
Exit Messenger.
What shall I think of first? Come forth Brancha,
Thou art betraid I fear me.

Enter Brancha.
Bran.
Betraid, how Sir?

Lean:
The Duke knows thee:

Bran.
Knows me! how know you that Sir?

Lean.
Has got thy name.

Bran.
I, and my good name too,
That's worse o'th' twain.

Lean.
How comes this work about?

Bran:
How should the Duke know me? can you ghess Mother?

Moth.
Not I with all my wits, sure we kept house close.

Lean.
Kept close! not all the Locks in Italy
Can keep you women so; you have been gadding,
And ventur'd out at twilight, to th' Court-green yonder,
And met the gallant Bowlers coming home;
Without your Masks too, both of you, I'll be hang'd else;
Thou hast been seen Brancha by some stranger;
Never excuse it.

Bran.
I'll not seek the way Sir;
Do you think y'have married me to mew me up
Not to be seen; what would you make of me?

Lean.
A good wife, nothing else:

Bran.
Why, so are some
That are seen ev'ry day, else the Devil take 'em.

Lean.
No more then I believe all vertuous in thee,
Without an argument; 'twas but thy hard chance
To be seen somewhere, there lies all the mischief;
But I have devis'd a riddance.

Moth.
Now I can tell you Son,
The time and place.

Lean.
When, where?

Moth.
What wits have I?
When you last took your leave, if you remember,
You left us both at Window.

Lean.
Right, I know that.

Moth.
And not the third part of an hour after,
The Duke past by in a great solemnity,
To St. Marks Temple, and to my apprehension
He look'd up twice to th' Window.

Lean.
Oh there quick'ned
The mischeif of this hour!

Bran.
If you call't mischeif,
It is a thing I fear I am conceiv'd with:

Lean.
Look'd he up twice, and could you take no warning!

Moth.
Why once may do as much harm Son, as a thousand;
Do not you know one spark has fir'd an house,
As well as a whole Furnace?

Lean.
My heart flames for't,
Yet let's be wise, and keep all smother'd closely;
I have bethought a means; is the door fast?

Moth.
I lockt it my self after him.

Lean.
You know Mother,
At the end of the dark Parlor there's a place
So artificially contriv'd for a Conveyance,
No search could ever finde it: When my Father
Kept in for man-slaughter, it was his Sanctuary;
There will I lock my lifes best treasure up.
Brancha?

Bran.
Would you keep me closer yet?
Have you the conscience? y'are best ev'n choke me up Sir?
You make me fearful of your health and wits,
You cleave to such wilde courses, what's the matter?

Lean.
Why, are you so insensible of your danger
To ask that now? the Duke himself has sent for you
To Lady Livia's, to a Banquet forsooth.

Bran.
Now I beshrew you heartily, has he so!
And you the man would never yet vouchsafe
To tell me on't till now: You shew your loyalty
And honesty at once, and so farewel Sir.

Lean.
Brancha, whether now?

Bran:
Why to the Duke Sir.
You say he sent for me.

Lean.
But thou dost not mean to go, I hope.

Bran.
No? I shall prove unmannerly,
Rude, and uncivil, mad, and imitate you.
Come Mother come, follow his humor no longer,
We shall be all executed for treason shortly.

Moth.
Not I y'faith; I'll first obey the Duke,
And taste of a good Banquet, I'm of thy minde.
I'll step but up, and fetch two Handerchiefs
To pocket up some Sweet-meats, and o'r take thee:

Exit.
Bran.
Why here's an old Wench would trot into a Baud now,
For some dry Sucket, or a Colt in March-pain.

Exit.
Lean.
Oh thou the ripe time of mans misery, wedlock;
When all his thoughts like over laden Trees,
Crack with the Fruits they bear, in cares, in jealousies.
Oh that's a fruit that ripens hastily,
After 'tis knit to marriage; it begins
As soon as the Sun shines upon the Bride
A little to shew colour. Blessed Powers!
Whence comes this alteration! the distractions;
The fears and doubts it brings are numberless,
And yet the cause I know not: What a peace
Has he that never marries! if he knew
The benefit he enjoy'd, or had the fortune
To come and speak with me, he should know then
The infinite wealth he had, and discern rightly
The greatness of his treasure by my loss:
Nay, what a quietness has he 'bove mine,
That wears his youth out in a strumpets arms,
And never spends more care upon a woman,
Then at the time of Lust; but walks away,
And if he finde her dead at his return,
His pitty is soon done, he breaks a sigh
In many parts, and gives her but a peece on't!
But all the fears, shames, jealousies, costs and troubles,
And still renew'd cares of a marriage Bed,
Live in the issue, when the wife is dead.

Enter Messenger.
Mess.
A good perfection to your thoughts.

Lean.
The news Sir?

Mess.
Though you were pleas'd of late to pin an error on me,
You must not shift another in your stead too:
The Duke has sent me for you.

Lean.
How for me Sir?
I see then 'tis my theft; w'are both betraid.
Well, I'm not the first h'as stoln away a Maid,
My Countrymen have us'd it: I'll along with you Sir.

Exeunt.

Scæn 2.

A Banquet prepared: Enter Guardiano and Ward.
Guard.
Take you especial note of such a Gentlewoman,
She's here on purpose, I have invited her,
Her Father, and her Uncle, to this Banquet;
Mark her behavior well, it does concern you;
And what her good parts are, as far as time
And place can modestly require a knowledge of,
Shall be laid open to your understanding.
You know I'm both your Guardian, and your Uncle,
My care of you is double, Ward and Nephew,
And I'll express it here.

Ward.
Faith, I should know her
Now by her mark among a thousand women:
A lettle pretty deft and tidy thing you say.

Guard.
Right.

Ward.
With a lusty sprouting sprig in her hair.

Guard:
Thou goest the right way still; take one mark more,
Thou shalt nev'r finde her hand out of her Uncles,
Or else his out of hers, if she be near him:
The love of kinred, never yet stuck closer
Then their's to one another; he that weds her,
Marries her Uncles heart too.

Cornets.
Ward.
Say you so Sir,
Then I'll be ask'd i'th' Church to both of them.

Guard.
Fall back, here comes the Duke.

Ward.
He brings a Gentlewoman,
I should fall forward rather.

Enter Duke, Brancha, Fabritio, Hippolito, Livia, Mother, Isabella, and Attendants.
Duke.
Come Brancha,
Of purpose sent into the world to shew
Perfection once in woman; I'll believe
Hence forward they have ev'ry one a Soul too
'Gainst all the uncurteous opinions
That mans uncivil rudeness ever held of 'em:
Glory of Florence light into mine arms!

Enter Leantio.
Bran.
Yon comes a grudging man will chide you Sir;
The storm is now in's heart, and would get nearer,
And fall here if it durst, it powres down yonder.

Duke.
If that be he, the weather shall soon clear.
List, and I'll tell thee how.

Lean.
A kissing too?
I see 'tis plain Lust now; Adultery boldned;
What will it prove anon, when 'tis stufft full
Of Wine and Sweet-meats, being so impudent Fasting?

Duke.
We have heard of your good parts Sir, which we honor
With our embrace and love; is not the Captainship
Of Rouans Cittadel, since the late deceas'd,
Suppli' by any yet?

Gentlem.
By none my Lord.

Duke.
Take it, the place is yours then, and as faithfulness
And desert grows, our favour shall grow with't:
Rise now the Captain of our Fort at Rouans.

Lean.
The service of whole life give your Grace thanks.

Duke.
Come sit Brancha.

Lean.
This is some good yet,
And more then ev'r I look'd for, a fine bit
To stay a Cuckolds stomach: All preferment
That springs from sin and lust, it shoots up quickly,
As Gardiners crops do in the rotten'st grounds;
So is all means rais'd from base prostitution,
Ev'n like a Sallet growing upon a dunghil:
I'm like a thing that never was yet heard of,
Half merry, and half mad, much like a fellow
That eats his meat with a good appetite,
And wears a plague-sore that would fright a Country;
Or rather like the barren hardned Ass,
That feeds on Thistles till he bleeds again;
And such is the condition of my misery.

Liv.
Is that your Son widow?

Moth.
Yes, did your Ladiship never know that till now?

Liv.
No trust me did I,
Nor ever truly felt the power of love,
And pitty to a man, till now I knew him;
I have enough to buy me my desires,
And yet to spare; that's one good comfort. Hark you?
Pray let me speak with you Sir, before you go.

Lean.
With me Lady? you shall, I am at your service:
What will she say now trow, more goodness yet?

Ward.
I see her now I'm sure; the Ape's so little,
I shall scarce feel her; I have seen almost
As tall as she, sold in the Fair for ten pence.
See how she simpers it, as if Marmalad
Would not melt in her mouth; she might have the kindness y'faith
To send me a guilded Bull from her own Trencher,
A Ram, a Goat, or somewhat to be nibling
These women when they come to sweet things once,
They forget all their friends, they grow so greedy;
Nay, oftentimes their husbands

Duke.
Here's a health now Gallants,
To the best beauty at this day in Florence.

Bran.
Who ere she be, she shall not go unpledg'd Sir.

Duke.
Nay, your excus'd for this.

Bran.
Who I my Lord?

Duke.
Yes by the Law of Bacchus; plead your benefit,
You are not bound to pledge your own health Lady.

Bran.
That's a good way my Lord to keep me dry.

Duke.
Nay, then I will not offend Venus so much,
Let Bacchus seek his mends in another Court,
Here's to thy self Brancha.

Bran.
Nothing comes
More welcome to that name then your Grace.

Lean.
So, so;
Here stands the poor theif now that stole the treasure,
And he's not thought on, ours is near kin now
To a twin-misery born into the world.
First the hard conscienc'd-worldling, he hoords wealth up,
Then comes the next, and he feasts all upon't;
One's damn'd for getting, th'other for spending on't.
Oh equal Justice, thou has't met my sin
With a full weight, I'm rightly now opprest,
All her friends heavy hearts lie in my Brest.

Duke.
Methinks there is no spirit amongst us Gallants,
But what divinely sparkles from the eyes
Of bright Brancha; we sat all in darkness,
But for that Splendor: Who was't told us lately
Of a match making right, a marriage tender?

Guard.
'Twas I my Lord.

Duke.
'Twas you indeed: Where is she?

Guard.
This is the Gentlewoman.

Fab:
My Lord, my Daughter.

Duke.
Why here's some stirring yet.

Fab.
She's a dear childe to me.

Duke.
That must needs be; you say she is your Daughter.

Fab.
Nay, my good Lord, dear to my purse I mean
Beside my person, I nev'r reckon'd that.
She has the full qualities of a Gentlewoman;
I have brought her up to Musick, Dancing, what not,
That may commend her Sex, and stir her husband?

Duke.
And which is he now?

Guard.
This yong Heir, my Lord.

Duke.
What is he brought up too?

Hip.
To Cat and Trap.

Guard.
My Lord, he's a great Ward, wealthy, but simple;
His parts consist in Acres.

Duke.
Oh Wise-acres.

Guard.
Y'have spoke him in a word Sir.

Bran.
'Lass poor Gentlewoman,
She's ill bestead, unless sh'as dealt the wiselier,
And laid in more provision for her youth.
Fools will not keep in Summer.

Lean.
No, nor such wives
From whores in winter.

Duke.
Yea, the voice too Sir!

Fab.
I, and a sweet Brest too my Lord, I hope,
Or I have cast away my money wisely;
She took her pricksong earlier, my Lord,
Then any of her kinred ever did:
A rare childe, though I say't, but I'ld not have
The Baggage hear so much, 'twould make her swell straight:
And Maids of all things must not be puft up.

Duke.
Let's turn us to a better Banquet then,
For Musick bids the soul of a man to a Feast,
And that's indeed, a noble entertainment,
Worthy Brancha's self; you shall perceive Beauty,
Our Florentine Damsels are not brought up idlely.

Bran.
They'are wiser of themselves, it seems my Lord,
And can take gifts, when goodness offers 'em.

Musick.
Lean.
True, and damnation has taught you that wisdom,
You can take gifts too. Oh that Musick mocks me!

Liv.
I am as dumb to any language now
But Loves, as one that never learn'd to speak:
I am not yet so old, but he may think of me;
My own fault, I have been idle a long time;
But I'll begin the week, and paint to morrow,
So follow my true labor day by day.
I never thriv'd so well, as when I us'd it.


SONG.
What harder chance can fall to woman,
Who was born to cleave to someman,
Then to bestow her time, youth, beauty,
Life's observance, honor, duty,
On a thing for no use good,
But to make Physick work, or blood force fresh
In an old Ladies cheek, she that would be
Mother of fools, let her compound with me.

Ward.

Here's a
tune indeed; Pish
I had rather hear
one Ballad sung
i'th' Nose now, of
the lamentable
drowning of fat
Sheep and Oxen,
then all these simpering
tunes plaid
upon Cats-guts,
and sung by little
Kitlings.

Fab.
How like you her Brest now my Lord?

Bran.
Her Brest?
He talks as if his daughter had given suck
Before she were married, as her betters have;
The next he praises sure, will be her Nipples.

Duke.
Methinks now, such a voice to such a husband,
Is like a Jewel of unvalued worth,
Hung at a Fools ear.

Fab.
May it please your Grace
To give her leave to shew another Quality.

Duke.
Marry as many good ones as you will Sir,
The more the better welcome.

Lean.
But the less
The better practis'd: That soul's black indeed
That cannot commend Vertue; but who keeps it!
The Extortioner will say to a sick begger,
Heaven comfort thee, though he give none himself:
This good is common.

Fab.
Will it please you now Sir,
To entreat your Ward to take her by the hand,
And lead her in a dance before the Duke?

Guard.
That will I Sir, 'tis needful; hark you Nephew.

Fab.
Nay, you shall see yong heir, what y'have for your money,
Without fraud or imposture.

Ward.
Dance with her!
Not I sweet Gardiner, do not urge my heart to't,
'Tis clean against my Blood; dance with a stranger!
Let who's will do't, I'll not begin first with her.

Hip.
No fear't not fool, sh'as took a better order.

Guard.
Why who shall take her then?

Ward.
Some other Gentleman;
Look, there's her Uncle, a fine timber'd Reveller,
Perhaps he knows the manner of her dancing too,
I'll have him do't before me, I have sworn Gardiner,
Then may I learn the better.

Guard.
Thou'lt be an ass still.

Ward.
I, all that Uncle, shall not fool me out.
Pish, I stick closer to my self then so.

Guard.
I must entreat you Sir, to take your Neece
And dance with her; my Ward's a little wilful,
He would have you shew him the way.

Hip.
Me Sir?
He shall command it at all hours, pray tell him so.

Guard.
I thank you for him, he has not wit himself Sir.

Hip.
Come my life's peace, I have a strange office on't here,
'Tis some mans luck to keep the joys he likes
Conceal'd for his own bosom; but my fortune
To set 'em out now, for anothers liking,
Like the mad misery of necessitous man,
That parts from his good horse with many praises,
And goes on foot himself; need must be obey'd
In ev'ry action, it mars man and maid.

Musick.
A dance, making Honors to the D. and cursie to themselves, both before and after.
Duke.
Signior Fabritio, y'are a happy Father,
Your cares and pains are fortunate you see,
Your cost bears noble fruits. Hippolito thanks.

Fab.
Here's some amends for all my charges yet.
She wins both prick and praise, where ere she comes.

Duke.
How lik'st Brancha?

Bran.
All things well, my Lord:
But this poor Gentlewomans fortune, that's the worst.

Duke.
There is no doubt Brancha, she'll finde leisure
To make that good enough; he's rich and simple.

Bran.
She has the better hope o'th' upper hand indeed,
Which women strive for most.

Guard.
Do't when I bid you Sir.

Ward.
I'll venture but a Horn-pipe with her Gardiner,
Or some such married mans dance.

Guard.
We'll venture something Sir.

Ward.
I have time for what I do.

Guard.
But little reason, I think.

Ward.
Plain men dance the Measures, the Sinquapace, the Gay:
Cuckolds dance the Horn-pipe; and Farmers dance the Hay:
Your Soldiers dance the Round, and Maidens that grow big:
You Drunkards, the Canaries; you Whore and Baud, the Jigg.
Here's your eight kinde of Dancers, he that findes the nineth, let him
Pay the Minstrels.

Duke.
Oh here he appears once in his own person;
I thought he would have married her by Attorney,
And lain with her so too.

Bran.
Nay, my kinde Lord,
There's very seldom any found so foolish
To give away his part there.

Lean.
Bitter scoff;
Yet I must do't; with what a cruel pride!
Musick.
The glory of her sin strikes by my afflictions.

Ward and Isabella dance, he ridiculously imitates Hippolito.
Duke.
This thing will make shift (Sirs) to make a husband,
For ought I see in him; how thinks't Brancha?

Bran.
'Faith an ill-favored shift my Lord, methinks;
If he would take some voyage when he's married,
Dangerous, or long enough, and scarce be seen
Once in nine year together, a wife then
Might make indifferent shift to be content with him.

Duke.
A kiss; that wit deserves to be made much on:
Come, our Caroch.

Guard.
Stands ready for your Grace.

Duke.
My thanks to all your loves: Come fair Brancha,
We have took special care of you, and provided
Your lodging near us now.

Bran.
Your love is great, my Lord.

Duke.
Once more our thanks to all.

Omnes.
All blest Honors guard you.

Exe. all but Leantio and Livia; Cornets flourish.
Lean.
Oh hast thou left me then Brancha, utterly!
Brancha! now I miss thee; Oh return!
And save the faith of woman; I nev'r felt
The loss of thee till now; 'tis an affliction
Of greater weight, then youth was made to bear;
As if a punishment of after-life
Were faln upon man here; so new it is
To flesh and blood, so strange, so insupportable
A torment, ev'n mistooke, as if a body
Whose death were drowning, must needs therefore suffer it in scalding oyl.

Liv.
Sweet Sir!

Lean.
As long as mine eye saw thee,
I half enjoy'd thee.

Liv.
Sir?

Lean.
Canst thou forget
The dear pains my love took, how it has watch't
Whole nights together, in all weathers for thee,
Yet stood in heart more merry then the tempests
That sung about mine ears, like dangerous flatterers
That can set all their mischeif to sweet tunes;
And then receiv'd thee from thy fathers window,
Into these arms at midnight, when we embrac'd
As if we had been Statues onely made for't,
To shew arts life, so silent were our comforts,
And kiss'd as if our lips had grown together!

Liv.
This makes me madder to enjoy him now.

Lean.
Canst thou forget all this? And better joys
That we met after this, which then new kisses
Took pride to praise.

Liv.
I shall grow madder yet, Sir:

Lean.
This cannot be but of some close Bauds working:
Cry mercy Lady. What would you say to me?
My sorrow makes me so unmannerly,
So comfort bless me, I had quite forgot you.

Liv.
Nothing but ev'n in pitty too, that passion
Would give your grief good counsel.

Lean.
Marry, and welcome Lady,
It never could come better.

Liv.
Then first Sir,
To make away all your good thoughts at once of her,
Know most assuredly, she is a strumpet.

Lean.
Ha: Most assuredly! Speak not a thing
So vilde so certainly, leave it more doubtful.

Liv.
Then I must leave all truth, and spare my knowledge,
A sin which I too lately found and wept for.

Lean.
Found you it?

Liv.
I with wet eyes.

Lean.
Oh perjurious friendship!

Liv.
You miss'd your fortunes when you met with her Sir.
Yong Gentlemen, that onely love for beauty,
They love not wisely; such a marriage rather
Proves the destruction of affection;
It brings on want, and want's the Key of whoredom.
I think y'had small means with her.

Lean.
Oh not any Lady.

Liv.
Alas poor Gentleman, what meant'st thou Sir,
Quite to undo thy self with thine own kinde heart?
Thou art too good and pitiful to woman:
Marry Sir, thank thy Stars for this blest fortune
That rids the Summer of thy youth so well
From many Beggers that had lain a sunning
In thy beams onely else, till thou hadst wasted
The whole days of thy life in heat and labor.
What would you say now to a Creature found
As pitiful to you, and as it were
Ev'n sent on purpose from the whole Sex general,
To requite all that kindness you have shewn to't?

Lean.
What's that Madam?

Liv.
Nay, a Gentlewoman, and one able
To reward good things, I, and bears a conscience to't;
Couldst thou love such a one, that (blow all fortunes)
Would never see thee want?
Nay more, maintain thee to thine enemies envy,
And shalt not spend a care for't, stir a thought,
Nor break a sleep, unless loves musick waked thee;
No storm of fortune should look upon me,
And know that woman;

Lean.
Oh my life's wealth Brancha!

Liv.
Still with her name? will nothing wear it out?
That deep sigh went but for a strumpet Sir.

Lean.
It can go for no other that loves me.

Liv.
He's vext in minde; I came too soon to him;
Where's my discretion now, my skill, my judgment?
I'm cunning in all arts but my own, love:
'Tis as unseasonable to tempt him now
So soon, as a widow to be courted
Following her husbands coarse, or to make bargain
By the grave side, and take a yong man there:
Her strange departure stands like a herse yet
Before his eyes; which time will take down shortly:

Exit.
Lean.
Is she my wife till death? yet no more mine;
That's a hard measure; then what's marriage good for?
Me thinks by right, I should not now be living,
And then 'twere all well: What a happiness
Had I been made of, had I never seen her;
For nothing makes mans loss grievous to him,
But knowledge of the worth of what he loses;
For what he never had, he never misses:
She's gone for ever; utterly there is
As much redemption of a soul from Hell,
As a fair womans body from his pallace.
Why should my love last longer then her truth?
What is there good in woman to be lov'd,
When onely that which makes her so, has left her?
I cannot love her now, but I must like
Her sin, and my own shame too, and be guilty
Of Laws breach with her, and mine own abusing;
All which were monstrous: Then my safest course
For health of minde and body, is to turn
My heart, and hate her, most extreamly hate her;
I have no other way: Those vertuous powers
Which were chaste witnesses of both our troths,
Can witness she breaks first, and I'm rewarded
With Captainship o'th' Fort; a place of credit
I must confess, but poor; my Factorship
Shall not exchange means with't: He that di'd last in't,
He was no drunkard, yet he di'd a begger
For all his thrift; besides the place not fits me;
It suits my resolution, not my breeding.

Enter Livia.
Liv.
I have tri'd all ways I can, and have not power
To keep from sight of him: How are you now Sir?

Lean.
I feel a better ease Madam.

Liv.
Thanks to blessedness.
You will do well I warrant you, fear it not Sir;
Joyn but your own good will to't; he's not wise
That loves his pain or sickness, or grows fond
Of a disease, whose property is to vex him,
And spightfully drink his blood up. Out upon't Sir,
Youth knows no greater loss; I pray let's walk Sir.
You never saw the beauty of my house yet,
Nor how abundantfy Fortune has blest me
In worldly treasure; trust me I have enough Sir
To make my friend a rich man in my life,
A great man at my death; your self will say so
If you want any thing, and spare to speak,
Troth I'll condemn you for a wilful man Sir.

Lean.
Why sure this can be but the flattery of some dream.

Liv.
Now by this kiss, my love, my soul and riches,
'Tis all true substance.
Come you shall see my wealth, take what you list,
The gallanter you go, the more you please me:
I will allow you too, your Page and Footman,
Your race horses, or any various pleasure
Exercis'd youth delights in; but to me
Onely Sir wear your heart of constant stuff:
Do but you love enough, I'll give enough.

Lean.
Troth then, I'll love enough, and take enough.

Liv.
Then we are both pleas'd enough.

Exeunt.

Scæn 3.

Enter Guardiano and Isabella at one door, and the Ward and Sordido at another.
Guard.
Now Nephew, here's the Gentlewoman again.

Ward.
Mass here she's come again; mark her now Sordido.

Guard.
This is the Maid, my love and care has chose
Out for your wife, and so I tender her to you;
Your self has been eye witness of some qualities
That speak a courtly breeding, and are costly.
I bring you both to talk together now,
'Tis time you grew familiar in your tongues;
To morrow you joyn hands, and one Ring ties you,
And one Bed holds you (if you like the choice)
Her Father and her friends are i'th' next room,
And stay to see the contract ere they part:
Therefore dispatch good Ward, be sweet and short;
Like her, or like her not, there's but two ways;
And one your body, th'other your purse pays.

Ward.
I warrant you Gardiner, I'll not stand all day thruming,
But quickly shoot my bolt at your next coming.

Guard.
Well said: Good fortune to your birding then.

Ward.
I never miss'd mark yet.

Sord.
Troth I think Master, if the truth were known,
You never shot at any but the Kitchin-wench,
And that was a she-woodcock, a meer innocent,
That was oft lost, and cri'd at eight and twenty.

Ward.
No more of that meat Sordido, here's Eggs o'th' spit now,
We must turn gingerly, draw out the Catalogue
Of all the faults of women.

Sord.

How, all the faults! have you so little reason
to think so much Paper will lie in my breeches? why
ten carts will not carry it, if you set down but the
Bauds; all the faults? pray let's be content with a
few of 'em; and if they were less, you would finde
'em enough I warrant you: Look you Sir.

Isab.
But that I have th'advantage of the fool,
As much as womans heart can wish and joy at,
What an infernal torment 'twere to be
Thus bought and sold, and turn'd and pri'd into; when alass
The worst bit is too good for him? and the comfort is
H'as but a Caters place on't, and provides
All for anothers table; yet how curious
The Ass is, like some nice professor on't,
That buys up all the daintiest food i'th' Markets,
And seldom licks his lips after a taste on't!

Sord.
Now to her, now y'have scand all her parts over.

Ward.
But at end shall I begin now Sordido?

Sord.
Oh ever at a womans lip, while you live Sir, do you ask that question?

Ward.
Methinks Sordido, sh'as but a crabbed face to begin with.

Sord.
A crabbed face? that will save money.

Ward.
How! save money Sordido?

Sord.

I Sir: For having a crabbed face of her
own, she'll eat the less Verjuyce with her Mutton;
'twill save Verjuyce at years end Sir.

Ward.

Nay and your jests begin to be sawcy once,
I'll make you eat your meat without Mustard.

Sord.

And that in some kinde is a punishment.

Ward.

Gentlewoman, they say 'tis your pleasure
to be my wife, and you shall know shortly whether
it be mine or no, to be your husband; and thereupon
thus I first enter upon you. Oh most delicious
scent! Methinks it tasted as if a man had stept into
a Comfit-makers shop to let a Cart go by; all the
while I kiss'd her: It is reported Gentlewoman
you'll run mad for me, if you have me not.

Isab.
I should be in great danger of my wits Sir,
For being so forward, should this Ass kick backward now.

Ward.
Alass poor Soul! And is that hair your own?

Isab.
Mine own, yes sure Sir, I ow nothing for't.

Ward.

'Tis a good hearing, I shall have the less to
pay when I have married you: Look, does her eyes
stand well.

Sord.
They cannot stand better
Then in her head, I think, where would you have them?
And for her Nose, 'tis of a very good last.

Ward.
I have known as good as that has not lasted a year though.

Sord.

That's in the using of a thing; will not any
strong bridge fall down in time, if we do nothing
but beat at the bottom: A Nose of Buff would not
last always Sir, especially if it came in to th'Camp
once.

Ward.

But Sordido, how shall we do to make her
laugh, that I may see what Teeth she has; for I'll

not bate her a tooth, nor take a black one into th'
bargain:

Sord.

Why do but you fall in talk with her, you
cannot chuse but one time or other, make her laugh
Sir.

Ward.

It shall go hard, but I will: Pray what qualities
have you beside singing and dancing, can you
play at Shittlecock forsooth?

Isab.
I, and at Stool-ball too Sir; I have great luck at it:

Ward.
Why can you catch a Ball well?

Isab.
I have catcht two in my lap at one game.

Ward.
What have you woman? I must have you learn
To play at trap too, then y'are full and whole.

Isab.
Any thing that you please to bring me up too,
I shall take pains to practise.

Ward.

'Twill not do Sordido, we shall never get
her mouth open'd wide enough.

Sord.
No Sir; that's strange! then here's a trick for your learning.
He yawns.
Look now, look now; quick, quick there.

Ward.
Pox of that scurvy mannerly trick with Handkercheif,
It hindred me a little, but I am satisfied.
When a fair woman gapes, and stops her mouth so,
It shows like a Cloth-stopple in a Cream-pot,
I have fair hope of her Teeth now Sordido.

Sord.
Why then y'have all well Sir, for ought I see
She's right and straight enough, now as she stands:
They'll commonly lie crooked, that's no matter: Wise Gamesters
Never finde fault with that, let 'em lie still so.

Ward.

I'ld sain mark how she goes, and then I

have all: For of all creatures I cannot abide a splay-footed
Woman, she's an unlucky thing to meet in a
morning; her heels keep together so, as if she were
beginning an Irish dance still; and he wrigling of
her Bum, playing the tune to't: But I have bethought
a cleanly shift to finde it; dab down as you see me,
and peep of one side, when her back's toward you;
I'll shew you the way.

Sord.
And you shall finde me apt enough to peeping,
I have been one of them has seen mad sights
Under your Scaffolds.

Ward.
Will it please you walk forsooth,
A turn or two by your self? you are so pleasing to me,
I take delight to view you on both sides.

Isab.
I shall be glad to fetch a walk to your love Sir;
'Twill get Affection, a good stomach Sir,
Which I had need have, to fall to such course victuals.

Ward.
Now go thy ways for a clean treading Wench,
As ever man in modesty peep't under:

Sord.
I see the sweetest sight to please my Master.
Never went Frenchman righter upon ropes
Then she on Florentine rushes.

Ward.
'Tis enough forsooth.

Isab.
And how do you like me now Sir?

Ward.
Faith so well, I never mean to part with thee Sweet-heart,
Under some sixteen children, and all Boys.

Isab.
You'll be at simple pains, if you prove kinde,
And breed 'em all in your teeth.

Ward.

Nay by my Faith, what serves your belly
for? 'twould make my cheeks look like blown Bagpipes.

Enter Guardiano.
Guard.
How now Ward and Nephew,
Gentlewoman and Neece! speak, is it so or not?

Ward.
'Tis so, we are both agreed Sir.

Guard:
Into your kinred then;
There's friends, and Wine, and Musick waits to welcome you.

Ward.
Then I'll be drunk for joy.

Sord.
And I for company,
I cannot break my Nose in a better action.

Exeunt.