University of Virginia Library

Actus Quartus.

Scæna Prima.

Enter a Servant and R. Bax, and Stremon at the doore.
Servant.
A stirs a stirs

Strem.
Let him, I am ready for him,
He shall not this day perish, if his passions
May bee fed with Musick; are they ready

Enter Memnon.
Ser.
All, all: see where he comes

Strem.
Ile be straight for him.
Exit Stremon.

Enter Eumenes and Captaines.
Ser.
How sad he lookes and sullen.
Stand close.
Here are the Captaines: my feares past now.

Mem.
Put case i'th other world
She doe not love me neither: I am old 'tis certaine

Eumen.
His spirit is a little quieter.

Mem.
My blood lost and my limbes stif; my embraces
Like the cold stubborne barkes heauie and hearles
My words worse: my fame only and atcheivements
Which are my strength, my blood, my youth, my fashion,
Must woe her, win her, wed her; that's but wind
And Women are not brought to bed with shadowes:
I doe her wrong, much wrong; she is young and blessed,
Sweet as the spring, and as his blossomes tender,
And I a nipping northwind, my head hung
With hailes, and frostie Isicles: are the soules so too
When they depart hence, lame and old, and loveles?
No sure, 'tis ever youth there; Time and Death
Follow our flesh no more: and that forc'd opinion
That Spirits have no sexes, I beleive not
Enter Stremon like Orpheus.
There must be love, there is love? what art thou.

SONG.
Stre.

Mem.
How should I know my passage is deni'de me
Or which of all the Devills dare

Eumen.
This Song
Was rarely formed to fit him.

SONG.
Orph.
Charon o Charon
Thou wafter of the soules to blisse or bane

Cha.
Who calls the Fery man of Hell?

Or.
Come near
And say who lives in joye, and whom in feare.

Cha.
Those that dye well; Eternall joy shall follow,
Those that dye ill; their owne soule fate shall swallow.

Orph.
Shall thy black Bark those guilty spirits slow
That kill themselves for love?

Cha.
O no no.
My cordage crackes when such great sins are neare
No winde blowes faire, nor I my selfe can steare

Orph.
What lovers passe and in Elizium raigne?

Cha.
Those gentle loves that are belov'd againe.

Orph.
This Souldier Loves, and faine wood dye to win.
Shall he goe on?

Cha.
No 'tis too foule a sin
He must not come aboord: I dare not rowe,
Stormes of despaire and guilty blood will blowe.

Orph.
Shall time release him saye?

Cha.
No, no, no no.
Nor time nor death can alter us, nor prayer;
My boate is destinie and who then dare
But those appointed come aboord? Live still,
And love by reason mortall not by will.

Or.
And when thy Mistris shall close up thine eyes

Cha.
Then come aboord and passe,

Or.
Till when be wise

Cha.
Till when be wise.

Eumen.
How still he sitts: I hope this Song has setled him

1. Cap.
He hires his lipp, and rowles his fierce eyes yet
I feare for all this—

2. Cap.
Stremon still apply to him;

Strem.
Give me more roome then, sweetlie strike divinely
Such straines and old earth moves at

Or.
The power I have over both Beast and plant
Thou man alone feelst miserable want
Music.
Strike your rare Spirits that attend my will,
And loose your savage wildnesse by my skill.
Enter a Maske of Beasts.
This Lion was a man of Warre that died,
As thou wouldst doe to guild her Ladies pride
This Dog a foole that hung himselfe for love:
This Ape with daily hugging of a glove,
Forgot to eat and died. This goodly tree,
An usher that still grew before his Ladie,
Wither'd at roote. This, for he could not wooe,
A grumbling Lawyer: This pyed Bird a page,
That melted out because he wanted age.
Still these lye houling on the stigian shore,
O love no more, o love no more.

Exit Memnon.
Eumen.
He steales off silently, as though he would sleep,
No more but all be nere him, feed his fancie
Good Stremon still; this may lock up his follie.
Yet Heaven knowes I must feare him; away softly.

Exeunt Captains.
Foole.
Did I not doe most doggedly?

Strem.
Most rarelie?

Foole.
Hee's a brave man when shall we dog agen;

Boy.
Unty me first for Gods sake,

Foole.
Helpe the Boye; hee's in a wood poore child: good honny Stremon
Lets have a beare baiting; ye shall see me play
The rarest for a single Dog: at head all;
And if I doe not win immortall glorie,
Play, Dog play Devill.

Strem.
Peace for this time,

Foole.
Prithee.
Lets sing him a blacke Santis, then lets all howle,
In our owne beastly voices; tree keepe your time,
Untye there; bow, wow, wow.

Strem.
Away ye Asse, away,

Foole.
VVhy let us doe something,
To satisfie the Gentleman, hee's mad;
A Gentleman like humour and in fashion,
And must have men as mad about him.

Strem.
Peace
And come in quicklie, 'tis ten to one els
Heel find a staffe to beat a dog; no more words,
Ile get ye all imployment; soft, soft, in all,

Exeunt.
Enter Chilax and Cloe.
Chi.
VVhen camest thou over wench?

Clo.
But now this evening.
And have bin ever since looking out Siphax,
Ith' warres he would have lookt me: sure has gotten
Some other Mistris.

Chi.
A thousand wench, a thousand
They are as common here as Caterpillers
Among the corne, they eat up all the Souldiers.

Clo.
Are they so hungry? yet by their leave Chilax,
Ile have a snatch too.

Chi.
Dost thou love him still wench?

Clo.
Why should I not? he had my Maiden head
And all my youth.

Chi.
Thou art come the happiest
In the most blessed time, sweet wench the fittest,
If thou darst make thy fortune: by this light Cloe
And so ile kiss thee: and if thou wilt but let me,
For 'tis well worth a kindnes.

Clo.
What shood I let ye?

Chi.
Enjoye thy miniken

Clo.
Thou art still old Chilax.

Chi.
Still, still, and ever shalbe: if, I say,
Thou wo't strike the stroke: I cannot doe much harme wench

Clo.
Nor much good

Chi.
Siphax shall be thy Husband,
Thy very Husband woman, thy foole, thy Cuckold,
Or what thou wilt make him: I am over joy'd,
Ravisht cleane ravisht with this fortune; kiss me,
Or I shall loose my self.

Clo.
My Husband sed ye?

Chi.
Sed I? and will say Cloe: nay and doe it
And doe it home to; Peg thee as close to him
As birdes are with a pinne to one another;
I have it I can doe it: thou wants clothes too,
And heel be hanged unles he marry thee
Ere he maintaine thee: now he has Ladies, Courtiers
More then his back can bend at? multitudes
We are taken up for threshers, will ye bite?

Clo.
Yes

Chi.
And let me—

Clo.
Yes and let ye—

Chi.
VVhat!

Clo.
VVhy that ye wo't of,

Chi.
The turne the good turne?

Clo.
Any turne the Roche turne;

Chi.
That's the right turne for that turnes up the bellie
I cannot stay take your instructions
And something toward howshold, come, what ever
I shall advise ye follow it exactlie
And keep your times I point ye; for ile tell ye
A strange way you must wade through.

Clo.
Feare not me Sir.

Chi.
Come then and lets dispatch this modicum
For I have but an howre to stay, a short one
Besides more water for another mill
An old weake over shot I must provide for,
Ther's an old Nunnerie at hand.

Clo.
VVhat's that

Chi.
A bawdie House.

Clo.
A pox consume it

Chi.
If the stones ('tis built on)
Were but as brickle as the flesh lives in it,
Your curse came handsomlie: feare not, ther's Ladies,
And other good sad people: your pinkt Citizens
That thinke no shame to shake a sheet there: Come wench

Exeunt.
Enter Cleanthe and Siphax.
Clean.
A Souldier and so fearefull?

Si.
Can ye blame me;
VVhen such a waite lies on me?

Cle.
Fye upon ye
I tell ye, ye shall have her: have her safelie,
And for your wife with her owne will,

Si.
Good Sister—

Cle.
What a distrustfull man are you? to morrow,
To morrow morning—

Si.
Is it possible?
Can there be such a happines?

Cle.
Why hang me
If then ye be not married: if to morrow night,
Ye doe not—

Si.
O deare Sister—

Cle.
What ye woo'd doe
What ye desire to doe; lie with her: Devill,
What a dull man are you?

Si.
Nay I believe now,
And shall she love me?

Cle.
As her life and stroke ye,

Si.
O I will be her servant,

Cle.
'Tis your dutie,

Si.
And she shall have her whole will,

Cle.
Yes 'tis reason,
She is a Princes, and by that rule boundles

Si.
What wood you be, for I woo'd have ye Sister
Chuse some great place about us: as her woman
Is not so fit.

Cle.
No, no, I shall find places:

Si.
And yet to be a Ladie of her bedchamber,
I hold not so fit neither,
Some great title, beleeve it shall be look't out.

Clean.
Ye may a Dutchesse
Or such a toye, a small thing pleases me Sir

Si.
What you will Sister: if a neighbour Prince,
When we shall come to raigne—

Cle.
We shall thinke on't,
Be ready at the time and in that place too,
And let me worke the rest, within this half houre;
The Princess will be going, 'tis almost morning
Away and mind your busines,

Si.
Fortune blesse us.

Exeunt.
Enter King, Polidor and Lords.
Pol.
I doe beseech your grace to banish me.

King.
Why Gentleman is she not worthy marriage?

Po.
Most worthy, Sir, where worth againe shall meet her,
But I like thicke clouds sailing slow and heavy,
Although by her drawne higher; yet shall hide her
I dare not be a traitor; and 'tis treason,
But to imagin: as you love your honour—

King.
'Tis her first maiden doting and if crost,
I know it kills her.

1 Lord.
How knowes your grace she loves him?

King.
Her woman told me all; beside his story
Her maid Lucippe on what reason to,
And tis beyond all but enjoying.

Po.
Sir.
Even by your wisedome; by that great discretion
Ye owe to rule and order—

2 Lord.
This man's mad sure,
To plead against his fortune—

1 Lord.
And the King too,
Willing to have it so?

Po.
By those dead Princes
From whose descents ye stand a starre admired at,
Lay not so base a lay upon your vertues
Take heed for honours sake take heed: the bramble
No wise man ever planted by the rose,
It canckers all her beauty; nor the vine
When her full blushes courts the sun dares any
Choke up with wanton Ivy? good my Lords,
Who builds a monument, the Basis Jasper,
And the maine body Brick?

2 Lord.
Ye wrong your worth,
Ye are a Gentleman descended nobly.

1 Lord.
In both bloods truly noble.

King.
Say ye were not,
My will can make ye so.

Po.
No, never, never;
'Tis not descent, nor will of Princes does it,
'Tis Vertue which I want 'tis Temperance,
Man, honest man is't fit your Majesty
Should call my drunkennesse, my rashnesse brother?
Or such a blessed Maid my breach of faith,
For I am most lacivious; and fell angers
In which I am also mischievous, her husband?
O Gods preserve her! I am wild as Winter,
Ambitious as the Devill: out upon me,
I hate my selfe, sir, if ye dare bestow her
Upon a Subject ye have one deserves her.

King.
But him she does not love: I know your meaning.
This young mans love unto his noble brother,
Appeares a mirrour; what must now be done Lords?
For I am gravel'd, if she have not him
She dies for certaine, if his brother misse her,
Farewell to him, and all our honours.

1 Lord.
He is dead, sir,
Your Grace has heard of that, and strangely.

King.
No,
I can assure ye no there was a trick in't,
Read that, and then know all; what ailes the gentleman?
Hold him; how doe ye sir?

Polidor is sick ath' sudden.
Pol.
Sick ath' the sudden,
Extreamly ill, wondrous ill.

King.
Where did it take ye?

Pol.
Here in my head sir, and my heart, for heaven sake.

King.
Conduct him to his chamber presently,
And bid my Doctors—

Po.
No I shall be well sir,
I doe beseech your Grace even for the Gods sake
Remember my poore brother, I shall pray then.

King.
Away he growes more weaker still: I will do it,
Or heaven forget me ever. Now your Counsells,
Exit. Polidor.
For I am at my wits end; what with you sir?

Enter Messenger with a Letter.
Mess.
Lerters from warlike Pelius.

King.
Yet more troubles?
The Spartans are in Armes, and like to win all:
Supplies are sent for and the Generall;
This is more crosse then tother; come let's to him,
For he must have her, 'tis necessitie,
Or we must lose our honours, let's plead all,
For more then all is needfull, shew all reason
If love can heare a that side, if she yeild
We have fought best and won the noblest field.

Exeunt.
Enter Eumenes, Captaines, Stremon.
1 Cap.
I have brought the wench, a lusty wench,
And somewhat like the Princesse.

Eumen.
'Tis the better, let's see her,
And goe you in and tell him, that her Grace
Is come to visit him? how sleeps he Stremon?

Strem.
He cannot, only thinkes, and calls on Polidor,
Swears a will not be fool'd; sometimes he rages,
And sometimes sits and muses.
Exit. Stre.

Enter Whoore, Captaine.
Eume.
He's past all helpe sure?
How doe ye like her?

2 Capt.
Byth' masse a good round Virgin,
And at first sight resembling, she is well cloth'd too.

Eume.
But is she sound?

2 Cap.
Of wind and limbe, I warrrant her.

Eume.
You are instructed Lady?

Who.
Yes, and know sir
How to behave my selfe, ne're feare.

Eume.
Polibius,
Where did he get this Vermin?

1 Cap.
Hang him Badger,
There's not a hole free from him, whores and whores mates,
Doe all pay him obedience.

Eume.
Indeed i'th' war,
His quarter was all whore, whore upon whore,
And linde with a whore, beshrew me 'tis a faire whore.

1 Cap.
She has smockt away her blood; but fair or foule,
Or blind or lame, that can but lift her leg up
Comes not amisse to him, he rides like a night mare,
All ages, all Religions.

Eume.
Can ye state it?

Who.
I'le make a shift.

Eume.
He must lie with ye, Lady.

Who.
Let him, he's not the first man I have lain with,
Nor shall not be the last.

Enter Memnon.
2 Cap.
A comes, no more words,
She has her lesson throughly; how he views her?

Eumen.
Goe forward now, so, bravely, stand!

Mem.
Great Lady,
How humbly I am bound—

Who.
You shall not kneele sir,
Come, I have done you wrong; stand up my Souldier,
And thus I make amends—

Kisses him.
Eumen.
A plague confound ye,
Is this your state?

2 Cap.
'Tis well enough.

Mem.
O Lady,
Your royall hand, your hand my dearest beauty
Is more then I must purchase: here divine one,
I dare revenge my wrongs: ha?

1 Cap.
A dam'd foule one.

Eum.
The Lees of baudie prewnes: mourning gloves?
All spoyl'd by heaven.

Mem.
Ha! who art thou?

2 Cap.
A shame on ye,
Ye clawing scabby whore.

Mem.
I say, who art thou?

Eumen.
Why 'tis the Princesse sir.

Mem.
The divell sir,
'Tis some rogue thing.

Who.
If this abuse be love sir,
Or I that laid aside my modesty—

Eum.
So far thou't never find it.

Mem.
Doe not weepe,
For if ye be the Princesse, I will love ye,
Indeed I will, and honour ye, fight for ye,
Come wipe your eyes; by heaven she stinkes; who art ta?
Stinkes like a poyson'd Ratt behind a hanging?
Woman, who art ta? like a rotten Cabbage.

2 Cap.
Y'ar much to blame sir, 'tis the Princesse.

Mem.
How?
Shee the Princesse?

Eumen.
And the loving Princesse.

1. Capt.
Indeed the doting Princesse.

Mem.
Come hither once more,
The Princesse smells like mornings breath, pure Amber,
Beyond the courted Indies in her spices
Still a dead rat by heaven; thou art a Princesse.

Eumen.
What a dull whore is this?

Mem.
I'le tell ye presently,
For if she be a Princesse, as she may be
And yet stink too, and strongly, I shall find her;
Fetch the Numidian Lyon I brought over,
If she be sprung from royall blood, the Lyon
He'l doe ye reverence, els

Who.
I beseech your Lordship?

Eumen.
He'l teare her all to pieces.

Who.
I am no Princesse, sir.

Mem.
Who brought thee hither?

2. Capt.
If ye confesse, wee'll hang ye.

Who.
Good my Lord;

Mem.
Who art thou then?

Who.
A poore retaining whore, sir,
To one of your Lordships Captaines.

Mem.
Alas poore whore,
Go, be a whore still, and stinke worse: Ha, ha ha
Ex. Cloe
What fooles are these, and coxcombes?
Exit. Memnon.

Eumen.
I am right glad yet,
He takes it with such lightnesse.

1. Cap.
Me thinkes his face too
Is not so clouded as it was; how he lookes?

Eumen.
Where's your dead Rat?

2. Cap.
The divell dine upon her
Lyons, why what a medicine had he gotten
To try a whore?

Enter Stremon.
Stre.
Here's one from Polidor staies to speak with ye.

Eume.
With whom?

Stre.
With all; where has the Generall bin?
Hee's laughing to himselfe extreamly.

Eumen.
Come,
I'le tell thee how: I am glad yet he's so merry.

Exeunt.