University of Virginia Library

Actus quartus

Scæna prima.

Enter Alphonso, Gent. Juletta.
Gent.
You are now within a mile oth' Towne sir: if my businesse
Would give me leave, I would turne and waite upon ye;
But for such Gentlemen as you enquire of,
Certaine, I saw none such: But for the boy ye spoke of,
I will not say tis he, but such a one;
Just of that height.

Alph.
In such clothes?

Gent.
I much mistake else,
Was sent in th'other night, a little maddish,
And where such people waite their cures.

Alp.
I understand ye.

Gent.
There you may quickly know.

Alp.
I thanke ye sir.

Jul.
So doe I to: and if there be such a place,
I aske no more; but you shall heare more of me.
She may be there, and you may play the tyrant;
Ile see what I can doe: I am almost foundred
In following him; and yet Ile never leave him,
Ile crawle of all foure first; my cause is meritorious,
And come what can come.

Gent.
All you have told me is certaine;
Complexion, and all else.

Alph.
It may be she then;
And ile so fumble her: Is she growne mad now?
Is her blood set so high? ile have her madded,
Ile have her worm'd.

Jul.
Marke but the end, old Master,
If thou beest not sicke oth' Bots within these five hours,
And kickst and roar'st; Ile make ye fart fire, Signior,

Enter Alinda, as a foole.
Gent.
Here's one oth' house, a foole, an idiot sir;
May be she is going home; she'l be a guide to ye:
And so I kisse your hand.

Exit.
Alph.
I am your servant.

Alin.
O now I am lost, lost, lost, Lord, how I tremble!
My father, arm'd in all his hates and angers;
This is more misery then I have scap'd yet.

Alp.
Foole, foole.

Alin.
He knows me not; will ye give me two-pence?
And gaffer, here's a Crow-flower, and a Dazie;
I have some pie in my pocket too.

Alp.
This is an arrant foole,
An ignorant thing.

Alin.
Believe so, and I am happy.

Alp.
Dost thou dwell in Sigonia, foole?

Alin.
No no, I dwell in Heaven.
And I have a fine little house, made of Marmalad.
And I am a lone woman, and I spin for Saint Peter;
I have a hundred little children, and they sing Psalmes with me.

Alp.
Tis pity this pretty thing should want understanding.
But why doe I stand talking with a coxcombe?
If I doe finde her, if I light upon her,
Ile say no more. Is this the way to th'Town, foole?

Alin.
You must goe over the top of that high steeple, Gaffer.

Alp.
A plague o' your fooles face.

Jul.
No, take her counsell.

Alin.
And then you shall come to a River twenty mile over,
And twenty mile & ten: and then you must pray, Gaffer;
And still you must pray, and pray.

Alp.
Pray Heaven deliver me
From such an asse, as thou art.

Alin.
Amen, sweet Gaffer.
And fling a sop of Suger-cake into it;
And then you must leap in naked.

Jul.
Would he would believe her.

Alin.
And sink seven daies together; can ye sinck gaffer?

Alp.
Yes coxcombe, yes; prethee farewell: a pox on thee.
A plague o' that foole too, that set me upon thee.

Alin.
And then Ile bring you a sup of Milke shal sarve ye:
I am going to get Apples.

Alp.
Go to th'devill:
Was ever man tormented with a puppy thus?
Thou tell me news? thou be a guide?

Alin.
And then Nunkle—

Alp.
Prethee keepe on thy way (good Naunt) I could rayle now
These ten houres at mine owne improvidence:
Get Apples, and be choak'd: farewell.

Exit.
Alin.
Farewell Nuncle.

Jul.
I rejoyce in any thing that vexes him;
And I shall love this foole extreamly for't:
Could I but see my Mistris now, to tell her
How I have truely, honestly wrought for her,
How I have worne my selfe away, to serve her.
Foole, there's a Royall for the sport thou mad'st me,
In crossing that old foole, that parted from thee.

Alin.
Thou art honest sure; but yet thou must not see me:
I thanke ye little Gentleman: Heaven blesse ye
And ile pray for ye too: pray ye keep this Nutmeg,
Twas sent me from the Lady of the Mountaine.
A golden Lady.

Jul.
How prettily it prattles.

Alin.
Tis very good to rub your understanding:
And so good night: the Moone's up.

Jul.
Pretty innocent.

Alin.
Now fortune, if thou dar'st do good, protect me.

Exit.
Jul.
Ile follow him to yond Towne: he shall not scape me:
Stay, I must counterfeit a Letter by the way first,
And one that must carry some credit with it: I am wide else,
And all this to no purpose that I ayme at.
A Letter must be had, and neatly handled:
And then if Goodwife fortune doe not faile me,
Have at his skirts: I shall worse anger him
Then ever I have done, and worse torment him.
It do's me good to thinke how I shall conjure him.
And crucifie his crabbednesse: he's my Master,
But that's all one: Ile lay that on the left hand.
He would now persecute my harmlesse Mistris,
A fault without forgivenesse, as I take it;
And under that bold banner flies my vengeance,
A meritorious war, and so Ile make it.
I'th' name of Innocence, what's this the foole gave me?
She said twas good to rub my understanding.
What strange concealment? Bread or Cheese, or a Chesnut?
Ha! tis a Ring: a pretty Ring, a right one:
A ring I know too! the very same Ring:
O admirable Blockhead! O base eyes!
A Ring my Mistris tooke from me, and wore it;
I know it by the Posie: Prick me, and heale me.
None could deliver this, but she her selfe too:
Am I twice sand-blind? twice so neer the blessing
I would arive at? and block-like never know it?
I am veng'ance angry, but that shal light on thee,
And heavily, and quickly, I pronounce it:
There are so many crosse waies, there's no following her:
And yet I must not now: I hope she is right still,
For all her outward shew, for sure she knew me;
And in that hope, some few houres Ile forget her.

Exit.

Scena secunda.

Enter Roderigo.
Rod.
She is not to be recovered, which I vex at;
And he beyond my veng'ance, which torments me:
O! I am fool'd and sleighted, made a Rascall;
My hopes are flatterd, as my present fortunes:
Why should I wander thus and play the coxcomes?
Tire out my peace and pleasure for a Girle?
A Girle that scorns me too? a thing that hates me?
And considered at the best, is but a short breakfast
For a hot appetite: why should I walke, and walke thus,
And fret my selfe, and travell like a Carrier,
And peep, and watch? want Meat, and Wine, to cherish me,
When thousand women may be had, ten thousand,
And thank me too, and I sit still: well, trim Beauty
And Chastity, and all that seem to ruin me,
Let me not take ye; let me not come neer ye,
For Ile so trim ye: Ile so bussell with ye;
Tis not the name of Virgin shall redeem ye,
Ile change that property: nor teares, nor angers:
I beare a hate about me scorns those follies.
To finde this villaine too, for there's my main prize;
And if he snap me then.

Enter Alinda.
Alin.
Is not that Pedro?
Tis he, tis he: O!

Rod.
What art thou?

Alin.
Ha? now, now, now,
O now most miserable.

Rod.
What a' devill art thou?

Alin.
No end of my mis-fortunes, Heaven?

Rod.
What Anticke?
Speake Puppet, speake.

Alin.
That habit to betray me?
Ye holy Saints, can ye see this?

Rod.
It danceth:
The devill in a fooles Coat, is he turn'd Innocent?
What mops, and mowes it makes: heigh, how it frisketh,
Is't it not a Faiery? or some small hobgoblin?
It has a mortall face, and I have a great mind to it,
But if it should prove the devill then.

Alin.
Come hither.

Rod.
I think 'twill ravish me,
It is a handsome thing, but horribly Sun-burnt,
What's that it points at?

Alin.
Do'st thou see that Starre there,
That, just above the Sunne;
Prethe goe thither, and light me this Tobacco,
And stop it with the hornes o'th' Moone.

Rod.
The thing's mad,
Abhominably mad, her braines are butter'd,
Goe sleep, foole, sleep.

Alin.

Rod.
It said true,
I feele it sinke into me forcibly.
Sure 'tis a kind of Sibill, some mad Prophet.
I feel my wildnesse bound, and fetter'd in me.

Alin.
Give me your hand, and i'le tell you what's your fortune.

Rod.
Here: prethee speake.

Alin.
Fie, fie, fie, fie, fie.
Wash your hands, and pare your Nailes, and look finely
You shall never kisse the Kings daughter else.

Rod.
I wash 'em daily.

Alin.
But still you fowle 'em faster.

Rod.
This goes neerer.

Alin.
You'll have two wives.

Rod.
Two wives?

Alin.
I two fine gentle-women.
Make much of 'em: for they'l stick close to you Sir.
And these two, in two dayes.

Rod.
That's a fine Riddle.

Alin.
To day you shall wed sorrow,
And repentance will come to morrow.

Rod.
Sure she's inspired.

Alin.

Rod.
This the meer Chronicle of my mis-haps.

Alin.
I'le bid you good ev'n: for my Boat staies for me yonder,
And I must Sup with the Moone to night in the Mediterraneum.

Exit.
Rod.
When fools, and mad-folks shall be tutors to me,
And feele my sores, yet I unsensible;
Sure it was set by Providence upon me
To steer my heart right: I am wondrous weary.
My thoughts too, which adde more burthen to me:
I have been ill, and (which is worse) pursu'd it,
And still runne on: I must thinke better, nobler,
And be another thing, or not at all.
(Enter foure Pesants.
Still I grow heavier, heavier heaven defend me:
I'le lye down, and take rest: and goodnes guard me.

Pes. 1.
We have scap'd to day well: certain, if the Out-laws
Had known we had been stirring, we had paid for't,

2.
Plague on 'em, they have rob'd me thrice,

3.
And me five times:
Beside they made my daughter one of us too
An arrant Drum: O, they are the lewdest Rascals,
The Captaine such a damn'd peece of iniquitie:
But we are farre enough of on 'em, that's the best on't,
They cannot heare.

4.
They'le come to me familiarly
And eat up all I have: drinke up my wine too,
And if ther be a Servant that content 'em,
Let her keele hold, they'll give her Stowage enough:
We have no Children now, but Theeves, and Outlawes.
The very Brats in their Mothers bellies have their qualities.
They'll steale into the world.

1.
Would we had some of 'em here,

2.
I, O' that condition we could Master 'em,
They are sturdy knaves.

3.
A devill take their sturdinesse,
We can neither keep our wives from 'em, nor our States,
We pay the Rent, and they possesse the benefit.

1.
What's this lies here? is it drunk, or sober?
It sleeps, and soundly too.

2.
'Tis an old woman
That keepes sheepe here abouts: it turns, and stretches.

4.
Do's she keep sheep with a sword?

3.
It has a Beard too.

1.
Peace, peace: It is the devill Roderigo,
Peace of all hands, and looke.

2.
'Tis he

3.
Speake softly,

4.
Now we may fit him.

3.
Stay, stay: let's be provident.

1.
Kill him, and wake him then.

4.
Let me come to him,
Ev'n one blow at his pate, if ere he wake more.

3.
So, so, so, lay that by.

2.
I must needs kill him.
It stands with my reputation

3.
Stand off, I say:
And let us some way make him sure; then torture him.
To kill him presently, has no pleasure in't.
Has been tormented to us, at least this twelve moneth.

Rod.
Oh me!

All.
He comes: he comes.

4.
Has he no Guns about him?

3.
Softly again: no, no: take that hand easily,
And tye it fast there: that to th'other bough there.
Fast, fast, and easie least he wake.

2.
Have we got ye?
This was a benefit we never aym'd at.

3.
Out with your knives, and let's carve this Cocktheefe,
Daintily carve him.

1.
I would he had been used thus
Ten year agoe; we might have thought we had children.

3.
O, that Sir Nicholas now our Priest were here.
What a sweet Homily would he say over him,
For ringing all in with his wife in the Bell-frey?
He would stand up stiffe girt: Now pounce him lightly,
And as he rores, and rages, let's goe deeper:
Come neere: you are dym ey'd: on with your spectales.

Rod.
O, what torments me thus? what slaves, what villaines?
O spare me, doe not murther me.

3.
We'll but tickle ye,
You have tickled us at all points.

4.
Where are his Emblemes?

Enter Pedro
Rod.
As ye are men, and Christians

2.
Yes we hear ye,
And you shall here of us too.

Rod.
Oh no mercy.

Ped.
What noyse is this? what rore? I cannot find her,
She is got free again: but where, or which way?

Rod.
O' villains, beasts.

Pedro.
Murdring a man, ye rascals?
Ye inhumane slaves, off, off, and leave this cruelty,
Or as I am a Gentleman: do ye brave me?
Then have among ye all, ye slaves, ye cowards.
Take up that sword, and stand: stay ye base rascals,
Ye cut-throate rogues.

All.
Away, away.

Exeunt Pes.
Ped.
Ye dog-whelps:

Rod.
O' I am now more wretched far, then ever.

Ped.
A violence to that habit? ha? Roderigo,
What makes he here, thus lad? is it repentance,
Or only a fair shew to guid his mischiefes?

Rod.
This benefit has made me shame to see him,
To know him, blush?

Ped.
You are not much hurt?

Rod.
No Sir;
All I can call a hurt, sticks in my conscience,
That pricks, and tortuers me.

Ped.
Have ye considerd
The nature of these men, and how they us'd ye?
Was it fair play? did it appear to you handsom?

Rod.
I dare not speak: or if I do, tis nothing
Can bring me off, or justifie me.

Ped.
Was it noble
To be o're-layd with odds, and violence?
Manly, or brave in these thus to oppresse ye?
Do you blush at this, in such as are meer rudenes,
That have stopt soules, that never knew things gentle?
And dare you glorifie worse in your self sir?
Ye us'd me with much honour, and I thank ye,
In this I have requited some: ye know me:
Come turne not back, ye must, and ye shall know me;
Had I bin over seasond with base anger,
And suited all occasions to my mischiefes,
Bore no respect to Honesty, Religion,
No faith, no common tie of man, humanity,
Had I had in me, but given reines, and licence
To a tempestuous will, as wild as winter,
This day, know Roderigo, I had set
As small a prince upon thy life, and fortunes,
As thou didst lately on mine innocence;
But I reserve thee to a nobler service.

Rod.
I thank ye, and i'le studdy more to honour ye:
You have the nobler soule, I must confesse it,
And are the greater master of your goodnes.
Though it be impossible I should now recover,
And my rude will grow handsome in an instant,
Yet touching but the purenes of your mettle,
Something shall shew like gold, at least shall glister,
That men may hope, although the mine be rugged,
Stony, and hard to work: yet time, and honour
Shall find and bring forth that, that's rich and worthy.

Ped.
I'le trie that: and to 'th purpose: ye told me sir
In noble emulation, so I take it;
I'le put your hatred far off, and forget it,
You had a faire desire to try my valour:
You seemd to court me to it; you have found a time,
A weapon in your hand, an equall enemy,
That, as he puts this off, puts of all injuries,
And only now for honors sake defies ye:
Now, as you are a man, I know you are valiant,
As you are gentle bred, a souldier fashioned.

Rod.
His vertue startles me. I dare fight Pedro.

Ped.
And as you have a Mistris that you honor,
Mark me, a Mistris.

Rod.
Ha?

Ped.
A handsome Mistris,
As you dare hold your self deserving of her.

Rod.
Deserving? what a word was that to fire me?

Ped.
I could compell ye now without this circumstance,
But i'le deale free, and fairely, like a Gentleman:
As ye are worthy of the name ye carry,
A daring man.

Rod.
O that I durst not suffer:
For all I dare do now, implies but pennance.

Ped.
Now do me noble right.

Rod.
I'le satisfy ye:
But not by th'word: pray ye hear me, and allow me;
I have bin rude: but shall I be a monster,
And teach my sword to hurt that that preserved me?
Though I be rough by nature, shall my name
Inherit that eternall staine of barbarous?
Give me an enemy, a thing that hates ye,
That never heard of yet, nor felt your goodnes,
That is one main antipathy to sweetnes;
And set me on, you cannot hold me coward:
If I have ever err'd, 'th as in hazard:
The temper of my sword starts at your vertue,
And will flie off, nay it will weep to light ye;
Things excellently mingled, and of pure nature,
Hold sacred love, and peace with one another.
See how it turnes.

Ped.
This is a strange conversion:
And can ye faile your Mistris? can ye grow cold
In such a case?

Rod.
Those heats that they adde to us,
(O noble Pedro) let us feele 'em rightly,
And rightly but consider how they move us.

Ped.
Is not their honour ours?

Rod.
If they be vertuous;
And then the sword ads nothing to their lustre,
But rather cals in question what's not doubted:
If they be not: the best swords, and best valours
Can never fight 'em up to fame again:
No, not a Christian war, and that's held pious.

Ped.
How bravely now he is tempered? I must fight,
And rather make it honorable, then angry,
I would not taske those sins to me committed.

Rod.
You cannot sir: you have cast those by; decarded 'em,
And in a noble mind, so low and loosely
To look back, and collect such lumps, and lick 'em
Into new horrid formes agen.

Ped.
Still braver.

Rod.
To fight, because I dare, were worse, and weaker
Then if I had a woman in my cause, sir,
And more proclaim'd me foole; yet I must confesse
I have bin covetous of all occasions,
And this I have taken upon trust, for noble,
The more shame mine; devise a way to fight thus,
That like the wounded aire no blood may issue,
Nor where this sword shall enter, no lost spirit,
And set me on: I would not scar that body,
That vertuous, valiant body, nor deface it
To make the Kingdom mine: if one must bleed,
Let me be both the sacrifice, and altar,
And you the Priest: I have deserv'd to suffer.

Ped.
The noble Roderigo, now I call ye,
And thus my love shall ever count, and hold ye,
I am your servant sir: and now this habit,
Devotion, not distrust shall put upon me,
I'le wait upon your fortunes, that's my way now,
And where you grieve, or joy, i'le be a partner.

Ped.
I thank ye sir, I shall be too proud of ye,
O I could tell ye strange things.

Rod.
I ghesse at 'em,
And I could curse my self, I made 'em stranger;
Yet my mind sayes, you are not far from happines.

Ped.
It shall be welcome; come, lets keep us thus still,
And be as we appear: Heavens hand may blesse us.

Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Alphonso, Master and Keepers.
Mast.
Yes sir, here be such people: but how pleasing,
They will appear to you.

Alp.
Pray let me see'm,
I come to that end: pray let me see 'em all.

Mast.
They will confound ye sir, like bels rung backward
They are nothing but confusion, and meer noyses.

Alp.
May be I love a noyse: but hark ye sir,
Have ye no boyes, handsome yong boyes?

Mast.
Yes one sir,
A very handsome boy.

Alp.
Long here?

Mast.
But two dayes;
A little crazed: but much hope of recovery.

Alp.
I that boy, let me see: may be I know him:
That boy, I say: this is the boy he told me of,
And it must needs be she: that boy I beseech ye sir,
That boy I come to see.

Mast.
And ye shall see him:
Or any els, but pray be not too violent.

Alp.
I know what to do I warrant ye: I am for all fancies:
I can talk to 'em, and dispute.

1 Keep.
As madly:
For they be very madde sir.

Alp.
Let 'em be horne mad.

1. Keep.
We have few Citizens: they have bedlames of their own sir,
And are mad at their own charges.

Alp.
Who lies here?

Mast.
Pray ye do not disturb 'em sir, here lie such youths
Will make you start if they but dance their trenchmores.
Fetch out the boy, sirha: hark.

Shake Irons within. Engl. mad-m. Scholler, Parson.
Alp.
Heigh boyes.

Eng.
Bownce,
Clap her o' th Star-hord: bounce: top the can, Jenkin.

Scho.
Dead ye dog, dead: do ye quarrell in my Kingdom?
Give me my trident.

Eng.
Bownce, 'twixt wind and water,
Loaden with Mackrels: O brave meat.

Scho.
My Sea horses.
I'le charge the Northern wind, and break his bladder.

Par.
I'le sell my bels, before I be out-brav'd thus.

Alp.
What's he? what's he?

Mast.
A parson sir, a parson,
That run madde for tythe Goslings.

Alp.
Green sawce cure him.

Pars.
I'le curse ye all, i'le excommunicate ye:
Thou English heretique, give me the tenth pot.

Eng.
Sue me, I'le drink up all, bownce I say once more,
O, have I split your mizen? blow, blow thou West wind,
Blow till thou rive, and make the Sea run roaring.
I'le hisse it down againe with a bottle of Ale.

Scho.
Triton, why Triton.

Eng.
Tritons drunk with metheglin.

Sch.
Strike, strike the surges, strike.

Eng.
Drink, drink, tis day light;
Drink, didle, didle, didle, drink, Parson, proud Parson;
A pigs tayle in thy teeth, and I defie thee.

Par.
Give me some porridge, or i'le damne thee English.

Alp.
How comes this English madde man here?

Mast.
Alas thats no question:
They are mad every where sir;
Their fits are coole now: let 'em rest.

Enter Keepers and shee-foole.
Alp.
Madde Gallants:
Most admirable mad: I love their faces.

1. K.
Ye stinking whore: who knew of this? who lookd to him?
Pox take him, he was sleepy when I left him,

2. K.
Certain he made the foole drunk.

Mast.
How now who's this here?
Where is the boy?

1. Keep.
The boy sir?

Mast.
I the boy, sir.

1. K.
Here's all the boyes we founde.

Mast.
These are his cloths.
But wher's the boy?

She-f.
The boy is gone a maying,
Hee'l bring me home a Cuckowes nest; do ye hear Master
I put my cloths off, and I dizend him,
And pind a plumb in's forehead, and a feather,
And buss'd him twice, and bid him go seek his fortune:
He gave me this fine money, and fine wine too,
And bid me sop: and gave me these trim cloths too,
And put 'em on.

Alp.
Is this the boy you would shew?

She-f.
I'le give you two pence Master.

Alp.
Am I foold of all sidies?
I met a foole i'th woods, they said she dwelt here,
In a long pied coat.

Mast.
That was the very boy, sir.

She-f.
I, I, I, I gave him leave to play forsooth,
Hee'l come again to morrow, and bring pescods.

Mast.
I'le bring your bones.

Alp.
Pox o' your fooles, and bedlams,
Plague o' your owls and apes.

Mast.
Pray ye sir, be tamer,
We cannot help this presently: but we shal know;
I'le recompence your cares too.

Alp.
Know me a pudding.
You juggle, and ye fidle: fart upon ye:
I am abused.

Mast.
Pray ye sir.

Welch madman.
Alp.
And I will be abused sir,
And you shall know I am abused.

Wel.
Whaw, Mr. Keeper.

Alp.
Pox o' thy whawes, and thy whyms,
Pox o' thy urship.

Wel.
Give me some Ceeze, and Onions: give me some wash-brew,
I have—in my bellies: give me abundance,
Pendragon was a Shentleman, marg you sir,
And the Organs at Rixum were made by revelations,
There is a spirit blowes, and blowes the bellowes,
And then they sing.

Alp.
What Moon-calf's this? what dreame?

Mast.
Pray ye sir observe him,
He is a mountaineere, a man of Goteland.

Wel.
I will beate thy face as black as a blew-clout,
I will leave no more sheet in thine eyes.

Mast.
He will not hurt ye.

Wel.
Give me a great deale of guns: thou art the devils,
I know thee by thy tayles: poor Owen's hungry,
I will pig thy bums full of bullets.

Alp.
This is the rarest rascall,
He speakes as if he had butter-milk in's mouth,
Is this any thing a kin to th'English?

Mast.
The elder brother, sir,
He run mad because a rat eate up's cheese.

Alp.
H'ad a great deale of reason sir.

Wel.
Basilus manus, is for an old codpice, mark ye,
I will borrow thy urships whore, to seale a Letter.

Mast.
Now he growes villanous.

Alp.
Me thinks he's best now.

Mast.
Away with him.

Alp.
He shall not.

Mast.
Sir, he must.

Wel.
I will sing, and dance:
Do any thing.

Alp.
Wilt thout declaime in greek?

Mast.
Away with the foole,
And whip her soundly sirah.

She-f.
I'le tell no more tales.

Exit.
Alp.
Or wilt thou fly i'th ayre?

Eng.
Do, and i'le catch thee,
And like a wisp of hay, i'le whirle, and whirle thee,
And puffe thee up: and puff thee up.

Sch.
I'le save thee,
And thou shalt fall into the Sea, soft, softly.

Wel.
I'le get upon a mountaine and call my Countrymen.

Mast.
They all grow wild: away with him for heaven sake,
Sir, ye are much too blame.

Alp.
No, no, tis brave sir,
Ye have cozend me; i'le make you madde.

Mast.
In with him,
And lock him fast.

Alp.
I'le see him in his lodging.

Exit
Mast.
What meanes this Gentleman?

En. Julletta
Jul.
He's in: have at him,
Are you the Master, sir?

Mast.
What would you with him?

Iul.
I have a busines from the Duke of Medina,
Is there not an old Gentleman come lately in?

Mast.
Yes, and a wild one too; But not a prisoner.

Iul.
Did you observe him well? tis like he may be.

Mast.
I have seen younger men of better temper.

Iul.
You have hit the cause I come for: ther's a letter
Pray ye peruse it well: I shall be wi' ye;
And sodainly, I fear not: finley, daintely,
I shall so feed your fierce vexation,
And raise your worships stormes: J shall so niggle ye,
And juggle ye, and fiddle ye, and firck ye:
I'le make ye curse the houre yet vext a woman;
I'le make ye shake, when our sex, are but sounded:
For the Lords sake, we shall have him at; I long to see it
As much as for my wedding night: I gape after it.

Mast.
This Letter sayes the Gentleman is lunatique
I half suspected it.

Iul.
Tis very true sir,
And such prancks he has plaid.

Mast.
He's some great man,
The Duke commands me with such care to look to him,
And if he grow too violent, to correct him,
To use the speediest meanes for his recovery,
And those he must finde sharpe.

Iul.
The better for him:

Mast.
How got ye him hither?

Iul.
With a train, I told him:
He's in love with a boy, there lies his mellancholly.

Mast.
Hither he came to seek one.

Iul.
Yes, J sent him,
Now had we dealt by force, we had never brought him.

Mast.
Here was a boy.

Iul.
He saw him not?

Mast.
He was gon first.

Iul.
It is the better; looke you to your charge well:
Ile see him lodged, for so the duke commanded me
He will be very rough.

Mast.
We are usd to that sir,
And we as rough as he, if he give occasion.

Iul.
You will find him gainfull, but be sure ye curb him,
And get him if ye can fairely to his lodging,
Enter Alphonso
I am afraid ye will not.

Mast.
We must sweat then.

Alp.
What dost thou talk to me of noyses? i'le have more noyse
I'le have all loose, and all shall play their prizes;
Thy Master has let loose the boy I lookt for
Basely convaid him hence.

Keep.
Will ye go out sir?

Alp.
I will not out: I will have all out with me,
Shake Irons
I'le have thy Master in; he's only madde here.
And rogues, ile have ye all whipt: heigh mad boyes, mad boyes.

Iul.
Do you perceive him now?

Mast.
Tis too apparant.

Iul.
I am glad she is gon: he raves thus.

Mast.
Do you hear sir,
Pray will ye make lesse stir, and see your chamber,
Call in more help; and make the closset ready.

Keep.
I thought he was mad: ile have one long lash at ye.

Alp.
My chamber? where my chamber? why my chamber
Wher's the young boy?

Mast.
Nay pray ye sir be more modest
For your own credit sake: the people see ye,
And I would use ye with the best.

Alp.
Best, hang ye
What dost thou think me madde?

Mast.
Pray, and be civill,
Heaven may deliver ye.

Alp.
Into a rogues hands.

Mast.
You do but draw more misery upon ye,
And adde to your disease.

Alp.
Get from me.

Mast.
No sir,
You must not be left so: bear your self civilly,
And twill be better for ye: swell not, nor chafe not.

Alp.
I am a Gentleman, and a neighbour, rascall.

Mast.
A great deale the more pity: I have heard of ye.

Iul.
Excellent Master.

Mast.
The Duke is very tender too.

Alp.
Am I lunatique? am I run madde?
What dost thou talk to me of Dukes, and Devils,
Why do the people gape so?

Mast.
Do not anger 'em,
But go in quietly, and slip in softly
They will so tew ye, els, I am commanded sir.

Alp.
Why, prethee why?

Mast.
Ye are dog-mad: you perceive it not
Very far madde: and whips will scant recover ye.

Alp.
Ha: whips?

Mast.
I whips, and sore whips, and ye were a Lord sir,
If ye be stubborne here:

Alp.
Whips? what am I grown.

Iul.
O I could burst: hold, hold, hold, hold o'both ends,
How he lookes, pray heaven, he be not madde indeed.

Alp.
I do not perceive I am so; but if you think it,
Nor I'le be hangd if't be so.

Mast.
Do you see this sir?
Irons brought in
Down with that devill in ye.

Alp.
Indeed I am angry,
But ile containe my selfe: O I could burst now,
And teare my selfe, but these rogues will torment me,
Madde in mine old dayes? make mine owne afflictions?

Mast.
What doe you mutter sir?

Alph.
Nothing, sir, nothing;
I will goe in, and quietly, most civilly:
And good sir, let none of your tormentors come about me,
You have a gentle face; they look like Dragons.

Mast.
Be civill and be safe: come, for these two daies
Ye must eate nothing neither: twill ease your fits sir.

Alph.
Twill starve me sir; but I must beare it joyfully.
I may sleepe?

Mast.
Yes, a little: go in with these men.

Alph.
O miserable me!

Exit.
Mast.
Ile follow presently.
You see tis done sir.

Jul.
Ye have done it handsomely,
And ile inform the Duke so: Pray ye attend him,
Let him want nothing, but his will.

Mast.
He shall not,
And if he be rebellious—

Jul.
Never spare him:
H'as flesh, and hide enough, he loves a whipping.

Mast.
My service to his Grace.

Exit.
Jul.
I shall commend it.
So, thou art fast: I must goe get some fresh roome
To laugh, and caper in: O how it tickles me!
O how it tumbles me with joy! thy mouths stopt:
Now if I can doe my Mistris good, I am Sainted.

Exit.