 | The Wild-Goose Chase |  |
Actus Quartus.
Scæn. 1.
Enter Leugier, Lelia, Servants.Leug.
Faint not; but do as I direct ye, trust me;
Beleeve me too, for what I have told ye, (Lady)
As true as you are Lelia, is Authentick;
I know it; I have found it; 'tis a poor courage
Flies off for one repulse; these Travellers
Shall finde before we have done, a home-spun wit,
A plain French understanding may cope with 'em;
They have had the better yet, thank your sweet Squire, here;
And let 'em brag: You would be reveng'd?
Lel.
Yes surely.
Lug.
And married too?
Lel.
I think so.
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Then be Counsel'd;
You know how to proceed: I have other Irons
Heating as well as yours: and I will strike
Three blowes with one Stone home, be rul'd, and hapie;
And so I leave yee. Now is the time.
Lel.
I am ready.
If he doe come to do me.
Ser.
Will ye stand here,
And let the people think, ye are God knows what, Mistris;
Let Boyes, and Prentizes presume upon ye.
Lel.
Pre'thee hold thy peace.
Ser.
Stand at his dore, that hates ye?
Lel.
Pre'thee leave prating.
Ser.
'Pray ye goe to th' Tavern. Ile give ye a Pint of wine there;
If any of the Mad-cap Gentlemen should come by
That take up women upon speciall warrant,
You were in a wise case now.
Enter, Mirabell, Pinac, Mariana, Priest, Attendants.
Lel.
Give me the Garland,
And wait you here.
Mir.
She is here to seeke thee, Sirrah.
I told thee what would follow; she is mad, for thee;
Shew, and advance. So early stirring Lady,
It shewes a busie mind, a fancie troubled:
A willowgh Garland too. Is't possible,
'Tis pitty so much Beautie should lie mustie,
But 'tis not to be help'd now.
Lel.
The more's my Miserie
Good fortune to ye (Ladie) you deserve it:
To me: too late Repentance; I have sought it:
I doe not envy, though I greive a little,
You are Mistris of that happines, those Joyes
That might have bin, had I bin wise: but fortune.
Pi.
She understands ye not, 'pray ye doe not trouble her;
And do not crosse me like a Hare thus, 'tis as ominous.
Lel.
I come not to upbraid, your Levitie
Though ye made shew of Love, and though I lik'd ye
To claime an Interest; we are yet both Strangers,
But what we might have bin, had you persever'd, Sir,
To be an eye-sore to your loving Lady;
This garland shewes, I give my self forsaken;
(Yet She must pardon me, 'tis most unwillingly:)
And all the power and interest I had in ye?
As I perswade my self, somewhat ye Lov'd me;
Thus patiently I render up, I offer
To her that must enjoy ye; and so blesse ye;
Onely, I heartily desire this Courtesie,
And would not be denide: to wait upon ye
This day, to see ye tide, then no more trouble ye.
Pi.
It need not, Ladie.
Lel.
Good, Sir, grant me so much.
Pi.
'Tis privat, and we make no Invitation.
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My presence, sir, shall not proclaim it publick.
Pi.
May be 'tis not in Town.
Lel.
I have a Coach, sir.
And a most ready will to do you service.
Mir.
Strike now or never; make it sure: I tell thee,
She will hang her self; if she have thee not.
Pi.
'Pray ye, sir,
Entertain my noble mistris: onely a word or two
With this importunate woman, and I'll relieve ye.
Now ye see what your flings are, and your fancies,
Your States, and your wild stubbornes, now ye finde
What 'tis to gird and kick at mens fair services,
To raise your pride to such a pitch, and glory
That goodness shews like Gnats, scorn'd under ye,
'Tis ugly, naught, a self-will in a woman,
Chain'd to an over-weening thought, is Pestilent,
Murthers fair Fortune first; Then fair opinion?
There stands a Patern, a true patient Patern,
Humble, and sweet.
Lel.
I can but grieve my ignorance.
Repentance some say too, is the best Sacrifice;
For sure, Sir, if my chance had been so happy,
(As I confess I was mine own destroyer)
As to have arrived at you; I will not prophesie,
But certain, as I think, I should have pleas'd ye;
Have made ye as much wonder at my curtesie,
My love, and duty, as I have dishearten'd ye,
Some hours we have of youth, and some of folly;
And being free-born Maides, we take a liberty,
And to maintain that, sometimes we strain highly.
Pi.
Now ye talk reason.
Lel.
But being yoak'd, and govern'd,
Married, and those light vanities purg'd from us;
How fair: we grow, how gentle, and how tender
We twine about those loves that shoot-up with us?
A sullen woman fear, that talks not to ye;
She has a sad and darkn'd soul, loves dully:
A merry and a free wench, give her liberty;
Beleeve her in the lightest form she appears to ye;
Beleeve her excellent, though she despise ye;
Let but these fits and flashes pass, she will she will shew to ye;
As Jewels rub'd from dust, or Gold new burnish'd:
Such had I been, had you beleev'd.
Pi.
Is't possible.
Lel.
And to your happiness, I dare assure ye
If True love be accounted so; your pleasure,
Your will, and your command had tyed my Motions:
But that hopes gone; I know you are young, and giddy,
And till you have a Wife can govern with ye,
You saile upon this world-Sea, light and empty;
Your Bark in danger daily; 'tis not the name neither
Of Wife can steer ye; but the noble nature,
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She makes the Pilat, and preserves the Husband,
That knowes, and reckons every Ribb, he is built on;
But this I tell ye, to my shame.
Pi.
I admire ye,
And now am sorry, that I ayme beyond ye.
Mir.
So, so, so: faire and softly. She is thine own (Boy)
She comes now, without Lure.
Pi.
But that it must needes
Be reckon'd to me as a wantonnesse,
Or worsse, a Madnesse, to forsake a Blessing,
A Blessing of that hope.
Lel.
I dare not urge ye;
And yet deare, Sir.
Pi.
'Tis most certain, I had rather,
If 'twere in mine owne Choice, for you are my Country-woman,
A Neighbour here borne by me, She a Stranger;
And who knowes how her Friends?
Lel.
Doe as you please, Sir,
If ye be fast: not all the world: I love ye,
'Tis most true: and cleer, I would perswade ye;
And I shall love ye still.
Pi.
Goe, get before me:
So much ye have won upon me: doe it presently:
Here's a Preist ready: Ile have you.
Lel.
not now, Sir,
No, you shall pardon me: advance your Lady,
I dare not hinder your most high preferment,
'Tis honor enough for me, I have unmask'd ye.
Pi.
How's that.
Lel.
I have caught ye, Sir; alas, I am no States woman,
Nor no great Traveller, yet I have found ye,
I have found your Lady too: your beauteous Lady;
I have found her Birth, and Breeding too: her disciplin:
Who brought her over, and who kept your Lady:
And when he laid her by, what vertuous Nunnery
Received her in: I have found all these: are ye blanck now,
Methinks such travel'd wisdomes should not foole thus:
Such excellent Indiscretions.
Mir.
How could she know this?
Lel.
'Tis true she is English borne: but most part French now,
And so I hope you will find her, to your comfort,
Alas, I am ignorant of what, She cost ye:
The price of these hired Clothes I doe not know Gentlemen;
Those Jewells are the Broakers, how ye stand bound for'em.
Pi.
Will you make this good?
Lel.
Yes, yes, and to her face, Sir,
That she is an English whore, a kind of fling dust
One of your London Light o'Loves: a right one,
Came over in thin Pumps; and half a Petcicote,
One faith, and one Smock, with a broken Haberdasher,
I know all this, without a Conjurer:
Her name is Jumping—Jone, an ancient Sin-Weaver;
39
And broke her leg above the knee: departed
And set up shop her self. Stood the fierce Conflicts
Of many a furious Tearme; there lost her Colours,
And last shipt over hither.
Mir.
We are betray'd.
Lel.
Doe you come to fright me with this Misterie?
To stirre me with a stink none can endure, Sir?
I pray ye proceed, the Wedding will becom ye,
Who gives the Lady? you? an excellent Father:
A carefull man, and one that knows a Beautie,
'Send ye faire shipping, Sir, and so Ile leave ye;
Be wise and manly, then I may chance to love ye.
—Exit.
Mir.
As I live I am asham'd, this wench has reach'd me,
Monstrous asham'd, but there's no remedie,
This skew'd-eyde Carren.
Pi.
This I suspected ever,
Come, Come, uncase, we have no more use of ye;
Your Clothes, must back againe.
Maria.
Sir, ye shall pardon me:
'Tis not our English use to be degraded:
If you will visit me and take your venture,
You shall have pleasure for your properties;
And so sweet heart.
Mir.
Let her goe, and the Devill goe with her:
We have never better luck with these preludiums:
Come, be not daunted: think she is but a woman,
And let her have the devills witt, wee'll reach her.
—Exit.
Scæn 2.
Enter Rosaluce, and Lugier.Ros.
Ye have now redeem'd my good opinion (Tutor)
And ye stand faire again.
Lug.
I can but labour,
And sweat in your Affaires: I am sure Bellure:
Wilbe here instantly, and use his Anger
His wonted harshness.
Ros.
I hope he will not beate me.
Lug.
No sure; he has more manners: be you ready.
Ros.
Yes, yes, I am: and am resolv'd to fit him,
With patience to out-doe all he can offer;
But how do's Oriana?
Lug.
Worse, and worse still:
There is a sad house for her: she is now
Poore Ladie, utterly distracted.
Ros.
Pittie:
Infinite pittie: 'tis a handsom Ladie,
That Mirabel's a Beast, worse then a Monster.
If this affliction work not.
Enter Lelea, Biancha.
Lel.
Are ye readie?
Bellure is comming on, here, hard behind me,
I have no leysure to relate my Fortune.
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Upon the sign you know what.
Exit.
Res.
Well, well, leave me.
Enter Bellure.
Bel.
How now?
Ros.
Ye are welcome, sir.
Bel.
'Tis well ye have manners:
That Curt'sy again, and hold your Countenance staidly;
That looks too light; take heed: so, sit ye down now,
And to confirm me that your gall is gone,
Your bitterness dispers'd, for so I'll have it;
Look on me stedfastly; and whatsoe'er I say to ye,
Move not, nor alter in your face, ye are gon then;
For if you do express the least distaste,
Or shew an angry wrinkle; mark me, woman,
We are now alone, I will so conjure thee:
The third part of my Execution
Cannot be spoke.
Ros.
I am at your dispose, sir.
Bel.
Now rise, and woo me a little, let me hear that faculty;
But touch me not; nor do not lie, I charge ye.
Begin now.
Ros.
If so mean and poor a Beauty
May ever hope the grace.
Bel.
Ye Cog, ye flatter
Like a lew'd thing, ye lie: may hope that grace?
Why, what grace canst thou hope for? Answer not,
For if thou dost, and lyest again, I'll swindge thee;
Do not I know thee, for a pestilent woman?
A proud at both ends? Be not angry;
Nor stir not o'your life?
Ros.
I am counseld, sir.
Bel.
Art thou not now, (confess, for I'll have the truth out)
As much unworthy of a man of merit,
Or any of ye all? Nay of meer man?
Though he were crooked, cold, all wants upon him;
Nay of any dishonest thing, that bears that figure;
As Devils are of mercy?
Ros.
We are unworthy.
Bel.
Stick to that truth, and it may chance to save thee;
And is it not our bounty that we take ye?
That we are troubled, vex'd, or tortur'd with ye?
Our meer, and special bounty?
Ros.
Yes.
Bel.
Our pitty,
That for your wickedness we swindge ye soundly;
Your stubbornness and stout hearts, we be-labour ye?
Answer, to that?
Ros.
I do confess your pitty.
Bel.
And dost not thou deserve in thine own person?
(Thou Impudent, thou Pert; do not change countenance?)
Ros.
I dare not, sir.
Bel.
For if ye do.
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I am setled.
Bel.
Thou Wag-tail, Peacock, Puppy; look on me:
I am a Gentleman.
Ros.
It seems no less, sir.
Bel.
And darest thou in thy Surquedry?
Ros.
I beseech ye.
It was my weakness, sir; I did not view ye;
I took not notice of your noble parts;
Nor call'd your person, nor your proper fashion.
Bel.
This is some amendes yet.
Ros.
I shall mend, sir, daily.
And study to deserve.
Bel.
Come a little neerer:
Canst thou repent thy Villany?
Ros.
Most seriously.
Bel.
And be asham'd?
Ros.
I am asham'd.
Bel.
Cry.
Ros.
It will be hard to do, sir.
Bel.
Cry now instantly;
Cry monstrously, that all the Town may hear thee;
Cry seriously; as if thou hadst lost thy Monkey;
And as I like thy Tears.
Enter Lilia and four women laughing.
Ros.
Now.
Bel.
How? How? do ye jear me?
Have ye broke your bounds again Dame?
Ros.
Yes, and laugh at ye;
And laugh most heartily.
Bel.
What are these, Whirl-winds?
Is Hell broke loose, and all the Furies flutter'd?
Am I greas'd once again?
Ros.
Yes indeed are ye;
And once again ye shall be, if ye quarrel:
Do you come to vent your fury on a Virgin?
Is this your manhood, sir?
1. VVo.
Let him do his best:
Let's see the utmost of his indignation:
I long to see him angry: come, proceed, sir.
Hang him, he dares not stir; a man of Timber.
2. Wo.
Come hither to fright Maids, with thy Bul-faces?
To threaten Gentlewomen? Thou a man? A May-pole.
A great dry Pudding.
3. Wo.
Come, come, do your worst, sir;
Be angry if thou dar'st.
Bel.
The Lord deliver me.
4. Wo.
Do but look scurvily upon this Lady,
Or give us one foul word. We are all mistaken;
This is some mighty Dairy-Maid in mans clothes.
Lil.
I am of that minde too.
Bel.
What will they do to me?
Lil.
And hired to come and abuse us; a man has manners;
A Gentleman, Civility, and Breeding:
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1. VVo.
Let's search him;
And as we finde him.
Bel.
Let me but depart from ye,
Sweet Christian women.
Lel.
Hear the Thing speak, Neighbours.
Bel.
'Tis but a small request: if ere I trouble ye,
If ere I talk again of beating Women,
Or beating any thing that can but turn to me;
Of ever thinking of a handsom Lady
But vertuously and well: of ever speaking
But to her honor: This I'le promise ye,
I will take Rhubarb; and purge Choler mainly,
Abundantly Ile purge.
Lel.
Ile send ye Brothes, Sir.
Bel.
I will be laugh'd at, and endure it patiently,
I will doe any thing.
Ros.
Ile be your Bayle then:
When ye com next to woo, 'pray ye com not boistrously
And furnish'd like a Bear-ward.
Bel.
No in truth, forsooth.
Ros.
I sented ye long since.
Bel.
I was to blame, sure;
I will appear a Gentleman.
Ros.
'Tis the best for ye,
For a true noble Gentleman's a brave thing;
Upon that hope we quit ye: You fear seriously?
Bel.
Yes truly do I; I confess I fear ye,
And honor ye, and any thing.
Ros.
Farewel then.
Wo.
And when ye come to woo next bring more mercy.
Exeunt.
Bel.
A Dary-Maid? A Tinkers-Trull: Heaven bless me:
Sure if I had provok'd 'em, they had quarter'd me.
Enter two Gentlemen.
I am a most ridiculous Ass, now I perceive it:
A Coward, and a Knave too.
1. Gen.
'Tis the mad Gentleman.
Let's set our Faces right.
Bel.
No, no, laugh at me;
And laugh aloud.
2. Gen.
We are better manner'd, sir.
Bel.
I do deserve it; call me Patch, and Puppy,
And beat me if you please.
1. Gen.
No indeed: We know ye.
Bel.
'Death, do as I would have ye.
2. Gen.
Ye are an Ass then;
A Coxcomb, and a Calf.
Bel.
I am a great Calf:
Kick me a little now: Why, when? Sufficient:
Now laugh aloud, and scorn me; so good buy'ye;
And ever when ye meet me laugh.
Gen.
We will, sir.
Exeunt.
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Scæn. 3.
Enter Nantolet, la-Castre, de-Gard, Lugier, Mirabell.Mir.
Your Patience, Gentlemen; why do ye bait me?
Nan.
Is't not a shame you are so stubborn-hearted,
So stony and so dull to such a Lady,
Of her Perfections, and her Misery?
Lug.
Does she not love ye? does not her distraction
For your sake only, her most pityed Lunacie
Of all but you, shew ye? does it not compell ye?
Mir.
Soft and fair, Gentlemen, pray ye proceed temperately.
Lug.
If ye have any feeling, any sense in ye,
The least touch of a noble heart.
la-Cast.
Let him alone;
It is his glory that he can kill Beauty,
Ye bear my Stamp, but not my Tenderness;
Your wild unsavoury Courses set that in ye!
For shame be sorry, though ye cannot Cure her,
Shew something of a Man, of a fair Nature.
Mir.
Ye make me Mad.
De-G.
Let me pronounce this to ye,
You take a strange felicity in slighting
And wronging Women; which my poor sister feels now,
Heavens hand be gentle on her: Mark me, Sir,
That very hour she dyes; there's small hope otherwise,
That minute you and I must grapple for it;
Either your life or mine.
Mir.
Be not so hot, Sir,
I am not to be wrought on by these Policies;
In truth I am not; Nor do I fear the Tricks,
Or the high sounding Threats of a Savoyen:
I glory not in Cruelty; ye wrong me;
Nor grow up water'd with the Tears of Women;
This let me tell ye, howsoe're I shew to ye
Wilde, as you please to call it; or self-will'd;
When I see cause, I can both doe, and suffer,
Enter Rosaluce & Lelia.
Freely, and feelingly, as a true Gentleman.
Ros.
O pity, pity; thousand thousand pities!
Lel.
Alas, poor soul! she will die; she is grown sensless;
She will not know, nor speak now.
Ros.
Die for Love,
And Love of such a Youth? I would die for a Dog, first.
He that kils me, Ile give him leave to eat me;
Ile know men better ere I sigh for any of 'em.
Lel.
Ye have don a worthy act, Sir; a most famous;
Ye have kild a Maid the wrong way; ye are a conqueror.
Ros.
A Conqueror? a Cobler; hang him Sowter;
Goe hid thy self for shame; go lose thy Memory;
Live not 'mongst Men; thou art a Beast, a Monster;
A Blatant Beast.
Lel.
If ye have yet any honestie,
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Off with your Garters; and seek out a Bough,
A handsom Bough; (for I would have ye hang like a Gentleman;)
And write some dolefull matter to the world,
A warning to hard-hearted men.
Mir.
Out Kitlings:
What Catterwalling's here? what gibbing?
Do you think my heart is softned with a black Santis;
Shew me some Reason.
Enter Oriana on a bed.
Ros.
Here then, here is a reason.
Nant.
Now, if ye be a man, let this sight shake ye.
la C.
Alas poor Gentlewoman! do ye know me Lady?
Lug.
How she looks up and stares.
Ori.
I know ye very well:
You are my Godfather; and that's the Monsieur.
De-G.
And who am I?
Ori.
You are Amadis de Gaule, Sir.
Oh, oh, my heart! were you never in love, sweet Lady?
And do you never dream of Flowres and Gardens;
I dream of walking Fires: take heed, It comes now,
Who's that? pray stand away; I have seen that face sure;
How light my head is.
Ros.
Take some rest.
Ori.
I cannot.
For I must be up to morrow, to go to Church:
And I must dress me, put my new Gown on,
And be as fine to meet my Love: Heig ho!
Will not you tell me where my Love lies buried?
Mir.
He is not dead: beshrew my heart she stirs me.
Ori.
He is dead to me.
Mir.
Is't possible my Nature
Should be so dampnable, to let her suffer;
Give me your hand.
Or.
How soft you feel; how gentle?
Ile tell ye your fortune, Friend.
Mir.
How she stares on me?
Ori.
You have a flattring face; but 'tis a fine one;
I warrant you may have a hundred Sweet-hearts:
Will ye pray for me? I shall die to morrow;
And will ye ring the Bells?
Mir.
I am most unworthy;
I doe confess unhappy; doe you know me?
Ori.
I would I did.
Mir.
Oh fair tears; how ye take me.
Ori.
Do you weep too? you have not lost your Lover?
You mock me: Ile go home and pray.
Mir.
Pray ye pardon me:
Or if it please ye to consider justly,
Scorn me; for I deserve it: Scorn, and shame me:
Sweet Oriana.
Lel.
Let her alone; she trembles.
Her fits will grow more strong, if ye provoke her;
45
Certain she knowes ye not, yet loves to see ye
How she smiles now:
Bel.
Where are ye? oh, why doe not ye laugh: come laugh at me;
Why a devill, art thou sad, and such a subject,
Such a ridiculous subject, as I am
Before thy face?
Mir.
Pre'thee put off this Lightnes,
This is no time for mirth, nor place: I have us'd too much on't:
I have undon my self and a sweet Ladie,
By being too Indulgent to my Foolery
Which truly I repent: looke here.
Bel.
What ayles she.
Mir.
Alas she is mad.
Bel.
Mad.
Mir.
Yes, too sure for me too.
Bel.
Dost thou wonder at that? by this good light, they are all so;
They are coz'ning mad, they are brawling mad, they are proud mad.
They are all, all mad: I came from a world of mad women,
Mad as march Haires: get'em in Chaines, then deale with'em.
There's one that's mad: she seemes well, but she is dog mad:
Is she dead, do'st think?
Mir.
Dead? heaven forbid.
Bel.
Heaven further it.
For till they be key-cold dead, there's no trusting of'em
What ere they seeme, or howsoere they carry it,
Till they be chap-falne, and their Tongues at peace,
Nayl'd in their Coffins sure, Ile ne're beleeve'em,
Shall I talk with her.
Mir.
No, deer friend, be quiet;
And be at peace a while.
Bel.
Ile walk a side,
And come again anon: But take heed to her
You say she is a woman?
Mir.
Yes.
Bel.
Take great heed:
For if she doe not Cozen thee, then hang me:
Let her be mad, or what she will, shee'll cheate thee
—Exit
Mir.
Away wild Foole: how vild this shewes in him now?
Now take my faith, before ye all I speake it,
And with it, my repentant Love.
La-Cast.
This seemes well.
Mir.
Were but this Lady cleere again, whose sorrowes
My very hart melts for; were she but perfect
(For thus to marry her, would be two Miseries,)
Before the rishest, and the noblest Beautie,
France, or the world could shew me; I would take her
As she is now, my Teares, and praires shall wed her.
de-Ga.
This makes some small amends.
Ros.
She beckens to ye.
To us too, to goe off.
Nant.
Let's draw aside all.
Ori.
Oh my best friend: I would faine.
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What? she speakes well,
And with another voice.
Ori.
But I am fearfull,
And shame a little, stops my tongue.
Mir.
Speake boldly.
Ori.
Tell ye, I am well, I am perfect well, 'pray ye mock not;
And that I did this to provoke your Nature,
Out of my infinite, and restles Love,
To win your pitty: pardon me.
Mir.
Goe forward;
Who set ye on?
Ori.
None, as I live, no Creature.
Not any knew, or ever dreamt, what I meant:
Will ye be mine?
Mir.
'Tis true, I pittie ye;
But when I marry ye, ye must be wiser;
Nothing but Tricks? devises?
Ori.
Will ye shame me?
Mir.
Yes, marry will I: Come neer, Come neer, a Miracle,
The Womans well: she was only mad for Mariage,
Stark mad to be ston'd to death; give her good Councel,
Will this world never mend? are ye caught, Damsell?
Enter Bellure, la-Castre, Lugier, Nantolet, de-Gard, Rosaluce, Bianth.
Bel.
How goes it now?
Mir.
Thou art a kind of Prophet,
The woman's well again; and would have gull'd me,
Well, excellent well: and not a Taynt upon her.
Bel.
Did not I tell ye? Let'em be what can be;
Saints, Devills, any thing, they will abuse us;
Thou wert an Asse to beleeve her so long: a Coxcomb;
Give'em a minute, they'll abuse whole Millions.
Mir.
And am not I a rare Phisitian, Gentlemen?
That can cure desperate mad Mindes?
de-Ga.
Be not insolent.
Mir.
Well, goe thy waies: from this howre, I disclame thee,
Unles thou hast a Trick above this: then Ile love thee.
Ye owe me for your Cure; pray have a Care of her,
For fear she fall into Relaps; Come Bellure
We'll set up Bills, to Cure diseased virgins.
Bel.
Shall we be merry?
Mir.
Yes.
Bel.
But Ile no more projects;
If we could make 'em mad, it were some Mastery.
Exeunt.
Lil.
I am glad she is well again.
Ros.
So am I, certain
Be not ashamed.
Ori.
I shall never see a man more.
de-G.
Come ye are afoole: had ye but told me this Trick,
He should not have gloried thus.
Lug.
He shall not long neither.
la-Cast.
Be rul'd, and be at peace: ye have my Consent,
And what powre I can work with.
47
Come, leave blushing;
We are your Friends; an honest way compell'd ye;
Heaven will not see so true a love unrecompenc'd;
Come in, and slight him too.
Lug.
The next shall hit him.
Exeunt.
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