University of Virginia Library

Actus Secundus.

Scæna prima.

Enter Shamonts brother a Souldier, and a Lady the Dukes sister.
Lady
There should be in this gallery—oh th'are here,
Pray sit downe; beleeve me sir I'm weary.

Soul.
It well becomes a Lady to complaine a little
Of what she never feeles: your walke was short Madam,
You can be but affraid of wearinesse;
Which well employes the softnesse of your Sexe,
As for the thing it selfe, you never came to't.

La.
Y'are wonderously well read in Ladies sir.

Soul.
Shall I thinke such a creature as you Madam,
Was ever borne to feele paine, but in travell?
There's your full portion,
Besides a little toothache in the breeding,
Which a kind husband too, takes from you Madam.

La.
But where do Ladies sir, find such kind husbands?
Perhaps you have heard
The Rhumaticke story of some loving Chandler now,
Or some such melting fellow, that you talke
So prodigall of mens kindnesse: I confesse sir,
Many of those wives are happy, their ambition
Does reach no higher, then to love and ignorance,
Which makes an excellent husband, and a fond one:
Now sir, your great ones aime at height, and cunning,
And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture it;
For 'tis a Ladies contumely sir,
To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the worlds voice
Will deeme her for a wanton ere she taste on't:
But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection,
The world resignes it selfe with all his envy;
'Tis lesse dishonour to us then to fall,
Because his beleev'd wisdome keepes out all.

Sould.
Would I were the man Lady, that should venture
His wisedome to your goodnesse.

Lad.
You might faile
In the returne, as many men have done sir:
I dare not justifie what is to come of me,
Because I know it not, though I hope vertuously;
Marry what's past or present, I durst put
Into a good mans hand. Which if he take
Upon my word for good, it shall not couzen him.

Sol.
No, nor hereafter?

Lad.
It may hap so too sir:
A womans goodnesse, when she is a wise,
Lies much upon a mans desert, believe it sir,
If there be fault in her, Ile pawn my life on't,
'Tis first in him, if she were ever good,
That makes one; knowing not a husband yet,
Or what he may be, I promise no more vertues,
Then I may well performe, for that were cousenage.

Sol.
Happy were he that had you with all feares,
That's my opinion, Lady.

Enter Shamont & a servant listning.
Ser.
What say you now sir?
Dare you give confidence to your owne eyes?

Sha.
Not yet I dare not.

Ser.
No?

Sha.
Scarce yet, or yet:
Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing,
That's but my selfe divided be so false?

Ser.
Nay doe but marke how the chaire plaies his part too:
How amorously 'tis bent.

Sha.
Hell take thy bad thoughts,
For they are strange ones. Never take delight
To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven,
For that's a brother: send me a faire enemy,
And take him; for a fouler fiend there breathes not:
I will not sin, to think there's ill in her,
But what's of his producing.
Yet goodnesse, whose inclosure is but flesh,
Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black sir,
As ever kindred was: I hate mine owne bloud,
Because it is so neare thine. Live without honesty,
And maist thou dye with an unmoistned eye,
And no teare follow thee.

Ex. Shamont, Servant.
Lad.
Y'are wondrous merry sir; I would your Brother heard you.

Sold.
O my sister
I would not out oth' way, let fall my words Lady,
Por the precizest humour.

Enter Passionate Lord.
Pas.
Yea, so close.

Sol.
Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report on 'em;
Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

Pas.
So sir,
Shall I believe you, think you?

Sold.
Who's this Lady?

Lad.
O the Dukes Cousen; he came late from travel sir.

Sold.
Respect belongs to him.

Pas.
For as I said Lady,
Th'are merry that's the worst you can report of 'em:
Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

Sold.
How's this?

Pas.
And there I think I left.

Sold.
Abuses me.

Pas.
Now to proceed, Lady; perhaps I swore I lov'd you,
If you believe me not, y'are much the wiser.

Sol.
He speaks still in my person, and derides me.

Pas.
For I can cog with you.

Lad.
You can all doe so.
We make no question of mens promptness that way.

Pas.
And smile, & wave a chair with comely grace too,
Play with our Tastle gently, and doe fine things,
That catch a Lady sooner then a vertue.

Sol.
I never us'd to let man live so long
That wrong'd me.

Pa.
Talke of Battalions, wooe you in a skirmish:
Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set,
Can court you at halfe pike: or name your weapon,
We cannot faile you Lady.

Enter 1 Gen.
Sol.
Now he dies:
Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up within him.

1 Ge.
O fie, i'th' Court sir?

Sol.
I most dearely thanke you sir.

1 Ge.
Tis rage ill spent upon a passionate mad-man.

Sol.
That shall not priviledge him for ever sir:
A mad-man call you him? I have found too much reason
Sound in his injurie to me, to beleeve him so.

1 Ge.
If ever truth from mans lips may be held
In reputation with you, give this confidence;
And this his love-fit, which we observe still,
By's flattering and his finenes: at some other time,
Hee'l goe as slovenly as heart can wish.
The love and pity that his Highnesse shewes to him,
Makes every man the more respectfull of him:
Has never a passion, but is well provided for,
As this of Love, he is full fed in all;
His swinge as I may tearme it: have but patience,
And ye shall witnesse somewhat.

Sol.
Still he mocks me:
Looke you, in action, in behaviour sir;
Hold still the chaire, with a grand mischiefe to you,
Or Ile set so much strength upon your heart sir—

Pa.

Enter one like a Cupid offring to shoot at him.
Pas.
I prethee hold though, sweet Cælestiall boy;
I'm not requited yet with love enough,
For the first arrow that I have within me:
And if thou be an equall archer Cupid,
Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.

Lad.
Me sir?

1 Gen.
Tis nothing but device, feare it not Lady;
You may be as good a maid after that shaft Madam,
As ere your mother was at twelve and a halfe:
Tis like the boy that drawes it, 'tas no sting yet.

Cup.
Tis like the miserable maid that drawes it—
aside.
That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate.

Pas.
Strike me the Duchesse of Valois in love with me,
With all the speed thou canst, and two of her women.

Cu.
You shall have more.

Pas.
Tell 'em I tarry for 'em.

1 Gen.
Who would be angry with that walking trouble now
That hurts none but it selfe?

Soul.
I am better quieted.

Pas.
Ile have all women-kind strucke in time for me
After thirteene once:
I see this Cupid will not let me want,
And let him spend his forty shafts an houre,
They shall be all found from the Dukes Exchequer;
He's come already.

Enter againe the same Cupid, two brothers, 6 women Maskers, Cupids bow bent all the way towards them, the first woman singing and playing, A Priest.
[Maskers]
The Song.
O turne thy bow,
Thy power we feele and know,
Faire Cupid turne away thy bow:
They be those golden Arrowes,
Bring Ladies all their sorrowes,
And till there be more truth in men,
Never shoot at maid agen.

Pas.
What a felicity of whores are here?
And all my concubines, strucke bleeding new:
A man can in his life time make but one woman,
But he may make his fifty Queanes a month.

Cu.
Have you remembred a Priest honest brothers?

1 Bro.
Yes sister, and this is the young gentleman,
Make you no question of our faithfulnesse.

2 Bro.
His growing shame sister provokes our care.

Priest.
He must be taken in this fit of love Gentlemen.

1 Bro.
What else sir? he shall do't.

2 Bro.
Enough.

1 Bro.
Be cheerefull wench.

A dance, Cupid leading.
Pas.
Now by the stroake of pleasure, a deep oath.
Nimbly hopt Ladies all; what height they beare too?
A story higher then your common statures;
A little man must go up staires to kisse 'em:
What a great space there is
Betwixt loves dyning Chamber, and his Garret?
Ile trie the utmost height—the Garret stoopes methinkes;
The roomes are made all bending, I see that,
And not so high as a man takes 'em for.

Cu.
Now if you'l follow me sir, I've that power,
To make them follow you.

Pas.
Are they all shot?

Cu.
All, all sir, every mothers daughter of 'em.

Pas.
Then there's no feare of following; if they be once shot,
They'l follow a man to th'devill—As for you sir—

Ex. with the Lady, & the Maskers.
Soul.
Me sir?

1 Gent.
Nay sweet sir.

Soul.
A noise, a threatning; did you not heare it sir?

1 Gent.
Without regard sir, so would I heare you.

Soul.
This must come to something, never talke of that Sir,
You never saw it otherwise.

1 Gen.
Nay deare merit—

Soul.
Me above all men?

1 Gen.
Troth you wrong your anger.

Soul.
I will be arm'd my honourable Letcher.

1 Gent.
O fie sweet sir.

Soul.
That devoures womens honesties by lumps,
And never chawst thy pleasure.

1 Gent.
What do you meane sir?

Soul.
What does he meane t'ingrosse all to himselfe?
There's others love a whore, as well as he sir.

1 Gen.
Oh an 'that be part o'th furie, we have a Citty
Is very well provided for that case;
Let him alone with her, sir we have women
Are very charitable to proper men,
And to a Souldier that has all his limbes;
Marry the sicke and lame gets not a penny:
Right womens charity, and the husbands follow't too:
Here comes his highnesse sir.

Enter Duke, and Lords.
Soul.
Ile walke to coole my selfe.

Exit.
Du.
Who's that?

1 Gen.
The brother of Shamont.

Du.
He's Brother then
To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly,
And place their friendlinesse upon desert:
As for the rest, that with a double face
Looke upon merit, much like fortunes visage,
That lookes two waies, both to lifes calmes and stormes,
Ile so provide for him, chiefly for him,
He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies.
And here comes my Shamont.

Enter Shamont.
Sha.
That Ladies vertues are my only joyes,
And he to offer to lay siedge to them?

Du.
Shamont.

Sha.
Her goodnesse is my pride; in all discourses,
As often as I here rash tongued gallants,
Speake rudely of a woman, presently
I give in but her name, and th'are all silent:
O who would lose this benefit?

Du.
Come hether sir.

Sha.
'Tis like the gift of healing, but diviner;
For that but cures diseases in the body,
This workes a cure on fame, on reputation:
The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.

Du.
Shamont; he minds me not.

Sha.
A Brother do't?

Du.
Shamont I say.

Gives him a touch with his switch.
Sha.
Ha?
If he be mortall, by this hand he perishes;
Drawes.
Unlesse it be a stroake from heaven, he dies for't.

Du.
Why, how now sir? 'twas I.

Sha.
The more's my miserie.

Du.
Why, what's the matter prethee?

Sha.
Can you aske it sir?
No man else should; stood forty lives before him,
By this I would have op'd my way to him;
It could not be you sir, excuse him not,
What ere he be, as y'are deere to honour,
That I may find my peace agen.

Du.
Forbeare I say.
Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.

Sha.
Still miserable?

Du.
Come, come, what ailes you sir?

Sha.
Never sate shame cooling so long upon me,
Without a satisfaction in revenge,
And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.

Du.
Harke you sir?

Sha.
O y'ave undone me.

Du.
How?

Sha.
Cruelly undone me;
I have lost my peace, and reputation by you:
Sir pardon me, I can never love you more.

Exit.
Du.
What language call you this sirs?

1 Gen.
Truth my Lord, I've seldome heard a stranger.—

2 Gent.
He is a man of a most curious valour,
Wondrous precise, and punctuall in that vertue.

Du.
But why to me so punctuall? my last thought
Was most intirely fixt on his advancement:
Why, I came now to put him in possession
Of his faire fortunes: what a mis-conceiver 'tis?
And from a Gentleman of our Chamber meerely,
Made him Vice-Admirall; I was setled in't,
I love him next to health: call him Gentlemen;
Why would not you, or you ha' taken as much,
And never murmur'd?

Exit. 1 Gent.
2 Gent.
Troath, I thinke we should my Lord,
And there's a fellow walkes about the Court,
Would take a hundred of 'em.

Du.
I hate you all for't,
And rather praise his high pitch'd fortitude,
Though in extreames for nicenesse: now I thinke on't,
I would I had never done't.—Now sir, where is he?

Enter 1 Gentleman.
1 Gent.
His sute is only fit to be excus'd.

Du.
He shall not be excus'd, I love him dearelier:
Say we intreat him; goe, he must not leave us.
Ex. 2 Gen.
So vertue blesse me, I nere knew him parraleld;
Why, he's more pretious to me now, then ever.

Enter 2 Gent. and Shamont.
2 Gent.
With much faire language, w'ave brought him?

Du.
Thankes—Where is he?

2 Gent.
Yonder sir.

Du.
Come forward man.

Sha.
Pray pardon me, I'm asham'd to be seene sir.

Du.
Was ever such a touchie man heard of?
Prethee come nearer.

Sha.
More into the light?
Put not such crueltie into your requests my Lord,
First to disgrace me publikely, and then draw me
Into mens eyesight, with the shame yet hot
Upon my reputation.

Du.
What disgrace sir?

Sha.
What?
Such as there can be no forgivenesse for,
That I can find in honour.

Du.
That's most strange sir.

Sha.
Yet I have seartch'd my bosome to find one,
And wresled with my inclination,
But 'twill not be: would you had kild me sir,
With what an ease had I forgiven you then?
But to endure a stroke from any hand
Under a punnishing Angels, which is justice,
Honour disclame that man, for my part chiefly:
Had it been yet the malice of your sword,
Though it had cleft me, 'thad been noble to me;
You should have found my thankes paid in a smile
If I had fell unworded; but to shame me,
With the correction that your horse should have,
Were you ten thousand times my royall Lord,
I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more.
If your drum call me I am vowed to valour,
But peace shall never know me yours agen,
Because I've lost mine owne, I speake to dye sir;
Would you were gratious that way to take off shame,
With the same swiftnesse as you powre it on:
And since it is not in the power of Monarches
To make a Gentleman, which is a substance
Only begot of merit, they should be carefull
Not to destroy the worth of one so rare,
Which neither they can make; nor lost, repaire.

Exit.
Du.
Y'ave set a faire light sir before my judgement,
Which burnes with wondrous clearnes; I acknowledge it,
And your worth with it: but then sir, my love,
My love—what gone agen?

1 Gen.
And full of scorne my Lord.

Du.
That language will undoe the man that keeps it,
Who knows no difference twixt contempt and manhood.
Upon your love to goodnes, gentlemen,
Let me not lose him long: how now?

Enter a Huntsman.
Hunts.
The game's at height my Lord.

Du.
Confound both, thee and it: hence breake it off;
He hates me brings me newes of any pleasure:
I felt not such a conflict since I cou'd;
Distinguish betwixt worthinesse and bloud

Ex.