University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Scæna prima.

Enter Clarinda, with a Key, and Leon.
Leon.
This happy night.

Kisses her.
Clarin.
Preserve this eagernesse
Till we meet nearer, there is something done
Will give us opportunity.

Leon.
Witty girle, the plot?

Clarind.
You shall heare that at leasure,
The whole house reeles with joy at the report
Of Lidians safety, and that joy increas'd
From their affection to the brave Lisander,
In being made the happy instrument to compound
The bloudy difference.

Leon.
They will heare shortly that
Will turne their mirth to mourning, he was then
The principall meanes to save two lives, but since
There are two falne, and by his single hand,
For which his life must answer, if the King,
Whose arme is long, can reach him.

Cla.
We have now no spare time to heare stories, take this key,
'Twill make your passage to the banquetting house
I'the garden free.

Leon.
You will not faile to come?

Cla.
For mine owne sake ne're doubt it? now for Lisander.

Exit.
Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Servants with lights.
Dor.
To bed, to bed, 'tis very late.

Clea.
To bed all, I have dranke a health too much,

Dor.
You'l sleep the better,
My usuall phisicke that way.

Clean.
Where's your Mistris?

Clarin.
She is above, but very ill and aguish:
The late fright of her brother, has much troubl'd her;
She would entreate to lye alone.

Clea.
Her pleasure.

Do.
Commend my love to her, and my prayers for her health,
I'le see her ere I goe.

Ex. Manet Clarin.
Clarin.
All good rest to ye:
Now to my watch for Lisander, when he's furnish'd,
For mine own friend, since I stand Centinell,
I love to laugh i'th' evenings too, and may,
The priviledge of my place will warrant it.

Exit.
Enter Lisander, and Lancelot.
Lis.
You have done well hetherto; where are we now?

Lan.
Not far from the house, I heare by th'owles,
There are many of your welch falkoners about it;
Here were a night to choose to run away with
Another mans wife, and do the feate.

Lis.
Peace knave,
The house is here before us, and some may heare us;
The candles are all out.

Lanc.
But one i'the parlor,
I see it simper hether, pray come this way.

Lis.
Step to the garden doore, and feele and't be open.

Lan.
I am going, lucke deliver me from the saw pits,
Or I am buried quicke: I heare a dog,
No, 'tis a cricket, ha? here's a cuckold buried,
Take heed of his horns sir, here's the doore, 'tis open.

Clarinda
at the doore.
Whose there?

Lisan.
Friend.

Cla.
Sir, Lisander?

Lis.
I.

Clarin.
Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise.

Lis.
Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, sirah
And be sure ye sleep not.

Ex. Lisan. Clarin.
Lanc.
Send me out the dairy-maid
To play at trump with me, and keep me waking,
My fellow horse, and I now must discourse
Like two learned Almanack-makers, of the stars,
And tell what a plentifull year 'twil prove of drunkards,
If I had but a pottle of Sacke, like a sharp prickle,
To knock my nose against when I am nodding,
I should sing like a Nightingall, but I must
Keepe watch without it, I am apt to dance,
Good fortune guide me from the faires circles.

Exit.
Enter Clarinda with a Taper, and Lisander with a Pistole, two Chaires set out.
Clarin.
Come neare,
Caliste sitting behind a Curtaine.
I'le leave ye now, draw but that Curtaine,
And have your wish; now Leon I am for thee.
We that are servants must make use of stoln houres,
And be glad of snatch'd occasions.

Exit.
Lisand.
Shee is asleepe,
Fierce love hath clos'd his lights, I may looke on her,
Within her eyes 'has lock'd his graces up,
I may behold and live; how sweet she breathes?
The orient morning breaking out in odors,
Is not so full of perfumes, as her breath is;
She is the abstract of all excellence, and scornes a paralell.

Cal.
Who's there?

Lis.
Your servant, your most obedient slave (adored Lady)
That comes but to behold those eyes againe,
And pay some vowes I have to sacred beauty,
And so passe by; I am blind as ignorance,
And know not where I wander, how I live,
Till I receive from their bright influence
Light to direct me, for devotions sake,
You are the Saint I tread these holy steps to.
And holy Saints are all relenting sweetnesse;
Be not inrag'd nor be not angry with me;
The greatest attribute of heaven is mercy;
And 'tis the crowne of justice, and the glory
Where it may kill with right, to save with pitty.

Cal.
Why do you kneele, I know you come to mock me,
T'upbraid me with the benefits you have giv'n me,
Which are too many, and to mighty sir,
For my returne; and I confesse 'tis justice,
That for my cruelty you should despise me,
And I expect however you are calme now,
A foyle you strive to set your cause upon,
It will breake out; Caliste is unworthy,
Coy, proud, disdainefull, I acknowledge all,
Colder of comfort than the frozen North is,
And more a stranger to Lisanders worth,
His youth and faith, then it becomes her gratitude,
I blush to grant it, yet take this along,
A soveraigne medicine to allay displeasure,
May be an argument to bring me off too;
She is married, and she is chaste; how sweet that sounds?
How it perfumes all ayre 'tis spoken in?
O deare Lisander, would you breake this union?

Lis.
No, I adore it: let me kisse your hand,
And seale the faire faith of a Gentleman on it.

Cal.
You are truly valiant, would it not afflict you
To have the horrid name of coward touch you?
Such is the whore to me.

Lis.
I nobly thanke ye;
And may I be the same when I dishonour ye;
This I may do againe.

(Kissing her hand.
Cal.
Ye may, and worthily;
Such comforts maids may grant with modesty,
And neither make her poore, nor wrong her bounty;
Noble Lisander, how fond now am I of ye?
I heard you were hurt.

Lis.
You dare not heale me Lady?
I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes?
Excellent objects kill our sight, she blinds me;
The roses in the pride of May shew pale to her;
O tyrant custome! and O coward honour!
How ye compell me to put on mine owne chaines?
May I not kisse ye now in superstition?
For you appeare a thing that I would kneele to:
Let me erre that way.

Kisses her.
Cal.
Ye shall erre for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you,
Among your manly sufferings, make this most,
To erre no farther in desire, for then sir,
Ye adde unto the gratitudes I owe you;
And after death, your deare friends soule shall blesse you.

Lis.
I am wondrous honest.

Cal.
I dare try.

Kisses.
Lis.
I have tasted a blessednesse too great for dull mortality
Once more and let me dye.

Cal.
I dare not murther,
How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses?
And young men flye th'embraces of faire virgins?
Come pray sit down, but let's talke temperately.

Lis.
Is my deare friend a bed?

Cal.
Yes, and asleep;
Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too Lisander,
Speake not so loud.

Lis.
You see I am a Statue,
I could not stand else as I had eaten Ice,
Or tooke into my bloud a drowzie poyson,
And natures noblest, brightest flame burne in me;
Midnight? and I stand quietly to behold so?
The alarme rung, and I sleep like a coward?
I am worne away, my faith, and dull obedience
Like crutches, carry my decayed body
Down to the grave, I have no youth within me,
Yet happily you love too.

Cal.
Love with honour.

Lis.
Honour? what's that? 'tis but a specious title
We should not prize too high.

Cal.
Dearer than life.

Lis.
The value of it, is as time has made it,
And time and custome have too far insulted,
We are no Gods, to be alwaies tyed to strictnesse,
'Tis a presumption to shew too like 'em;
March but an houre or two under loves ensignes,
We have examples of great memories—

Cal.
But foule ones too, that greatnesse cannot cover;
That wife that by example sins, sins double,
And puls the curtaine open to her shame too;
Me thinkes to enjoy you thus—

Lis.
'Tis no joy Lady,
A longing bride if she stop here, would cry,
The Bridegroome too, and with just cause curse Hymen;
But yeild a little, be one houre a woman,
(I do not speake this to compell you Lady)
And give your will but motion, let it stirre
But in the taste of that weake feares call evill,
Try it to understand it, wee'l do no thing,
You'l never come to know pure good else.

Cal.
Fie sir.

Lis.
I have found a way, let's slip into this errour
As Innocents, that know not what we did;
As we were dreaming both let us embrace;
The sin is none of ours then, but our fancies;
What have I said? what blasphemie to honour?
O my base thoughts! pray ye take this and shoot me.
My villaine thoughts?

Noise within.
Cal.
I weep your miserie, and would to heaven.—what noise?

Lis.
It comes on louder.
Kill me, and save your selfe; save your faire honour,
And lay the fault on me, let my life perish,
My base lascivious life, shoote quickely Lady,

Cal.
Not for the world, retire behind the hangings,
And there stand close—my husband, close Lisander.

Clean.
Dearest, are you well?

Enter Cleander with a Taper.
Cal.
O my sad heart; my head, my head.

Clea.
Alas poore soule! what do you out of your bed?
You take cold my Caliste: how do ye?

Cal.
Not so well sir to lye by ye, my brothers fright—

Clea.
I had a frightfull dreame too,
A very frightfull dreame my best Caliste:
Me thought there came a Dragon to your Chamber,
A furious Dragon (wife) I yet shake at it:
Are all things well?

Lis.
Shall I shoote him?

Cal.
No. All well Sir.
'Twas but your care of me, your loving care,
Which alwaies watches.

Clean.
And me thought he came
As if he had risen thus out of his den,
As I do from these hangings.

Lis.
Dead.

Cal.
Hold good Sir.

Clea.
And forc'd ye in his armes thus.

Cal.
'Twas but fancie
That troubled ye, here's nothing to disturbe me,
Good sir to rest againe, and I am now drousie,
And will to bed; make no noise deare husband,
But let me sleep: before you can call any body I am a bed.

Clea.
This, and sweet rest dwell with ye.

Exit.
Cal.
Come out againe, and as you love Lisander,
Make haste away, you see his mind is troubled:
Do you know the doore ye came at?

Lis.
Well sweet Lady.

Cal.
And can ye hit it readily?

Lis.
I warrant ye;
And must I go? must here end all my happinesse?
Here in a dreame, as if it had no substance?

Cal.
For this time friend, or here begin our ruines;
We are both miserable.

Lis.
This is some comfort
In my afflictions; they are so full already,
They can find no encrease.

Cal.
Deare speake no more.

Lis.
You must be silent then.

Cal.
Farewell Lisander, thou joy of man farewell.

Lis.
Farewell bright Lady,
Honour of woman-kind, a heavenly blessing.

Cal.
Be ever honest.

Lis.
I will be a dog else;
The vertues of your mind I'le make my library,
In which I'le study the celestiall beauty:
Your constancie, my armour that I'le fight in:
And on my sword your chastity shall sit,
Terror to rebell bloud.

Cal.
Once more farewell:
Noise within.
O that my modestie cou'd hold you still sir,—he comes againe.

Lis.
Heaven keep my hand from murther,
Murther of him I love.

Cal.
Away deare friend,
Down to the garden staires, that way Lisander,
We are betrai'd else.

Ent. Clea.
Lis.
Honour guard the Innocent.
Exit. Lis.

Clean.
Stil up? I fear'd your health.

Cal.
'Has miss'd him happily;
I am going now, I have done my meditations,
My heart's almost at peace.

Clea.
To my warme bed then.

Cal.
I will pray ye lead.

A Pistoll shot within
Clean.
A Pistoll shot i'th' house?
At these houres? sure some theefe, some murtherer:
Rise ho, rise all, I am betraide.

Cal.
O fortune!
O giddy thing! he has met some opposition,
And kil'd; I am confounded, lost for ever.

Enter Dorilaus
Dor.
Now, what's the matter?

Clea.
Theeves, my noble father, villaines, and Rogues.

Dor.
Indeed, I heard a Pistoll, let's search about.

Enter Malfort, Clarinda, and Servants.
Mal.
To bed againe, they are gone sir,
I will not bid you thanke my valour for't;
Gone at the garden doore; there were a dozen,
And bravely arm'd, I saw 'em.

Clarin.
I am glad, glad at the heart.

Ser.
One shot at me, and miss'd me.

Mal.
No, 'twas at me, the bullet flew close by me,
Close by my eare; another had a huge Sword,
Flourish'd it thus; but at the point I met him,
But the Rogue taking me to be your Lordship,
(As sure your name is terrible, and we
Not much unlike in the darke) roar'd out aloud,
'Tis the kill cow Dorilaus, and away
They ran as they had flowne: now you must love me,
Or feare me for my courage wench.

Clarin.
O Rogue?
O lying Rogue, Lisander stumbled Madam,
At the staires head, and in the fall the shot went off;
Was gone before they rose.

Cal.
I thanke heaven for't.

Clari.
I was frighted too, it spoyl'd my game with Leon.

Cle.
You must sit up; and they had come to your Chamber
What pranks would they have plaid: how came the doore open?

Ma.
I heard 'em when they forc'd it; up I rose,
Took Durindana in my hand; and like
Orlando, issu'd forth.

Clarin.
I know you are valiant.

Clean.
To bed again,
And be you henceforth provident, at sun-rising
We must part for a while.

Dor.
When you are a bed,
Take leave of her, there 'twill be worth the taking;
Here 'tis but a cold ceremony, ere long
Wee'l find Lisander, or we have ill fortune.

Clea.
Locke all the doores fast.

Mal.
Though they all stood open,
My name writ on the doore, they dare not enter.

Exeunt.
Enter Claran, Frier with a Letter.
Claran.
Turnd Hermit?

Fri.
Yes, and a devout one too: I heard him preach.

Claran.
That lessens my beliefe,
For though I grant my Lidian a scholler
As far as fits a Gentleman, he hath studied
Humanity, and in that he is a Master;
Civility of manners, courtship, Armes;
But never aim'd at (as I could perceive)
The deep points of divinity.

Fri.
That confirmes his
Devotion to be reall, no way tainted
With ostentation, or hypocrisie,
The cankers of Religion; his sermon
So full of gravity, and with such sweetnesse
Deliver'd, that it drew the admiration
Of all the hearers on him; his own letters
To you, which witnesse he will leave the world,
And these to faire Olinda, his late Mistris,
In which he hath with all the moving language
That ever express'd Rhetorick, sollicited
The Lady to forget him, and make you
Blessed in her embraces, may remove
All scrupulous doubts.

Claran.
It strikes a sadnesse in me,
I know not what to thinke of't.

Fri.
Ere he entred
His sollitary cell, he pen'd a ditty,
His long and last farewell to love, and women,
So feelingly, that I confesse however
It stands not with my order to be taken
With such Poeticall raptures; I was mov'd,
And strangely with it.

Claran.
Have you the copy?

Fri.
Yes sir:
My Novice too can sing it, if you please
To give him hearing.

Claran.

A Song by the Novice.
Adieu fond love, farewell you wanton powers,
I am free againe;
Thou dull disease of bloud and Idle howers.
Bewitching paine,
Flie to the fooles that sigh away their time.
My nobler love to heaven clime,
And there behold beauty still young,
That time can ne're corrupt, nor death destroy;
Immortall sweetnesse by faire Angels sung,
And honour'd by eternity and joy:
There lives my love, thether my hopes aspire;
Fond love declines, this heavenly love growes higher.

Fri.
How do ye approve it?

Claran.
To its due desert,
It is a heavenly Hymne, no ditty father,
It passes through my eares unto my soule,
And workes divinely on it; give me leave
A little to consider; shall I be
Out done in all things? nor good of my selfe,
Nor by example? shall my loose hopes still,
The viands of a fond affection, feed me
As I were a sensuall beast, spirituall food
Refus'd by my sicke pallat? 'tis resolv'd.
How far off father, doth this new made Hermit
Make his abode?

Fri.
Some two dayes journey son.

Claran.
Having reveal'd my faire intentions to ye,
I hope your piety will not deny me
Your aides to further 'em?

Fri.
That were against a good mans charity.

Claran.
My first request is,
You would some time, for reasons I will shew you,
Defer delivery of Lidians Letters
To faire Olinda.

Fri.
Well sir.

Claran.
For what followes,
You shall direct me; something I will do,
A new borne zeale, and friendship prompts me to.

Ex.
Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Chamberlaine, Table, Tapers, and three stooles.
Clea.
We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready,
We must be stirring early,

Cham.
They are made sir.

Dor.
I cannot sleep yet, where's the joviall host
You told me of? 'tas been my custome ever
To parley with mine host.

Clea.
He's a good fellow,
And such a one I know you love to laugh with;
Go call your Master up.

Cham.
He cannot come sir.

Dor.
Is he a bed with his wife?

Cham.
No certainly.

Dor.
Or with some other ghests?

Cham.
Neither and't like ye.

Clea.
Why then he shall come by your leave my friend,
I'le fetch him up my selfe.

Cham.
Indeed you'l faile sir.

Dor.
Is he i'th' house?

Cham.
No, but he is hard by sir;
He is fast in's grave, he has been dead these three weekes.

Dor.
Then o' my conscience he will come but lamely,
And discourse worse.

Clean.
Farewell mine honest Host then,
Mine honest merry Host; will you to bed yet?

Dor.
No, not this houre, I prethee sit and chat by me.

Clean.
Give us a quart of wine then, wee'l be merry.

Dor.
A match my son; pray let your wine be living,
Or lay it by your Master.

Cham.
It shall be quick sir.

Exit.
Dor.
Has not mine Host a wife?

Clean.
A good old woman.

Dor.
Another coffine, that is not so hansome;
Your Hostesses in Innes should be blith things,
Pretty, and young to draw in passengers;
She'l never fill her beds well, if she be not beauteous.

Clean.
And curteous too.

Enter Chamberlaine with wine.
Dor.
I, I, and a good fellow,
That will mistake sometimes a Gentleman
For her good man; well done; here's to Lisander.

Clean.
My full love meets it; make fire in our lodgings,
Wee'l trouble thee no farther; to your Son.

Ex. Cham.
Dor.
Put in Clarange too; off with't, I thanke ye;
This wine drinkes merrier still, O for mine Host now,
Were he alive againe, and well dispos'd,
I would so claw his pate.

Clean.
Y'are a hard drinker.

Dor.
I love to make mine Host drunke, he will lye then
The rarest, and the roundest, of his friends,
His quarrels, and his ghests, and they are the best bauds too
Take 'em in that tune.

Clean.
You know all.

Dor.
I did son, but time, and armes have worne me out

Clea.
'Tis late sir, I heare none stirring.

A lute is struck.
Dor.
Hark, what's that, a Lute?
'Tis at the doore I thinke.

Clean.
The doores are shut fast.

Dor.
'Tis morning sure, the Fidlers are got up
To fright mens sleepes, have we ne're a pispot ready?

Clea.
Now I remember, I have heard mine Host that's dead,
Touch a lute rarely, and as rarely sing too,
A brave still meane.

Dor.
I would give a brace of French Crownes
To see him rise and Fidle.

A Song.
[Host.]
Tis late and cold, stirre up the fire;
Sit close, and draw the Table nigher;
Be merry, and drinke wine that's old,
A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold.
Your beds of wanton downe the best,
Where you shall tumble to your rest;
I could wish you wenches too,
But I am dead and cannot do;
Call for the best the house may ring,
Sacke, White, and Claret let them bring,
And drinke apace while breath you have,
You'l find but cold drinke in the grave;
Plover, Patridge for your dinner,
And a Capon for the sinner,
You shall find ready when you are up,
And your horse shall have his sup:
Welcome shall flye round,
And I shall smile though under ground.

Clean.
Harke, a Song, now as I live, it is his voice.

Dor.
He sings well, the devill has a pleasant pipe.

Clea.
The fellow lyed sure,
Enter Host.
He is not dead, he's here: how pale he lookes?

Dor.
Is this he?

Clean.
Yes.

Host.
You are welcome noble Gentlemen,
My brave old ghest most welcome.

Clean.
Lying knaves,
To tell us you were dead, come sit downe by us,
We thanke ye for your Song.

Host.
Would 't had been better.

Dor.
Speake, are ye dead?

Host.
Yes indeed am I Gentlemen,
I have been dead these three weekes.

Dor.
Then here's to ye, to comfort your cold body.

Clean.
What do ye meane? stand further off.

Dor.
I will stand nearer to him,
Shall he come out on's coffin to beare us company,
And we not bid him welcome? come mine Host,
Mine honest Host, here's to ye.

Host.
Spirits sir, drinke not?

Clea.
Why do ye appeare?

Host.
To waite upon ye Gentlemen,
'T has been my duty living, now my farewell;
I feare ye are not us'd accordingly.

Dor.
I could wish you warmer company mine Host,
How ever we are us'd?

Host.
Next to entreate a courtesie,
And then I goe to peace.

Clea.
Is't in our power?

Host.
Yes and 'tis this, to see my body buried
In holy ground, for now I lye unhallowed,
By the clarkes fault; let my new grave be made
Amongst good fellowes, that have died before me,
And merry Hostes of my kind.

Clea.
It shall be done.

Dor.
And forty stoopes of wine dranke at thy funerall.

Clea.
Do you know our travell?

Host.
Yes, to seeke your friends,
That in afflictions wander now.

Clean.
Alas!

Host.
Seeke 'em no farther, but be confident
They shall returne in peace.

Dor.
There's comfort yet.

Clea.
Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host,
Answer me softly, some houres before my death,
To give me warning?

Host.
I cannot tell ye truly,
But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye,
I will appeare againe, adieu.

Exit.
Dor.
Adieu sir.

Clean.
I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are
For the most part fatall.

Dor.
This if told, will not
Find credit, the light breakes a pace, let's lye downe
And take some little rest, an houre or two,
Then do mine hostes desire, and so returne,
I do beleeve him.

Clean.
So do I, to rest sir.

Exeunt.
Enter Caliste, and Clarinda.
Cal.
Clarinda?

Clarin.
Madam.

Cal.
Is the house well ordered?
The doores look'd to now in your Masters absence?
Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants?

Clarin.
I am stirring Madam.

Cal.
So thou art Clarinda,
More then thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush?

Clarin.
I do not blush.

Cal.
Why dost thou hang thy head wench?

Clarin.
Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I looke upright,
I understand ye not: she has spied Leon,
aside.
Shame of his want of caution.

Cal.
Looke on me; what, blush againe?

Clarin.
'Tis more then I know Madam;
I have no cause that I find yet.

Cal.
Examine then.

Clarin.
Your Ladyship is set I thinke to shame me.

Cal.
Do not deserve't. who lay with you last night?
What bedfellow had ye? none of the maids came neare ye.

Clarin.
Madam they did.

Cal.
'Twas one in your Cosins cloathes then,
And wore a sword; and sure I keep no Amazons;
Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclame thee guilty;
Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives,
They draw offences nearer still, and greater.
Come tell the truth.

Clarin.
You are the strangest Lady
To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd Madam?
And which of all my carefull services deserves these shames?

Cal.
Leave facing? 'twill not serve ye,
This impudence becomes thee worse then lying?
I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of't;
But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts: who was't?
Honest repentance yet will make the fault lesse.

Clarin.
Do ye compell me? do you stand so strict too?
Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore Madam.
(Since ye provoke me) will but vexe your Ladyship;
Let me alone.

Cal.
I will know.

Clarin.
For your own peace,
The peace of your owne conscience aske no farther;
Walke in, and let me alone.

Cal.
No, I will know all.

Clarin.
Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with,
Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam,
And usuall too, a proper man I lay with;
Why should you vexe at that? young as Lisander,
And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure,
Why should you stir at mine? I steale none from ye,

Cal.
And dost thou glory in this sin?

Clarin.
I am glad on't, to glory in't is for a mighty Lady
That may command.

Cal.
Why didst thou name Lisander?

Clarin.
Does it anger ye? does it a little gall ye?
I know it does, why would ye urge me Lady?
Why would ye be so curious to compell me?
I nam'd Lisander as my president,
The rule I err'd by, you love him, I know it,
I grudg'd not at it, but am pleas'd it is so;
And by my care and diligence you enjoy'd him.
Shall I for keeping counsell, have no comfort?
Will you have all your selfe? ingrosse all pleasure?
Are ye so hard hearted? why do ye blush now Madam?

Cal.
My anger blushes, not my shame base woman.

Clari.
I'le make your shame blush, since you put me to't
Who lay with you t'other night?

Cal.
With me? ye monster.

Clarin.
Whose sweet embraces circled ye? not your husbands;
I wonder ye dare touch me in this point Madam?
Stir her against ye in whose hand your life lies?
More then your life your honour? what smug Amazon
Was that I brought you? that maid had ne're a petticoat?

Cal.
She'l halfe perswade me anon, I am a beast too,
And I mistrust my selfe, though I am honest
For giving her the Helme, thou knowest Clarinda,
(Ev'n in thy conscience) I was ever vertuous;
As far from lust in meeting with Lisander
As the pure wind in welcoming the morning;
In all the conversation I had with him,
As free, and innocent, as yon'd faire heaven;
Didst not thou perswade me too?

Clarin.
Yes, I had reason for't,
And now you are perswaded I'le make use on't.

Cal.
If I had sin'd thus, and my youth entic'd me,
The noblenesse and beauty of his person,
Beside the mighty benefits I am bound to,
Is this sufficient warrant for thy weakenesse?
If I had been a whore, and crav'd thy counsell
In the conveyance of my fault, and faithfulnesse,
Thy secrecie, and truth in hiding of it;
Is it thy justice to repay me thus?
To be the Master sinner to compell me?
And build thy lusts security on mine honour?

Clarin.
They that love this sin, love their security;
Prevention Madam is the naile I knock'd at,
And I have hit it home, and so I'le hold it,
And you must pardon me, and be silent too,
And suffer what ye see, and suffer patiently;
I shall do worse else.

Cal.
Thou canst not touch my credit,
Truth will not suffer me to be abus'd thus.

Clarin.
Do not you sticke to truth, she is seldome heard Madam,
A poore weake tongue she has, and that is hoarse too
With pleading at the bars, none understands her,
Or if you had her, what can she say for ye?
Must she not sweare he came at midnight to ye,
The doore left open, and your husband cozen'd
With a feign'd sicknesse?

Cal.
But by my soule I was honest, thou know'st I was honest.

Clarin.
That's all one what I know,
What I will testifie is that shall vexe ye;
Trust not a guilty rage with likelihoods,
And on apparent proofe, take heed of that Madam;
If you were innocent (as it may be ye are)
I do not know, I leave it to your conscience,
It were the weakest and the poorest part of ye,
Men being so wil'ing to beleeve the worst,
So open eyed in this age to all infamie,
To put your fame in this weake barke to the venture.

Cal.
What do I suffer? O my pretious honour,
Into what boxe of evils have I lock'd thee?
Yet rather then be thus outbrav'd, and by
My drudg, my footstoole, one that sued to be so;
Perish both life, and honour, devill thus
I dare thy worst, defie thee, spit at thee,
And in my vertuous rage, thus trample on thee;
Awe me thy Mistris, whore, to be thy baud?
Out of my house, proclame all that thou knowest,
Or malice can invent, fetch jealousie
From hell, and like a furie breath it in
The bosome of my Lord; and to thy utmost
Blast my faire fame, yet thou shalt feele with horror
To thy sear'd conscience, my truth is built
On such a firme base, that if e're it can
Be forc'd, or undermin'd by thy base scandals,
Heaven keeps no guard on Innocence.

Exit.
Clarin.
I am lost,
In my owne hopes forsaken, and must fall.
The greatest torment to a guilty woman
Without revenge, till I can fashion it
I must submit, at least appeare as if
I did repent, and would offend no farther.
Monsieur Beronte my Lords brother is
Oblieg'd unto me for a private favour;
'Tis he must mediate for me; but when time
And oportunity bids me strike, my wreake
Shall powre it selfe on her nice chastitie
Like to a torrent, deeds, not words shall speake me.

Exit.