 | The Knight of Malta |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scæna prima.
Enter Norandine, and Servant, Corporall and Souldiers above.Ser.
The daye's not yet broak Sir.
Nor.
'Tis the cooler riding,
I must goe see Miranda: bring my horse
Round to the South Port: i'le out here at the beach
And meet ye at the end oth' Sycamores,
'Tis a sweet walke, and if the wind be stirring
Serves like a fan to coole.
Corporall and Watch above singing.
Ser.
Which walke?
Nor.
Why that sir,
Where the fine City dames meet to make matches.
Ser.
I know it.
Nor.
Speed ye then: what mirth is this?
The watches are not yet discharged, I take it:
These are brave carelesse Rogues; i'le hear the Song out
And then i'le fit ye for't, merry Companions:
Here's notable order, now for a trick to tame ye—
Owgh, owgh.
1. Wat.
Hark, hark, what's that below us? who goes there?
Nor.
Owgh, owgh, owgh.
2. W.
'Tis a Beare broke loose: pray call the Corporall.
1 W.
The Dutchmans huge fat sow.
2.
I see her now, and five fine piggs.
Nor.
Owgh, owgh.
Corp.
Now, what's the matter?
1 W.
Here's the great fat Sow, Corporall.
The Dutch-mans Sow, and all the Piggs, brave fat piggs,
You have been wishing long she would breake loose.
Nor.
Owgh, owgh.
Cor.
'Tis she indeed, there's a white pigg now sucking,
Looke, looke, doe you see it sirs.
1 Wat.
Yes, very well sir.
Cor.
A notable fat whorson; come two of ye.
Goe downe with me, we'll have a tickling breakfast.
2 W.
Let's eat 'em at the Crosse.
Cor.
There's the best liquor.
Nor.
I'le liquor some of ye, ye lazy rogues,
Your mindes are of nothing but eating and swilling:
What a sweet beast they have made of me? a Sow?
Hogge upon hogge? I heare 'em come.
Enter Cor. below and watch.
Cor.
Go softly, and fall upon 'em finely, nimbly.
1 W.
Blesse me.
Cor.
Why, what's the matter?
1 W.
Oh the devill!
The devill, as high as a Steeple.
2 W.
There he goes Corporall,
His feet are cloven too.
Cor.
Stand, stand I say: death' how I shake?
Where be your Muskets?
1 W.
There's no good of them:
Where be our Prayers, man?
2 W.
Lord, how he stalks: speak to him Corporall.
Cor.
Why, what a devill art thou.
Nor.
Owgh owgh.
Cor.
A dumb devill.
The worst devill that could come, a dumb devil,
Give me a Musket; he gathers into me,
I'th name of—speak what art thou?—speake devill,
Or Ile put a plumb in your belly.
Nor.
Owgh, owgh, owgh.
Corp.
Fie, fie, in what a sweat I am! Lord blesse me,
My Muskets gone too, I am not able to stirre it.
Nor.
Who goes there? stand speake.
Corp.
Sure I am inchaunted.
Yet here's my harbert still: nay, who goes there sir,
What have I lost my selfe? what are ye?
Nor.
The Guard.
Corp.
Why what are we then: he's not half so long now.
Nor he has no taile at all, I shake still damnably.
Nor.
The word.
Corp.
'Have mercy on me, what word do's he meane,
Prethee devill if thou be'st the devill,
Doe not make an Asse of me; for I remember yet
As well as I am here, I am the Corporall,
Ile lay my life on't devill.
Nor.
Thou art damn'd:
Corp.
That's all one: but am not I the Corporall?
I would give a thousand pound to be resolv'd now,
Had not I Souldiers here?
Nor.
No, not a man,
Thou art debosh'd, and cozen'd.
Corp.
That may be,
It may be I am drunk; Lord, where have I been?
Is not this my Halbert in my hand?
Nor.
No, 'tis a May-pole.
Cor.
Why then I know not who I am, nor what,
Nor whence I come.
Nor.
Ye are an arrand rascall;
You Corporall of a watch.
Cor.
'Tis the Dane's voyce: you are no devill then.
Nor.
No, nor no Sow, sir.
Cor.
Of that I am right glad sir,
I was ne're so frighted in my life, as I am a Souldier.
Nor.
Tall watchmen,
A guard for a Goose, you sing away your Centuries.
A carefull company: let me out oth' port here,
I was a little merry with your worships:
And keepe your guards strong, though the devill walk.
Hold, there's to bring ye into your wits againe.
Goe off no more to hunt Piggs: such another trick
And you will hunt the gallowes.
Cor.
Pray Sir pardon us:
And let the devill come next, i'le make him stand
Or make him stinck.
Nor.
Doe doe your duty truly.
Come let me out, and come away: no more rage.
Ext.
Scæna secunda.
Enter Abdella with a Letter, and Rocca.Ab.
Write thus to me? he hath fearfully, and basely
Betray'd his own cause; yet to free himselfe
He now ascribes the fault to me.
Roc.
I know not.
What he hath done: but what he now desires,
His Letters have inform'd you.
Ab.
Yes, he is
Too well acquainted with the power he holds,
Over my mad affections: I want time
83
No better steeld in my strong resolutions
Then he hath shown himselfe in his; or thought
There was a hell hereafter, or a Heaven,
But in enjoying him, I should stick here,
And move no further: bid him yet take comfort;
For something I will doe, the devill would quake at,
But Ile unty this nuptiall knot of love,
And make way for his wishes: in the mean time
Let him lie close, for he is strictly sought for,
And practise to love her, that for his ends
Scornes feare and danger.
Enter Oriana, and Velleda.
Roc.
All this I will tell him.
Exit Rocca.
Abd.
Do so: farewell. My Lady, with my fellow,
So earnest in discourse! what ere it be
Ile second it.
Vel.
He is such a Noble husband,
In every circumstance, so truely loving,
That I might say, and without flattery, Maddam
The Sun sees not a Lady but your selfe
That can deserve him.
Abd.
Of all men I say
That dare (for tis a desperate adventure)
Weare on their free necks the sweet yoak of woman,
(For they that do repine, are no true husbands)
Give me a Souldier.
Ori.
Why, are they more loving
Then other men?
Abd.
And love too with more judgement;
For, but observe, your Courtier is more curious
To set himselfe forth richly then his Lady;
His baths, perfumes, nay paintings too, more costly
Then his frugality wil allow to her,
His clothes as chargeable; and grant him but
A thing without a beard, and he may passe
At all times for a woman, and with some
Have better welcome: Now, your man of Lands
For the most part is carefull to manure them,
But leaves his Lady fallow; your great Merchant
Breakes oftner for the debt he ows his wife,
Then with his creditos; and that's the reason
She looks elsewhere for payment: Now your Souldier—
Vel.
I mary, do him right.
Abd.
First, who has one,
Has a perpetuall guard upon her honour;
For while he weares a Sword, slander her selfe
Dares not barke at it: next, she sits at home,
Like a great Queen, and sends him forth to fetch in
Her Tribute from all parts; which being brought home,
He layes it at her feet, and seeks no further
For his reward, then what she may give freely,
And with delight too, from her own Exchequer
Which he finds ever open.
Ori.
Be more modest.
Abd.
Why, we may speak of that we are glad to taste of,
Among our selves I mean.
Ori.
Thou talkst of nothing.
Abd.
Of nothing Madam? You have found it something;
Or with the raising up this pretty mount here,
My Lord hath dealt with spirits.
Enter Gomera.
Ori.
Two long houres absent?
Gom.
Thy pardon, Sweet: I have been looking on
The prize that was brought in by the brave Dane,
The valiant Norandine, and have brought something,
That may be thou wilt like of; but one kisse,
And then possesse my purchase: there's a piece
Of cloth of Tissew, this of purple Velvet,
And as they sweare of the right Tyrian dye,
Which others here but weakly counterfeit:
If they are worth thy use, weare them; if not,
Bestow them on thy women.
Abd.
Here's the husband.
Gom.
While there is any trading on the Sea
Thou shalt want nothing; tis a Souldiers glory,
How ever he neglect himselfe, to keep
His Mistris in full lustre.
Ori.
You exceed sir.
Gom.
Yet there was one part of the prize dispos'd of
Before I came, which I grieve that I miss'd of,
Being almost assured, it would have been
A welcome present.
Ori.
Pray you say, what was it?
Gom.
A Turkish Captive of incomparable beauty,
And without question, in her Countrey Noble;
Which as companion to thy faithfull Moore,
I would have given thee for thy slave.
Ori.
But was she
Of such an exquisite forme?
Gom.
Most equisite.
Ori.
And well descended?
Gom.
So the habit promis'd,
In which she was taken.
Ori.
Of what yeeres?
Gom.
Tis said
A Virgin of fourteen.
Ori.
I pity her,
And wish she were mine, that I might have the means
T'entertain her gently.
Gom.
She's now Miranda's,
And as I have heard, made it her suit to be so.
Ori.
Miranda's? then her fate deserves not pity,
But envy rather.
Gom.
Envy Oriana?
Ori.
Yes, and their envy that live free.
Gom.
How's this?
Ori.
Why, she is faln into the hands of one,
So full of that, which in men we stile goodnes,
That in her being his slave, she is happier far
Then if she were confirm'd the Sultans Mistris.
Gom.
Miranda is indeed a Gentleman
Of faire desert, and better hopes, but yet
He hath his equals.
Ori.
Where? I would go far,
As I am now, though much unfit for travailes,
But to see one that without injury
Might be put in the scale, or paralleld,
In any thing that's Noble, with Miranda;
His knowledge in all services of war,
And ready courage, to put into act
That knowing judgement, as you are a Souldier
You best may speak of. Nor can you deliver,
Nor I heare with delight, a better subject.
And heaven did well, in such a lovely feature
To place so chaste a mind; for he is of
So sweet a carriage, such a winning nature,
And such a bold, yet well dispos'd behaviour;
And to all these, h'as such a charming tongue,
That if he would serve under Loves fresh colours,
What monumentall Trophies might he raise,
Of his free conquests, made in Ladies favours?
Gom.
Yet you didst resist him, when he was
An earnest suitor to you.
Ori.
Yes I did;
And if I were again sought to, I should;
But must ascribe it rather to the fate
That did appoint me yours, then any power
84
Gom.
Ev'n so?
Abd.
Thanks fortune,
The plot I had to raise in him, doubts of her,
Thou hast effected.
Ori.
I could tell you too,
What cause I have to love him, with what reason.
In thankfulnesse, he may expect from me,
All due observance; but I passe that, as
A benefit, for which in my behalfe
You are his debtor.
Abd.
I perceive it takes,
By his chang'd lookes.
Ori.
He is not in the City?
Is he my Lord?
Gom.
Who Lady?
Ori.
Why Miranda,
Having you here, can there be any else
Worth my enquiry?
Gom.
This is somewhat more.
Then love to vertue,
Ori:
Faith when he comes hither
(as sometimes, without question you shall meet him)
Invite him home.
Gom.
To what end?
Ori.
To dine with us,
Or sup.
Gom.
And then to take a hard bed with you:
Mean you not so?
Ori.
If you could win him to it,
'Twould be the better; for his entertainment,
Leave that to me, he shall finde Noble usage,
And from me a free welcome.
Gom.
Have you never
Heard of a Roman Lady (Oriana)
Remembred as a president for Matrons,
(Chaste ones, I pray you understand) whose husband
Tax'd for his sowre breath by his Enemy,
Condemn'd his wife, for not acquainting him
With his infirmity?
Ori.
Tis a common one;
Her answer was, having kis'd none but him,
She thought it was a generall disease
All men were subject to; but what infer you
From that my Lord?
Gom.
Why, that this vertuous Lady
Had all her thoughts so fix'd upon her Lord,
That she could finde no spare time to sing praises
Of any other; nor would she imploy
Her husband (though perhaps in debt to yeeres
As far as I am) for an instrument
To bring home younger men that might delight her
With their discourse, or—
Ori.
What my Lord?
Gom.
Their persons,
Or if I should speak plainer—
Ori.
No it needs not,
You have said enough to make my innocence know
It is suspected.
Gom.
You betray your selfe
To more then a suspition; could you else
To me that live in nothing but love to you
Make such a grosse discovery, that your lust
Had sold that heart I thought mine, to Miranda?
Or rise to such a height in impudence,
As to presume to worke my yeelding weaknesse
To play for your bad ends, to my disgrace
The Wittall, or the Pander?
Ori.
Doe not study
To print more wounds, (for that were tyranny)
Upon a heart that is pierced through already.
Gom.
Thy heart? thou hast pierc'd through mine honor false one,
The honour of my house, foole that I was,
To give it up to the deceiving trust
Of wicked woman: for thy sake, vild creature,
For all I have done well in, in my life,
I have dig'd a grave, all buried in a wife;
For thee I have defi'd my constant Mistris,
That never fail'd her servant, glorious war;
For thee, refus'd the fellowship of an Order
Which Princes through all dangers have been proud
To fetch as far as from Jerusalem:
And am I thus rewarded?
Vel.
By all goodnesse,
You wrong my Lady, and deserve her not,
When you are at your best: repent your rashnesse,
Twil show well in you.
Abd.
Do, and aske her pardon.
Ori.
No, I have liv'd too long, to have my faith
(My tri'd faith) call'd in question, and by him
That should know true affection is too tender
To suffer an unkind touch, without ruine;
Study ingratitude, all, from my example;
For to be thankfull now, is to be false.
But be it so, let me die, I see you wish it;
Yet dead for truth, and pities sake, report
What weapon you made choice of, when you kild me.
Vel.
She faints.
Abd.
What have ye done?
Ori.
My last breath cannot
Be better spent, then to say I forgive you;
Nor is my death untimely, since with me
I take along, what might have been hereafter
In scorn delivered for the doubtfull issue
Of a suspected mother.
Val.
Oh, she's gone.
Abd.
For ever gone. Are you a man?
Gom.
I grow here.
Abd.
Open her mouth, and powre this Cordiall in it;
If any spark of life be unquench'd in her,
This will recover her.
Vel.
Tis all in vain,
She's stiffe already: live I, and she dead?
Gom.
How like a murtherer I stand? look up,
And heare me curse my selfe, or but behold
The vengance I wilt take for't Oriana,
And then in peace forsake me: Jealousie,
Thou loathsome vomit of the fiends below,
What desperate hunger made me to receive thee
Into my heart, and soule? I let thee forth,
And so in death finde ease; and do's my fault then
Deserve no greater punishment? no, Ile live
To keep thee for a fury to torment me,
And make me know what hell is on the earth:
All joyes and hopes forsake me; all mens malice,
And all the plagues they can inflict, I wish it
Fall thick upon me: Let my teares be laught at,
And may my enemies smile to heare me groane;
And dead, may I be pitied of none.
Exeunt.
Scena tertia.
Enter Collonna and Lucinda.Luc.
Pray you sir why was the Ordnance of the Fort
Discharg'd so sodainly?
85
Twas the Governours pleasure,
In honour of the Dane, a custome us'd,
To speake a Souldiers welcome.
Luc.
Tis a fit one:
But is my Master here too?
Col.
Three daies since.
Luc.
Might I demand without offence, so much,
Is't pride in him (however now a slave)
That I am not admitted to his presence?
Col.
His curtesie to you, and to mankind
May easily resolve you, he is free
From that poore vice which onely empty men
Esteem a vertue.
Luc.
What's the reason then,
As you imagine, sir?
Col.
Why I will tell you;
You are a woman of a tempting beauty,
And he, however vertuous, as a man
Subject to humane frailties; and how far
They may prevaile upon him, should he see you,
He is not ignorant: and therefore chooses,
With care t'avoyd the cause that may produce
Some strange effect, which wil not well keep ranck
With the rare temperance, which is admired
In his life hitherto.
Luc.
This much increases
My strong desire to see him.
Col.
It should rather
Teach you to thank the Prophet that you worship,
That you are such a mans, who though he may
Do any thing which youth and heat of blood
Invites him to, yet dares not give way to them:
Your entertainment's Noble, and not like
Your present fortune; and if all those teares
Which made grief lovely in you, in the relation
Of the sad story, that forc'd me to weep too,
Your husbands hard fate were not counterfeit;
You should rejoyce that you have means to pay
A chast life to his memory, and bring to him
Those sweets, which while he liv'd he could not taste of:
But if you wantonly bestow them on
Another man, you offer violence
To him, though dead; and his griev'd spirit will suffer
For your immodest loosnesse.
Luc.
Why, I hope sir,
My willingnesse to looke on him, to whom
I owe my life and service, is no proofe
Of any unchast purpose.
Col.
So I wish too,
And in the confidence it is not, Lady,
I dare the better tell you he will see you
This night, in which by him I am commanded,
To bring you to his chamber; to what end
I easily should guesse, were I Miranda;
And therefore, though I can yeild liitle reason,
(But in a generall love to womens goodnesse)
Why I should be so tender of your honour,
I willingly would bestow some counsaile of you,
And would you follow it?
Luc.
Let me first heare it,
And then I can resolve you.
Col.
My advice then
Is, that you would not, (as most Ladies use
When they prepare themselves for such encounters)
Study to adde, by artificiall dressings
To native excellence; yours (without help)
But seen as it is now, would make a Hermit
Leave his deaths head, & change his after hopes
Of endlesse comforts for a few short minutes
Of present pleasures; to prevent which, Lady,
Practice to take away from your perfections,
And to preserve your chastity unstain'd,
The most deform'd shape that you can put on,
To cloud your bodies faire gifts, or your minds,
(It being laboured to so chaste an end)
Will prove the fairest ornament.
Luc.
To take from
The workmanship of Heaven, is an offence
As great, as to endeavour to adde to it;
Of which Ile not be guilty: Chastity
That lodges in deformity, appeares rather
A mulct impos'd by nature, then a blessing;
And tis commendable onely when it conquers,
Though nere so oft assaulted, in resistance:
For me, Ile therefore so dispose my selfe,
That if I hold out, it shall be with honour;
Or if I yeeld, Miranda shall finde something
To make him love his victory.
Exit.
Col.
With what cunning
This woman argues for her own damnation?
Nor should I hold it for a miracle,
Since they are all born Sophisters, to maintaine
That lust is lawfull, and the end and use
Of their creation: would I never had
Hop'd better of her; or could not believe,
Though seen the ruine, I must ever grieve.
Exit.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Miranda, Norandine, Servants with lights.Mir.
Ile see you in your chamber.
A Table out, two stools.
Nor.
Pray ye no farther:
It is a ceremony I expect not,
I am no stranger here, I know my lodging,
And have slept soundly there, when the Turks Cannon
Playd thick upon't: O 'twas Royall Musicke,
And to procure a sound sleep for a Souldier,
Worth forty of your Fiddles. As you love me
Presse it no further.
Mir.
You will overcome.
Waite on him carefully.
Nor.
I have tooke since supper
A rouse or two too much, and by—
It warms my blood.
Mir.
You'l sleep the better for't.
Nor.
—on't, I should, had but I a kind wench
To pull my Boot-hose off, and warm my night-cap,
There's no charme like it: I love old Adams way;
Give me a diligent Eve, to wait towards bed-time,
Hang up your smooth chin page: and now I think on't,
Where is your Turkish prisoner?
Mir.
In the Castle,
But yet I never saw her.
Nor.
Fie upon you:
See her for shame; or, hark ye, if you would
Performe the friends part to me, the friends part,
It being a fashion of the last edition,
Far from panderisme, now send her to me;
You look strange on't, no entertainments perfect
Without it on my word; no livery like it;
Ile tell her, he lookes for it as duly
As for his see; there's no suit got without it,
Gold is an asse to't.
Mir.
Go to bed, to bed.
Nor.
Well, if she come, I doubt not to convert her,
86
Good night
Exit Nor. and Servants.
Enter Colonna and Lucinda.
Col.
There you shall finde him Lady: you know what I have said,
And if you please you may make use.
Luc.
No doubt sir.
Col.
From hence I shall heare all.
Mir.
Come hither young one.
Beshrew my heart, a handsome wench: come neerer,
A very handsome one: doe not you grieve, Sweet,
You are a prisoner?
Luc.
The losse of liberty
No doubt sir, is a heavy and sharpe burden
To them that feele it truly: But your servant,
Your humble handmayd, never felt that rigor,
Thanks to that Noble wil: no want, no hunger,
(Companions still to slaves) no violence,
Nor any unbeseeming act, we start at,
Have I yet met with, all content and goodnesse,
Civility, and sweetnesse of behaviour
Dwell round about me; therefore, worthy Master,
I cannot say I grieve my liberty.
Mir.
Do not you fancie me too cold a Souldier,
Too obstinate an enemy to youth,
That had so faire a Jewell in my Cabinet,
And in so long a time, would nere look on it?
Col.
What can she say now?
Luc.
Sure I desir'd to see ye,
And with a longing wish.
Col.
There's all her vertue.
Luc.
Pursu'd that full desire to give ye thanks sir,
The onely Sacrifice I have left, and service
For all the vertuous care you have kept me safe with.
Col.
She holds well yet.
Mir.
The pretty foole, speaks finely:
Come sit down here.
Luc.
O sir, tis most unseemly.
Mir.
Ile have it so: sit close; now tell me truly,
Did you ere love yet?
Luc.
My yeeres will answer that sir.
Mir.
And did you then love truly?
Luc.
So I thought sir.
Mir.
Can ye love me so?
Col.
Now!
Luc.
With all my duty;
I were unworthy of those favours else,
You daily showre upon me.
Mir.
What thinkst thou of me?
Luc.
I think ye are a truely worthy Gentleman,
A pattern, and a pride to the age ye live in,
Sweet as the commendations all men give ye.
Mir.
A pretty flattering rogue; dare ye kisse that sweet man
Ye speak so sweetly of? Come.
Col.
Farewell vertue.
Mir.
What hast thou goe between thy lips? kisse once more.
Sure thou hast a spell there.
Luc.
More then ere I knew sir.
Col.
All hopes goe now.
Mir.
I must tell you a thing in your eare, and you must heare me,
And heare me willingly, and grant me so too,
Twill not be worth my asking else.
Luc.
It must be
A very hard thing sir, and from my power,
I shall deny your goodnesse.
Mir.
Tis a good wench; I must lie with ye Lady.
Luc.
Tis something strange:
For yet in all my life I knew no bedfellow.
Mir.
You will quickly finde that knowledge.
Luc.
To what end ur?
Mir.
Art thou so innocent, thou canst not guesse at it?
Did thy dreams never direct thee?
Luc.
'Faith none yet sir.
Mir.
Ile tell thee then: I would meet thy youth and pleasure;
Give thee my youth for that, by Heaven she fires me,
And teach thy faire white armes, like wanton Ives,
A thousand new embraces,
Luc.
Is that all sir?
And say I should try, may not we lie quietly?
Upon my conscience I could.
Mir.
That's as we make it.
Luc.
Grant that, that likes ye best, what would ye doe then?
Mir.
What would I do? certainly, I am no baby,
Nor brought up for a Nun; hark in thine eare.
Luc.
Fie, fie, sir.
Mir.
I wold get a brave boy on thee,
A warlike boy.
Luc.
Sure we shall get ill Christians.
Mir.
We'l mend 'em in the breeding then.
Luc.
Sweet Master.
Col.
Never beliefe in woman come neere me more.
Luc.
My best and noblest sir, if a poor Virgin,
(For yet by—I am so) should chance so far
(Seeing your excellence, and able sweetnesse)
To forget her selfe, and slip into your bosome,
Or to your bed, out of a doting on ye,
Take it the best way; have you that cruell heart,
That murdring mind too?
Mir.
Yes by my troth (Sweet) have I,
To lie with her.
Luc.
And do you think it wel done?
Mir.
That's as she'l think when tis done; come to bed wench,
For thou art so pretty, and so witty a companion,
We must not part to night.
Luc.
Faith let me go sir,
And think better on't.
Mir.
Yfaith thou shalt not;
I warrant thee Ile think on't.
Luc.
I have heard 'em say here,
You are a mayd too.
Mir.
I am sure I am, wench,
If that will please thee.
Luc.
I have seen a wonder,
And would you lose that for a little wantonnesse,
(Consider my sweet Master, like a man, now,)
For a few honied kisses, sleight embraces,
That glory of your youth, that crown of sweetnesse?
Can ye deliver that unvalued treasure?
Would ye forsake, to seeke your own dishonour,
What gone, no age recovers, nor repentance?
To a poore stranger?
Col.
Hold there again, thou art perfect.
Luc.
I know you do but try me.
Mir.
And I know
Ile try you a great deale further: prethee to bed;
I love thee, and so well: come kisse me once more;
Is a maidenhead ill bestow'd o' me?
Luc.
What's this sir?
Mir.
Why, tis the badge (my Sweet) of that holy Order
I shortly must receive, the Crosse of Malta.
Luc.
What vertue has it?
Mir.
All that we call vertuous.
Luc.
Who gave it first?
Mir.
He that gave all, to save us.
Luc.
Why then tis holy too?
Mir.
True sign of holinesse,
The badge of all his Souldiers that professe him.
87
The badge of all his souldiers that professe him,
Can save in dangers?
Mir.
Yes.
Luc.
In troubles comfort?
Mir.
You say true, sweet.
Luc.
In sicknesse, restore health?
Mir.
All this it can do.
Luc.
Preserve from evils, that afflict our frailties.
Mir.
I hope she will be Christian: all these truly.
Luc.
Why are you sick then, sick to death wity lust?
In danger to be lost? no holy thought,
In all that heart, nothing but wandring frailties
Wild as the wind, and blind as death or ignorance,
Inhabit there.
Mir.
Forgive me heaven, she sayes true.
Luc.
Dare ye professe that badg, prophan that goodnes?
Col.
Thou hast redeemd thy self again, most rarely.
Luc.
That holines and truth ye make me wonder at?
Blast all the bounty heaven gives, that remembrance.
Col.
O excellent woman.
Luc.
Fling it from ye quickly,
If ye be thus resolu'd; I see a vertue
Appear in't like a sword, both edges flaming
That wil consum ye, and your thoughts, to ashes,
Let them professe it that are pure, and noble,
Gentle, and just of thought, that build the crosse,
Not those that break it, by—if ye touch me,
Even in the act, ile make that crosse, and curse ye.
Mir.
You shall not (fair) I did dissemble with ye,
And but to try your faith, I fashioned all this:
Yet something you provoakt me: this fair crosse,
By me (if he but please to help, first gave it)
Shall ne'r be worne upon a heart corrupted;
Go to your rest, my modest, honest servant,
My fair, and vertuous maid, and sleep secure there,
For when you suffer, I forget this signe here.
Col.
A man of men too: O most perfect Gentleman!
Luc.
All sweet rest to your sir; I am halfe a Christian,
The other half, I'le pray for, then for you, sir;
Mir.
This is the fowlest play i'le shew, good night, sweet.
Exeunt.
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