 | The Queene of Corinth |  |
Actus Secundus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Merione (as newly ravished.)Mer.
To whom now shall I cry? What pow'r thus kneele to?
And beg my ravisht honour back upon me?
Deafe, deafe, you gods of goodnesse, deafe to me,
Deafe Heaven to all my cryes; deafe hope, deafe justice,
I am abus'd, and you that see all saw it;
Saw it, and smil'd upon the villaine did it:
Saw it, and gave him strength: why have I pray'd to ye,
When all the worlds eyes have been sunk in slumbers?
Why have I then powr'd out my teares? kneel'd to ye?
And from the Altar of a pure heart sent ye
Thoughts like your selves, white, innocent, vowes purer
And of a sweeter flame then all earths odours?
Why have I sung your praises, strew'd your Temples,
And Crown'd your holy Priests with Virgin Roses?
Is it we hold ye powerfull, to destroy us?
Beleeve, and honour ye, to see us ruin'd?
These teares of anger thus I sprinckle toward ye,
You that dare sleep secure whilst Virgins suffer,
These stick like Comets, blaze eternally,
Till with the wonder they have wak't your justice,
And forc't ye feare our curses, as we yours.
Enter Theanor, Crates with Vizards.
My shame still followes me, and still proclames me;
He turnes away in scorne, I am contemned too,
A more unmanly violence then the other;
Bitten, and flung away? What ere you are
Sir, you that have abus'd me, and now most basely
And sacrilegiously rob'd this faire Temple,
6
But one kinde loving look, be what ye will,
So from this hower you will be mine, my Husband;
And you his hand in mischiefe, I speake to you too,
Counsell him nobly now; you know the mischief,
The most unrighteous act he has done, perswade him,
Perswade him like a friend, knock at his Conscience
Till faire Repentance follow: yet be worthy of me,
And shew your self, if ever good thought guided ye,
You have had your foul will, make it yet fair with marriage;
Open your self and take me, wed me now:
Draws his Dagger.
More fruits of Villany? your Dagger? come
Ye are mercifull, I thank ye for your medicine:
Is that too worthy too?
Enter the rest disguis'd.
Devill, thou with him,
Thou penny Bawd to his Lust, will not that stir thee?
Do you work by tokens now? Be sure I live not,
For your owne safeties knaves. I will sit patiently:
But as ye are true Villaines, the Devills owne servants,
And those he loves and trusts, make it as bloody
An Act, of such true horrour Heaven would shake at,
'Twill shew the braver: goodnesse hold my hope fast,
And in thy mercies looke upon my ruines,
And then I am right: my eyes grow dead and heavy:
Enter sixe disguis'd, singing and dancing to a horrid Musick, and sprinkling water on her face.
Wrong me no more as ye are men.
The.
She is fast.
Cra.
Away with her.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Agenor, and Gentlemen with Torches.Ag.
Now Gentlemen, the time's come now t'enjoy
That fruitfull happinesse my heart has long'd for:
This day be happy call'd, and when old Time
Brings it about each yeare, crown'd with that sweetnesse
It gives me now, see every man observe it,
And laying all aside beares shew of businesse,
Give this to joy and triumph: How sits my cloaths?
1 Gent.
Handsome, and wondrous well Sir.
Ag.
Do they shew richly?
For to those curious eyes even beauty envies,
I must not now appeare poore, or low fashion'd;
Me thinks I am younger then I was, farre younger;
And such a promise in my bloud I feele now,
That if there may be a perpetuall youth
Bestowed on man, I am that soule shall win it:
Do's my haire stand well, Lord how ill-favourdly
You have drest me to day? how baldly? why this Cloke?
2 Gent.
Why 'tis the richest Sir.
Ag.
And here ye have put me on
A paire of Breeches look like a paire of Bagpipes.
1 Gent.
Beleeve Sir, they shew bravely.
Ag.
Why these Stockings?
2 Gent.
Your Legg appeares—
Ag.
Peuh I would have had 'em peach collour,
All young, and new about me: and this Scarfe here
A goodly thing: you have trickt me like a Puppet.
1 Gent.
Ile undertake to rig forth a whole Navie,
And with lesse labour then one man in love,
They are never pleas'd.
2 Gent.
Me thinks he lookes well.
1 Gent.
Well
As man can looke, as handsome: now do I wonder
He found not fault his Nose was put on ugly,
Or his Eyes lookt too gray, and rayle at us,
They are the waywards things, these Lovers.
2 Gent.
All will be right
When once it comes to th'push.
1 Gent.
I would they were at it
For our owne quiet sake.
Ag.
Come, wait upon me,
And beare your selves like mine, my friends, and nobly.
Ex.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Theanor, Crates, and Erates, bringing Merione.Erat.
This is her Brothers Doore.
Cra.
There lay her downe then.
Lay her along: she is fast still.
Ser.
As forgetfulnesse.
Cra.
Be not you stirr'd now, but away to your Mother,
Give all attendance, let no staine appeare
Of feare, or doubt in your face: carry your selfe confidently.
The.
But whither runs your drift now?
Cra.
When she wakes,
Either what's done will shew a meere dreame to her,
And carry no more credit: or say she finde it,
Say she remember all the circumstances,
Twenty to one the shapes in which they were acted,
The horrours, and the still affrights we shew'd her,
Rising in wilder figures to her memory
Will run her mad, and no man ghesse the reason:
If all these faile, and that she rise up perfect,
And so collect her selfe, beleeve this Sir,
Not knowing who it was that did this to her,
Nor having any power to ghesse; the thing done too,
Being the utter undoing of her Honour
If it be knowne, and to the worlds eye publish'd,
Especially at this time when Fortune courts her,
She must and will conceale it; nay, forget it,
The woman is no Lucrece; get you gone Sir,
And as you would have more of this sport, feare not.
The.
I am confirm'd, farewell.
Cra.
Farewell, away Sir:
Disperse your selves, and as you love his favour,
And that that crowns it, Gold, no tongues amongst ye.
You know your charge, this way goes no suspition.
Exeu.
Enter Agenor and Leonides, with two Gent. with Lights.
Ag.
You are stirring early Sir.
Leo.
It was my duty
To wait upon your Grace.
Ag.
How fares your Sister,
My beauteous Mistris, what is she ready yet?
Leo.
No doubt she'l lose no time Sir, yong Maids in her way
Tread upon thornes, and think an houre an age
Till the Priest has done his part, that theirs may follow:
I saw her not since yesterday ith' evening:
But Sir, I am sure she is not slack; beleeve me,
Your grace will finde a loving soule.
Ag.
A sweet one,
And so much joy I carry in the thought of it,
So great a happinesse to know she is mine;
Beleeve me noble Brother, that to expresse it
Me thinkes a Tongue's a poore thing, can do nothing,
Imagination lesse: who's that that lies there?
Leo.
Where Sir?
Ag.
Before the doore, it lookes like a woman:
Leo.
This way I came abroad, but then there was nothing,
One of the Maids o're-watch'd belike.
Ag.
It may be.
Leo.
But me thinks this is no fit place to sleep in.
1 Gent.
'Tis sure a woman Sir, she has Jewels on too:
She feares no foule play sure.
Leo.
Bring a Torch hither,
Yet 'tis not perfect day: I should know those Garments.
Ag.
How sound she sleepes?
7
I am sorry to see this.
Ag.
Do you know her?
Leo.
And you now I am sure Sir.
Ag.
My Mistris, how comes this?
Enter Queen, Theanor, Beliza, Euphanes, Neanthes, attendants.
Leo.
The Queene and her traine?
Quee.
You know my pleasure.
Eup.
And will be most carefull.
Quee.
Be not long absent, the suit you preferr'd
Is granted.
Nea.
This fellow mounts apace, and will
Towre o're us like a Falcon.
Quee.
Good morrow to ye all, why stand ye wondring?
Enter the house Sir, and bring out your Mistris,
You must observe our Ceremonies: what's the matter?
What's that ye stand at? How Merione?
Asleep i'th street? belike some sudden Palsie
As she stept out last night upon devotion,
To tooke her farewell of her Virgin state,
The Ayre being sharp and piercing, struck her suddenly:
See if she breath.
Leo.
A little.
Quee.
Wake her then,
'Tis sure a fit.
Ag.
She wakes her selfe,
Give roome to her.
Quee.
See how the spirits struggle to recover,
And strongly re-inforce their strengths; for certaine
This was no naturall sleep.
The.
I am of your minde Madam.
Quee.
No Sonne, it cannot be.
The.
Pray Heaven no trick in't;
Good soule she little merits such a mischiefe.
Quee.
She is broad awake now, and her sence clears up,
'Twas sure a fit; stand off.
Mer.
The Queene, my Love here,
And all my noble friends? Why where am I?
How am I traunc'd, and moaped? i'th street? Heaven blesse me,
Shame to my Sex; o'th ground too? O, I remember—
Leo.
How wilde she lookes?
Ag.
Oh my cold heart, how she trembles?
Mer.
O I remember, I remember.
Quee.
What's that?
Mer.
My shame, my shame, my shame: O I remember
My never-dying shame.
The.
Here has been villainie.
Quee.
I feare so to.
Mer.
You are no Furies are ye?
No horrid shapes sent to affright me?
Ag.
No sweet,
We are your friends: looke up, I am Agenor,
O my Merione, that loves you dearely:
And come to marry ye.
Leo.
Sister, what ayle ye?
Speake out your griefes, and boldly—
Ag.
Something sticks here
Will choake ye else.
Mer.
I hope it will.
Quee.
Be free Lady,
You have your loving friends about ye.
Ag.
Deare Merione,
By the unspotted love I ever bore ye,
By thine owne goodnesse—
Mer.
O 'tis gone, 'tis gone Sir,
I am now I know not what: pray ye look not on me,
No name is left me, nothing to inherit
But that detested, base, and branded—
Ag.
Speake it,
And how; diseases of most danger
Their causes once discover'd are easily cur'd:
My faire Merione.
Mer.
I thanke your love Sir;
When I was faire Merione, unspotted,
Pure, and unblasted in the bud you honour'd,
White as the heart of truth, then Prince Agenor,
Even then I was not worthy of your favour;
Wretch that I am, lesse worthy now of pitty:
Let no good thing come neare me, vertue fly me;
You that have honest noble names despise me,
For I am nothing now but a maine pestilence
Able to poyson all. Send those unto me
That have forgot their names, ruin'd their fortunes,
Despis'd their honours; those that have been Virgins
Ravish'd and wrong'd, and yet dare live to tell it.
The.
Now it appeares too plaine.
Mer.
Send those sad people
That hate the light, and curse society;
Whose thoughts are Graves, and from whose eyes continually
Their melting soules drop out, send those to me;
And when their sorrowes are most excellent,
So full that one griefe more cannot be added,
My Story like a torrent shall devoure 'em.
Hark, it must out; but pray stand close together,
And let not all the world heare.
Leo.
Speake it boldly.
Mer.
And Royall Lady, think but charitably,
Your Grace has known my breeding.
Quee.
Prethee speake it.
Mer.
Is there no stranger here? send off your servants,
And yet it must be knowne: I shake.
Ag.
Sweet Mistris.
Mer.
I am abus'd, basely abus'd; do you ghesse yet?
Come close ile tell ye plainer; I am Whor'd,
Ravish'd, and robb'd of Honour.
Leo.
O the Divell.
Ag.
What hellish Slave was this?
The.
A wretch, a wretch,
A damned wretch: do you know the Villaine Lady?
Mer.
No.
The.
Not by ghesse?
Mer.
O no.
The.
It must be knowne.
Quee.
Where was the place?
Mer.
I know not neither.
Ag.
O Heaven,
Is this the happy time? my hope to this come?
Leo.
Neither the man, nor circumstances?
The.
His tongue,
Did you not heare his tongue, no voice?
Mer.
None, none Sir:
All I know of him was his violence.
Ag.
How came ye hither Sweet?
Mer.
I know not neither.
The.
A cunning piece of Villany.
Mer.
All I remember
Is onely this: Going to Vestas Temple
To give the Goddesse my last Virgin prayers,
Neere to that place I was suddenly surpris'd,
By five or sixe disguis'd, and from thence violently
To my dishonour hal'd: that Act perform'd,
Brought back, but how, or whether, till I wak'd here.—
The.
This is so monstrous the gods cannot suffer it;
I have not read in all the villanies
Committed by the most obdurate Rascalls,
An act so truly impious.
8
Would I knew him.
The.
He must be known, the Devill cannot hide him.
Quee.
If all the Art I have, or power can do it,
He shall be found, and such a way of justice
Inflicted on him: A Lady wrong'd in my Court,
And this way rob'd, and ruin'd?
The.
Be contented Madam,
If he be above ground I will have him.
Ag.
Faire vertuous Maid, take comfort yet and flourish,
In my love flourish: the staine was forc'd upon ye
None of your wills, nor yours; rise, and rise mine still,
And rise the same white, sweet, faire soule, I lov'd ye,
Take me the same.
Mer.
I kneele and thank ye Sir,
And I must say ye are truly honourable,
And dare confesse my will yet still a Virgin;
But so unfit and weak a Cabinet
To keep your love and vertue in am I now,
That have been forc'd and broken, lost my lustre,
I meane this body, so corrupt a Volume
For you to study goodnesse in, and honour,
I shall intreat your Grace, conferre that happinesse
Upon a beauty sorrow never saw yet:
And when this griefe shall kill me, as it must do,
Only remember yet ye had such a Mistris;
And if ye then dare shed a teare, yet honour me:
Good Gentlemen expresse your pitties to me,
In seeking out this villany; and my last suit
Is to your Grace, that I may have your favour
To live a poore recluse Nun with this Lady,
From Court and Company, till Heaven shall heare me,
And send me comfort, or death end my misery.
Que.
Take your own will, my very heart bleeds for thee.
Ag.
Farewell Merione, since I have not thee
Ile wed thy goodnesse, and thy memory.
Leo.
And I her faire revenge.
The.
Away: let's follow it,
For he is so rank i'th wind we cannot misse him.
Exeunt.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Crates and Conon.Cra.
Conon you are welcome home, yee are wondrous welcome,
Is this your first arrivall?
Con.
Sir, but now
I reacht the Towne.
Cra.
Ye'ar once more welcome then.
Con.
I thanke ye noble Sir.
Cra.
Pray ye do me the honour
To make my poore house first—
Con.
Pray Sir excuse me,
I have not seene mine owne yet; nor made happy
These longing eyes with those I love there: what's this a Taverne?
Cra.
It seemes so by the outside.
Con.
Step in here then,
And since it offers it selfe so freely to us,
A place made only for liberall entertainment,
Let's seeke no further but make use of this,
And after the Greek fashion, to our friends
Crown a round cup or two.
Enter Vintner and drawer.
Cra.
Your pleasure Sir.
Drawers, who waits within?
Draw.
Anon, anon Sir.
Vint.
Look into the Lilly-pot: why Mark there;
You are welcome Gentlemen; heartily welcome
My noble friend.
Cra.
Let's have good Wine mine Host,
And a fine private roome.
Vint.
Will ye be there Sir?
What is't you'l drink? ile draw your Wine my selfe:
Quissions ye knaves: why when?
Enter Drawer with Quissiions.
Dra.
Anon, anon Sir.
Vint.
Chios, or Lebos, Greek?
Cra.
Your best and neatest.
Vint.
Ile draw ye that shall dance.
Cra.
Away, be quick then.
Exit Vintner.
Con.
How does your Brother Sir, my noble friend
The good Euphanes? in all my course of travell
I met not with a Gentleman so furnish'd
In gentlenesse and courtesie; beleeve Sir,
So many friendly Offices I receiv'd from him,
So great, and timely, and enjoy'd his company
In such an open and a liberall sweetnesse,
That when I dare forget him—
Cra.
He's in good health Sir,
But you will finde him a much alter'd man,
Growne a great Courtier Sir.
Con.
He's worthy of it.
Cra.
A man drawne up, that leaves no print behind him
Of what he was: those goodnesses you speake of
That have been in him, those that you call freedomes,
Societies, and sweetnesse, looke for now Sir,
You'le finde no shadowes of them left, no sound,
The very Ayre he has liv'd in alter'd: now behold him,
And you shall see a thing walk by, looke big upon ye,
And cry for place; I am the Queenes, give roome there:
If you bow low, may be he'l touch the Bonnet,
Or fling a forced smile at ye for a favour.
Con.
He is your brother Sir.
Cra.
These formes put off,
Which travell, and Court Holy-water sprinkle on him,
I dare accept, and know him: you'l think it strange Sir,
That even to me, to me his naturall Brother,
And one by birth he owes a little honour too—
Enter Vintner with Wine.
(But that's all one) come give me some Wine, mine Host,
Here's to your faire returne.
Con.
I wonder at it,
But sure he has found a nature not worth owning
In this way; else I know he is tender carried.
I thank ye Sir: and now durst I presume
For all you tell me of these alterations,
And stops in his sweet nature, which till I finde so,
I have known him now so long, & look'd so through him,
You must give me leave to be a little faithlesse:
I say for all these, if you please to venter
Ile lay the Wine we drink, let me send for him
(Even I that am the poorest of his fellowship)
But by a Boy oth' house too, let him have businesse,
Let him attend the Queene, nay let his Mistris
Hold him betwixt her armes, he shall come to me,
And shall drink with me too; love me, and heartily,
Like a true honest man bid me welcome home.
I am confident.
Cra.
You will lose.
Con.
You'l stand toth' wager?
Cra.
With all my heart.
Con.
Go Boy, and tell Euphanes.
Boy.
He's now gone up the street Sir,
With a great traine of Gallants.
Cra.
What think you now Sir?
Con.
Go, and overtake him,
Commend my love unto him: my name is Conon,
Tell him I am new arriv'd, and where I am,
And would request to see him presently:
Ye see I use old dudgen phrase to draw him.
9
Ile hang and quarter when you draw him hether.
Con.
Away Boy.
Boy.
I am gone Sir.
Exit.
Con.
Here's to you now,
And you shall finde his travell has not stopt him
As you suppose, nor alter'd any freedome,
But made him far more cleare and excellent;
It drawes the grosnesse off the understanding,
And renders active and industrious spirits:
He that knowes most mens manners, must of necessity
Best know his owne, and mend those by example:
'Tis a dull thing to travell like a Mill-horse,
Still in the place he was borne in, lam'd and blinded;
Living at home is like it: pure and strong spirits
That like the Fire still covet to fly upward,
And to give fire as well as take it; cas'd up, and mewd here
I meane at home, like lusty metled Horses,
Onely ty'd up in Stables, to please their Masters,
Beat out their fiery lives in their owne Litters,
Why doe not you travell Sir?
Cra.
I have no beliefe in't
I see so many strange things, halfe unhatcht, to
Returne, those that went out men, and good men,
They looke like potch'd Eggs with the soules suckt out,
Empty and full of wind: all their affections
Are bak'd in Rye crust, to hold carriage
From this good Towne toth' other: and when they are open'd,
They are so ill cooked and mouldy—
Con.
Ye are pleasant.
Cra.
Ile shew ye a pack of these: I have 'em for ye,
That have been long in travell too.
Con.
Please you Sir.
Cra.
You know the Merchants walk, Boy?
2 Boy.
Very well.
Cra.
And you remember those Gentlemen were here
The other day with me?
2 Boy.
Yes.
Cra.
Then go thither,
For there I am sure they are, pray 'em come hither,
(And use my name) I would be glad to see 'em.
Enter 1 Boy.
1 Boy.
Your Brother's comming in Sir.
Vint.
Odds my passion,
Out with the Plate ye knaves: bring the new Quishions,
And wash those Glasses I set by for high dayes,
Perfume the roomes along, why Sirrah.
1 Boy.
Here Sir.
Vint.
Bid my Wife make her selfe ready handsomely,
And put on her best Apron: it may be
The noble Gentleman will looke upon her.
Enter Euphanes and two Gentlemen.
Euph.
Where is he Boy?
Vint.
Your worship's heartily welcome,
It joyes my very heart to see ye here Sir.
The Gentleman that sent for your Honour—
Euph.
O good mine Host.
Vint.
To my poor homely house, and't like your honor.
Euph.
I thank thine honour good mine Host, where is he?
Con.
What think ye now? my best Euphanes.
Euph.
Conon, welcome my friend, my noble friend how is it?
Are you in safety come, in health?
Con.
All health, all safety,
Riches, and all that makes content and happinesse
Now I am here I have: how have you far'd Sir?
Euph.
Well, I thank Heaven, and never nearer friend
To catch at great occasion.
Con.
Indeed I joy in't.
Euph.
Nor am I for my selfe borne in these fortunes,
In truth I love my friends.
Con.
You were noble ever.
Cra.
I thought you had not knowne me.
Euph.
Yes, ye are my Brother,
My elder Brother too, would your affections
Were able but to aske that love I owe to ye,
And as I give, preserve it: here friend Conon,
To your faire welcome home.
Con.
Deare Sir, I thank ye,
Fill it toth' brim, Boy: Crates.
Cra.
Ile pledge you,
But for that glorious Comet lately fired.
Con.
Fie, fie Sir, fie.
Euph.
Nay, let him take his freedomes,
He stirs not me I vow to ye; much lesse staines me.
Cra.
Sir, I cannot talke with that neat travelling tongue.
Con.
As I live, he has the worst beleefe in men abroad.
Enter the 2. Boy.
I am glad I am come home.
2 Boy.
Here are the Gentlemen.
Cra.
O let 'em enter: now you that trust in travell,
And make sharp Beards, and little Breeches Deities,
You that inhaunce the daily price of Tooth-picks,
And hold there is no homebred hapinesse,
Behold a modell of your minds and actions.
Euph.
Though this be envious, yet done ith' way of mirth,
I am content to thank ye for't.
Con.
'Tis well yet.
Cra.
Let the Maske enter.
Enter Onos, his Unckle and Tutor.
Onos.
A pretty Taverne 'faith, of a fine structure.
Unc.
Beare your selfe like a Gentleman, here's six pence,
And be sure you breake no Glasses.
Tut.
Harke ye Pupill,
Go as I taught you, hang more upon your hams,
And put your knees out bent: there, yet a little:
Now I beseech ye, be not so improvident
To forget your travelling pace, 'tis a maine posture,
And to all unayr'd Gentlemen will betray you:
Play with your Pisa Beard: why, where's your brush Pupil?
He must have a Brush Sir.
Unc.
More charge yet?
Tut.
Here, take mine,
These elements of travell he must not want Sir.
Vnc.
Ma' foy, he has had some nineteene pence in elements,
What would you more?
Tut.
Durus me hercle pater.
Con.
What Mounsieur Onos, the very pump of travell,
Sir, as I live you have done me the greatest kindnesse,
O my faire Sir, Lampree, the carefull Unckle
To this young hopefull issue; Mounsieur Tutor too,
The father to his minde; Come, come, let's hug Boyes,
Why what a bunch of travell doe I embrace now,
Me thinkes I put a Girdle about Europe;
How has the Boy profited?
Vnc.
He has enough Sir,
If his too fiery mettle doe not mar it.
Con.
Is he not thrifty yet?
Tut.
That's all his fault,
Too bounteous minded being under age too,
A great consumer of his stock in Pippins,
Had ever a hot stomack.
Con.
Come hither Onos,
Will you love me for this fine Apple?
Onos.
We.
Con.
And will ye be rul'd by me sometimes?
Onos.
'Faith I will.
Con.
That's a good Boy.
10
Pray give not the childe so much fruit,
He's of a raw Complexion.
Euph.
You Mounsieur hard egge,
Do you remember me? Doe you remember
When you and your Consort travell'd through Hungary?
Con.
He's in that circuit still.
Euph.
Do you remember
The cantell of immortall Cheese ye carried with ye,
The halfe cold Cabbedge, in a leather Sachell,
And those invincible Eggs that would lye in your bowells
A fortnight together, and then turne to bedstaves;
Your sowre milk that would choak an Irish man,
And bread was bak'd in Cæsars time for the Army?
Con.
Providence, providence.
Tut.
The soule of travell.
Euph.
Can the Boy speak yet?
Tut.
Yes, and as fine a Gentleman,
I thanke my able knowledge, he has arriv'd at,
Only a little sparing of his Language,
Which every man of observation—
Unc.
And of as many tongues.
Tut.
Pray be content Sir,
You know you are for the bodily part, the Purse,
I for the magazine, the minde.
Euph.
Come hither springall.
On.
That in the Almain Tongue signifies a Gentleman.
Euph.
What think you of the formes of Italy or Spain?
Onos.
I love mine owne Country Pippin.
Tut.
Nobly answer'd,
Borne for his Country first.
Euph.
A great Philosopher:
What Horses do you prefer?
Onos.
The White horse Sir,
There where I lye; honest and a just beast,
Tut.
O Caput lepidum: a Childe to say this,
Are these figures for the mouthes of Infants?
Con.
Onos, what wenches?
Come, tell me true.
On.
I cannot speake without booke.
Con.
When shall we have one, ha?
On.
Steale me from mine Unckle,
For looke you, I am broke out horribly
For want of fleshly Phisick: they say I am too yong,
And that 'twill spoyle my growth but could you help me?
Con.
Meet me to morrow man, no more.
Euph.
You thinke now
Ye have open'd such a shame to me of travell,
By shewing these thin Cubbs: ye have honour'd us
Against your will, proclam'd us excellent:
Three Frailes of Sprats carried from Mart, to Mart,
Are as much meat as these, to more use travell'd;
A bunch of bloted fooles: me thinkes your judgement
Should looke abroad sometimes without your envie.
Cra.
Such are most of you: so I take my leave,
And when you finde your womens favour faile,
'Tis ten to one you'l know your selfe, and seeke me
Upon a better Muster of your manners.
Con.
This is not hansome Sir.
Euph.
Pray take your pleasure,
You wound the wind as much—
Cra.
Come you with me,
I have businesse for you presently: there's for your Wine,
I must confesse I lost it.
On.
Shall I steale to ye
And shall we see the Wench?
Con.
A dainty one.
On.
And have a dish of Pippins?
Con.
What a peck man.
Tut.
Will you wait Sir.
Con.
Pray let's meet oftner Gentlemen,
I would not lose ye.
Tut.
O sweet Sir.
Con.
Do you thinke I would,
Such noted men as you?
Onos, Unc., Tut.
We are your Servants.
Exeunt.
Euph.
That thing they would keep in everlasting nonage,
My Brother for his owne ends has thrust on
Upon my Mistris, 'tis true, he shall be rich
If ever he can get that Rogue his Unckle
To let him be of yeares to come to inherit it,
Now what the maine drift is—
Con.
Say ye so? no more words,
Ile keepe him company till he be of yeares,
Though it be a hundred yeares, but ile discover it;
And ten to one ile crosse it too.
Euph.
You are honest,
And I shall study still your love: farewell Sir,
For these few houres I must desire your pardon,
I have businesse of importance: once a day
At least I hope you'l see me: I must see you else:
So, once more ye are welcome.
Con.
All my thankes Sir,
And when I leave to love you, life go from me.
Exeunt.
| The Queene of Corinth | |