University of Virginia Library

Actus Quintus.

Enter Sir Solitarie, Dormant, and Oldrat.
Dor.
The Coach will be made readie.

Sol.
So, so, lett's thinke and talke of something else:
Tim's precious, lett's talke wiselie, 'twill concerne us,
My braine is not in tune about my nephew,
Who knowes upon what plott he is sent hither,
The Duch are grand projectors, letts examine
Where he is gon now.

Dor.
My opinion is, to kill some body, or other.

Sol.
That would be knowne, and yet I heard a buzze,
Some noble Man was aim'd at, we were best
Say nothing, and discover him to the state,
We may be else in danger, and made accessaries
To the parricide, which is not as the vulgar
Interpret, killing of a father, but
Parem cedendo, killing of a Peere,
A Peere o'th land, marke that.

Old.
I understand a Procedendo
Well enough, but who shall serue the writ?

Dor.
Vnder your pardon, how can
You prove he is a murderer, let him first kill
Some bodie, no matter who it be, and then you may
Discover him with a safe conscience.

Old.
Laughs.

Sol.
What's the matter.

Old.
I am of an opinion under correction that if wee
Should discover him, wee should not carrie it so
Privatelie, but it would be knowne, and then we shall
Be in as much danger o'th tother side for concealing it.

Dor.
Laughs—

Sol.
Who's that?

Dor.
Now I thinke better on't, it cannot be conceal'd
Vnder your favour fellow Oldrat, for if we do not
Discover, the state will not be so wise, as we are,
And then 'twere pitie o'their lives, besids
If he go on to kill whom he list, and no bodie heare on't
He may undoe the Towne by degrees in a moment,
And neither we nor any that is hurt, the wiser for't.

Old.
Laughs agen.

Sol.
Who is it laughs?

Old.
Not I, sir, ha, ha.

Dor.
Nor I, sir, ha, ha.

Sol.
Stand both before me, is there not some spirit
I'th roome? has not some conjurer a plot upon me?
Cato was wise, and never laugh'd, but when
Out of his casement, he beheld an Asse
Eate Thistles, wher's the may-game? will none answer?
Sure they did laugh at me, but I'le prevent 'em,
And vex their spleenes, away. I wonot trust
A laughing visard, ther's a killing face
Behind it, oh the juggling of the World!
Am I ridiculous at home? there is
Some plot in agitation. I smell a Rat.

Enter Dormant.
Dor.
If please you, sir, there is a dumbe Embassador desires to
Speake with you.

Sol.
A dumbe Embassador?
When does he looke for audience? of what nation?
Where in the Map is dumbe-land? I should much
Affect that Countrie, let him have accesse.
Enter Vaineman.
I understand you are a dumbe Embassador;
Your businesse pray with me: you are no Lawyer,
Nor no divine I take it, are there no women
Nor Magpies in your Countrie?

Vaineman makes signes, and salutes him.
Sol.
This fellow must have a rare understanding,
For nature recompenseth the defects
Of one part, with redoundance in another:
Blind men have excellent memories, and the tongue
Thus indispos'd, ther's treasure in the intellect:
Yet there may be a plott, hee's sent to obserue mee,
A state spie, but I'le cozen his intelligence,
And be as dumbe as he.

They make signes one to another.
Enter Pumiceston.
Sol.
What are you, sir?

Pu.
I am his interpreter.

Sol.
Oh then first answer me, how came he dumbe?

Pu.
With melancholie, sir, he has a strange
Humor to crosse the methode of the World.

Sol.
As how, sir? pray be plaine.

Pu.
Why, sir, to make
The night his time for study, talke, or businesse,
And never go to bed but in the morning.
But keepe this to your selfe, for 'tis a secret.

Sol.
Study? what did he study praie o'th nights?

Pu.
Why plotts, nothing but plotts: he did suspect
All mankinde, nay their shadowes in the hangings,
If they but laid their heads together, were
Dangerous, and talk'd treason, such a foole,
A serious foole was never before extant.

Enter Jacintha.
Ia.
How does my Solitary Uncle?

Sol.
Ha Cozen, forbeare, we are engag'd upon
Affaires of weight, that's an Embassador.

Ia.
What language does he speake?

Sol.
None, none; but this is his interpreter.

Ia.
Interpreter, and yet he speaks no language.

Sol.
Hee'le over-heare you, 'tis a dumbe Embassador.
I pray be gone, you are a woman, goe.

Ia.
And can you get no other company
Then dumbe and mad-folkes?

Sol.
Who is mad?

Ia.
That Gentleman.
Be you but master of some sense a while,
I'le mak't appeare he has none. Come forward, sir,
Doe you obserue his motion? I intreate
He should come forward, and he plaies the crab.
Stand still, sir, I beseech you.

Pu.
With your pardon
I must be in action, it does stirre my blood,
Which would congeale through cold else in my veins.

Ia.
If it be beneficiall to your body
Practise this motion still.

Sol.
'Tis very strange;
He now appeares a statue:
Are they not both mad? doe you thinke Jacintha
They have no plott in this. how came they thus distracted?

Ia.
This grew mad with catching cold
A bed, and lying from his wife.

Sol.
Cold causes are very dangerous.

Ia.
You are somthing guilty on't.

Enter Lady Plott, Oldrat, Dormant.
Noyse within.
La. Pl.
What if my husband be asleepe?

Dor.
Wee'le wake him.

Old.

Good Madam be not troublesome, doe not you know
who I am? I charge you to resist us, come your waies, where;
where be these traitors? let me see, where is sir Solitary? I
thought he would ha shewne more wit then to conceale traitors
in his house.

Sol.
Traitors?

Old.
Traitors, we looke for, and traitors we will have,
And they be above ground.

Dor.
I saw two suspitious persons come into the house with my
Owne eyes, and they must out, there they are, I'le take
My oath Master Constable.

Ia.
Master Vaineman, and Master Pumicestone you two suspected
For traitors, oh the rotten harts of men!

Old.
Reprehend them.

Your good Knight must goe too, goe cheerfully 'twill be the
better for you, if you discharge an honest conscience, you may
have the favor to hang tell you be dead.

La.
Did ever any man was sure o'th gallowes, shake so?

Ia.
This fright may worke some good effect upon him,
Many men have beene frighted from their witts,
Having none left, why ist not possible
He should be frighted backe againe into 'em?

Va.
One word I beseech you, 'tis time to speake.

La. Pl.
I hope you did not meane this for his cure,
I am not so wearie cozen of my freedome.
He that's full master of his reason, may
Be master of his wife too, which I like not.

Enter Lady Peregrine.
Per.
My Uncle, sister, Madam.

Sir
Ha more plotts?

Ia.
What's the news sister? you looke pleasantlie.

Pu.
Your face is full of sunshine Madam.

Per.
blesse me, but what are these?

Old.
We are subjects of command, shee'l discover us.

Per.
Men? apprehended? what new feares invade me?

Dor.
What shall we doe now?

Ia.
E'en what you please.

Shee puls of their beards.
Per,
Why this is Dormant your servant Uncle.

Old.
Who would ha thought it?

Per.
And your name Oldrat, what's the matter gentlemen?
Ha you an interlude?

Pu.
If they be no officers, we can be no traitors.

Dor.
Twas Mistris Jacintahs plott, we did but act it.

Ia.
I was desirous of a scene of mirth,
How farre wee should ha driven it, I know not,
Just so ridiculous are all your plotts Uncle, ha, ha.
You had your parts my brace of learned gentlemen,
Whom I doe discharge from feare and further penance.

Per.
Make not your selfe the generall derision,
Your drudges mirth.

La. Pl.
Nay, let him have his humour.

Ia.
If you have still ambition to be laught at,
And thinke it possible I can love such motleyes,
Come thus a wooing every day, I shall finde
Some tricke at last to make your worships famous.

Va.
What thinke you o'this?

Pu.

One of us is sure to carry her, what thinke you o'th device,
and the worst come to the worst, for the thousand pound?

Va,
We must agree, pay it and be reveng'd.

Pu.
Doe not you thinke you have undone us now,
And that we shall dispaire, and drowne our selves,
Or slippe out of the World in a cleane halter?
No, we will live to vex thee, for my part
Because thou gavest me liberty to speake,
To shew I scorne to obey thee, and in malice
To thy injunction, I will never speake
Agen, to any woman, in revenge,
Exit.
I'le be more dumbe then he was.

Va.
And because
Thou didst injoyne me silence, from henceforth
I'le practise talke to weary all thy sex.
I will be all, the everlasting talker,
And raile upon all women, till I have worne
My tongue to'th roote, I'le study presently
A satyre that shall eate thee through the bones,
And send thee first to an Hospitall.

Ex.
Sir.
I see I am a foole, a melancholy
Suspitious foole, and all my plotts are nothing.

Ia.
Lett's follow, and eyther make him mad outright,
Or bring it to a cure, your part's not done yet.

Exeunt.
La. Pl.
This will undoe me, now must I to Prison.

Dor.
What dost thou thinke they meane Oldrat?

Old.
I thinke? I hope they meane well,
And lovingly, and let us like honest servants
Into the sellar and pray for 'em.

Dor.
A match.

Exeunt.
Enter Lord, Sir Walter, and Captaine.
Sir.
Then nothing will prevaile but we must sight?

Lo.
And no place more convenient, draw sir Walter,
And Captaine, now indifferent friend to both,
For I have no suspition thou canst staine
Thy selfe by partiality, witnes with
The hart I bring, I have no thought so blacke,
As murder, or revenge, but to preserue
My honor, which no balme can cure, if once
But the suspect of coward fall upon it.

Sir
I am not so unjust my Lord to doubt your courage.

Cap.
you have given proofe my Lord abroad,
That you dare fight.

Lo.
Though I affect no glory
From actions of this nature, yet the World
At home must be convinc'd, our fame is lost else:
Had Peregrine beene coward, or not knowne
For valour, I had runne lesse hazard of
My fame, by being silent, but as I am
Beneath him in opinion, a yong man
Circled with expectation of something,
That must declare mee worthy of a name,
And love of men, I must attempt this danger:
But let me tell thee this, which perhaps may
Render thy sword more fatall to mee, I
Did love thy Lady with a sinfull purpose,
Persued ever persecuted her chast soule,
To satisfie my wantonnesse, but found
An innocence so rich in her, as may
Alone excuse the ill of all her sex,
Nor has the goodnesse only the effect
To preserue her, but it return'd my eyes
With so much shame upon my selfe, that I
Threw off my lust, and doted on her virtue,
Heaven shut his mercy up if I dissemble,
This injust obligation to cherish,
I did reward with trifles, which perhaps
Gave fewell to your jealousie, but know
I have design'd a larger recompence,
Which your sword may confirme to her in few minuts,
For if I chaunce fall by it, shee is declar'd
The heire to my estate, and she deserues it,
Which sheele employ no question to assure
Your peace, and pardon for my death, come on, sir.

Sir.
I am more lost then ever, let my wonder
Be past, or you will fight against a man
Whose soul's a great way off. Didst heare this Captaine?

Cap.
With pardon of your Lordship, since you have
Declard so freely, what I thinke winnes credit
With him too, your intentions to his Lady:
There is no cause, you should engage your bloods, To any losse

Sir.
You are my preserver, sir,
Make me not so ingratefull to advance
My sword against your life, that gave me all
The benefit of mine, I have assurance
Enough of you, and my wives honor.

Lo.
Ther's
A purse of gold is troublesome, it may
Be usefull to'th surviver, come, sir, fight
By thy owne Ladies virtue, I shall else provoke you rudelie.

Sir.
For her sake my Lord, we should bee friends.

Lo.
That wonot helpe my fame,
Nor yours, if you regard what threatens it,
I must not live upon the charity
Of peoples tongues, their justice shall acknowledge
I doe not feare to bleed, let it be argument
To inflame thee, that thou majest be happyer
Vpon my losse, since my last minute gives
Thy wife possession of all my fortune.

Sir.
That rather charmes me from each violence.

Lo.
This must compell you then, till now I never
Fight.
Thought thee ingratefull, by thy fame I charge thee,
By thy Bellamias love, fight not with pitty,
Let me bee worthy at least to fall with honor,
Fight so, as howsoever fate determine,
I may get honor, though in death, and not
Suffer without a wound.
Fight --- both wounded.
So her's some blood yet.

Sir.
I did but imitate my Lord your Character,

Cap.
Blood of both sides, nay then I interpose,
As you are gentlemen, for other titles
Weigh nothing here, be just to both your honors,
You have done well, exceeding well, unlesse
I shall conclude ther's malice on one side,
Be your selves now, and on such noble termes
Be reconcil'd agen, sir Walter is
No enemy at hart, and the World must
Be satisfied my Lord, in your just valor,
Thinke what blest providence has mark'd you both
For noble ends.

Sir.
I'le trust him with my sword,
Which rather shall make next impression here,
Then be his danger.

Lo.
I am overcome, take me thy Captiue.

Sir.
My most honord friend.

Cap.
So, so, 'tis faire on both sides, but my Lord,
You bleed much, can you spare it.

Lo.
Well enough, I'le wait upon you home.

Cap.
First have a Surgeon.

Lo.
What for a scratch? let me present thee safe,
To thy Bellamia, shee but with a smile
Can cure all wounds, come Captaine.

Sir.
Wee both waite on you.

Exeunt.
Enter Jacintha, and Lady Peregrine.
Ia.
You tell mee wonders.

Bel,
I shall much repent
My discourse to thee, if it did not raise
Thy admiration, 'tis a noble Lord,
Thou art bound to make him restitution.

Ia.
Of what?

Bel.
Of fame, you were jealous of our honours.

Ia.
I have read the Chronicles, but never met
With a yong Lord has done the like.

Bel.
To what
Virtue in time will he grow to Jacintha?

Ia.
Virtue? ther's another thing, not usuall
In men of his ranke, I allow a Gentleman
To pay his owne debts, but another mans,
Want's a record, besides all this, to love
Another mans wife, a hansome woman too,
And be at cost to keepe her honest? miracles.

Bel.
What joyes flow in my hart. Thou art sad sister.

Ia.
No sadnesse, but I have another passion, that troubles me.

Bel.
You'le bee in time converted,
And leave your wild invectives against men,
Tis possible you may marry, if you could
Finde such another man to be your husband.

Ia.
No, I wood not.

Bel.
What?

Ia.
Finde such another man to be my husband.

Bel.
Thou woodst have him, how now my witty sister?

Ia.
It cannot be conceal'd.

Bel.
Has litle Cupid
Beene practising with his bird-bolt, if thou bee'st not.
I'le wish thee hartelie in love, to punish
Thy want of charitie against all men
And marriage, 'tis but justice, nay be not melancholie;
He will be here presentlie.

Ia.
He shall be welcome.

Bel.
He shall.

Ia.
Be very welcome hither, he once said
If I remember well, could he but love,
He would marrie mee of all women alive.
My fortun's not to bee dispis'd, however
My hart is rich enough, but it shall languish
To death, ere I will tell him so.

Enter Lord, Sir walter, and Captaine.
Bel.
But do'st love him
Indeed? now but for pitie I could laugh.

La.
You may triumph sister, you have cause.

Bel.
And thou canst have no argument to despaire,
Come shall I tell my Lord?

Ia.
What?

Bel.
That thou lovest him.

Ia.
Doe him not so much iniurie, my passion
Can still walke in disguise, though I confesse
Since your relation, 'tis become more troublesome
To be confin'd, oh love! I never thought
To have felt thy sting, I dare not stay to see him;
I shall betray my selfe with many blushes:
Farewell my Lord Fitzavarice.

Lo.
Not so
Hee'le rather meet a welcome to this bosome.
Repent not Lady, y'are but lovinglie
Betraid, and 'tis my happinesse, I should
Have pleaded at this barre, in this prevention
I am doubly blest, be constant, and devide
With me both hart, and fortunes: thou must needs
Be excellently good in being her sister.

Ia.
I must confesse my Lord, I honor you.
But not for any titles, although some
Woman may be allow'd the ambition,
But for your noble nature.

Lo.
I am confirm'd.

Sir W.
But all is well agen, and must exalt
Thy truer joyes by finding us both live,
And knit into a peace no time can violate.

Lo.
Let me salute The Example of chast honor.
Sister I now must call thee, and shall glorie
To owne that title by Jacinthas love.

Sir W. Lu.
All blessings crowne your wishes.

Cap.
I have a hart to wish you joyes.

Lo.
They will bee all a debt
To your noble care of us, Master Confident.

Ia.
One of my servants but not yet discharg'd.

Enter Confident.
Lo.
You come to turne and winde this Ladies fancie
With your wit now, but your devices fadge not,
It is three minutes since shee was dispos'd of,
And though my stocke of braine will not reach, to
Make a large joynture of so many hundred
Sonnets per annum, and rare Elegies,
Some fresh, and some that ha laine 7. yeeres pickled,
In other languages: yet shee'le be content
With a lesse witty fortune, my estate sir.

Con.
Tis happinesse enough for mee
To snuffe your marriage Taper, whose bright shine
Shall put out the Worlds eye.

Lo.
Spare, spare your fancies.
But I'le not now arraigne you, if you meane
To have me, know me agen, chafer some wit
Away for honesty, I conceale your shame,

Co.
Ther's hope then of your pardon, when I rise
From what has iustlie forfeited my name,
To shew the World your chidings is not lost,
Your Lordship will not be asham'd agen
To owne me for your servant.

Lo.
I shall be a glad witnes and admirer. How now, musicke?

Enter Dormant.
Musicke.
Dor.
Wilt please you gentlemen to have a Song.
Sir Solitary, and my Lady are at it, he is growne
The most Joviall gentleman—harke.

Song.
La. Pl.
Welcome welcome, agen to thy wits,
This is a holy day.

Sir Sol.
I'le have no plotts, nor melancholy fitts
But merily passe the time away:
They are mad, that are sad.

La. Pl.
Bee ruld by mee,
And none shall bee so merry as wee.

Sir Sol.
The kitchin shall catch cold no more.

La.
I'le have no Key to the buttery dore.

Sir.
The Fidlers shall sing,
The House shall ring,
And the World shall see.

Both.
What a merry couple,
Merry couple.
Couple, couple,
wee will bee.

Enter sir Solitary, and his Lady.
Sir.
Wee are new married Gentlemen, I must
Invite your Lordship for my guest. Your Tunes
Are melancholie. Welcome home my wandring nephew;
You shall bee welcome too, sir.

Cap.
I'me your servant.

Sir.
When shall we dance Jacintha?

Lo.
Sure this humor
Is very yong, pray Madam is he serious?
Is there no plott in this?

La. Pl.
Beyond my hope
He is recover'd sir, and I must stand too't,
And turne a miracle, a Lady huswife.

Sir Sol.
No more, least with the ioy I runne into
A madnes worse, then melancholie, you tell
Mee wonders: blesse my senses. And shall we dance?

Lo.
I am for any mirth, the day requires it,
In which love too long blind hath found his eyes,
And leads the way to his owne Paradise.