University of Virginia Library

Act. 5.

Scene. 1.

Meanwell. Rashly. Winlosse. Host.
Mea.
Now my good Host, since you have been our friend
And onely councel keeper in our absence,
To you, before we visit our own houses
We'le render a relation of our journey,
And what the motive was that drew us forth.
'Tis true, we did pretend a deadly quarrel
At a great bowling match upon Black-heath;
Went off; took horse; and several wayes, forecast
To meet at Dover, where we met good friends,
And in one Barque past over into France:
Here 'twas suppos'd to fight, like fashion followers
That thither flie, as if no sand but theirs
Could dry up English blood.

Host.
Now, by the way,
Suppose that supposition had been true,
And the supposed deaths of you, and you
Had mov'd your sons to combate in earnest,
And both been kil'd indeed, as you in jest,
Where had been then your witty subtilty,
My noble Meanwell, and my brave Rashly?
Ha! have I twight ye there?

Rash.
Thou keepst thy humor still my running Host.

Host.
My humor was, nor is, nor must be lost:
But, to the question, was it wisely done,
When each of you might so have lost a son?

Rash.

Host.
Nor yet, nor yet;
Best wits may have bad memories; I forget.

Win.
It is my part to speak. Mine Host, y'have known me,
My name is Winloss; a poor Gentleman,
Yet richer, by my liberty, then I was
For six years space, till these good Gentlemen
In charity redeem'd me.

Host.
Master Winloss!
I thought I could as soon forgot my Chriss-Cross,
Yet (pardon me) you have been six years gone,
And all of them in prison saving one,
In Dunkerk as I weene.

Win.
It is most true;
And that from thence these Gentlemen redeem'd me
At their own charge, by paying five hundred pound,
Which was my Ransom.

Host.
'Tis a rare example.

Win.
Worthy brass tables, and a pen of steel.

Mea.
No more good neighbour Winloss. What we did
Was to discharge our conscience of a burden
Got (and 'twas all we got) by your undoing,
In a sad suit at Law.

Host.
I do remember;
And, without ruine I'le tell you, That sad cause,
In which you join'd against him, overthrew him
And all his Family: But this worthy act
Of yours in his enlargement, crowns your piety,
And puts him in a way of better Fortune,
Then his first tottering estate could promise.

Rash.
Shut up that point. You have heard no ill, you say,
Among our sons and daughters in our absence.

Host.
Not any Sir at all. But, Mr. Winloss,
You that have past so many sorrows, can
(I make no doubt) here one with manly patience.

Win.
Tis of my daughter Phillis! Is she dead?

Host.
Tis well and't be no worse with her: I fear
She's gone the tother way of all flesh, do you hear?

Rash.
Why dost thou tell him this?

Host.
To have him right
His daughters wrong upon that wicked beast
That has seduc'd her.

Rash.
Who is't? canst thou tell?

Host.
Even the Ranck-rider of the town, Sir, one
Master Nathaniel Banelasse, if you know him.

Mea.
He has my sons acquaintance.

Rash.
And mine's too.

Host.
You may be proud on't, if they scape his doctrine.

Win.
But does he keep my daughter to his lust?

Host.
No, Sir, tis worse then so. He has cast her off
To the common, as tis fear'd.

Win.
O wretchedness!

Rash.
How cam'st thou by this knowledge.

Host.
Sir, Ile tell you.
I have, i'th'house, a guest, was once your man,
And serv'd your son, since you went ore I'm sure on't,
Though now he has got a young spark to his Master,
That has a brace of gueldings in my stable;
And lusty ones they are. That's by the way.

Rash.
But to the point, I pray thee.

Host.
Sir, the young gallant is abroad, the man
Scults closs i'th'house here, and has done these two dayes
Spending his time with me in drink and talk.
Most of his talk runs upon wenches mainly;
And who loves who, and who keeps home, and so forth;
And he told me the tale that I tell you
Twixt Banelasse and your done and undone daughter.

Enter Rafe.
Ra.
Mine host—cry mercy Gentlemen—

Mea.
Nay, nay, come on.

Host.
I told you he was very shy to be seen.

Ra.
My old master alive again? and he that he kil'd too?

Mea.
Whom do you serve? was I so ill a master,
That, in my absence, you forsook my children?
Or how have they misus'd you? Why dost look
So like an apprehended thief? I fear
Thou serv'st some robber, or some murderer,
Or art become thy self one. If the Devil
Have so possess'd thee, strive to turn him out:
Ile add my prayers to help thee. Whats the matter?

Ra.
O honor'd master! Ile keep nothing from you.
There is an act of horror now on foot,
Upon revenge of your supposed murder,
Of which to stand and tell the circumstance,
Would wast the time and hinder the prevention
Of your sons murder, and your daughters ruin.

All.
O fearful!

Ra.
Let not your amazement drown
Your reason in delay; your sudden hast
Was never so requir'd as now. Stay not
To ask my why, or whither. As ye go
I shall inform ye.

Rash.
Go, we follow thee.

Exeunt omnes.

Scene 2.

Dionysia
as before in mans habit, sword and pistol.
What a fierce conflict twixt revenge and love,
Like an unnatural civil war, now rages
In my perplexed breast. There, fight it out;
To it Pel-mel my thoughts. The battel's hot.
Now for the day! revenge begins to stagger,
And her destracted Army at an instant
Routed and put to flight. All conquering love,
Thou hast got the victory; and now I sue
(Like a rent kingdom by self-opposite thoughts)
Unto thy soveraignty, to be the liege-right.
Take me to thy protection, kingly love,
And having captivated my revenge,
O, play not now the Tyrant. A firm hope
Perswades me no: But when I shall
Reveal my self I shall obtain Theophilus love.
Which now is ten times sweeter in my thought
Then my revenge was, when 'twas first begot.

Ent. The. & Lucy.
The.
What, still alone? we have been seeking thee.

Dio.
O 'tis the service that I ow you Sir.

Lu.
Indeed you are too pensive: two whole dayes thee.
And nights among us, and no more familiar?

Ent. Ar. in his false beard, leading in Mil. veil'd. Pages they stand aloofe.
Pa.
May I crave your name, Sir?

Ar.
That's to little purpose,
My business is the thing—yonder's the star!
What young Gentleman is that your Mistris arm
Appears so courteous too?

Pa.
One she thinks well on Sir,
No matter for his name, as you said, neither.

Ar.
He seems some well grac'd suitor. 'Tis my fear,
If he should now—I must be just however.

Pa.
Sir, a Gentleman desires to speak with you.

The.
Dost thou not know his name?

Pa.
He will not tell it Sir.

The.
You treacherous boy, do you bring you know not whom?
O 'tis the Gentleman I was so bound to, Sister:
The welcom'st man alive; Thanks my good boy.
What's she he brings in veil'd, and this way leads?

Ar.
Sir, though I am still a stranger in my visit,
To works of gentleness, I am partly known.
There (if you chance t'enquire of me hereafter
(When I shall more deserve your inquisition)
I may be found, if not exact in service,
At least a poor pretender in my wishes:
And so presenting this white gift, (more modest
Then the most secret duty of mans friendship
Can ever be) I take my leave—

The.
This man
Would breed, at every time he's seen, a wonder!
Sir, leave me not thus lost: let me once know you,
And what this mystery means? This bears a shape
I may not entertain: I have set my vow
Against all woman kinde, since Heaven was married
To my first love; and must not willingly
Discover a temptation with mine own hand.

Ar.
How shie and nice we are to meet our happinesse!
Like dying wretches, 'fraid to go to rest.
Because you shall be guilty of no breach
I'le ope the Casket for you.

He unveils her, & slips away.
The.
Blesse me, it is—
Warm, so Love cherish me and comfortable.

Dio.
O death, my hopes are blasted.

Lu.
How is it with you, sir.

The.
Might a man credit his own sences now
This were my Millicent. How think you, sister?

Mil.
Indeed I am so, my Theophilus.

Dio.
She lives, and he is lost to me for ever,
I shall be straight discover'd too. False Love
Thou hast dealt loosely with me; And Revenge
I re-invoke thy nobler spirit: Now
Possesse me wholly; let it not be thought
I came and went off idly.

Lu.
Sir, something troubles you. See your kinswoman
My brother stands intranc'd too; Brother, brother—
Noble Lady, speak to him.

Mil.
I was in my discovery too sudden.
Strong rapture of his joy transmutes him—Sir,
Be not so wonder-struck; or, if you be,
Let me conjure you by the love you bore me,
Return unto your self again. Let not
A wandring thought fly from you, to examine
From whence, or how I came: If I be welcome
I am your own and Millicent.

The.
And in that
So blest a treasure, that the wealth and strength
Of all the world shall never purchace from me.
Heaven may be pleas'd again to take thee, but
Ile hold so fast, that wee'll go hand in hand;
Besides, I hope his mercy will not part us.
But where's the man now more desir'd then ever
That brought you hither?

Mil.
You ask in vain for him.
I can resolve you all; but for the present
He will be known to none.

The.
This is a cruel goodness: To put thankfulness
Out of all action. Sirah, how went he?

Pa.
I know not, Sir, he vanish'd sodainly.

The.
Vanish'd! good Lucy help to hold her fast
She may not vanish too. Spirits are subtle.

Mil.
This was my fear. Will you have patience,
And fit but in this chair while I relate my story.

The.
Ile be as calm in my extreamest deeps
As is the couch where a sweet conscience sleeps.

Dio.
Tis now determinate as fate; and so
At the whole cluster of 'em. Bless me ha!
As Dionisia presents her pistol. Enter. Rash. Mean. Win. Rafe. Arthur.
My father living! Then the cause is dead
Of my revenge.

Rash.
What is he kill'd out right.
Or els but hurt? Theophilus! my boy!
Dead, past recovery. Stay the murdress there.
Look you, Sir, to her. I suspect your son too
Is not without a hand in't by the hast
We met him in.

Lu.
He is not hurt at all
My honour'd father, as I desire your blessing,
But stricken with an extasie of joy.

Rash.
Look up my boy. How dost? here's none but friends.

The.
Sure, sure w'are all then in Elisium
Where all are friends and fill'd with equal joy.
Earth can have no felicity like this.
If this be any thing.

Rash.
Thou canst not see nothing,
Look well about thee man.

The.
I see, I feel, I hear and know ye all:
But who knowes what he knowes, sees, feels, or hears?
Tis not an age for man to know himself in.

Rash.
He is not mad I know by that.

The.
If I know any thing, you are my father—

Rash.
Thou art a wise child.

The.
And I beseech your blessing.

Rash.
Thou hast it. Millicent, I have heard your story,
And Lucy, you betwixt you sooth his fancy,
He will be well anon. Keep 'em company Arthur,
And Lucy, bid him welcome.

Lu.
More then life, Sir.

Rash.
You Dionysia would be chid a little;
But, Sir, let me intreat her pardon.

Mea.
Dry your eyes: you have it.
Go instantly resume your sexes habit,
And with the rest be ready, if we call ye
To Quicsands house. The rumour of our coming
Already calls us thither to be assistant
To justice Testy in a pondrous difference.

Rash.
How does he now?

Ar.
He's fallen into a slumber.

Rash.
In with him all I pray.

Ar. &c.
He shall have all our cares.

Exit with The. in the chair.
Rash.
Come my friend Meanwell. Now to Quick-sands cause,
To keep it out of wrangling lawyers jawes.
The face of danger is almost made clean
And may conclude all in a comick scene.

Exit.

Scene 3.

Vincent. Edmond. Testy. Rashly. Meanwel.
Vin.
Come, we will hear this cause try'd.

Ed.
See the Judges
Have tane their seats, while we stand here for evidence.

Tes.
My worthy friends, y'are come unto a cause
As rare, as was your unexpected coming
From the supposed grave—

Rash.
To th'point I pray.

Tes.
How quick you are! Good Mr. Rashly, know
(Though I crav'd your assistance) onely I
Supply the chief place in Authority.

Rash.
And much good do't you. I have other business—
Your Neece Sir was too good for my poor son.

Tes.
How's that?

Mea.
Nay Gentlemen, we came to end
A business: Pray begin no new one first.

Rash.
Well Sir, I ha'done.

Mea.
Pray Sir fall to the question.

Test.
Bring in the parties.
Ent. Quic. Nat. Phil.
The first branch of the question rises here
If Quicksands wife, my Neece, be dead or living
Speak Gentlemen. What can you say to this?

Vin.
Quicksands affirm'd to us, that she was dead.

Edm.
Though, since in a destracted passion
He sayes she lives.

Qui.
She lives, and is that strumpet,
From whom I sue to be divorc'd.

Mea.
That Moor, there?
Did you wed her since your fair wives decease?

Qui.
That same is she, and all the wives I had
That black is but an artificial tincture
Laid by my jealousie upon her face.

Rash.
This is most strange.

Nat.
Braver and braver still,
I aim'd but at a cloud and clasp'd a Juno,
Will you be onely mine?

Phi.
I have sworn it ever.

Nat.
Then I am made for ever.

Test.
Remove her, and let instant tryal be made
To take the blackness off.

Qui.
Then if her shame,
And my firm truth appear not, punish me.

Tes.
However, your consent to be divorc'd
From Millicent is irrecoverable.

Qui.
Before you all, Ile forfeit my estate
If ere I re-accept her.

Rash.
Then she's free.

Tes.
Now Mr. Banelass—

Nat.
Now for the honour of Wenchers.

Tes.
Your fact is manifested and confest.

Nat.
In fewest words it is.

Tes.
Are you content
To take this woman now in question,
If she be found no Moor to be your Wife,
In holy marriage to restore her honour?

Nat.
Or else, before you all, let me be torn
To pieces; having first those dearest members,
In which I have most delighted, daub'd with honey,

Tes.
This protestation
Is clear, without respect of portion, now,
Or that she is my Neece: For you must know
She is no Neece of mine that could transgress
In that leane kind: Nor must she ever look
For favour at my hands.

Nat.
I am content, to take her as she is,
Not as your Neece, but as his counterfeit servant,
Hoping he'le give me with her all about her.

Qui.
My chains, and Jewels, worth a thousand pounds,
I'le pay it for my folly.

Nat.
'Twil be twice
The price of my pawn'd goods. I'le put the rest
Up for your jeers past on my friends and me.

Mea.
You are agreed.

Nat.
To take her with all faults.

Enter Philis white.
Phi.
I take you at your word.

Qui.
Hah—

Nat.
Hell and her changes.

Phi.
Lead by the hope of justice, I am bold
To fix here fast, here to repair my ruins.

Nat.
The devil looks ten times worse with a white face,
Give me it black again.

Phi.
Are we not one, you know from the beginning?

Nat.
Get thee from me.

Tes.
Sirrah you have your suit and your desert,
'Tis your best part to pass it patiently.

Rash.
'Tis Winloss daughter; we have found the error.

Qui.
I am confounded here. Where is my Wife?

Tes.
I, that's the point must now be urg'd. The Law
Asks her at your hands. Answer me, where is she?

Qui.
I am at my joys end, and my wits together.

Mea.
You have brought her fame in question: Tis reveng'd
Now you are in both for her life and honour.

Tes.
Speak villain, Murderer, where is my Neece?

Qui.
I have snar'd my self exceeding cunningly;
That quean there knows.

Nat.
Take heed, Sir, what you say,
If she must be my wife. Hands off I pray,
These are my goods she wears. Give me 'em, Phil.
For fear he snatch, Ile put 'em in my pockets.

Phi.
Sweet heart, my own will hold 'em.

Nat.
Sweet heart already! we are soon familiar.

Phi.
You know we are no strangers.

Rash.
Well Mr. Quicksands: because you cannot answer
(To put you by the fear of halter-stretching)
Since y'have ingag'd your word and whole estate
To be divorc'd: And you good Mr. Testy,
If you'l be willing yet that my poor son
To wed your Neece, as I shall find it lawful,
Ile undertake her safe recovery.

Tes.
I have in heart given her your son already.

Rash.
And he has her already.
Ent. The. Mil. Ar. Lu. Dio. Winloss.
As for example, see Sir.

Qui.
See, see, the heaven that I am justly fallen from,
O may I yet find favour.

Mil.

Nat.
What a pox no, I tro—My wife that must be?

Phi.
'Twas your own doing, to put me to my shifts.

Nat.
The devil shift you, then you will be sure
Of change enough.

Win.
O shame unto my blood.

Nat.
I will henceforward councel all my friends
To wed their whores at first, before they go
Out o'their hands.

Tes.
How can you answer this?

Qui.
I utterly deny't upon my oath.

Phi.
So do I, and safely for any act.

Nat.
That's well agen.

Phi.
It was but in attempt, I told my Mistriss,
Had it been done, sure I should nere have spoke on't.

Nat.
Those are the councels women can onely keep.

Phi.
Nothing in act I assure you.

Mil.
In him 'twas foul enough though.

Mea.
O hateful vice in age.

Tes.
'Tis an old vice grown in him from his youth,
Of which bring forth for proof his bastard there.

Ent. Buz. Arn.
Buz.
I fear we shall be whipt for counterfeits;
My long coats have a grudging of the lash.

Arn.
I see my old Masters face again, and I will
Fear nothing.

Buz.
Then Ile bear up again—
Hay diddy daddy, come play with thy Baby
Dindle dandle on thy knee, and give him a penny,
And a new coat, o ho—

Qui.
My grief and shame is endless.

Vin.
Let not grief master you, Mr. Quicksands.

Ed.
We are your friends, and pitty your afflictions.
What will you give us now and we'le release you
For ever of this changling charge of yours?

Vin.
And prove he's not your bastard. Speak now roundly.

Qui.
I'le cancel both your mortgages.

Vin.
A match. Now look you Sir, your quandam servant,
All but the beard he wore; for loss of which
We'le recompence him.

Qui.
O Buzzard, Buzzard, Buzzard.

Buz.
O Master, Master, Master. Your servant and no bastard,
Nor father of your Ideot in Norfolk,
He's there, and well Sir, I heard lately of him.

Qui.
How couldst thou use me thus?

Buz.
How could you turn me away so?

Tes.
Ha, ha, ha. Come hither Buzzard. Thou shalt not want a Master.

Arn.
Nor I, I hope, while my old Master lives. Y'are welcome home Sir.

Rash.
And thou to me my good old servant Arnold.

Qui.
Well fare a misery of a mans own seeking;
A tough one too will hold him tack to's end,
This comes with wiving at threescore and three;
Would doating fools were all serv'd so for me.

Tes.
To shut up all: Theophilus, take my Neece,
We'll shortly find a Lawfull course to marry ye.

Rash.
I will take care for't. Arthur, take my daughter
With a glad fathers blessing.

Mea.
And mine with it, wishing my daughter were as well bestow'd.

Dio.
Sir take no thought for me, till my strict life
(By making man, and the world meer strangers to me,
In expiation of my late transgression
Gainst maiden modesty) shall render me
Some way deserving th'honour of a husband.

Rash.
Spoke like a good new woman.

Tes.
How now! do you look squemish on your fortune,
Sir her's a Gentleman shall maintain her blood
As worthy as your own till you defile it,
Tis best you cleanse it again.

Nat.
Cadzooks I will—
Forgiv'me for swearing, and turn Precisian, and pray
I'the nose that all my brethren whoremasters spend no worse.

Phi.
My father—

Win.
O my child.

Nat.
Though Mr. Quickssands made a Mock-marriage with his English Moor,
Ile not mock thee.

Tes.
Enough, enough. I hope all pleas'd at last
But Master Quick-sands here.

Qui.
I yeeld to fortune with an humble knee,
If you be pleas'd, your pleasure shall please me.