University of Virginia Library

[Act First.]

[Scene I.]

Enter severally, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho.
Alerzo.
Collonell

Ful.
Signior Alerzo.

Aler.
Heere.

Pan.
Signiors well met:
The lazy morne has scarcely trim'd her selfe
To entertaine the Sun; she still retaines
The slimy tincture of the banisht night:
I hardly could discerne you.

Aler.
But you appeare fresh as a City Bridegroome,
That has sign'd his wife a warrant for the
Grafting hornes; how fares Belinda,
After the weight of so much sin? you lay with her
To night; come, speake, did you take up on trust,
Or have you pawn'd a Collony of Oathes?
Or an imbroydered Belt? or have you tane
The Courtiers tricke, to lay your sword at morgage?
Or perhaps a Feather? 'twill serve in trafficke,
To returne her Ladiship, a Fanne, or so.

Pan.
Y'are merry.

Ful.
Come be free,
Leave modesty for women to gild
Their pretty thriving Art of plentitude,
To inrich their Husbands browes with cornucopiaes:
A Souldier and thus bashfull!
Poxe be open.

Pan.
Had I the Poxe good Colonell, I should stride
Farre opener then I doe:
But pox o'the fashion.

Aler.
Count Antonio.

To them enter Antonio.
Ful.
Tho he appeare fresh as a bloome
That newly kist the Sun, adorn'd with pearly
Drops, flung from the hand of the rose finger'd morne,
Yet in his heart lives a whole Host of valour.

Pan.
Hee appeares
A second Mars.

Aler.
More powerfull since he holds Wisedome
And Vallour captive.

Ful.
Let us salute him.

Whilst they salute Antonio enters Count Machvile.
Mach.
Ha! how close they strike,
As if they heard a winged thunder-bolt, threatn'd his death
And each ambitious were to lose his life;
So it might purchase him a longer being:
Their breath ingenders like two peacefull winds,
That joyne a friendly league, and fill the ayre
With silken musicke.
I may passe by and scarce be spar'd a looke,
Or any else but yong Antonio.
Rise from thy scorching Den thou soule of mischiefe.
My blood boyles hotter then the poyson'd flesh
Of Hercules cloth'd in the Centaurs shirts:
Swell me revenge, till I become a hill
High as Olimpus cloud dividing top;
That I might fall, and crush them into ayre.
Ile observe.

Exit behind the hangings.
Ant.
Commandy the all
This little World I'me Master of containes,
And be assur'd 'tis granted; I have a life,
I owe to death; and in my Countries causes I should—

Ful.
Good sir no more,
This ungratefull Land owes you too much already.

Aler.
And you still bind it in stronger Bonds.

Pan.
Your noble deeds, that like to thoughts out-strip
The fleeting clouds, dash all our hopes of payment:
We are poore but in unprofitable thankes;
Nay that cannot rehearse enough your merit.

Ant.
I dare not heare this; pardon bashfull eares
For suffering such a scarlet to o're-spread
Your burning Portalls.
Gentlemen your discourses tast of Court,
They have a relish of knowne flattery;
I must deny to understand their folly:
Your pardon, I must leave you,
Modesty commands.

Ful.
Your honours vassales.

Ant.
O good Colonell be more a Souldier,
Leave complements for those that live at ease,
To stuffe their Table Bookes; and o're a bord,
Made gaudy with some Pageant, beside custards,
Whose quaking strikes a feare into the eaters.
Dispute 'em in a fashionable method.
A Souldiers language should be as his calling,
(Ruffe) to declare he is a man of fire.
Farewell without the straining of a sinew,
No superstitious cringe; adue.

Exit.
Aler.
I'st not a hopefull Lord?
Nature to him has chain'd the peoples hearts;
Each to his Saint offers a forme of prayer
For yong Antonio.

Pan.
And in that loved name pray for the Kingdoms good.

Ful.
Count Matchvill.

Aler.
Let's away.
Machvile from behind the hangings.
Exeunt: manet Matchvill.
Heart wilt not burst with rage, to see these slaves
Fawne like to whelpes on yong Antonio,
And fly from me as from infection? Death,
Confusion, and the list of all deseases, waite upon your lives
Till you be ripe for Hell; which when it gapes
May it devoure you all: stay Machvile,
Leave this same idle chat, it becomes woman
That has no strength; but what her tongue
Makes a Monopoly, be more a man,
Thinke, thinke; in thy braines minte
Coyne all thy thoughts to mischiefe:
That may act revenge at full.
Plot, plot, tumultious thoughts, incorporate;
Beget a lumpe how e're deform'd, that may at length
Like to a Cub lick'd by the carefull Dam,
Become like to my wishes perfect vengeance.
Antonio, I Antonio; nay all
Rather then loose my will, shall head-long fall
Into eternall ruine; my thoughts are high,
Death sit upon my brow; let every frowne,
Banish a soule that stops me of a crowne.

Exit.
Enter Evadne and Nurse.
Evad.
The Taylor yet return'd Nurse?

Nur.
Madam not yet.

Evad.
I wonder why he makes gownes so imperfect
They need so many sayes.

Nur.
Truely, insooth, and in good deed law Madam
The stripling is in love deepe, deepe in love.

Evad.
Ha,
Does his soule shoote with an equall Dart
From the commanding Bow of loves great God,
Keepe passionate time with mine? or has
aside.
She spy'd my errour to reflect with eager beames
Of thirsty love upon a Taylor, being my selfe
Borne high?—I must know more.
In love good Nurse; with whom?

Nur.
Hey-hoe, truely madam 'tis a fortune,
Cupid good lad, prais'd be his god-head for't
Has throwne upon me, and I am proud on't;
O 'tis a youth joccond as sprightly May,
One that will doe discreetly with a wife,
Bord her without direction from the stars,
Or counsell from the Moone to doe for Physicke;
No, he's a backe;—O 'tis a backe indeed.

Evad.
Fye this becomes you not.

Nur.
Besides, he is of all that conquering Calling,
A Taylor madam; O 'tis a taking Trade:
What Chamber-maid, with reverence may
I speake, of those lost Maiden-heads,
Could long hold out against a Taylor?

Evad.
Y'are uncivill.

Nur.
What aged Female, for I must confesse I am
Worne threed-bare,
would not be turn'd and live a marriage life
To purchase Heaven?

Enad.
Heaven—

Nur.
Yes my deare Madam Heaven, whither
My most sweet Lady but to Heaven? hell's a
Taylors ware-house; he has the Keyes, and sits
In triumph crosse legg'd o're the mouth:
It is no place of horrour.
There's no flames made blew with Brimstone;
But the bravest silkes, so fashionable:
O I doe long to weare such properties.

Evad.
Leave your talke,
One knocks, goe see.

Knockes within.
Nurs.
O 'tis my love. I come.

Exit.
Evad.
A Taylor, fye, blush my too tardy soule,
And on my brow place a becomming scorne,
Whose fatall sight may kill his mounting hopes.
Were he but one that when 'twas said hee's borne,
Had bin borne noble, high,
Equall in blood to that our House boasts great;
I'de fly into his armes with as much speed,
As an ayre cutting arrow to the stake.
But O he comes, my fortitude is fled.

Enter Nurse and Giovanno with a Gowne.
Gio.

Yonder she is and walkes, yet in sence strong enough
to maintaine Argument, she's under my cloake; for
the best part of a Lady as this age goes is her Clothes; in
what reckoning ought we Taylers to be esteem'd then, that
are the master workemen to correct nature? You shall have
a Lady in a Diologue with some gallant, touching his Suite,
the better part of man, so sucke the breath that names the
skilfull Tayler as if it nourisht her. Another Dona fly from
the close imbracements of her Lord, to be all over measur'd
by her Tayler. One will bee sicke forsooth, and bid her
maid deny her to this Don, that Earle, the other Marquesse,
nay to a Duke; yet let her Taylor lase and unlase her gowne,
so round the skirts to fit her to the fashion: here's one has
in my sight made many a noble Don to hang the head, Dukes
and Marquesses, three in a morning breake their fasts on her
denialls; yet I, her Tayler, blest bee the kindnesse of my
loving stare, am usher'd; she smiles and sayes I have staid
too long, and then findes fault with some slight stitch, that
eye let hole's too close, then must I use my Bodkin 'twill

never please else; all will not doe, I must take it home,
for no cause but to bring it her againe next morning. Wee
Taylors are the men spight o'the Proverbe, Ladies cannot
live without. It is wee

That please them best, in their commodity:
There's magick in our habits, Taylors can
Prevaile 'bove him, honour stiles best of man.

Evad.
Bid him draw neere.

Nur.
Come hither love, sweet chucke
My Ladye calls.

Gio.
What meanes this woman? sure she loves me too,
Taylors shall speed had they no tongues to wooe:
Women wou'd sue to them.

Evad.
What have you done it now?

Gio.
Maddam your gowne by my industry
Is purg'd of errours.

Evad.
Lord what a neate methodicall way you have
To vent your Phrases; pray when did you commence?

Gio.
What meane you Madam?

Evad.
Doctor I meane, you speake so physicall.

Nur.
Nay Madam 'tis a youth, I praise my starrs
For their kind influence, a woman may be proud on,
And I am.
O 'tis a youth in print, a new Adonis,
And I could wish, although my glasse tells me
I'me wondrous faire, I were a Venus for him.

Gio.
O Lady, you are more fairer by farre.

Nur.
La you there Madam.

Gio.
Where art thou man? art thou transform'd?
Or art thou growne so base that
This rediculous witch should thinke I love her?

Evad.
Leave us.

Nur.
I goe
Ducke, Ile be here anon,
I will Dove.

Exit.
Gio.
At your best leasure.
Protect me man-hood, least my glutted sence
Feeding with such an eager appetite on
Your rare beauty, breaking the sluces,
Burst into a flood of passionate teares;
I must, I will enjoy her, though a
Destroying clap from Ioves Artillery were the reward:
And yet dull-daring sir by your favour no,
He must be more than savage can attempt
aside.
To injure so much spotlesse innocence:
Pardon great Powers the thought of such offence.

Evad.
When Sabastiano clad in conquering steele,
And in a phrase able to kill, or from a cowards heart
Banish the thought of feare; wo'd me,
Won not so much upon my captive soule
As this youths silence does:
aside.
Helpe me some power out of this tangling maze,
I shall be lost else.

Gio.
Feare to the breast of women,
Build thy throne on their soft hearts;
Mine must not be thy slave.
Your pleasure Madam.

Evad.
I have a question must be directly answer'd
No excuse, but from thy heart a truth.

Gio.
Command me Madam, were it a secret
On whose hinges hung the casements of my life,
Yet your command shall be obey'd; to the least
Scruple.

Evad.
I take your word,
My aged Nurse tells me you love her,
Answer; i'st a truth?

Gio.
She's jealous, Ile try;
As Oracle.

Evad.
(Ha)

Gio.
'tis so, ile further; I love her Madam,
With as rich a flame as Anchorits
Doe Saints they offer prayers too:
I hug her memory as I wou'd embrace
The breath of Iove, when it pronounc'd me
Happy; or Prophet, that should speake my
After life great, even with adoration deified.

Evad.
My life, like to a bubble i'th aire,
Dissolv'd by some uncharitable winde,
Denyes my body warmth: your breath
Has made me nothing.

(she faints.
Gio.
Rather let me lose all externall being.
Madam, good Madam.

Evad.
You say you love her.

Gio.
Madam, I doe.
Can any love the beauty of a stone,
Set by some curious Artist in a Ring,
But he must attribute some to
The File that addes unto the lustre?
You appeare like to a Jemme, cut by the
Steddy hand of carefull Nature, into such
Beautious Tablets, that dull Art,
Famous in skilfull flattery, is become
A Novice in what Fame proclaim'd him Doctor;
He cann't expresse one sparke of your great lustre.
Madam, those Beauties that, but studied on
By their admirers, are deifi'd, serve
But as spots, to make your red and white
Envy'd of Cloisterd Saints.

Evad.
Have I ungratefull man, like to the Sun,
That from the Heavens sends downe his
Cherishing beames on some religious plant,
That with a bow the worship of the
Thankfull, payes the preserver of his life,
And groth: But thou, unthankfull man,
In scorne of me, to love a Callender of many
Yeares.

Gio.
Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious Rite,
The Heathens us'd to pay their gods, I offer up.
A life, that untill now nere knew a price;
Made deare because you love it.

Evad.
Arise; it is a Ceremony due unto none but heaven.

Gio.
Here Ile take roote, and grow into my grave,
Unlesse deare goddesse you forget to bee
Cruell to him adores you with a zeale,
Equall to that of Hermits.

Evad.
I beleeve you, and thus exchange a devout vow,
Humbly upon my knees, that though the
Thunder of my brothers rage should force divorce,
Yet in my soule to love you; witnesse all
The wing'd inhabitants of the highest heaven.

Gio.
If suddaine lightning, such as vengefull Iove
Cleares the infectious ayre with, threatn'd to
Scorch my daring soule to Cynders, if I
Did love you, Lady, I wo'd love you, spight
Of the dogged Fates, or any power
Those curst Hagges set to oppose me.

To them enter Nurse.
Evad.
Be thy selfe againe.

Nurs.
Madam, your Brother.

Evad.
Fye, you have done it ill, our brother, say you?
Pray you take it home and mend it.

Gio.
Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave.
Love I am made thy envy; I am he
This Votresse prayes unto, as unto thee:
Taylers are more than men; and here's the odds,
They make fine Ladyes; Ladyes make them gods:
And so they are not men, but farre above them:
This makes the Tailers proud; then Ladies love them.

Exit.
Antonio meets him.
Ant.
What's he that past?

Evad.
My Tailer.

Ant.
Theres something in his face I sure should know.
But sister to your Beads; pray for distress'd Scivel;
Whilst I mount some watch tower,
To o're-looke our enemies, religious lawes
Commands me fight for my lov'd: Countries cause.

Exit.
Evad.
Love bids me pray, and on his Altars make
A Sacrifice, for my lov'd Taylers sake.

Exit.
Alarum. Enter Raymond, Philippa, Leonis, Gilberty, and Fyrenzo.
Ray.
Stand.

Leo.
Stand.

Gil.
Stand.

Fir.
Give the word through the Army, stand there.

Within.
Stand, stand, stand, stand hoe.

Ray.
Bid the Drum cease, whilst we embrace our love:
Come my Philippa, like the twins of warre,
Lac'd in our steely Cornets, we're become
The envy of those braine begotten gods,
Mouldy Antiquity lifted to Heaven:
Thus we exchange our breath;

kisses.
Phil.
My honour'd Lord,
Duty commands, I pay it backe againe,
'Twill waste me into smoake else,
Can my body retaine that breath, that wou'd
Consume an Army, drest in a rougher habit.
Pray deliver (come I'me a gentle thiefe)
The breath you stole.

Ray.
Restore back mine—So, goe pitch our tent, we'le
Have a Combate i'th field of love, with thee
Philippa, ere we meet the foe: thou art
A friendly enemy. How say you Lords,
Does not my Love appeare,
Like to the issue of the braine of Iove,
Governesse of Armes and Arts, Minerva?
Or a selected beauty from a troop of Amazons.

Lords.
She is a Mine of valour.

Phil.
Lords spare your praises till like Bradament,
The mirrour of our Sexe, I make the foe
Of France and us, crouch like a whelpe,
Aw'd by the heaving of his Masters hand;
My heart runnes through my arme, and when I deale
A blow, it sinkes a soule:
My sword flyes nimbler than the bolts of Iove,
And wounds as deepe: Spaine, thy proud host shall feele
Death has bequeath'd his office to my steele.

Ray.
Come on brave Lords, upon your Generalls word,
Philippa loves no parley, like the sword.

Exeunt.
Enter Giovannno, old Taylor, Virmine, and two more.
Gio.

Come bullies, come; wee must forsake the use of
nimble sheeres, and now betake us to our Spanish needles,
Stelletto blades, and prove the Proverbe lyes, lyes in his
throat: one Tayler can erect sixteene, nay more, of upstart
Gentlemen, knowne by their Cloathes, and leave enough
materialls in hell to damne a broker.

Old.

We must to the wars my boyes.

Virm.

How Master, to the warres?

Old.

I to the warres Virmine, what sayst thou to that?

Virm.

Nothing, but that I had rather stay at home: O the
good penny bread at breakfasts that I shall lose! Master,
good Master let me alone, to live with honest Iohn, noble
John Blacke.

2 Tay.

Wilt thou disgrace thy worthy calling, Virmine?

Virm.

No, but I am afraid my calling will disgrace me:
I shall be gaping for my mornings loafe, and dramme of
Ale; I shall; and now and then look for a Cabbich leafe,
or an odde remnant to cloath my bashfull buttocks.

Old.

You shall.

Virm.

Yes marry; why I hope poore Vermine must bee
fed, and will be fed, or Ile torment you.

Gio.

Master I take priviledge from your love to hearten
on my fellowes.

Old,
I, I; doe, doe good boy.

Exit.
Gio.
Come my bold fellowes, let us eternize,
For our Countries good, some noble act
That may by time be Regestred at full;
And as the yeare renewes, so shall our fame
Be fresh to after times: the Taylers name,
So much trod under, and the scorne of all
Shall by this act be high whilst others fall.

3 Tay.
Come Vermine, come.

Virm.

Nay if virmine slip from the backe of a Tayler, spit
him with a Spanish Needle; or torment him in the louses
Engin: your two thumbe nailes.

Exit all but Giovanno.
Gio.
The City seig'd, and thou thus chain'd
In ayrie fetters of a Ladies love;
It must not be, stay, 'tis Evadne's love;
Her life is with the City ruin'd, if the
French become victorious:
Evadne must not dye, her Chaster name
That once made cold, now doth my blood inflame.

Exit.