University of Virginia Library

Act III.

Scene I.

Enter Sodome pin'd in a blanket.
VVhere have I been? Was ever man in such a plight as I?
Sure I have been cast into a sleep, and hung in some painted
Cloth, to personate the prodigall.
What's here? a paper pin'd upon my breast?
Perhaps I am in Turkey, and this my price of sale.
I must make bold to see how I am valued.
—pulls the paper off from his breast, and reads.
Here lies a fleshly saint did lately prank it,
Instead of sheet, doe's pennance in a blanket.
This may be all true, And I beleeve the Author might have writ
To'st too. Yes, yes, it must be so, for I am pocky sore.
They have given me purging comfits too, for I'me
Damnable moist behinde; What company was I in?
I remember nothing but a whore, and that shee would

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Needs carry mee to some friends of hers, and they have us'd mee thus.
No hat, nor cloake.
—feels in his pocket, and pulls out his money.
'Tis strange, they should not be theeves,
And stranger that any other should use mee thus.
Here's all my money to a penny.
I shall unfold this mysterie in time.
I hear by a-non, a-non, Sir, this is a tavern.
The door is lock't, and I must knock,
Though to my shame, I do't.
hee knocks.
Draw.
A-non, a-non, Sir.

Enter Drawer.
Sod.
Who ever us'd mee thus, sure they dare not
Speak of it, for fear I come to know it, and punish them.
Drawer, how came I in this pickle?

Draw.
Do you not know, Sir?

Sod.
Not I; prethee, honest Drawer, tell mee, and
I'le be thankfull to thee.

Draw.
Sir, I cannot tell, I do assure you.

Sod.
Who was in my company? Did you tend this rome?

Draw.
I did, and if I not mistake, there was three or four Gentlemen
And a Gentlewoman.

Sod.
Know'st thou any of their names?

Draw.
Not I, nor can remember I e're saw any of them before.

Sod.
Where is my hat and cloak?

Draw.
I have them safe below.

Sod.
That's some comfort yet; how long stayed the company here?

Draw.
Four or five hours.

Sod.
Is the reckoning paid?

Draw.
Not a penny.

Sod.
Why did you let them go?

Draw.
What Authoritie had I to stay them?
They gave mee charge of your hat and cloak, and said you lost the reckoning,
Which you not being in a condition to deny,
They gave mee charge of you, and went their way.

Sod.
What is to pay?

Draw.
A mark, within a penny.

Sod.
Fetch mee my hat and cloak, and here's your money.

Draw.
I shall, Sir.
Ex. Drawer.

Sod.
This Drawer is a rogue, and privy to my sufferings,
But I must hold my tongue,

Enter Drawer.
Draw.
Sir, here is your cloak and hat.

Sod.
And here's your money.

Draw.
I hope, Sir, you will remember the Drawer.

Sod.
I would I had as much reason to remember you
As you have mee,
I made you rare sport, without all doubt.
Here take your blanket, are not the corners stretch't?
A very pretty wholesom way of purge,
A plague of such Physitians.

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This is the fruits of wenching: shew mee the stairs;
I'le cautious be, how I come in such snares.—
Ex. Om.
Enter Letesia Sol.
What should this businesse be, my father laid, so strickt
A charge on mee to use them with respect?
'Tis out of some strange hopes of profit they assure him.
How I should learne it out? I know not.—

Enter Clarathea:
Clarath.
Mistris, the Gentleman that din'd here is at doore.
Enquiring for your father; shall I admit him in?

Letes.
Why, thou know'st my father is not within.

Clarath.
All's one for that, I beleeve you can doe his businesse better;
I'le call him in—
Ex. Clar.

Letes.
Clarathea, Clarathea:—
shee calls.
This wench, will shame mee.

Enter Clarathea and Adrastus.
Clarath.
Sir, my Master is not within.
Here's my young Mistris, please you to impart
Your mind to her.
I thinke I have given him hint enough,
His lookes speake him not faint hearted.
I'le leave you both to vent, or burst.—

aside.
Adrast.
Fairst Mistris, I have something of importance
Ex. Clarathea.
To impart to your father.

Letes.
Truely, Sir, hee is abroad, but if you please to expose some
Litle time to the hazzard of his comming home,
You are most kindly welcome.

Adrast.
Virtuous fair, One I thanke you. And since your
Noble soule hath deny'd to honour mee with this your
Courtous invitation, Pardon mee, sweetest, if I endeavour
Not to let slip these happy minuts, the Gods (for ought I know)
Hath lent us to enjoy for our unmatchless happinesse.—
Shee starts.
Nay start not, sweetest fair One, I have no frightful
Story to relate; I have forgot all things of horror
Since I became unable (more) to serve
My too much injur'd Prince.

Letes.
You have been then in these unhappy wars?

Adrast.
Pittie it had been, I should have lived to see my Prince
Engaged, And I in debt to nature for my health
And limbs, and been a looker on.

Letes.
You speak like one our Prince may justly call his
Loyal subject; it had been happy wee had all been such.

Adrast.
Lady, so intirely I lov'd and honour'd you,
(E're you delivered this your Loyall soule.)
That were it (in nature possible) this might have added.
Know then, I have escap't these wars, to be (by your virtuous selfe)
Adjudg'd to live or dye.
Can you love? love mee so, to make mee yours.

Letes.
Sir, 'tis a question, requires much more deliberation, then
A suddaine answer. I must confess, it were a meanes

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To quench those flames (you do pretend to burn in) should I,
And to a stranger to, so easie part, with what (so much)
Concerns my life and honour?

Adrast.
Mistake me not, sweet saint, 'tis but a hope I beg,
Which a small encouragement (from you) will make mee proud of.
Nor can I possibly urge, or dare expect that satisfaction from you,
That may impair your honour; let mee but hope,
And it shall be a happy prologue to my ensuing story.

Letes.
Sir, The hope you can expect from mee, and I in honour give,
Is this; I nothing see, but that your person, and your noble minde,
Deserves a far more worthy wife then I can be.
But, Sir, I have a father, whose choice I must prefer (in duty)
If hee gives consent, 'tis probable I may not repent it.

Adrast.
You have with joy unspeakable transported mee
Above the clouds, there let mee drop, my fall might be the greater.
O! unsay that again; that very name of father hath chill'd my bloud,
And sounds despair to my beguiling hopes.
Too well, I know what choice your father aims at;
Nor is fit you should obey him, where the choice hee makes
Tends to your ruine.
Can the Woolf and Lamb imbrace? Or can there be
A sympathy, where nature hath made antipathy?
Nor are you oblieged (by duty) to obey him in what's unjust.
You know his soul is black with sin, Forgive mee, Dearest,
That I am forc't to put you in minde, of what, I know,
You gladly would forget. Can you expect to enjoy one happy hour
With him, whose sole delight must be to hoard up wealth,
Gotten by base sinister meanes.
Besides the daily curses (for his sake) you'l have.
Your door wash't too, with tears of Orphans, and such
Oppressed poor, as hee shall hourly boast hee hath undone.
For know, sweet Creature, the free accesse wee at this present have,
To your fair self, is onely that wee will assist him
In the ruine of a young Gentleman (for ought I know)
Unborn; but as wee do pretend, knowing his griping way of gain,
That I thereby might have the happy means
To make my love known to you.
I am a Gentleman, though (I must confesse) a husband
Far unworthy so Angelical a Beauty.
Nor have I to my wish (for your virtuous sake) means
Worthy your acceptance. But what I have, (though not so poor to want)
Shall be enjoyed by mee, onely to do you service.
And as you are known to be your fathers Heir,
You may suppose his wealth, more then your virtue, is what I aim at,
Make mee but happy in your self,
Let him enjoy his pelf; which, when I covet,
May I live long forgotten of my friends, and loose your love,
Which (with my life) must in one grave be buried.


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Letes.
Sir, what you have said touching my fathers life,
I could with tears wish were not true.
And for your love to mee, I thank you, which
(To my poor power) I'le labor to requite.
Pray take this for present answer.
Indeed, I am not well, and must retire; onely
This, your language, I shall seriously weigh, and at our
Next meeting resolve you more at large.
So heavens preserve you.—
Ex. Letesia.

Adrast.
Angels protect thee, sweetest of thy Sex.—
Ex. Adrast.

Enter Gripe-man, Sent-well, and Clarathea.
Sent.
Wee have been at Old Firmstand's Lodging, but to no purpose.
Hee left the town three dayes since, but will return for certain
Two dayes hence at furthest.

Gripe.
It was ill luck you mist him, but since his stay from town
Will be so short, the matter is the lesse.
Sent-well, here's money for your present wants,
You must about a businesse presently for mee,
You know the Golden-head.

Sent.
Very well, Sir.

Gripe.
There lyes a Gentleman, his name Adrastus,
I think you have seen him.

Sent.
Marry have I, Sir.

Gripe.
So much the better: Be sure you dog him
Forth his Lodging, and if you house him in a tavern (as ten to one you will)
Use all the slights you can to Riggle into his company,
VVhich, if you cannot do, be sure you take a rome, or wait so neer him,
You may discover what their discourse is.
And let mee know what you can gather this night;
And if their plot (contrived) stand right, 'tis rare.
I'le firk my youngsters when they come to share.

Sent.
Sir, I'le do my best, and doubt not to perform your will.

Gripe.
Go, go about it straight, make haste.
—Ex. Sent.
Yes, yes, it must be so;
Gripe. pulls out a letter. and reads it to himself.
There's danger in delayes: The Girle
Must from temptation, or shee's lost.
Some few moneths more shee will be head-strong,
And carve her own bits, which I'le in time prevent.—
hee calls Letesia.
Letesia.
Enter Letesia.
Letesia, here's newes for you.
Your unkle Miser, writes old Avaritia, likes well of
The match between his son and you.
And that because hee would have you neer one another,
Hee thinks it fit you should be at his house,
And sojorn there a while, till things between us
Fully are agreed on.
You see, Girle, what a care I have of your well doing;

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My thoughts are often hammering about your good,
When you full soundly sleep; young Avaritia
Will make a wealthy husband for thee.
Up with your trinkets, and prepare to go:
Nay, no study, I have said it, and it must be so.—
Ex. Gripe.

Letes.
Indeed it must not. Good Avaritia, match in your own
Dunghill, it will avoid a bastard breed.
Money makes men ador'd, faith not by mee;
Virtue and honour crowns felicitie.
Enter Clarathea.
How now, Clarathea? Ar't sure Sent-well is imployed
To pry into his actions?

Clarath.
Am I sure I live? I stood by when your father gave the charge,
And the Villain undertook it greedily.

Letes.
How shall wee do to give Adrastus notice of it?
This slave will discover else, they do delude my father,
And then wee are all undone.

Clarath.
Why, faith, for once, (to do you service) I'le to
His Lodging my self. I heard what directions my Master
Gave him. Let mee alone to acquaint him with the plot;
But now I think on't too, I'le not go neither.

Letes.
Dear wench, why not?

Clarath.
Why Faith, cause you'l be jealous.

Letes.
Prethee, leave thy jesting, by my life not I.
Tis more then time thou wer't gone.

Clarath.
You have prevailed; and I resolved to venture.—
Ex. Amb.
Enter Atheos, richly clad, admiring himselfe.
Marry, Sir, this is something like.
I see my Taylor can fit mee without taking measure of my conscience.
The same quantitie serves, how large so ever,
Fools report 'tis streach't.
What a handsom bug-bear it is, to 'fright men out of a happinesse,
Their reason (wer't not enslaved, by doting on a world ith' moon,
To recompence their pining Miserie) must prompt them to enjoy.—
puts off his hat.
Persist in beggary, do, and let your admired conscience
(Ushered in with rags, and meagre chops)
Attend you to your graves; Where (if your dust
More brighter shine then mine)
Be thankfull to the Glow-worm
Let mee imbrace this world, till I forbear
(For conscience sake) to enjoy, with full delights
What lust unsatisfied desires.
This dumb God I'le adore, Money, to thee
I'le sacrifice, thou art my Deitie.
How now, Rogastos?
Enter Rogastos.
How drawes the lungs of our new Government,

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The air of profit, (sweeter then are the Arabian winds)
Into our garrison?
Doth conscience (still) part freely with her outward
Garments, trusting the soul for to re-cloath the body?

Rogast.
As yet they gallop to their sufferings, as wee can wish;
Only the Lady that wee ravished,
Hangs still an arse.

Athe.
Shee still continues firm in belief,
It was the private Souldier.

Rogast.
Shee doe's; but wonders much there's no severer search
To apprehend what (foolishly) shee tearmes her foes.

Athe.
For that wee shall (with fair pretences) gild
Much thicker then her eyes can pierce.

Rogast.
As thus; the wrack shall force a guiltlesse prisoner
To confesse the fact, which done before such
Witnesses as soon shall publish it,
Wee may (with safety) murder him,
And it cryed up for Justice.

Athe.
Securely contrived, (my better Genius) and politickly;
But wee'l forbear a while, to try what gentler
Means may work upon her (easily) beguil'd faith,
Which I shall make my study.
Rogastos, haste, and give order the Foot
Be all drawn out.
That part oth' spoil wee seiz'd on last, I intend
For to distribute to all an equal share,
As well to those remained in garrison,
As the party march't to take it.
It will unanimously beget a will to Act
What ever I prescribe.

Rogast.
Your judgment's deep and noble.
What you command, I'le see (with carefull speed)
Shall be performed.
—Ex. Rogast.

Athe.
Well, go thy waies, Conscience is mercifull,
And troubles not thee.
Why, here's a Proselyte newly converted to our side,
Out-doe's us all in mischief.
I can dispence to trot, in what some in the world
Call sin, but love not to run off my legs too soon.
Humanity commands mee hate the violence
Of his tyranny, which (for our own ends)
Wee must privately imbrace, how e're intend
For to depresse his fury.
'Tis policie makes us conspicuous to the world,
Which wee, with sly hypocrisie must
Endeavour to consociate, and then this little
World's our own.
—Ex. Atheos.


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Enter Adrastus, Albinus, Symphronio, and Mettle.
Adrast.
How am I obliged to fair Letesia for this discovery?
Her virtue will redeem her fathers soul.
Devoted pilgrims with their tears,
Could not have cleans'd by prayer.

Albin.
Shee's thy own, Boy; this very act of her's
Confirms it.

Symph.
Adrastus, wee must have gloves; and for her
Garters, let Albinus and I alone.

Adrast.
Would it were come to that.

Albin.
Nay, if you cannot stay, Mettle knows where
To help you to a cooler.

Mett.
Would I had one for you, as hot as I could wish.
Why, Sir, do you think my Master wants a pimp?

Albin.
No, I'le besworn, as long as thou serv'st him.

Adrast.
Mettle, hee doe's abuse thee. Go see if thou
Can'st discover such a person sneaking here about, Letesia's
Maid describ'd, and bring mee word.

Mett.
I shall, Sir.
—Ex. Mettle.

Albin.
Letesia goes contrary to the rules at court.
They chuse to entertain, such as may stand for foils to beauty.
Were but that wench (shee keeps) trick't up like them,
Shee would out-shine them all.

Adrast.
Mee thought shee did deliver her message to mee,
Not like one bred to serve.

Albin.
What punishment shall wee invent, to inflict upon
This Rogue, hath undertook to pry into our actions?

Adrast.
That must be thought on.
VVhere shall wee dine to day?

Symph.
Faith, at some tavern, if but to see what
This same Rogue dares do.

Albin.
Agreed.

Enter Mettle.
Adrast.
What hast thou discovered?

Mett.
I have, Sir, a Rogue, mark't out for such designes,
Ha's walk't some half a dozen turns about the door.
You may easily know him, A short squat Villain,
Crop't close to a large ear pendent, with a broad blew list,
Crook't back't, splay feet,
And a feared Conscience, Sables.

Albin.
Herald-like spoken, but that hee left out his Arms.

Mett.
Give mee but leave, and I'le engage
To torture his black soul to death.

Adrast.
Pray try your art, and take your own freedom.

Albin.
But, Mettle, Must not wee share ith' laughter of his sufferings?

Mett.
You shall, Sir, and be an Actor too.

Adrast.
Mettle, go you before: Bespeak a dish or two of meat
Where wee last night sup't.

Mett.
I shall, Sir.


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Adrast.
You two shall go the back way, and I'le take this.

Symph.
Come, Albinus, then wee'l take this.

—Ex. Om.
Enter Letesia, Clarathea.
Clarath.
I dare say hee loves you; for when I had delivered
My message to him (poor Gentleman!) o're-joyed,
Hee knew not what to say. Till anon, collecting his scattered
Spirits (ashamed I should take notice of his passion)
Hee made mee this answer; Sweet heart!
Pray (from mee) thank your fair Mistris for this
Noble Courtesie: And let her know, the life I hold
(Too poor a thing to part with in recompence of this great favour)
Is onely by mee valued, but as 'tis her's to dispose of,
I took my leave of him,
And what I could to avoid it, hee forc't mee
Take a peece, and bid mee tell you,
Sometime this afternoon, hee would
Not faile to wait on you.

Letes.
But art thou sure hee'l come?

Clarath.
Are you sure that you would have him come?
So sure am I hee'l come.

Letes.
Dear wench! what (in this straight of trouble) shall I do?
My father hath plotted with his brother Miser,
That I must into countrey, there to be made sure
To that most sordid wretch, young Avaritia.
This must I be forc't to do, or study quick prevention.

Clarath.
Study? I understand nothing of study in it.
Too well you know your fathers temper,
Whose resolutions are unalterable.
What then can you resolve, but bag and baggage (with Adrastus)
To be gone to some secure place of safety?
And you do not know, things being past his reach to compasse, how the
Gods may work his alteration.

—Letes. pauses.
Letes.
I have thought on't; And must conclude it so.
I had rather marry an Ethiope, then one
I shall be sham'd to own. You Gods above, forgive
My disobedience to my father, which you well know,
Virtue and honour both enjoin mee so.

—Ex. Om.
Enter at several doors Sent-well and Mettle; Mettle falls down as in a trance, Sent-well takes up Mettle who looks distractedly.
Sent.
How now friend, are you used to these same fits?
Now (by my life) it was a shrewd one.

Mett.
'Tis gone; have you no harm, Sir?

Sent.
What harm? I understand you not.

Mett.
Did you not see it then?

Sent.
What do'st thou mean?
What should I see?

Mett.
The Gods protect mee from such another sight of horror;

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Sure it has hurt your shoulders.

Sent.
What thing? what hurt? what, or whose
Shoulders? Art thou not mad?

Mett.
Not yet; I do not know what such
Another sight may do; For sure in a more horrid shape
The Divel ne're appear'd.

Sent.
Do'st take mee for a Divel?

Mett.
You were not farre from one but now,
When hee sat upon your shoulders.

Sent.
Upon my shoulders?

Mett.
I am glad (for your own sake) you neither saw
Nor felt it: I am afraid there is some fearfull sin
Sits black upon thy soul, that's unrepented of.
You Powers, protect mee from such encounters! Farwell.
—Ex. Mettle.

Sent.
What should this mean? mee thought hee did appear
Too truely 'frighted to abuse mee: His action could not be
Counterfeit; his colour went and came:
I am a Villain, that's certain.

Enter Albinus, hee starts back, throwes of his hat and cloak, drawes his sword, looking distractedly.
Albin.
Heavens, protect the man. What art thou?
I do conjure thee in the names of all the Gods, speak,
Why in that hideous shape do'st hang on that man's shoulders?

Sent.
Who, mine, Sir, do you mean?

Albin.
VVhy do'st not speak to it? See, see, 'tis down and beckons thee,
As if the businesse it had on earth, concern'd thee onely.

Sent.
Heavens blesse mee, Sir, I see nothing.

Albin.
Look, look, there it walks; speak to it (I say)
It beckons thee to follow it: So, so, now 'tis gone,
Just there it vanish't.
Into what a cold clammy sweat 't has put mee?
The Gods guard mee from such foul fiends.
How do'st thou feel thy self?

Sent.
Sir, truely, not well. I am somewhat 'frighted
At what, you say, you saw.

Albin.
It is impossible; Did'st thou not see, nor feel it.

Sent.
Not I, Sir, truly.

Albin.
'Tis wondrous strange.
Friend, look into thy conscience, and
There search if unrevenged blood
Cry not for justice.

Sent.
Truly, Sir, I never had a hand in murdering any body,
I must confesse, many a poor soul I have undone.

aside.
Albin.
Thy conscience be thy judge, which well examine,
And I am confident you'l finde it clogg'd
VVith fearfull crying sins.
—Ex. Albin.

Sent.
'Tis true, 'tis true, they are crying sins indeed.
These are no idle fancies; this Gentleman is a stranger too,

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And did but confirm what the former saw.
Mee thinks my sins circle mee round, and in a ring
Unmask't, appear each in their horrid shape.
Gripe-man, (thou Author of my ruine)
Thou now appear'st a monster. 'Curse on the time,
I ever saw thy face.
You Gods (above) forgive mee. 'Tis time well spent,
My eyes being open (now) for to repent.

Exit.